by Louise, Tia
“It’s a Saturday night, bro. You can sit with us a bit. Get some of that shit off your chest.”
Mose drifts to the other end of the bar where a couple has come in. I look up at the clock. It’s just after ten. “What’s Dotty doing tonight?”
“Oh, you know. She’s got a baby shower or some such shit. Woman stuff.”
Again, I find myself chuckling. I’m wondering why Dagwood and I weren’t closer friends in high school. It’s possible I’m feeling a little buzzed myself.
“Anything else on your mind? I mean, besides the shit.” He leans closer, giving me a knowing nod. “Dotty said Drew Harris has been waiting for you to come back for years.”
Despite the numb of alcohol, my stomach twists at this information. Dagwood doesn’t miss a thing.
“Yeah.” He leans back like he won a bet. “I knew there was something there. Look, I get it, dude. Danny was a shithead when he drank. He’d probably have tried to kick your ass if he knew you were into Drew.”
My forehead tightens. “He wasn’t too thrilled.”
He slaps me on the arm. “If that’s what’s bugging you, I say let that shit go. Danny’s in a better place, and you gotta do what’s right for you right here. Get that girl.”
Dagwood makes it all seem so easy. I’m not even thinking when I pick up the second whiskey Mose put in front of me several seconds ago.
“Still, it stung,” I mutter into the glass, as I take another sip. “He said I wasn’t good enough… He was supposed to be my friend.”
“I get it man. I really do. If you’re good enough to be his friend, what the fuck is wrong with you dating his sister?”
“That’s what I wanted to know.” My voice is quiet, not animated like my drinking buddy’s, but he’s saying everything that’s been eating at me for two years.
“Like I said, he’s gone. You’re here. Drew’s here, and she is… so fine.”
“Watch it.” An unexpected flash of anger moves across my chest.
It’s unnecessary, and I’m definitely buzzing to be pissed at him. Dagwood is no threat to me. He doesn’t even want to be.
My response makes him laugh. “Easy, man, easy! I’m not after your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Sure looks that way to me.”
Does it? I feel like Drew and I have been an unspoken matter of fact for so long, but we’ve never come out with our feelings. We’ve only ever felt them.
He laughs more. “If Andrea Harris is not your girl, you need to do a little reflecting on what just happened right here. What’s been happening a long time.”
“You know?”
“Dude. Everybody knows.”
I stand out of the stool, and pause a moment, putting my hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Thanks, D. I have an errand to run.”
“Any time, man. Any time.”
Chapter 21
Drew
“When we hold onto grudges, it’s the same as holding onto sin.” My eyes drift around the small sanctuary as Pastor Hibbert talks. Since he took over after Pastor Stemple retired, the sermons have become less specific and more general.
I wonder if it’ll change once he gets to know us better.
Sometime in the night, Gray returned the Jag. I was disappointed he left it in the driveway with no note or anything. He didn’t even text or try to come inside. As I think back to our text exchange, I didn’t specifically ask him to come inside. It was more playful teasing. Maybe he didn’t realize I was serious… All I want now is him.
In front of me, Dagwood has his head bowed, and from this angle, I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping. It’s confirmed when a soft snore escapes his nose and Dotty elbows him hard.
He jumps and sits up. I pull my lips between my teeth and look away, across the aisle to where Ruby sits with her mother. She raises one eyebrow slowly, and I bite the inside of my cheek, looking away again. I’m so happy after being with Gray, I’m ready to laugh at everything.
I should probably look at our new pastor and see what he’s talking about. “Holding onto wrongs done to you is like cancer. It eats you from the inside out.”
I think about his words. They’re actually good. Roy Hibbert is about fifteen years younger than Paul Stemple. His wife is on the front row, looking at him as if he’s Jesus Christ Superstar. Two young kids sit beside her, and I think he might be a nice addition to our small town.
He might want to start a series on gossiping and being judgmental wanks.
“It’s an eternal truth: Forgiveness benefits the forgiver more than the one being forgiven.” He holds out his hands. “Let us bow and pray God helps us with this difficult act. Learning to forgive.”
