Sweet Agony

by Christy Pastore

  I scroll through my text messages only to realize that we never confirmed the time. Blowing out a deep breath, I try calling him. Straight to voicemail.

  “Hey, Brant, it’s me. I can’t remember if we decided on a time to go to the reunion. Maybe you’re already there? Give me a call when you can. Hope you’re okay.”

  I turn off my bedroom light and walk into the kitchen. Pacing around I see Alan staring at me through the glass by my reading nook.

  “I know, boy. I don’t know what’s keeping him either.”

  I decide to pour a glass of white wine as I wait to hear back from Brant. Did I imagine him telling me that he’d pick me up? Maybe he had to help with the set up or something?

  I shoot him a quick text.

  Me: Hey! Did something come up? Do you want me to meet you at the reunion?

  Julep whines at the backdoor so put her leash on and we walk outside. She does her business like a good girl, and then sniffs around. When we come back inside, she heads straight for her water dish.

  I take a final sip of wine and my phone vibrates against the countertop. Brant, finally.

  Olivia: Hey, girl! You’re still coming, right?

  Me: Yeah. I’m waiting to hear from my date. He must be tied up with work.

  Olivia: Okay. Practically everyone is here. See you soon!

  Fifteen minutes later I check my phone, still no word. I hope nothing is wrong. Rinsing out my wine glass I grab my keys and then walk out the door.

  I try one more time to contact him.

  Me: I’m going to head over to the reunion. See you there.

  I drive over to Rosemary Hill, it seems to take forever to find a parking spot. Near the back I find an open spot and recheck my messages. Still nothing from Brant.

  Worry creeps into my veins.

  Is he okay?

  Or is he avoiding me for what I said earlier?

  No, that’s insane.

  Once inside the building, I check in and then wander through the mezzanine level to find Olivia. I try to push the Brant stuff out of my mind and not retreat to the worst place. My eyes roam over the crowd and that’s when I spot Olivia. She’s standing at a cocktail table with Jake, Sawyer and Maybelle.

  “Hi, guys,” I say.

  Olivia hugs me. “So glad you’re here.”

  Sawyer juts his chin. “Where’s your date?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I admit. “I tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. And no reply to my text yet.”

  Maybelle eyes me. “You want me to try and call?”

  “Sure.” I rub at the ache in my chest.

  Jake looks at me. “If we don’t hear from him soon, we’ll drive over to his place and check on him.”

  “You want a drink?” Sawyer asks.

  “White wine, please.”

  Olivia lays her hand on top of mine. “I’m sure something came up and he’s out of cell range.”

  Sawyer hands me my drink and I take a long sip. “I’m sure that you’re right.”

  My fingers tighten around my phone and a heavy sadness settles in my chest.

  Brant

  I roll over and I fall and my shoulder hits the carpet with a thwack.

  My pulse pounds in my ears. Blinking, I try to stop the red spots that mar my vision from swirling around. My mouth is dryer than the air in Las Vegas.

  “What the fuck?” I say to no one and push myself up from the floor.

  Bits and pieces from the day filter into my brain.

  Natalie in my apartment.

  A baby.

  Yelling at Antonio.

  Showering with Caroline.

  I bolt up and plant my ass on the couch.

  Caroline.

  I search the coffee table, but my phone is nowhere to be found. My hands push into the pockets of my jeans. Nothing.

  “Where the fuck is my phone?”

  I stand on wobbly legs and pull the pillows off the couch and lift the cushions. There between the leather cushions is my phone. I blow out a deep breath. Swiping the screen for the time it does not come to life.

  Damn it. I walk down the hallway to my office and then plug in my phone. The clock on my laptop reads 8:39 p.m.

  My phone powers on and the dings are one after another. Glancing at my screen, I’ve got missed texts and calls from both Caroline and Maybelle.

  I spear a hand through my hair. “Fuck, oh fuck. The reunion.”

