by Hazel Kelly
He shook his head and pulled one last card from his briefcase, holding it up so that only I could see. “What's the dirtiest thing on the menu?”
My stomach clenched and twisted as he looked at me in a way that felt so intimate it was like we were alone. Like we were naked. Like he’d only begun peeling my layers away. And even though he was across the counter, I could feel the weight of his body on mine, the weight of his need shortening my breath. “The chili cheese dog with Cajun curly fries and a trick-or-treat shake,” I said finally.
He considered it, pulling his chin down in an exaggerated frown.
“Or you could go with the jalapeño bacon burger with chili cheese fries and an Oreo shake?”
He tapped his nose and pointed at me, producing his debit card a second later, and I was happy I’d been able to guess what he wanted. Kind of like him guessing I needed a bit of poetry and special attention.
And then sadness sank like a stone in my chest when I realized the awful truth.
Getting over this guy was not going to be easy.
F O R T Y O N E
- James -
I ran my hand over the freshly painted crown molding, my fingers picking up a delicate layer of sawdust.
“This is really beautiful, James.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I stood and slapped my hands together, trying to imagine what the place would look like when the floors were varnished and the light fixtures installed.
“I was right about the cabinets.”
“You were right,” I said, my heart warming at the sense of satisfaction in her voice.
“How much longer till it’s habitable?” she asked, switching her navy purse to her other arm and running her fingers through her short hair, which was the same brown as my sisters’. The only difference was that Mom had recently added a dramatic silver streak at the front of her part. It was a new thing, but I could tell it made her feel sassy, which was great. My whole family was happier when my mom felt good about herself.
I shrugged. “Few weeks? Maybe four? Even the crew seems sick of this job.”
“Don’t let them cut corners,” she said, pointing a manicured finger at me. “There are cowboys everywhere.”
A smile tugged at my lips. It was the kind of thing my dad would say.
“All this nonsense about where have all the cowboys gone?” She shook her head as she began examining the cabinets more closely. “Give me a break. They’re all around, ladies. You can’t move without stepping on one.”
Her Starbucks sugar cookie, the one she “always wanted to try” even though she ordered it every other time we went there, had clearly gripped her veins.
“Remember when we redid our kitchen and those con artists tried to tell me the handle for the fridge was going to be an extra four hundred bucks?”
“Cowboys,” I said, removing my bagel sandwich from the paper bag on the counter. I wasn’t exactly hungry, but I hoped the snack might distract me from the panic I felt when I looked around at the property I’d been pouring my life savings into.
Would it always feel cold like this? Or was it literally a temperature problem? I wanted to believe I was a few throw pillows away from making the place feel homey, but I wasn’t so sure. Something was missing, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. All I knew was that while the promise of being a house owner was on the horizon, I didn’t yet feel like I’d bought a home.
I wanted to be able to look around and imagine myself years from now with jointly purchased furniture and scratches on my wooden floors. I wanted to close my eyes and hear the scrittering of paws or the clumsy padding of chubby feet echoing across the hall. But I couldn’t see any of it.
Not without her.
As irresponsible as it was to wish the renovations wouldn’t be over too quickly, I wasn’t sure I could sleep without her. I already wasn’t.
“You okay, honey?” My mom rejoined me by the butcher block to work on her Frappuccino. “You seem worried? Is it just house stuff or is there something else?”
I took a big bite of my sandwich.
“I can't help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” she said, watching me chew.
I swallowed. “I’m fine. Just worried about the house coming together.”
“The house?”
I nodded.
“Mmmm. Well, you haven’t made it easy for yourself, have you?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. There was something about her tone.
“Then again, if the house hadn’t been a mess to begin with, everything would’ve gone off without a hitch.”
Damn it. “Why are all the women in this family such blabbermouths?”
Her perfectly drawn brows came together. “That’s not fair. We kept schtum about Maddy and Quinn’s relationship for ages.”
I groaned.
“Don’t be mad, honey.” She sidled up to me and laid a hand on my forearm. “Knowing when to not keep a secret is what makes women superior to men.”
I pushed my sandwich away.
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” she huffed, setting her leather bag on the counter so she could dig through it. “All Maeve told me was that I should give you these.”
I stared at the familiar yellow sleeve, the sight of printed photos filling me with nostalgia. “That’s all she said?”
She slapped the pictures against my chest. “Just take them, would you?”
“Have you looked at them?”
She cocked her head. “I don’t need to look at them, James. I took them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your crush on Brie hasn’t been news to me for fifteen years.”
“It’s not a crush.”
