Because You're Mine

by Rea Frey

  “I’ll do the same, though I doubt I’ll go.”

  They both rummage through their clothes. Grace pulls out yoga pants, workout socks, a sports bra, tank top, and windbreaker. “Did you hear from Noah tonight?”

  “I did.”

  Grace takes the opening. “Anything you want to share?”

  Lee tosses a pillow at her. “No.”

  Grace tosses the pillow back and sits on the edge of her bed. “I’m serious. I want to know what’s going on.”

  Lee grips the pillow to her stomach and rests against the headboard. “I don’t know, other than what I told you on the way here. He said he wants to talk about us when I get back.”

  Grace waits for her to continue.

  Lee sighs. “Grace, he’s just so … loyal. And unwavering. He really looks at me when I’m talking. He never seems distracted. He’s meticulous. He’s direct. He’s incredible with Mason. And those eyes … I could get lost in them.”

  “So just see what he says when you get back. And then go from there.” Grace hesitates. “Just don’t get ahead of yourself, okay?”

  Lee stiffens. “Who said I’m getting ahead of myself?”

  “I don’t mean it that way. I’m just saying that you don’t know what he’s going to talk about, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Why are you being so negative?”

  Grace wavers. “I’m not. I’m totally not. I’m just listening to what you’ve said, and I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

  “You’re not my mother.”

  Grace almost laughs. “Who said anything about being your mother? I just want you to protect your feelings.”

  Lee launches the pillow across the bed and sits up. “Maybe I’m tired of protecting my feelings. Maybe I just want to throw caution to the wind and take a risk.”

  Grace lifts her hands in surrender. “Go for it then. You know best.”

  “That sounds like a real vote of confidence, Grace. Thanks.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean? I thought you wanted me to be happy. I thought you liked Noah.”

  Grace scratches her forehead, suddenly exhausted. “I do like Noah. I want you to be happy. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “Forget it.” Grace climbs back into bed and flicks off her lamp. Her heart thuds in her ears. She doesn’t want to be this worked up. She doesn’t want to fight.

  Lee peels back her own sheets and sighs as she crawls into bed. Grace considers apologizing but thinks better of it. She attempts to ignore the frustration, emotion, and nerves.

  She rolls to her side and blinks into the darkness. She counts backward from one hundred, but no matter what she does, she’s wide awake.

  “Lee?” she whispers into the blackness. “Are you awake?”

  She waits for a response, but none comes. She rolls onto her back. Tomorrow then. She closes her eyes, recites what she will say, and begs for sleep.

  friday

  21

  lee

  Sunshine filters through the shades. Lee glances at the alarm clock. The red numbers flash ten. She sits upright in a panic, thinking of Mason. Has she missed any critical texts? She fumbles with her phone and sees a few messages from Noah. She stabs them with her thumb to find photos of Mason eating breakfast and working on an engineering project. She smiles, relieved, and types back a succession of apologetic but enthusiastic replies. She sinks back into the covers and attempts to relax. She hasn’t slept this late in years. She didn’t even hear the three of them leave this morning.

  She replays her argument with Grace. Why can’t she just be happy for her? Grace is always supportive … but for once, she wishes she would stop acting older and wiser and just listen.

  Her stomach grumbles. She heads downstairs and smells fresh coffee. A crew of familiar voices bounces around the kitchen. She rounds the bottom of the stairs to find the girls clustered around the table in their workout gear, digging into omelets and green juices.

  “There she is!” Carol exclaims.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Did you get good rest?” Grace asks. Her tone is tentative.

  Lee smiles. “Hey, sorry. I can’t believe I slept so long. Are you guys back already?”

  “We are. We were there by six-thirty. It was amazing,” Alice says.

  “So amazing,” Carol says.

  “Marge wasn’t lying about the view,” Alice adds.

  Grace shrugs. “I didn’t go either. I slept until eight, and they had already left. I went for a walk around the lake, though.”

