by A E Gamrat
“Trisha, get gone,” Dam says. “Nobody wants your nasty ass around. Don't you have a man? There's no reason to start shit with Silver.”
“Let’s sit and have a drink.”
We both yell “no” at the same time. Greg, the owner, is making his way over now. If you are friends with me, you cannot be friends with her. Most don’t know the whole story but know enough to be disgusted by her and her actions.
“You men need to chill out, release some of that pent-up anxiety.” Her hands reach out again for a grab, but I grab her wrist before any contact is made. Woman’s long, painted fingernails used to get me going in a heartbeat. Grazing my neck, back, and thighs were instant turn on zones. Now they represent evil, and I can’t stand to look at them, especially on her.
Ridiculous thinking, putting so much hate into fingernails, but super long made up ones can make me physically ill. They represent betrayal to the ninth degree. How someone can watch a terminal situation unfold and turn it around to be about themselves…is something I can’t comprehend.
One night we were all in the hospital together, knowing that our time together was ticking down quicker and quicker. It was the three of us. Tabby was already in grief counseling, so she was at a meeting that night. Tanya was sleeping comfortably with more and more pain meds aiding her comfort.
Trisha started rambling on about our lives and relationships. How we would need each other once Tanya had passed away. My mind was not into it or what she was saying, and I guess I was nodding my head. Days were mostly a blur by then, and I couldn’t tell you if I was coming or going.
Next thing I know she’s trying to crawl into my lap, whispering how our lives together were going to be. From our first meeting I kept Trisha at arm's length. I could sense her deceit at hello, and I never let my guard down around her.
That night, in the quiet hospital room, was the first time I let my guard down, and she threw herself at me—while her supposed best friend lay dying mere feet away from us. My stomach clenched as her words started to seep through my muddled subconscious. I threw her off me and stormed away, but that didn’t deter her one second, and even today she acts like what happened in that room was no big deal.
I was brought up in an honest, loyal home. I pride myself in my loyalty toward the people I love. That unfortunate night was almost three years ago, and I still have nightmares of Tanya waking up to the vile act. Tanya blaming me, since I'm the man, and telling Trisha to get rid of me.
I played nice with Trisha until the bitter end, but once Tabby and I started rebuilding our lives without Tanya in them, I told her to never come near my family again.
“Sil? Man?” Dam’s voice pulls me out of the past. “Get out of here, and I'll grab the check.”
“Thanks, man.” We fist bump, and I hightail it out of there. I think a few other people said “bye” to me, but at the pace I was moving, who knows? What a wild day it’s been. Starting up my car, dark, ugly dark clouds are taking over the crystal blue sky, waiting for the right moment to let loose and drown all our struggling lives even more.
This morning the weatherman said it would be nice all day, but what do they really know? They had no idea I was going to be visited by the devil herself. In minutes the sky has gone from bright, happy blue to gray, black, and angry.
Glad I bought new windshield wipers the other day; the rain is going to hit hard. I barely put the car in reverse, and I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel. It pisses me off how upset Trisha can make me with one look. How open and exposed I feel when she tries to get into my space. Acting like everything is normal and we are two friends reconnecting, or I would entertain any idea of us “being together.” Hell no.
Heavy raindrops start pelting my windshield, and the traffic begins to crawl. No one can see in front of them, the rain is coming down so hard. My mind starts to wander to what Gin is doing right at this very moment. The mere thought of her sitting outside on that beautiful deck watching the birds fly by loosens my whole world up. Not only is my chest starting to relax, but I’m breathing a little easier.
At the bookstore when she was walking up toward the counter, I knew exactly who she was. A bit older than the last time I laid eyes on her, but she’s still the same girl I loved all those years ago. I knew I would never be able to love another so freely and instantly, but what was I supposed to do? Stay celibate for thirty years or so to maybe find her path again? How many people reunite after leaving for college?
She’s probably why I never moved too far away from home. Might have increased my odds a percent or two of finding her one day. Claire had no idea what she was bringing back together that day in her shop. She saw a chance to introduce two single friends who might have a nice time out. Not young lovers who did what they had to do in the game called life.
Everything is the same about her, from her looks to how confidently she walked across the room to us. Right away I noticed a more carefree look about her. Not the on edge little girl who didn’t trust her own shadow. This goddess entering my life again seems happy, relaxed and finally where she wants to be. I knew about her marriage and then the divorce. If you buy flowers from my mom, then she knows your business. Customers tell her things, and my mom has never understood why. Guess buying flowers brings out all kinds of emotions. Not to mention my mom is one of those people everyone wants to talk to. But when the divorce news hit her, she almost broke her neck rushing across the store to tell me. I thought something happened to dad, she had me so worried.
It broke her heart to tell me my girl was taken and had a ring on her finger. It took her minutes to spit out the whole story, stumbling over each word. When she saw the finality in my eyes, she wrapped me up in her arms and held me. A man of any age will never turn away a mother’s hug. We might not express the want or need but will hold on as long as she allows it.