She raised her palms. “If you say so, but Brie’s the reason I knew you weren’t gay.”
“What?”
“Remember when she got her braces off, and you tucked the tablecloth into your pants?” She laughed so hard a tear sprang to her eye. “And when you excused yourself, you took it with you, and the whole casserole nearly fell in Maeve’s lap?”
“Are you done?” I asked, unamused by how long it was taking her to catch her breath. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“It really was,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking off into the distance like she was rewatching the whole thing. “I know I acted like it was World War III at the time because I didn’t know if the balsamic would stain the tablecloth, but inside I was thinking you were by far my funniest child.”
“Nice save at the end there, but I don’t appreciate being patronized.”
She recoiled. “I think I deserve some credit for being so cool about this.”
“So it’s not reverse psychology?”
Her chin sprang forward. “Are you kidding? I was worried you two were fooling around in high school and that was the real reason you went to live with your father. I’m pleased as punch nothing’s happened till now and that you didn’t wreck your life before you were old enough to know you were doing it.”
“What? Wreck my life?”
“Not just yours,” she said, knocking her drink against my shoulder. “I wasn’t ready to be a grandma back then.”
“That’s not why I moved in with Dad.”
She inhaled so quick she almost snorted. “Well, it wasn’t because he was such a good role model.”
There was no point in explaining why I needed him in my life at the time more than I needed her. It would only hurt her feelings, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
“I know losing your dad was hardest on you,” she said, lowering her voice.
“I didn’t lose him.”
“Whatever you want to call it. He lost you guys, all his money. His marbles.”
I didn’t want to get into it any more than I wanted to drag out the conversation.
“He lost because he doesn’t know any of you, and you’re so wonderful.” She touched her hand to my cheek and her eyes smiled. “Did he ever make more of a
n effort with her?”
“With Brie, you mean?”
She nodded.
I shook my head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“That’s a shame.” She dragged her hand through the air like she was painting a headline across the sky. “Man With Answer to Everything Doesn’t Even Know His Own Family.”
“That’s enough, Mom.”
“Sorry.” She hung her head, fiddled with the stacked rings on her finger and took a deep breath before lifting her face. “I’m not blameless in this, you know?”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I could’ve made Maddy invite her over more, could’ve tried to be there for her better. I just wasn’t in a good place.”
“I know, Mom.” I put my arm around her and hugged her to my side. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“For what it’s worth, I always thought you guys were cute with each other. She always seemed…more delicate than your sisters somehow.”
“She’s not.”
My mom leaned back to look at me. “Or maybe she is, and you’re the only one who can’t see it.”
F O R T Y T W O
- Brie -
I pinched my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I reached for another envelope.
“This is the third time you’ve cancelled on me in two weeks,” Crystal said.
I wrinkled my nose at the frustration in her voice. “I’m just behind on my writing, that’s all.” I sat back on my heels and tried to shove a folded submission letter into an envelope. It didn’t help that my hand was shaking.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” I said. I’m avoiding everyone.
“I’m coming over.”
“Don’t!” I said. “Please. I’m on a deadline.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“Stop.”
“I mean it,” she said. “I was just talking to someone about werewolves last week, and you’re acting exactly how I would if hair started growing from my cheeks. I’m worried about you!”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Trying not to lose my nerve.” I stared at the stack of submissions that were already signed and sealed. If I had to guess, I’d say I had twenty left to do, not including the ones I was sending online.
“You sending stuff into magazines again?”
“You think I’m crazy.”
“No,” she said. “I think you’re driven.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t blow me off again. You’re not a big-time writer yet.”
I thanked her and hung up, moving at a frenzied pace until there was a knock on my bedroom door. I froze like a spider, still and jumpy at the same time.
“Can I come in?”
I waited a few beats longer than I should’ve. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I’m a great envelope stuffer.”
I straightened up. “Are you eavesdropping on me?”
“I’ve been trying, but your voice is muffled. Did you say open the door and come on in?”
Damn it. I flipped over the stack of printed pages so they were face down. “Just the first part.”
James pushed the door open and peeked around it. He was in a loose white T-shirt and grey sweatpants that fit sinfully. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I haven’t prepared any elaborate stunts.” He took one step into the room and showed me his hands. “Even though we both know you thought that bouquet trick was ace.”
I tried to smile, but I was too stressed for it to break through.
“What are you doing?”
“Submitting an article to some magazines.”
“Cool,” he said, his eyes straying towards the stack of pages. “Can I read it?”
My stomach lurched like I might be sick. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
He frowned, his eyes laced with disappointment. “You’re going to let all these strangers read it but not the guy you’re in love with?”