  Lee helps herself to coffee and leans against the counter. “Where’s Marge?”

  “Went into town. But not before making us all of this.”

  “Fancy,” Lee says.

  “And the coffee too, which is divine,” Carol says. “Almost as good as the Lounge’s, A.”

  “Hey now,” Alice teases. Alice owns the Germantown Lounge, a nonprofit artistic haven where patrons can paint, write, strum guitars, type, and drink coffee for free.

  Lee takes a sip. The thick dark roast dissolves the fog in her brain. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

  “We thought we’d go into Asheville and do some shopping,” Carol says as she bites into her eggs. “Does that sound good?”

  She doesn’t have the extra cash to spend. The thought of aimlessly wandering from shop to shop as the girls try on clothes and collect toys for the kids sounds like the opposite of relaxing.

  “You know, I think that claw-foot tub is calling my name.”

  Carol opens her mouth to protest, but Grace interjects. “That sounds fabulous. You do what you want. It’s your vacation too.”

  Lee appreciates the support and hopes the tension from last night is gone. She surveys the food again and chooses an egg white omelet and a piece of toast. After they eat, she helps scrape plates and load dishes. Alice and Carol head up to shower and change, but Grace lingers on the stairs.

  “Are we okay?”

  Lee nods. “Yeah. I’m sorry about last night. Truly. You were just being protective, which I appreciate.” She cradles her mug against her chest.

  Grace smiles. “Okay, good. I’m going upstairs to shower. Just come in if you need the bathroom.”

  “Thanks.” Lee walks outside with her second cup of coffee. The morning air shocks her body awake. She sits on the steps. Lake Tomahawk glitters just a few feet away. People scatter around the water with their dogs. A few kids squeal from the small playground, spraying sand into the air. Would Mason like it here? If he weren’t so married to routine, maybe. She tips her face to the clear, cloudless sky. She doesn’t have to worry about that now. All she has to do is enjoy herself.

  The door creaks behind her, and the girls, refreshed and dressed, bound outside. They step around her toward the gate.

  “Sure you don’t want to come, Lee?”

  “Retail therapy can’t be beat,” Alice jokes, swinging her tote.

  “A really good bath could give shopping a run for its money any day.”

  Grace leans down and kisses her cheek. “Enjoy.”

  Lee waves and watches them walk toward the SUV. She stares into her coffee cup, drains the last few drops, and goes back upstairs to fill the claw-foot tub.

  She finds complimentary bath salts and sprinkles some into the steamy water. She undresses, places her phone on the bathroom sink, and observes her body. She is still lean. Her stomach is flat. Her breasts are small and perky. She runs her fingers across her flesh, wanting to see what others see. She tilts her head and imagines Noah watching her like this, touching herself. Would he be aroused?

  She slips into the scalding water inch by inch and surrenders to the heat. She closes her eyes. Noah’s distinct face and strong hands fill the space behind her eyelids. One hand slips beneath the water. She touches herself and imagines his fingers—not hers. She finishes in minutes, breathless
and sweating. What would he do if he knew she just used the idea of him to get off?

  She dries her body, drains the tub, and gets ready. She checks her phone again. Noah, true to form, has sent regular, timed updates. She wonders again what he wants to talk about, if he is going to confess something to her.

  She creeps downstairs. “Marge, are you here?” She assesses the charming cabin: the wood-paneled rooms, the hutch filled with fine china, the sectional positioned in front of a massive wood-burning fireplace.

  Lee doesn’t understand the appeal of loading your house with strangers. To charge them to stay on your property, to clean up after them, and hope they don’t murder you while you sleep. She looks around the house, wondering what secrets are kept here. She glances at the ornate brick fireplace, remembering how she used to squirrel away her treasures behind a brick she’d sawed loose with a bread knife. She’d stuffed Troll dolls inside, small journals, her allowance, and later, money she earned as an adult. She double knots her tennis shoes and lowers her sunglasses as she steps outside onto the path.