Right after their wedding, so many years ago, I met Tanya and her mini me following right behind her. Our relationship started out very slow and not normal for a couple in their twenties, but it was good for us. I have absolutely no regrets with our relationship. If Tanya didn’t get sick, we would’ve parted ways peacefully. She would’ve allowed me to stay in Tabby’s life because by god, that girl is mine. The first time Tabby called me Daddy was the best day of my life. I knew right then and there I would lay my life down for her, show her how a true man treats a woman and vice versa because a real woman knows how to take care of her man.
When there’s respect, understanding, and love involved in any relationship the sky’s the limit. From birth, my parents showed me these aspects of how a real relationship should be. As a family we were always there helping and supporting each other. The thought of not helping my parents never crossed my mind. The few times in my teenage years when I would grumble about it, Dad would sit me down and tell me, “We are a family, and families help one another out.”
Tanya and I had the respect and understanding down to a T. I believe to this day we loved each other, but we were probably never in love. We understood this about our relationship and respected our kind of love. There was never any resentment or anger, but we were both too broken for passion.
Gin’s spot in my heart was her spot and her spot alone. No one was ever replacing her, and I knew I would probably die with the spot she left forever untouched.
HONK
“Shit!” The car screams behind me. Who knows how long I've been sitting lost in the past? One second of pause had me tumbling back in time, forgetting I was even driving. Not good at all. After throwing a wave of apology in my rearview mirror, I get moving again. What I really need right now are my girls. The day can be utter shit, and a few minutes with both of them makes the world right again.
Pulling into the parking lot, there’s not a car in sight. The unexpected rain is keeping the customers at bay. Her store is our second home, and instant comfort always comes over me as soon as it’s in my sights.
“Hey, Mama, where you at?” I yell out, trudging throu
gh the front door.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I hear her yell from somewhere in the back.
Plants aren’t really my thing; none of her expertise was passed along to me, but I'm always in awe at all the beauty inside her little store. There isn't a spot left in this building not covered in foliage. She cares for them all as if they are her own to keep, and it shows. Social media took her passion to the next level. She's in groups, promotes her store, and loves YouTube for all the free information it provides.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I'll always be her number one sweetheart. “What are you doing here?” she asks while planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Can’t a man stop by and say hi to his mom?”
“Of course he can.” She playfully whacks my arm and retreats over to her workstation. “Assumed you would be still working on your car with the rain and all.”
How do mothers do it? How can they sense right away what their child’s mood is? Her statement wasn’t a question, but by bringing up my car, she knows something is wrong.
“I did for a little while but grabbed a bite with Dam. Then figured I'd come by and see if you needed anything.” I will never tell her the evils of Trisha. I'm sure the gossip circles keep her informed, but that shit will never leave my mouth in front of her.
“Hmmm.”
Always on to my bullshit, she is. Never taking her eyes off the arrangement she’s putting together, she patiently waits for more of my words.
I stand behind her, not knowing what to do with myself while she trims and plucks like it’s any normal day. This scene has played out so many times, I couldn’t even come close to the actual number. I stood in this exact spot three years ago and told her of Tanya’s terminal illness. Years before that, the same scene played out, but with me telling her I would be Abby’s father for the rest of my life, no matter what.
Almost every big change in my life was told in this building in almost the exact same spot. Most of them were like this, with her back to me, acting like she’s not waiting me out to confess a secret. Voicing a secret is much easier to do when you are looking at someone’s back and not looking into their eyes.
“How’s Dad?” The change in subject is not going to work, but it’s always worth a try.
“He’s good. Should be around sometime soon.”
I rub the back of my neck roughly at her quick simple answers and then silence. Driving over here it seemed like a good idea, but now? Not so much, and instead of feeling calm, my palms are starting to sweat.
“Do you need any help? Anything need moved around?” I’m grasping at straws, I know, but I'm not even sure what I want to talk about. I think I need to get something off my chest, but what I'm not quite sure of yet.
“Nope, all set for the day. How's Dam doing?” She loves him as a son and treats him like one too. He eats it up every chance he gets. It’s quite disgusting at times. I'm all out of small talk, and she’s still humming away in her flower world.
I’m about ready to run out the door when she turns around, looks me right in the eye and says, “It’s okay to admit your one finally came back into your life. It will never demean your past relationship or make your life up to this point wasted.”
My chest constricts at her words. My own words are stuck in my throat. and breathing is harder and harder to do. She hit the damn bull’s eye with her little speech. I need air but can’t figure out where to get it.
She must catch on to my panic, rushing over to the counter and rolling the stool over behind me. “Sit, honey.” I slowly lower myself, still trying to find a deep breath to take. “It’s alright, baby. In and out. Deep breath in and slowly let it out.” She keeps this mantra up while rubbing my back, helping me breathe again.
“We only have one life, Silver. A second chance with a love that never was…honey…not too many people get that chance.” Her fingers pinch my chin, forcing my eyes to look at her, making me understand what she is truly saying. “You are a good man and father, but, sweetheart…I want to see you have it all… before I leave this earth.”
