by K A Moll
Coby held her gaze as she passed by the empty chair to take a seat on the padded bench beside her. “How’s your dad?” she asked.
“Today was a good day,” Coy responded.
Coby leaned over to Marigold with an extended hand. “Coby...Coby Lee O’Brien,” she said.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” Marigold responded. “I must say that your level of persistence certainly piqued my curiosity.” She looked to her daughter and stood. “I’m headed down to the cafeteria,” she said, “can I get anybody anything?”
Coby shook her head, saying, “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Coy’s eyes narrowed. “What have you eaten today?” she asked.
Coby met her gaze. “A few crackers and a couple french fries,” she responded.
Coy’s lips pressed together. “Go ahead and bring us back a couple of sandwiches,” she said, “turkey or chicken, but nothing spicy.”
“And to drink?” Marigold inquired.
“Don’t worry about drinks,” Coy answered, “we’ll get some coffee from the lounge.” As an afterthought, she checked with Coby to be sure that coffee would settle on her stomach.
“If it has lots of cream, it will,” Coby responded.
***
Coby reached to feather back a lock of Coy’s hair.
“So we’re touching now?” Coy snapped with a glare. She looked to her daddy to be sure that she hadn’t awoken him.
Coby’s head tilted and she swallowed. “I’m sorry about the other night,” she said. “You gotta know I didn’t mean any of it.”
“It’s not just the other night,” Coy responded, frowning. “From moment to moment, I never knew what to expect from you. I’d go home one night, thinking you wanted me.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And then the next, wondering why you kept flirting with me if you didn’t like me. That last night was nothing more than a breaking point, one that I just can’t seem to get out of my mind.” Their gazes locked. “I can’t figure out what happened. I wasn’t coming onto you, Coby Lee, not that night.” She shook her head. “That night, all I was trying to do was make sure that you were alright.” She sniffled and wiped her nose. “I haven’t answered your calls because I don’t have the emotional energy right now to deal with anymore of your mind games.”
“I wasn’t playing with you,” Coby choked. She bit her lower lip and looked off.
“That’s what I mean,” Coy countered. “You always leave me to guess where you’re coming from.”
Tears burned behind Coby’s eyelids as she turned back. “I’m gonna explain,” she said, “but you gotta give me a minute.” She held Coy’s gaze, clenching her jaw. “I spent everything I had and borrowed more just to get to you. Can you just be a little bit patient while I figure out how I’m gonna tell you what I’ve never told anyone before?” She choked back a soft sob. “Please, Coy, I just need to be with you for a little while before I tell you what I know will make you want to send me off.” She sucked in a breath, desperately trying to regain composure, before Coy’s parents saw what a blubbering fool she could become. It was bad enough that Coy had witnessed her breakdown. She needed a drink, but she no longer wanted one. “Sorry about that,” she said curling her upper lip in disgust with herself. “I’ve got it together now.”
Coy reached to rub her back but ended up changing her mind before she touched her, not wanting to set her off.
“I have a turkey-cranberry and a roast chicken with mayo, both on whole wheat,” Marigold blurted out at a whisper as she burst through the door. “I thought you two could fight over ‘em.” She paused, wrinkling her brow.
Coy sniffled, taking the turkey. “No fighting,” she responded with a gentle smile. “The addition of cranberries makes it an easy choice.” She handed Coby the roast chicken. “Heaven forbid this one would eat a sandwich with a fruit or vegetable on it, huh?”
“Not if I can help it,” Coby responded with a soft chuckle.
Coy winked to her as she moved to her daddy’s bedside. “Happy Christmas Eve,” she greeted with a kiss on his forehead. “I thought it was about time for you to be waking up.” She glanced back to Coby. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet, someone who came all the way from Antarctica to spend Christmas with us.”
“All the way from Antarctica,” Cyrus responded. “I guess you were right,” he went on, “you did need to go stand on that blue ice to find your footing.”
Coby stepped up to join them. “Coby...Coby Lee O’Brien, sir,” she said with a gentle handshake and a smile.
“You’ve got kind eyes, Coby Lee O’Brien,” Cyrus responded, “and I’m real glad you’ve come all this way to spend Christmas with my daughter.”
“Speaking of Christmas,” Marigold piped in, “I think you two should go on back home.” She met Coy’s gaze. “Leave your daddy and me to spend a few quiet moments alone on this sacred night.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Coy whispered with a kiss on her cheek; “we’ll see you in the morning.”
***
“Where’d you park?” Coy asked as she stepped through the carousel. The air had the fresh smell of newly fallen rain.
“I rode your dad’s bike,” Coby responded, zipping her windbreaker and lifting its collar. “It’s right over there,” she added with a nod toward a nearby rack.
“You don’t have a car?” Coy asked with the raise of an eyebrow. “How’d you get here from Pensacola?”
“Nope, no car,” Coby answered. “And no driver’s license either, but that’s another story.” After her last DUI, it’d be a couple years before she could re-apply. “I hitched in with a trucker hauling produce,” she added.
Coy sucked in a breath, held it, and let it go.
“It’s safe enough,” Coby argued with a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes.