I stared at him. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Don’t pretend they’re not true.”
I sighed. “I really am busy so unless you need help you with something-”
He looked at me with a resigned weariness, the way a patient adult watches a child throwing a tantrum.
"You’re better off reading Harry Potter.”
He bit his tongue and backed out the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
I hated to be such a bitch, but it was for his own good. I was a headcase lately, swinging like a pendulum from blanket impersonator one minute to manic queen of vengeance the next, my moods as hard to predict as the fall weather. If anything, he should be grateful I wasn’t offloading my crazy on him.
He wasn’t. That much was obvious. But he had been incredibly patient, so patient I found myself wondering if he might sincerely love me.
“What is this really about?” he asked, bursting back in. “Why are you playing so hard to get when we both know you want me to catch you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Is it your mom?” he asked. “Because she’s too obsessed with her own reputation to tell anyone anything but the most favorable version of events anyway.”
I rose to my feet.
“You can’t just find this,” he said, gesturing between us. “What we have? You can’t just act like it’s disposable.”
“I don’t think it’s disposable.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“What if this isn’t the epic thing we think it is?!” I blurted. “What if all it does is further alienate our already screwed up family, and it’s never about more than sex.”
“This is already about more than sex,” he said, stepping up to me. “It always has been.”
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely get air into my lungs.
“I would walk home on my knees to see you at the end of the day.”
I swallowed. “There’s no future for us, James.”
“Only if you don’t want there to be.”
I tried not to shrink in front of his broad chest. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you’re no better than Maddy.”
“What?” I asked, taking a step back.
“You’d be denying our relationship because it’s inconvenient for you.”
“Get out.”
“I’m still waiting for an answer.” He stuck his foot in the door.
“Forget about me, James.”
He looked at me like I’d just said the earth was flat. “I can’t,” he said finally. “You’re too charming and talented and…good at Scrabble.”
My cheeks burned. “You can do better than a lame writer who’s the jack of all sundaes and the master of nothing.”
“There’s nothing lame about you, Brie.”
“I need you to leave,” I said, pushing him out. “I’m on a deadline.”
“Wait,” he said, his eyes searching my face.
“What?”
“Just one last look.”
I groaned and turned my face away. “You’re crazy.”
“I know,” he said, pulling a sleeve of photos from his pocket. “But only about you.
“What are those?” I asked, glancing at the yellow packet.
He squinted. “Your freshman year Tulip Trot, I think?”
The first thing that popped into my mind was the turquoise and pink dress I wore. “Okaayyy.” Then I remembered who my date was: Teddy Nieder from Maddy’s theatre class. I worried all night he might try to feel me up, but looking back, I don’t think he was that way inclined. “What are you giving them to me for?”
“If you’re going to be in here thinking about me, might as well give you some inspiration.”
I snatched the photos. “Goodbye, James.”
He lingered in the doorway, watching as I resumed my position on the floor beside my statione
ry supplies.
“Something else you want to say?” I asked, annoyance seeping into my voice.
“At least admit you liked my parlor performance.”
My head fell to one side. “I’m impressed you went to such lengths to embarrass me at my workplace.”
He smiled. “Now admit you’re getting off on the chase.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“Oh, come on. You totally think I’m going to ravage you for playing hard to get.”
It took all my strength not to admire the fit of his sweatpants. “I think no such thing.”
“You’d be right,” he added, pulling the door shut slowly. “When you’re ready to be caught, I’m going to make you pay for torturing me like this.”
“I’m not torturing you,” I called after he closed the door. I’m torturing me.
F O R T Y T H R E E
- James -
I stared at the apples in front of me. They were the same shade of red as the ones beside them, only smaller. Were there people who knew their apples?
Where was Brie when I needed her? Oh right, avoiding me. Like this is over. Like it can ever be over.
I finally settled on the Granny Smiths because their tangy bite is so damn memorable, but before I could bag them, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I hoped it was Brie but sighed when I saw Maddy’s name on the screen. I wasn’t in the mood for an earful. Then again, maybe Maeve and Mom had talked some sense into her. Or Quinn. This better be good, I thought before answering.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice strangely hushed.
“Tell you what?”
“About Brie’s professor.”
I forgot about the apples. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Her writing professor?”
My stomach sank. “What about him?”
“She sent an article into BELLE.”
My mind flashed back to her kneeling on the floor, her stamps, envelopes, and stacked pages strewn in a perfect arc.
“How did you get it?” I asked. “I thought you were only trusted with hangers?”
“This isn’t funny, James. Have you really not read it? They might end up printing it.”