  My gut clenches as I play the messages. As I expect, Caroline’s voice is a mixture of warmth, worry, and what-the-fuck. Maybelle’s is mostly what-the-fuck.

  My fingers hover over the screen as I try to gather a response.

  Me: I fell asleep. And that’s a terrible excuse. I’m sorry.

  Me: Do you still want me to come to the reunion?

  I sprint into my bedroom and change my clothes. There’s no response from Caroline yet. She’s either taking her time or is royally pissed at me. Probably serves me right. I promise to take her to her reunion and then I stand her up.

  Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see nothing but disappointment looking back at me. And twenty minutes later, Caroline’s standing on my doorstep. The same look paints her face.

  What have I done?

  Caroline

  An hour earlier.

  Laughter and music fill the room. I pick up my wine glass and give it a good swirl and a long sniff. My mouth is met with an explosion of flavors. I swallow another gulp.

  Chrissy texts me a little after eight to let me know everything is going off without a hitch.

  The television turns on and the words: “What the Class of 2008 Has Been Up To” flash on the screen.

  I stab at the tomatoes and cheese on my plate and read the slides. Most people talk about getting married or engaged. Some people have one or two kids, not many though. Lots of job bragging.

  I didn’t bother to fill one out. I still live here and everyone knows that I work at the high school. Not much to tell them about my life.

  Gasps and fits of laughter filter over the crowd.

  “FOR THE LAST TEN . . . ELEVEN YEARS, I’VE BEEN SUPPLEMENTING MY INCOME BY SUCKING OFF PARK BUMS.”—Caroline Stratton

  “What about us non-bums?” I hear someone shout.

  “Har har,” I say out loud. “Glad to see y’all haven’t grown up since senior year.”

  Since Whitney is in charge of the reunion, I know exactly how this slide passed through.

  Ignoring the cat calls, my gaze flicks over the crowd to find Jake and Olivia catching up with Henry Wilson. I think he ran track. Jet and Boone wave to me as they walk toward the bar.

  Maybelle skirts up to where I’m sitting—alone. “Ignore that slide.”

  “Done,” I say, before popping a piece of cheddar into my mouth.

  “Anything from Brant yet?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I hope he’s not in a ditch somewhere bleeding out.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. And if he’s fine . . .” Her red lips form a devious smile. “I’ll give him a reason to visit the hospital.”

  That makes me laugh out loud. I hop off my bar stool. “I gotta use the ladies’ room.”

  “It’s just down the hallway. Can’t miss the signs,” she tells me.

  I walk through the dining room and down the hallway. The sound of two women cackling and having a very loud conversation carries into the hallway. When I open the door, I stop in my tracks.

  Courtney Leigh and Whitney stand at the sink touching up their makeup. Courtney Leigh’s red dress hugs all her curves in the right places and her dark hair falls in neat waves down her back. It’s like humidity can’t touch her.

  Whitney’s wearing a super cute strapless jumpsuit. Her skin is flawless and her blond hair is styled in a low chignon.

  I hate that they both look amazing.

  “Hi, Caroline”—Courtney Leigh eyes me in the mirror—“couldn’t help but notice that you arrived alone tonight.”

  Whitney t
urns to smile at me.

  “Hi,” I chirp.

  “Yeah, Brant had something come up, but he’s still hoping to make it before the end.”

  Whitney bats her faux lashes at me. “I bet she lied about dating Brant. Probably paid him to say all that stuff at the bar.”

  Courtney Leigh crosses her arms and turns to face me. “I saw him at Milt’s last weekend. When I asked him about you—he didn’t say a thing.”

  My brows pinch together. “Well, why would he? Our relationship is none of your concern.”

  Her glossy pink lips set into a grim line. “Is that right?”

  “Well, Brantley was all concerned about Courtney Leigh last weekend when they danced together,” Whitney interjects, laying it on thick.

  I don’t show my emotion or bother asking her any questions. My gut tells me all I need to know—she’s nothing but a liar. A dance with Brant translates to they passed one another on the dance floor.