“If you say so,” Coy responded. Her expression guaranteed that the topic would be revisited later on.
“So anyway,” Coby continued, “Daisy hooked me up with your dad’s bike.”
“It would’ve been better if she’d have gone ahead and brought you over,” Coy commented.
“She offered,” Coby responded, “but I turned her down. She wouldn’t have been able to bring me until after supper. I was anxious to see you so I told her I’d just as soon head over on my own.”
“All that rush,” Coy said with a lift to her voice, “and you haven’t even kissed me hello.”
“Maybe I was just waiting until I had you alone,” Coby responded with lingering eye contact. She closed the distance between their bodies, fingered through Coy’s hair, and kissed her lovingly. She’d been thinking, no, feeling; no, actually more fantasizing about that moment since the day she had the money to leave Antarctica. It was the one piece of the puzzle that she was fairly certain, as long as Coy had agreed to see her, would turn out alright.
“You’re such a sight for sore eyes, Coby Lee,” Coy said. “I missed you something awful.”
“I missed you too,” Coby responded. “So much.” She swallowed hard, hoping she didn’t blow it before they spent at least this night together.
“I wish you’d talk to me about what’s troubling you,” Coy said tenderly.
“I will,” Coby promised, “but I’ve gotta do it in my own time.” She wanted to drop down, take cover, and hide. As much as she’d tried to prepare for what would come all too soon, it wasn’t enough.
“It’s okay,” Coy responded, determined not to cry, “I know it’s hard.” When the rain picked up, she added, “Come on, let’s get your bike loaded into my car.”
“I’ll just ride it back,” Coby argued. “It’s not that far.”
“It’s nearly five miles,” Coy countered, “not to mention, it’s rainy and dark.”
“I tell ya, it's not that big of a deal,” Coby went on, “I ride everywhere back home.”
“You’re my guest,” Coy responded firmly, “and I’m not having you pedal acr
oss town in a storm when it’s nothing to load the bike into my car.” She had never been impressed by a show of macho.
“You’re a force to be contended with, Coy Annabelle,” Coby answered with a wink and a smile.
***
Like McMurdo, Magnolia Springs was lit up like a field of multi-colored fireflies. “I’m taking the long way home,” Coy announced, “so that you can see all our pretty lights and decorations.” She pointed to the downtown area as they went by. “It’s magical, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Coby said with a smile, “kind of like that sparkling twinkle in your eyes.”
“Well, aren’t you a romantic devil tonight,” Coy murmured with a return smile.
“For all the good it’ll do me,” Coby responded. “Like I told you before, I’m not good for much more than a shoulder to cry on.”
“I wish you’d stop talking like that,” Coy said as she pulled into the driveway. She reached for Coby’s hand, squeezed, and met her eye. “If you’d just tell me what’s worrying you,” she continued more softly, “I think you’d find that everything will be alright.”
“I don’t know about that,” Coby mumbled with a slow shake of her head. She got out to join Coy, pausing to listen to the joyous sounds emanating from inside. “Never sang carols when I was growing up,” she commented.
“Oh, we did,” Coy responded as her eyes once again took on a sparkle, “sometimes with half the neighborhood gathering around our big ol’ tree in the parlor.” Singing carols was as much a part of our Christmas as decorating, going to midnight church on Christmas Eve, or baking cookies.”
“That sounds nice,” Coby whispered. “I can hardly imagine what it must’ve been like to grow up with warm memories of the holidays. At my house, holidays were more about eating too much, getting drunk, and passing out on the couch.”
Coy tipped up to kiss her cheek. “Come on, honey,” she said softly, “let’s go inside.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Look, everybody,” Daisy called out, “Coy Annabelle’s home! Come on, darlin’, go on up and get your guitar.”
“You don’t need my guitar,” Coy responded. “Your voices are beautiful with the piano.”
“Yes we do,” Daisy insisted. “There’s no one can do “Silent Night” like you can.”
Coy looked to Coby with the raise of an eyebrow. “If you play a twelve-string,” she said, “I’d like it if you’d dust my daddy’s off and accompany me.”
“I can play a twelve,” Coby responded. She trailed up the stairs behind Coy and collected it. “What a beauty,” she said. It was a rosewood-maple, two-tone. She stroked it like an old friend as she tuned it.
“Just three chords in the key of C,” Coy said with a smile. “At least they chose an easy one for us to begin with.” She looked to Coby, already strumming.
“Easy enough,” Coby agreed as she joined in.
They played until well after eleven before Coy announced that her romantic favorite would be their last song. With that, she strummed the first notes of, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” written by Frank Loesser in 1944. “If ya’ll don’t mind,” she said, “I think we’d like to do this one as a call and response duet, the way it was meant to be sung.” Their voices blended to one as they sang the last line.
“That was absolutely wonderful,” Daisy declared, clapping, “aren’t they good together, everybody?”
“They are,” the audience responded with more claps and a couple of whistles.
“Thanks, everyone,” Coy said, “and good night.”
The guests stood, carrying their cups and glasses to the kitchen. Most called out “Merry Christmas” as they climbed toward their respective rooms.