  Mason turns eight at the end of summer. She thinks about where she was eight years ago and cringes. All of the ways she’s gotten here … no one would understand, not even Grace. She hits the pavement with her iPod and breathes deep. She spends so much time in her studio, with hair products and chemicals, or in the house, with Mason, that she never feels she can take a deep breath.

  The sun warms her pale skin as she walks the loop three times. Her past whips around her like a storm, as it always does when she is alone with her thoughts. She is in a constant state of rehashing events that happened, almost happened, or should have happened. She thinks of the night she started drinking. She thinks of the party. She thinks of her father, of Shirley. She thinks of Mason as a baby, plump and happy, gurgling in his car seat. She thinks of what happened after.

  On her last loop, she ducks inside to grab water. Marge is still out. She checks her phone again and sees a single text from Noah that says: Nothing new to report. I hope you are having fun.

  Pleasure spasms through her body. She unlocks her phone and texts him back. I am having a lot of fun. Thank you for making me come.

  She laughs as she sends it, knowing that the last sentence bears more than one meaning. She waits as the ellipsis blinks, and then his message comes through: My pleasure. You are missed, but Mason is doing well.

  She’s missed? By whom? She can still imagine the kiss that almost happened, his smooth face in her hands. She fantasizes about what he would feel like inside of her, all the ways that that would crack her life apart. She sends one more text just as Carol, Grace, and Alice parade inside.

  “Finally!” she says. She slides the phone into her pocket and smiles at her friends who are laden with bags of trinkets for their kids.

  They show off their gifts—Grace even bought Mason a wooden toy plane—and she makes the appropriate comments. But Noah consumes her thoughts. He misses her. Noah misses her. Suddenly, she can’t wait to get back.

  22

  grace

  Grace tells the girls at dinner.

  She promised she’d tell Lee first, but she wants to gauge their reactions before she tells Lee. They will be her trial run. They can give her advice. She wanted to tell them while shopping, when they’d stopped at Hole for donuts and coffee, but the timing hadn’t felt right. Now, when Lee excuses herself to FaceTime with Mason, she releases all of it in a quick rush. Carol and Alice look at each other, wine stems in hand, truly shocked.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Carol waves her hands. “How did we not know?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Alice asks, swirling her wine in a nervous frenzy.

  “And why haven’t you told Lee?” Carol’s eyes widen.

  Grace pinches a piece of fresh, warm bread and pops it into her mouth. “I wanted to. For months. Trust me. But I also wanted to see for myself first … to make sure it was real.”

  “Are you going to tell her tonight?” Carol asks.

  “You have to,” Alice says. “She needs to know.”

  Grace cringes but nods. “I am. I just wanted to tell you first so that you can make sure she doesn’t murder me while I sleep.”

  “Oh stop. She’ll be fine,” Carol insists.

  “And we’re happy for you.” Alice pats her hand affectionately.

  “Really? I’m not the worst friend ever?”

  Carol rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Hardly.”

  “However it ends up, thanks for making this trip a hell of a lot more interesting,” Alice says as Lee returns to the table.

  “Sorry. What did I miss?”

  Grace almost chokes on her bread and raises her glass in a toast. “To real friends,” she says.

  “To real friends,” they echo as they clink their crystal against hers.

  Tonight, she will tell Lee, and then it will all be over. There will be no more secrets.

  * * *

  After dinner, the women pile into Carol’s rental and drive the fifteen minutes back to Arbor House. Marge is waiting out front. They cluster together, somehow wondering if they are in trouble.

  “Ladies, may I?” Marge ushers them to the back deck. A blazing fire pit, a tray of graham crackers, squares of expensive dark chocolate, homemade marshmallows, skewers, two bottles of wine, and freshly folded blankets are artfully arranged around each of the chaises.

  “Marge, are you serious right now?” Alice exclaims. “This is amazing!”

  “You ladies enjoy, and just let me know what else you need.” Marge pulls the back door closed. They each grab a blanket and get cozy under the stars.