  “And bums in the park?” Courtney Leigh tsks. “Honestly, Caroline. You should try selling makeup or candles.”

  Whitney snickers. “I didn’t think that you’d actually show up tonight.”

  My phone buzzes and buzzes.

  Brant: I fell asleep. And that’s a terrible excuse. I’m sorry.

  Brant: Do you still want me to come to the reunion?

  “Oh, I’m sorry gals, I need to get going,” I say. “My boyfriend needs me at his place ASAP. If you know what I’m saying.”

  Whitney’s mouth gapes. The look of shock is evident on their faces.

  My body shakes with laughter. I wink and then scurry out of the bathroom. Those two are so ridiculous. I feel sad for them, kind of. Not really.

  “Everything okay?” Sawyer asks.

  “Yeah, fine. I heard from Brant. I’m gonna takeoff and go over to his place.”

  “Things seem to be winding down,” he says. “I think a few of us are going to hit up the strip club.”

  I roll my eyes. “Shenanigans. Enjoy.”

  “You too. See you at school.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. I can’t believe summer is over already.”

  After I tell everyone goodbye, I make it out of the building and walk toward my car.

  I glance at my phone again and shake my head. He fell asleep. Likely excuse.

  Brant

  “Hi,” I say quietly. “Come on in.”

  She steps inside and I immediately reach for her. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” My hands fall to her waist.

  “What’s going on? You fell asleep?” She cocks a brow.

  Her expression and tone tell me that she’s suspicious.

  “Yeah, I had a few bourbons and then started to watch the game,” I explain. “And I had an unexpected visitor—my ex, Natalie.”

  She rears back and her blue eyes go wide. “Your ex was here? In your apartment? What the heck did she want?”

  I huff and spear a hand through my hair. “I think you should sit for this and I think you’ll need a drink.” I hold up a bottle of wine.

  She nods. “That bad, huh?”

  I laugh and pour her a glass. “Well, she asked me to have a baby with her.”

  Caroline gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. “Oh my god! Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, and . . .” Shaking my head, I exhale heavily. “Let’s just say, she and I have differing views about why we broke up. Then I got pissed and called my ex-boss, Antonio, and gave him an earful. . . etcetera, etcetera. It was all so uncomfortable.”

  “I can’t imagine . . . I wish you’d called me after it happened.”

  “Ugh, I know and then I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up my phone was nowhere to be found. It slipped in between the cushions. When I did find it, it was dead.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Ah, yep,” she says. “Been there.”

  I move to stand beside her and my hands push through her hair. “You look beautiful and I can’t believe I let you down.”

  “Oh, Brant, I’m sorry.” She slips her arms around my shoulders and hugs me tight.

  “I feel like such a jerk for doing this to you.” I kiss the top of her head. “Standing you up.”

  “Hush. I didn’t even want to go to the damn thing in the first place.”

  “See that’s what I’m talking about. You got all dressed up and went alone. And I know that you spent money on that dress . . . which by the way is incredible.”

  She blushes. “You didn’t do it on purpose. You’re human. It happens. I’m just glad you told me.”

  “No, but it still sucks.” I pop the cap off a beer bottle. “So, was it awful?”

  Caroline lifts a shoulder. “Well, I did run into Courtney Leigh and Whitney. They were super pleasant and Courtney Leigh was talking about dancing with you last weekend.”

  “For the record, I didn’t want to, but she’s got an asshole ex-boyfriend. I tried to help her out, because she looked like she needed it.”

  She chuckles. “Are you saying that you actually danced with her?”

  I set my beer aside and pull her off the barstool. “Unfortunately, and I hated it. I thought about you every single second.”

  She arches a single brow. “Is that right?”

  I nod. “I was really looking forward to tonight.”

  “Well, what can you do? Right?” She kisses me and her hands tug my hair.

  My stomach chooses this moment to rumble loudly.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved,” I admit.

  “I can cook for you.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve got a better idea. Let me take you out. Show you off in this dress.”