I suppose I should learn to forgive the judgy church ladies. I might need help with that one, Lord. It’s hard to forgive them after the way they treated Gray and his uncle.
Friday night floats into my brain again, and I shift in my seat. I might have to add avoiding impure thoughts in church to the list of things God has to help me do.
A tickle is in my stomach. It makes me want to squirm, but the prayer is over. The organ launches into our usual exit music, and everyone stands.
Ruby is across the aisle to me at once. “Why are you sitting by yourself?”
“I got here late, and I didn’t want to make a big deal.” I wave to the pew behind me. “I don’t really mind. I’m used to it.”
Dad stopped attending church regularly after Mamma died, and my brother’s attendance was always spotty, depending on how much he’d had to drink the night before. I don’t blame Gray for not wanting to come. If these good Christian people acted a little more Christ-like, maybe I could convince him, but for now, I have one issue on my mind, and it’s definitely not religious. Although, didn’t God create the woman for the man?
She makes a sad face, but I wave it away. “Stop.”
Her arm goes through mine. “You know you can always sit with us. We’ll make room.” She waits with me as we work our way around a cluster of old people waiting to shake the pastor’s hand. “Speaking of room, Mom said for you to come over for lunch. She made extra dumplings.”
My eyes move to the door, and I think about my dad. “I guess it’ll be okay. Dad’s probably still in bed anyway.”
We finally make it onto the bright lawn, and she exhales heavily. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“He had a little breakthrough actually.” I nod at Mrs. Stern, walking across the path to the fellowship hall.
I’m sure those Sunday school ladies have some luncheon or other planned. They’re always trying to get me to join their volunteer ranks. No, thank you.
“I don’t believe it.” Ruby doesn’t wave at Ralph’s mother.
“We did. He agreed to give Naltrexone a try.”
“Naltrexone… that’s a drug for alcohol use disorder.” Her tiny nose wrinkles. “Doctors rarely prescribe those. They’re super controversial.”
“Rarely is a far cry from never. I’m taking what I can get here.”
She doesn’t argue with me. If anyone knows how hard I’ve tried to help my dad—apart from Gray—it’s Ruby.
We’re just about to leave when I see Remington Key struggling across the lawn with his four-year-old daughter Lillie.
“Hi, Remi!” I give him a wave, and his face only partially relaxes.
Remington’s really handsome for a single dad, light brown hair and warm hazel eyes, athletic physique. He moved to Oakville from Seattle when he married Sandy Burnside. Or Sandy Key. Her name always made me think she should be a mermaid.
Anyway, I’d heard he’d made a mint in the tech industry. I’m not sure if it’s true, but when he came to me for grief counseling and advice for talking to Lillie about her mom’s death, he never had a problem paying his bills.
“Hi, Drew.” He manages to get Lillie onto his hip, but she’s twisting, trying to get down. “How’s your family?”
“Oh, you know.” I don’t want to talk about it. “Have
you met my friend Ruby? She works with me now at the clinic.”
He gives her a short glance, adjusting Lillie on his hip, then I notice he does another, longer look.
My eyebrows rise, but my bestie is looking away, scanning the church lawn for God knows what. “Ruby.” I elbow her in the side, and she jumps back to the present.
“Sorry. Hi… Remington.” She is clearly not impressed.
I want to give her a good shaking. After all the drips she’s dated, here’s a possibly rich and stable hottie standing right in front of her. Granted, he has an insanely wiggly preschooler on his hip.
“Nice to meet you, Ruby. Is your family Korean?”
Even better… he knows his Asians! I try to give her an encouraging smile, but she could not be less engaged. “Yeah, my great grandpa moved here in the fifties.”
“When I was in Seattle…” His voice trails off as Lillie manages to break free. “Sorry. It was nice meeting you.”
He takes off after his escaped child, and I cross my arms, doing a little huff. There went a definite possibility, and he looked really hot in that expensive suit.