  “Okay, this is pretty divine,” Carol says.

  “Beyond,” Alice adds.

  Grace claims the chair beside Lee and relishes the night sky.

  “Thank you for convincing me to come,” Lee finally says. “Really. I would have been so sad to miss this. I didn’t know how much I needed to get away.”

  Carol leans forward and cups her hand around her ear. “What was that?”

  Lee stretches her legs in front of her and takes another bite of her s’more. “I said, thank you. You were right. Don’t be an ass about it.”

  “That would mean she’d have to be someone other than herself,” Grace jokes.

  “Wow.” Carol tosses a piece of graham cracker at her. “Let’s dump on the organizer. Fine.”

  “We love you,” Lee says. “But you are a total control freak.”

  “It got us here, didn’t it?” Carol nibbles sticky marshmallow from her finger.

  “The s’mores are a nice touch, I have to admit,” Grace says, trying to distract herself from what’s to come, from what she has to say.

  “I have an idea.” Alice chews and swallows, making brief eye contact with Grace. “Let’s all go around and tell each other something we don’t know. Kind of like Truth or Dare. Without the dares.”

  The confession snags in Grace’s stomach and flips. Here we go.

  “How about no?” Lee scoffs.

  “Oh, come on,” Carol says. “It will be fun.”

  “Why don’t you start?” Grace asks. She needs time to formulate how she will say it. Where she will even begin.

  “How about Alice starts? Since it’s her game.”

  Alice sits up straighter. “Fine.” She clears her throat. “I think I’ve decided to turn my nonprofit into a for-profit business. With Fred as my manager.”

  “Whoa,” Grace says, genuinely surprised. “A, that’s an amazing idea.”

  “Do you think you and Fred will kill each other?” Carol asks.

  Alice shrugs and twists the cap off the first bottle of red. “Probably. But I’m not going to ‘Alice’ the situation and freak out. I can handle this.”

  “Did you just use your name as a verb?” Carol laughs.

  Alice tosses the cap at her. “You go.”

  Carol catches it and looks at Grace. “No, why don’t you go?”

  “Because I’m not re
ady yet,” Grace says, an edge to her voice.

  “I just thought the older and wiser one would want to go next.” Carol shrugs.

  “Ha-ha,” Grace says. “Asshole.”

  “Stop calling me that!” She launches an entire cracker, and Grace lifts her blanket to shield herself from it. The cracker breaks apart and scatters crumbs along the deck.

  “Guys, we can’t make a mess,” Lee whispers.

  “She started it,” Carol says around a mouthful of s’more. “But fine, I’ll go.”

  Grace resituates herself under her blanket. Her heart is a jackhammer, and she takes long, slow breaths as she waits for Carol.

  “Mine’s not good, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean?” Lee asks. “Is it Zoe?”

  “No, it’s my mom.”

  “Did she call you an asshole too?” Grace jokes.

  Carol smiles and swirls her wine. “I wish. Turns out she has stage-four breast cancer. She just told me a few days ago.”

  Grace sits up. “My God, Carol. You mean when she called in the park last week…”

  “Yep. Totally legitimate. I just assumed she was being her normal paranoid self. But you know how my mother is. I want to make sure she’s actually stage four and not, you know, cancer-free, as she very well could be.”

  “Oh God, now I’m the asshole. I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re fine.” She dismisses Grace’s apology with her hand. “It will be fine.”

  “But we all heard her on the phone that day,” Alice says, “and it all seemed so trivial.”

  “Well.” Carol shrugs. “It wasn’t.”

  “Cheryl seems like she’ll live forever,” Lee murmurs.

  “She does. But after Dad died…”

  Grace sits forward and touches Carol’s knee. “Please let us know how we can help. You know we’re here for anything.”

  “I can’t think of anyone better to have in her corner though,” Alice says. “You’re the most devoted daughter I know. Your love coupled with your affinity for research will have her cured in no time.”