by Elena Monroe
He placed a toy car on my knee, and the smile that came over me was purely organic. He went right back to his toys without a word, and I kept the toy car on my knee, choreographing my papers around it’s placement.
He was all me. I couldn’t point out one feature that resembled Jade. His dark eyes, the fine curls waiting to grow wild, and his cheeks that were always sunburned… they were all like staring into myself.
Whatever happened in the day, whatever went wrong, Arson was my saving grace. He could make any day better.
It had been weeks of Layla’s silence, which was something I deserved for all the same treatment I gave her in college when I wasn’t willing to give in to her.
Payback hurt just as much as revenge. I felt it twisting into my day and ruining my mood.
On days graded papers came back not much else was ever planned. Students were preparing for winter break and I was on the same schedule, no wonder I didn’t feel any more grown up. I sat behind my desk, letting the quiet be their motivation or least opportunity in writing their midterm last minute.
My phone buzzed, while the students were working on their last papers that they needed to hand into me before summer break tested their ruthlessness.
Caden: Your boy is pitching Saturday. Your ass better be there.
I didn’t respond. I had been responding too much to text messages and felt like the youth who abused words in creating new ones like drip (style), lit (hyped), and bands (money). I preferred the old-fashioned words that got to the point and that I didn’t have to think twice about their meaning.
If someone needed me, they’d call.
That’s exactly what Caden did as I was walking out of class. I put the phone to my ear as I locked the door behind me, waiting for his voice I didn’t hear.
“Liz is calling it in. Meeting before the game. Wanna crash with us?”
I felt the protective panic wash over me like a ton of bricks. Something had to be wrong to call a meeting with no warning or hints.
“Ollie? You there? No Jade, okay? Just Sinners.”
I finally spoke, trying to iron out my expression. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Liz was the first person I dated. She was the one to see behind my curtains first. I went to text her, but I didn’t know what to type. Nothing seemed good enough without anything to go on. I stared at her name and prayed everything was alright. This group didn’t need cancer scares or anything like that to balance the scales for all our sins, and lack of forgiveness.
S hopping for dresses wasn’t so bad, until Liz had a bridezilla sized meltdown in the changing room, which was all because she needed a bigger size to cover the mini baby bump barely showing. As maid of honor and the holder of secrets, I was the one behind the scenes pulling dresses, holding her arm as she got into them, and handing her sparkling club soda with grenadine to make it look like rosè so no one would suspect anything.
I could tell her body was wrecked with stress and changes already putting her on edge. A bigger sized wedding was the last thing she needed, but she was determined to be married before she gave birth. Only the Sinners would know the truth eventually: not a honeymoon baby, but a pre-marriage baby. It would be just another secret buried within these people.
It certainly wouldn’t be the last either.
The girls were restlessly waiting for her to emerge. Her sister was running her fingers along the fabric of other dresses; Hayley looked uncomfortable, like someone sent her to Heaven, instead of the Hell she called home; Maddison was giggling against her wine glass in the opportunity to day drink; and I was wondering how we could all be in such different places in our lives.
It only clicked in this dress shop in the heart of Boston that adulthood meant whatever you wanted it to be. There was no more plans or expectations. You were just… you.
It felt like an epiphany, even though it was easier to think than live out.
I sat next to Hayley, bumping into her purposely, hoping it would knock the disgusted look off her face before Liz walked out.
I asked her, “How are you and Palmer?”
I hadn’t seen Palmer in months, and Hayley didn’t seem herself today at all. She was more abrasive than normal, and she was easily scaring the girls who worked in the bridal store.
“She follows the art, you know that. She’s in Australia, working on her new documentary.”
Palmer was a nomad. She didn’t let things like friends, her girlfriend, or stability tie her down to one place for too long. After the news dropped about Oliver having a son, she quickly left a week later for Indonesia to interview a tribe of women making goods and selling to the United States in the hopes to become more independent. They were creating change, and there was no doubt what she chose to put on film was important. Wasn’t Hayley important too?