“Are you ready?” Ruby is impatient.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
We make the short drive to her house, and when we step inside, the delicious aroma of Asian cuisine touches my nose.
I get excited. “Did she make the broccoli I love?”
“She always does.” Ruby pretends to be disgusted. “You’d think she was your mother making all your favorite dishes.”
“Your mother’s food is like art. It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
Ruby’s nose curls. “So it’s like that. Kissing up to my mom?”
Mrs. Banks steps out of the kitchen. “Drew! I’m so happy you came for lunch. Come help me.”
Ruby’s mom never changes. She might spoil us, but she also makes us work for it. I’m happy to comply. It makes me feel like I’m part of a family again, even if it’s only Ruby and her mom.
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting around the table passing dishes of kimche, a bowl of soup, and my favorite, a platter of round sticky dumplings nestled beside tart pickles and zesty fish sauce.
I spoon three onto my plate, but I hate to eat them. The bite-sized nuggets have smooth coverings and bright orange sprinkles of toasted shrimp flakes on top.
“They’re almost too pretty to eat.”
“Said nobody ever,” Ruby shoves one in her mouth and moans loudly. “Better than sex.”
“Ruby! And after church.” Mrs. B shakes her head. “I taught you good Asian manners. You don’t even use chopsticks.”
“We’re south Korean.” Ruby shoves another dumpling into her mouth. “Much more relaxed.”
The last time I tried to use chopsticks, I ended up with a dumpling in my lap. Still, I feel bad using my fork. “Sorry, Mrs. B.”
“You enjoy your lunch, Andrea. You have every excuse. Unlike my ungrateful daughter.”
“Oh, boy.” Ruby groans. “Here we go again.”
“You should be married and have three babies.” Her mother easily uses her chopsticks to lift a dumpling to her stern mouth. “Not working all day with those crazy people, making no money.”
“I’m building my practice!” She cries, biting into another dumpling she holds with two fingers. “And we don’t call them crazy. I’ve told you this!”
“Ruby is really doing great building her practice. You should be proud.” I try to defend my wacky friend. “Her clients love her, and she’ll make more money eventually.”
“She needs to help herself.” Her mother shakes her head. “Not use her phone to find men. What kind of men, I ask? Men who forget their wallets and make her pay.”
Years of practice as a therapist helps me keep my face neutral… instead of busting out laughing. “Bumble?” I look at her.
“I’m losing faith.” Ruby sighs. “Still, I’m not dating any of the guys in this town. How else am I going to meet somebody?”
“If your father were alive, he would fix you up with a nice doctor from his work.”
Mr. Banks had been a surgeon in Charleston. “It’s kind of true, Mrs. B. Oakville is such a small town. We don’t have a lot of options.”
She pats my hand. “Now Grayson Cole is back. You don’t need options.” My jaw drops, but she continues. “I should have invited him to lunch. Ruby, why didn’t you remind me?”
I’m sputtering, trying to cover, and my best friend doesn’t even pause.
“I’ll invite him next time.” Ruby shoves another dumpling into her mouth. “In the meantime, more for me.”
“Maybe it’s good you have a purpose in your life. If you’re never going to be a wife.” Mrs. Banks, shakes her head, delicately eating half her second dumpling.
I’m on my third as well. “She’s kind of following in her father’s footsteps, don’t you think?”
Mrs. B charges on, ignoring me. “Still, I don’t know how you’re going to help Darlene Holt. She sleeps with every man she knows. And that Riley Sturgiss is the biggest liar in St. Stephen county. Possibly the whole state. Her family needs to go back to wherever they’re from.” She shakes her helmet of dark hair. “How do you help people like this?”
“It’s called compulsive behavior, Ma. We teach them techniques to manage stressors and we talk them through their feelings. It does help.” Ruby is unfazed, but I’m horrified her mother knows so much about our clients.
Damn small-town gossip.
“And that Hunter McFee has been afraid of Richard Nixon since he was a little boy. He thought the Watergate burglars were behind September 11. As if Nixon could order it from his grave.”