  “That’s sweet, but on a Saturday night that might take too long and since Ma isn’t home this weekend I’ll need to get back to my place and let Julep out.”

  “Your mother isn’t home?”

  “Nope, she went to Indianapolis with a friend. Girls’ weekend.”

  This gives me an idea.

  “How about I stay the night at your place?”

  “Okay, I’d like that,” she tells me. “I’ve got some french bread. I’ll make you the best ham and cheese sandwich you’ve ever had.”

  “Really? The best?”

  “Mm hmm. And my special sauce makes it that much better.”

  “I’ll pack a bag.”

  We sit at Caroline’s dining table. I devour the sandwich while she gives me the reunion highlights.

  “So, if you hear a rumor about me and park bums—total lie.”

  “I’ll set people straight,” I tell her in between bites. “I got your back.”

  She smiles. “Thanks. Good to know.”

  “Tell me something,” I say and polish off the last of my sandwich.

  “What’s that?”

  “Why is this the first time I’m spending the night at your place?”

  She sighs. “Ma is old school. Even though I pay rent here, it’s still her place. She believes in no sex before marriage and shacking up together before marriage is another sin.”

  I wipe my mouth. “I get that.”

  “Are your parents strict?”

  “Nah, I mean, Weston, my younger brother, he’s off doing god knows what with god knows who in parts unknown. And you already know that Haven and Tyler are engaged and living together. And Natalie and I lived together for two years, before the . . .”

  “Cheating incident.”

  “Yeah,” I chuckle. “I still can’t believe she asked me to have a baby with her.”

  “Tell me something.” She eyes me over the rim of her wine glass. “Do you want children?”

  “Someday, yeah,” I say. “I’ve always wanted them. Maybe three or four even.”

  “That’s . . . that’s ambitious.”

  The anxiety in her voice is apparent. “Do you?”

  “Right now, no, I don’t think so.”

  Surprising. I thought all women wanted kids.

  “Losing my dad when I did and see
ing Joseph go through his young life without a dad. I don’t know, it kind of made me not want to have a family.”

  Kind of. So, there’s a window of opportunity here. But if I’m being honest . . . if we don’t want the same things for the future, what are we even doing?

  “But you’re young and healthy. That shouldn’t stop you.”

  “I’m healthy now,” she says. “What about in ten years? Cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, and heart disease all run in my family. The thought of leaving my kids without a mom—it terrifies me.”

  My heart sinks. “But you can’t live in fear like that. The chances of you dying young are slim. You could get hit by a bus tomorrow.”

  She takes a sip of wine. “Let’s hope not. I thought about having my ovaries removed a few years ago.”

  My brows shoot up. “Wow, really?”

  “Both of my aunts, Ma’s sisters, died of ovarian cancer. My cousin Gina is in remission, but the cancer has already come back once. Grandma Stratton had heart disease and breast cancer. Ma is good, nothing but semi-high cholesterol.”

  “Did your doctor recommend that you remove your ovaries?”

  “It was discussed, but not recommended. Ma and I were both tested for BRCA, the breast cancer gene. That’s another risk factor. Neither one of us tested positive.”

  “But you’re still worried?”

  “Yeah, there’s another option, but . . .”

  I shake my head. “But what?”

  “I can have them removed when I’m thirty-five. Once I’m done having children. And I just turned thirty.”

  “That’s soon . . . but at least you have options, if you want to have kids.”

  “Yeah and I’m not . . . we’re not, ready. I mean, we only started fooling around.” She winces at her words.

  I smile because I hear the trepidation in her voice. “Hey, it’s okay to talk about this stuff with me. I’m not just fooling around with you. I hope you know that . . . all this stuff is important to discuss.”

  “Are you sure that you’re not ready to run back over the hill to your house?”

  “Not a chance.”

  So, Caroline doesn’t want children . . . now. Doesn’t mean she might not change her mind in the future. Could I live with that? The possibility of never having kids of my own?