The bride emerged in her mermaid-style dress, cutting off my comforting Hayley. I knew she wouldn’t allow me in anyways, at least not the way that actually felt like comfort.
Addi, the resident drama queen, drew all the focus to herself while stepping into a dress and twirling around like a child who didn’t understand boundaries. Hayley wasn’t in the mood for bullshit and said a little too loudly, “Sit the fuck down, Addi! It’s her day.”
The girls, who were helping to adjust the train, handing her a veil, and helping us all stagger through this, looked at Hayley like she swore in church.
I shot Hayley a look, still trying to figure out Addi’s story. She leaned into me and said, “Parents compared them constantly. Liz was the gold standard. Addi kind of lost it in high school under the pressure. She dyed her hair blonde and sucked all the attention out of rooms as revenge.”
I was thankful to be an only child at that moment.
No wonder I sensed the immediate danger when she walked into the room. She was a female version of Ollie and Hunter, with broken edges and a passion for pissing people off—especially her sister.
We were in the dress shop for four hours, until Liz cried at a satin champagne dress with bead work not from her original idea of stark white and lace. It cemented how much she didn’t know what she wanted. None of us did.
Before anyone parted their own way, she reminded everyone about dinner at the Supper club. It was everyone’s favorite restaurant, and it was relaxed enough that it brought the faint aroma of the frat house—old worn leather, warm lighting, and of course a collection of alcohol that couldn’t be beat.
None of the Sinners had called a meeting post college. We had plenty of them during college to keep everyone on the same page. Caden typically called the meetings, but this time it was Liz.
She told me in advance what the meeting was about. She was finally telling everyone she was pregnant. I knew no one would react poorly, not to her face and certainly not because of her, but rather her choice of companions.
I broke off too, making the excuse I had to go home to change. Truly I just needed a break from fielding too many conflicting emotions.
I wasn’t shocked to see Hunter in just boxers in my bed when I finally dropped my bag and kicked my boots off in the safety of my room. I crawled into bed next to him and let my head fall into the crook of his shoulder and chest.
“What’s wrong, princess?”
I felt his hand smooth down my hair, and my eyes closed, taking in his gentle touch, lulling me to sleep.
“Don’t let me sleep past 5:30. Emergency dinner meeting. Very important.”
I felt heavy and light all at the same time when sleep snatched all my senses from me. I breathed in Hunter’s musk, stench of pot, and cologne that made my mouth water for him.
I woke up facing the opposite direction with my fist pushed against my cheek. I could feel the imprint of my teeth in my cheek as I moved my hand away from my face. I examined what was in my eyeline before falling onto my back.
“Hunter?” I called out, not seeing him anywhere.
He appeared like a magic trick, all of sudden in my bathroom doorway, causing my heart to jump
, skipping several beats. He was using my toothbrush, as his lean body leaned against the doorway. He mumbled, “What?” around the toothbrush.
“What time is it?”
“5:18. You’ve got eleven minutes to get ready. I’ve seen you do more with less.”
I pushed him back into the bathroom annoyed with his standards of assumptions. “Don’t use my toothbrush again!”
I shimmied into my jeans, squirming as I jumped, while pulling the fabric up my legs. Some things never changed. I pulled on an oversized shirt hitting mid-thigh and mules that were easy to put on. I tugged my bun loose and shook any kinks out of my mane. Everything felt familiar, except my new sense of calm that raked over me like fingers through my hair. I had already bit the bullet, seen him, even kissed him. What came next pushed the nerves aside: the reality of choosing him all over again felt comforting.
Hunter stood behind me, placing his oversized fedora on his head in the space of the mirror above me and tugging at the pieces of hair falling out of his low bun. I let him take up the empty space in my life without any push back. Now that Oliver was back, did that suddenly mean that time had done its job? Jealousy didn’t mean he wanted me back in his life as much as it meant he was protective and still loathed Hunter.