“Want me to come over to cook somethin’ up in the morning?” Daisy asked.
“No, it’s Christmas,” Coy responded with a shake of her head and a hug, “you go ahead and stay home with your family. I’m sure we’ve got donuts or sweet rolls around here somewhere.”
“Suit yourself,” Daisy said, “but you feel free to call if you need me.”
“We’ll be fine,” both responded.
***
“You have to be completely exhausted,” Coy said as she set the last glass onto the rack.
“Not so much,” Coby responded, “all things considered.” She yawned at the suggestion. “I managed to get some pretty good sleep on that last flight.”
“That’s good,” Coy said as she pressed start. She opened her mouth to say something else but thought better of it.
“Go ahead, say what you were gonna say,” Coby encouraged. “You don’t have to hold back.”
“Might be better if I did for a while,” Coy responded. She looked off, lost in thought. “It’s late,” she added, “and deny it or not, you have to be dog tired.” With a breath, and a long exhale, she continued with a change of subject. “We’re full until well after New Year’s,” she said, crossing her arms, “so I’ll sleep in mama and daddy’s room, and you can sleep in mine.” Time stood still as their gazes locked. “That’s the way you want it, right?”
Coby’s face tightened. “No, Coy,” she shot back, “it’s not.” She locked her jaw and walked into the living room to stare into the twinkling Christmas lights.
It wasn’t but a moment before Coy came up behind her. “Then what do you want?” she asked softly, pressing her cheek against her back.
“I want it all,” Coby choked, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Who wouldn’t? You’re beautiful and smart,” she added, “and I can’t for the life of me understand why you’d even give me a second look.” She swallowed hard and turned to look into Coy’s eyes. “But that’s not the way it’s gonna work out.”
“What makes you so sure?” Coy asked.
“I just am; that’s all,” Coby responded.
“I think you might be wrong about that,” Coy countered as she extended her hand. “Come on honey, let’s go to bed.”
Coby’s hand trembled as she brought it to her forehead. “I can’t,” she said. “Like I told you before,” she went on, “I’m not good for much more than a shoulder to cry on.”
“Maybe that’s all I need tonight,” Coy answered, once again extending her hand. “Come on baby, come to bed.”
***
Nightgown, pajamas, or nightshirt? It was a tough decision, especially when Coy wished she could wear nothing at all. But naked wasn’t an option and she knew it. She opted for the nightgown. Enough material to be modest, but if things went better than anticipated, she could easily slip it up or off. She covered Kathy Bird’s cage, propped onto her pillow, and cracked open her book.
Coby stepped out of the bathroom showered, her hair still damp, and fully dressed.
“Did you have enough hot water?” Coy asked, hoping that her expression hadn’t revealed where her mind had gone. You’re safe without the zipper, she thought. It’s not like I’m going to attack you during the night. She touched her throat and licked her lips. Unless, of course, that’s what you want. God knows, she was horny enough.
“Yeah,” Coby answered, “plenty.” She glanced down at her attire before crawling into bed. “I know,” she added, “you think I’m nuts.”
“You think?” Coy asked with a smile.
Coby smiled back.
“It doesn’t matter what you wear,” Coy said as she rolled onto Coby’s shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re here to hold me.”
Coby pulled her close, kissing her temple. “Want to talk for a little while?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Coy whispered, “I’d like that.” When she turned her head, their lips met.
They lay quietly in one another’s arms for several minutes. Then, Coby swallowed hard, and spoke. “That night,” she said, “I was so sick.”
“I know you were,” Coy whispered as she feathered through Coby’s hair. “You still are,” she added with another kiss.
“Yeah, a little bit,” Coby s
aid, “but today was worse because I’d been traveling and was nervous.”
“I’ll bet,” Coy said. “So, did Doc Harmon get by to see you?” she asked.
Coby nodded. “Yeah,” she answered, “but I didn’t have him do anything.”
Coy’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?” she asked.
“Because I already knew what was wrong,” Coby answered with a shake of her head, “just like you did.”
Coy exhaled loudly.
“It wasn’t my first time around this tree,” Coby continued, “and I knew that the only thing he had to offer was pain killers.”
“And diagnostics,” Coy countered with stinging eye contact.
“Yeah, but I didn’t need that,” Coby said. “I’m an alcoholic, Coy.” She curled her lip and shook her head. “And I binge drink. But I think you already knew that. Pancreatitis is just something I get.”
Coy fell silent, disengaging for a minute.
“I’m sorry,” Coby said quietly, “that’s just the way it is.” She took a breath. “But I’ve been sober for two days now,” she went on, and five years before that.”
“What happened?” Coy asked. “I mean what made you start drinking again?”
“I met you,” Coby answered.
Coy gulped a quick breath.
“It’s not your fault,” Coby assured. “I just wanted you so much and knew I couldn’t have you.”
“But you could have,” Coy murmured. “I thought you knew that.”
“I knew you liked me,” Coby said, “but I still couldn’t.”
“And why is that?” Coy asked.
“Because I’m not right,” Coby said with a downward glance, “down there.”