“Don’t say that.” I find some words when she starts talking of death. Her raised eyebrow puts me back in my five-year-old shoes. She’s a scary woman when she wants to be. “Sorry, you know I don’t like when you talk like that…especially after everything.”
“She looks good and happy. You going to go after her?”
“Mom…don’t…just.” I stand up quickly to put some space between us.
“Pish posh.” She crosses her arms and takes my spot on the stool. I need to end this now before she does something. “I’ve kept your father very happy over the last fifty years.” A rose falling from an arrangement catches her eye, and as she’s standing up to fix her creation, she turns her head back toward me and says, “If Ginny needs any tips, tell her to come find me.” She throws a wink at me and back to work she goes.
We've had some very open, candid conversations through the years. What happened in the last minute though is weird and gross. She's my seventy-year-old mother, for Christ’s sake. I love how they love each other, but I do not need to know or even think about how she keeps Dad “happy.” I shudder at the thought.
“Hey, Son.”
“Hey, Dad, how’s it going?” With Dad here now hopefully she’ll keep her gross comments to herself. He's whistling while walking the perimeter of the store. Don't hear him whistle too much here. At home, he’s always whistling. He seems to be glowing a little too, and Mom hasn’t looked at me since he walked in. Something fishy is going on.
“You know my motto: ‘when your feet touch the ground, it’s a great day.’”
“I know, but you seem extra happy today.”
Mom’s back is still to us, but his puppy dog eyes toward her tell me all I need to know. “The unexpected makes life worth living.” Then he stalks toward her predator-like and plasters his front to my mother’s backside. Must remember to buy bleach on the way home to clean my eyeballs. The mere thought of Dad getting a nooner from my sweet, loving mother makes me want to bolt.
“Maybe we should close up early since the rain isn’t letting up,” is the whisper I hear, which gets my feet moving toward the door.
“Yeah,” she says all breathy-like, “we might have to stay here to watch the plants.”
“Oh yeah, we’ll watch the plants.”
“I’ll see you guys later.” I don’t even turn around to look at either of them. My boots are practically jogging my ass out of this place before things are seen that can never be unseen.
“Wait! Silver!” Mom yells out. “Grant, let go of me for a damn sec.”
“Ruthie, baby,” Dad pleads.
“One second.” Her tone is annoyed, but the shit-eating grin on her face is telling a different story. “We are having a private gala of sorts here next Friday night.”
“Okay. What does that have to do with me?”
“Well, you are our son, and it’s to celebrate all of our accomplishments with our greatest customers and benefactors.”
“I guess I can be here; think my Friday is open.”
“Good.” She claps, all proud of herself. “There will be drinks, finger foods, a silent auction and a DJ.”
“So, you really are going all out.”
“Yes, I want everyone to come together and help us celebrate this place I love so much. I know it's kind of last minute, but this was the only good date. Wear something nice, and you better tell that daughter of yours to call her grandma.”
“Yes, Mama.” I bend down to kiss her cheek this time. She's said her peace and is already back to making goo goo eyes at Dad. “Lock up this damn place before a customer gets a private show.”
Their boisterous, happy laughter sends a tinge of jealousy through my chest. Fifty years they’ve had one another. I've never even been close to what is happening in the local flower shop.
The door barely latches behind me when I hear the clicking of the locks. On instinct I turn toward the noise to lock eyes wi
th my pervy father. He gives me a big old exaggerated wink and then a thumbs up. Screw it, I give him one right back and send a thank you to the Man Upstairs for these two crazy ass parents of mine. The older they become, the crazier they are for each other.
Chuckling to myself about my pervy seventy-year-old parents, I pull my phone out from my back pocket to sit in my car. I bump my message button by accident, and there is one highlighted with Gin’s name. What the hell is this? I had my phone by me all night last night and never saw a missed call from her. The whole day has been darkened by her silence when all along there was a message waiting for me.
Speeding out of the parking lot, I head toward her house. No way am I going to take the time to listen to her probably saying “hi” and “call me back.” The woman probably thinks I’m not interested, and my want was nothing but her overactive brain. I can feel her doubt in my bones. Nothing will feel right until I make this right with her. Show her I am the man for her. I am a man of my word, the one to rely on and trust.
I let her walk away from me once, I'll be damned if I let her walk away a second time.
Chapter Ten
If I polish the wooden end table in my living room one more time, the top coat will be completely gone. As the hours of the day slowly tick away, my anxiety has gone from a tinge to out of control. I’ve baked, done a workout video, cleaned, and baked some more. Nothing is calming my knotted stomach, and my body will not let me sit still. Makes my “cleaning over bifocals” seem like a joke.
A chunk of me wants to call again. Demand why he never returned my message. To be a man and tell me that yesterday was a mistake. The young girl who dreamed about him being my knight won’t be able to bear it. She is scared of these answers and wants to stay in denial, not to acknowledge the possible bad what ifs. Instead I run around my house like a crazed maniac formulating one bad scenario after another.