Was Hunter truly just taking up space in my life and not my heart? Letting someone share your bed rarely ended in the “no strings attached” lie we told ourselves.
If adulthood didn’t spit in my face enough, being endlessly helpless about matters in love also wanted to make sure I knew who was boss.
I was making a lot of exceptions lately—ones I never allowed myself to make before. Texting regularly, going to Boston on a whim, and indulging my friends more than I ever did in college.
I wasn’t suffering, but every time I kissed Arson’s forehead and explained I’d be back in a few days, it felt like I was slowly creating a monster. The same monster Richard created in me.
I knew he was too young to understand or comprehend even what twenty-four hours truly felt like. I felt it enough for us both.
I didn’t trust Jade alone with our son, not even after years later of her sticking around and under the same roof for longer than I could have possibly imagined. The nanny was staying over to truly watch him and let Jade pretend she had any power in this.
Thankfully, this event wasn’t black tie or even formal. I could wear my overworked, almost see through, white v-neck with my same holey jeans. The drive wasn’t terrible, and parking at the Supper Club wasn’t all that annoying. As long as no one damaged my car pulling off the curb, I was a happy camper.
I arrived late, like I normally did. No sense in letting people down now. I was keeping up typical appearances, including my commitment to being tardy.
I walked in, slapping Caden’s hand first as he hugged me, like he missed me all over again. A few weeks didn’t merit such a hefty hello. I slowly greeted everyone else, and Caden handed me a scotch on the rocks, while I caught up with Hayley. Now it made sense, he was a distraction.
I knew Palmer left the States again to chase her inspiration—always leaving Hayley in the dust to feel like a nightmare, so far from Palmer’s dreams.
I took the glass, still looking at him like he was potentially trying to roofie me.
“You’re gonna need it. Trust me, bro.”
My carefree smile, one I never wore in public, faded fast, when I followed his eyeline to Hunter. He was pushed up against Layla at the bar, kissing her neck as she giggled into her glass, pretending to not be motivated by his lips. I could always read her slightly parted lips and the way she pushed her thighs together, trying to keep her desire at bay.
A familiar anger crept up my spine, and I heard it whisper how easy it would be to hurt him, how easy it always was…
Caden’s hand on my shoulder held me back, even though I didn’t feel myself moving.
“He’s not worth it.”
His words sounded like a bad lie. Everything about hurting him was worth keeping him from Layla. It created distance and made a point all with one swift hit.
Caden noticed the hard to miss Jade behind me and his grip on my shoulder only became more tight. “Thought I told you Sinners only.”
She wasn’t the only unwelcome guest here tonight as I stared at Hunter.
Liz hadn’t told us why we were here, and if I acted now, that meant never knowing. Liz didn’t ask for help, attention, and everyone in one room for no reason.
I slumped down on the couch of the rooftop we were on—a more casual take on her engagement dinner. Aspen sat next to me, still tense in a way I wasn’t used to. I never expected to finally get my friend back only to learn this version can’t tolerate me. Maddison leaned over him, slapping my knee to silently say hey.
We all felt disconnected, with our own problems and secrets finally coming between us all. I looked at them, and it was written all over their faces: the same resolution I had that adulthood had really fucked us up.
Liz sat down in front of me on the other side of the coffee table, and everyone gathered to the area, like some bad sitcom opening, where all the friends pile in for one last close up. I watched Layla and Hunter cozy up on a loveseat to my right. I was seething a type of mad that I hadn’t been in a while, at least not while sober. Anger was a lot like trying to control a toddler. It did what it wanted, and you felt pretty helpless about it. (Thankfully, my son was the quiet, weird type.)
Right when Liz was about to talk, the door to the rooftop garden flew open, and I saw someone I never expected: Addi, her little sister.