“I have an idea…” My brain is racing, and I can’t eat another dumpling.
I don’t really have an idea, but I’ve got to get us off this topic. Ruby and her mother look at me expectantly.
“Yes?” Mrs. Banks nods.
“Remember that time you showed me your fortune sticks and predicted our future? I’d love to do it again.”
“No.” Mrs. Banks looks down, her cheeks bloom pink. “I cannot do that again. Pastor Stemple said astrology and fortune-telling are divination. The work of the devil.”
“Oh.”
“Pastor Stemple is a party-pooping old windbag.” Ruby jumps in. “What was all that garbage about the cow? I never could understand that story.”
“The cow was God’s will.” Her mother starts, but Ruby cuts her off.
“I’ve been studying Chinese zodiac. Want to try it?”
“Sure!” I’ll do anything to get out of discussing my clients over lunch with Ruby’s mother. “How does it work?”
“Not at my table, Ru.”
“Come on.” Ruby gets up, and I start to follow, but Mrs. B stops me.
“You are just like your mother.” She puts her hand lightly on my cheek. “Always trying to help others, defend others, even if it’s misunderstood.”
“I don’t understand…”
Her hand goes to my shoulder, and she gives me a squeeze. “No worries. Now clean up!”
I follow my bestie to the kitchen, to deposit our plates in the dishwasher, then to her bedroom.
She still has a huge poster of the Backstreet Boys on her wall, and I flop on her purple-covered double bed.
For a second, I look around at her young-girl décor. “What would you do if you wanted to take a guy home after a date?”
“Are you kidding? I’d never bring a guy here.” She flops on the bed in front of me. “Unless he was the first Korean president of the United States.”
I start to laugh, but she quickly adds. “Maybe not even then. He’d be old. And probably not very good in bed. You know, powerful men and all. Let’s see…”
She turns the pages of the glossy booklet covered in Chinese characters. “You’re not Chinese…”
“Neither are you, but it’s still fun.” Finally she gets to a page with a sliding wheel on it. It’s broken into three parts, so she can li
ne it up over a pie chart of different animals.
“Okay, so your birthday is June…” She makes a note on one of our pads from the clinic. “Gray is August, four years later…”
Another note, then she flips a few pages. “You know, those notepads aren’t cheap. You should use one of the legal pads instead.”
“Oh! Look!” She turns the book towards me. “It says you’re a perfect match! He’s a horse and you’re a dog.”
My face pulls back. “Are you calling me a bitch?”
“Horses are clever, sensitive, and insightful…” She looks up and nods. “Totally Gray. And dogs are… honest, kind, frank, and tolerant! Totally you! Isn’t it amazing?”
Leaning forward, I examine the book with her. “That’s pretty… right on the money.”
“It says horse males are very attractive to female dogs…”
“You’re calling me a bitch.”
“You were being kind of bitchy about the notepad.”
My eyes narrow. “Those white pads are specially designed for the clinic. The legal pads are cheap. Anyway, who was your mom talking about on your date? When did that happen?”
She flops on her back on the bed. “I have to stop answering her when she asks how my date went.”
“I can’t believe you ever started. Some of them are pretty raunchy. Remember the guy who asked if you’d consider getting a boob job?”
“God, don’t remind me!” She wails. “He was almost as bad as the guy who called me Ruthie the whole night.”
“Did you ask him if he’d ever suffered head trauma?”
She starts laughing. “No! If I tell them I’m a therapist, they start trying to get me to diagnose their exes.”
“What do you say is your occupation?”
“I say I’m a life coach. It’s easier that way.”
“Show me your profile. Maybe if we put our collective heads together, we can get you better results.”
I scoot around in the bed so we’re head to head, lying on our backs, looking at her phone. It’s a comforting feeling, like we were when we were teens, laughing and talking about boys. My life was never the same after my mom died and my dad dropped out of society. Still, Ruby was always by my side, and Mrs. Banks was right there with the maternal input, making us eat, and giving us unsolicited advice.