She was clad in sunglasses, a hangover, post sex hair, and probably last night’s outfit that she hadn’t bothered to change. Carelessly, she asked everyone, “What? I’m not that late.” No one was shocked, except maybe Layla. The Sinners were used to her antics, and just her in general, while I was still navigating how to tolerate her. I hadn’t really ever met her younger sister formally. I’m sure this was a calculated move on everyone’s part. In high school, I flew through girls so fast there wasn’t one I didn’t touch by graduation.
I stole a glimpse in Layla’s direction, and her eyes were already locked on me in a familiar twist of attributes and anger. My eyebrows felt heavy under her gaze, dropping into confusion.
How does Addi being late warrant this kind of stare? My gaze dropped away from Layla into my lap, and I realized her punishment was well deserved when I finally noticed Jade’s hand too far up my thigh, pawing at me, like I was hers, when really my heart never truly belonged to anyone but Layla.
Brushing Jade’s palm off me, I tried to pay attention to Liz, beating around the bush nervously. I zoned out, waiting for the punchline, when I finally heard her utter, “I’m pregnant.”
My jaw went slack, while my other features stretched into shock.
Caden was the first to squeeze her into his arms and congratulate her. I was motionless, waiting for life to slow down and align for Layla and me, instead of just being happy for the positive things happening for my friends.
Layla should have been the first one pregnant. She should have had my kid, not Jade, and this should have been our wedding. Avoiding these events made it easier to accept our time wasn’t now.
Jade squeezed the inside of the sensitive part of my thigh, gaining my attention without speaking. I looked around at the Sinners staring back at me, like I missed something important. I automatically jumped to congratulations, while Liz pushed her hand out for me. “Walk with me?”
It was hard to say no to someone who just announced she was pregnant. The tough as nails, type A-personality, was now dusted in fragility.
There was nowhere to walk, so she led me to the other side of the rooftop, while she sipped her club soda that bubbled nonstop. “Ollie, you okay?”
I could hear the worry in her voice instantly, and it made my heart ache—the damn thing never shut off now, always working and feeling.
“I’m good. Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?” My popp
ed eyebrow made her smile.
“I meant with everything, like sobriety and Layla... you’ve never been around this much, and I see how hard it is to see Hunter with her like that.”
What was harder was talking about my damn feelings for Layla with every Sinner separately; we might as well call a group meeting rather than repeating this conversation with everyone.
“Do I want to cave his face in? Yes, it’s the only high I’m allowed to have. Am I sober? Mind numbingly.”
She looked at me more concerned instead of less.
“I’m fine, Liz, really. I’m built for the hard stuff.”
I pulled her into my side, holding her against me before I whispered, “Congratulations. If Leon fucks up, I’ll debate killing him.”
Her bray laughter made me smile, even though I was serious. After our embrace, I made my way to the bar to at least refill the scotch in my glass. I wanted something stronger, but instead I had to be strong.
Sobriety was a tricky bitch. Sometimes she was easy; other times she played hard to get and needed to be seduced first. Every moment, every second, was different—an ever-pending mood, exactly the same as how I read women’s emotions.
Addi slid herself down the bar, spotting me, and I mouthed the word “fuck” before I plastered a small smile to my face before anyone took my mood as jealousy.
“Your my sister’s ex, right?”
I didn’t justify her playing dumb with an actual answer. She knew exactly who I was before broaching my space. She reeked of the kind of sweat that seems nervous and under the influence. Oddly enough, I knew the stench from Aspen, pre-Maddison, when he drank like a borderline alcoholic.
I had enough to deal with without having to try and figure out Addi. Her delicate fingers landed on my arm, and my gaze dropped down to the exact spot in pure wonderment.
“I’ve seen you on campus. I don’t have you as my prof, sadly. You teach romance lit, right?”
I took a step back, making it harder to keep her hand on my arm when she giggled in such assured way. She leaned forward. “We aren’t on campus, silly. No one cares what happens here.”