by Naomi Niles
Chapter Seven
Dylan
The airport was packed with business travelers and tourists; there was an ordered chaos about travelling that had always struck me as amazing. I was late getting to the airport, and by the time I finally made it to the gate, they had already called my name twice.
It was nice to be sitting on a plane in civilian clothing, but my mind was so frenzied that I couldn’t enjoy it at all. I had the aisle seat next to an attractive woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She was wearing a skin-tight dress, high heels, and a string of pearls around her neck. Given that she wasn’t sitting in first class, I assumed that they were imitation. I took a seat beside her and smiled. She returned the smile and she sat up a little straighter.
“I’m Dylan,” I said extending my hand out to her.
She took it willingly and her smile broadened as she looked me up and down. “Hilary,” she replied. “Nice to meet you.”
I hated chatty passengers on planes. I usually liked to sit quietly by myself and enjoy the trip in silence, but today was different. I needed to be distracted, I needed to get my mind off all the grief that threatened to weigh me down. I wanted some mindless conversation with a stranger who had no idea who I was or why I was going back home for the first time in years.
There was something else that was pricking its way into the foreground of my mind. Instantly I saw her face in my mind’s eye. I could only picture the seventeen-year-old girl that I had said goodbye to the day I had left for San Diego. She had looked at me with her too-blue eyes, her red hair thrown across one shoulder, leaving the other side of her neck bare.
I wondered if she had changed a lot since I had left. I wondered if she still liked popping her bubble gum and going to midnight movies and refrigerating cookie dough so that she could eat it later. I wondered if she still liked to tell spur of the moment stories, if she had plucked up the courage to get the tattoo she had always wanted, and if she had taken up painting like she had always promised she would.
I had spent the last ten years of my life trying not to think about Lizzie Miller, and now that I had started again, it was hard to keep my curiosity in check. I shook off the image of Lizzie in my head and focused my attention on the woman sitting in front of me. I realized that I had already forgotten her name and I frantically tried to recall it to memory. I was pretty sure it started with an H, but that was all I had to go on. I decided to avoid her name altogether.
“My sister just had a baby,” she said. “So I’m heading home for a visit.”
“Congrats,” I replied. “Boy or girl?”
“Boy,” she said. “He’s almost six-months now.”
“You’re a little late.”
She laughed and touched my arm unnecessarily. “I know, I’m so bad,” she said. “But life is busy for me, I don’t get much time off work.”
I didn’t ask what she did. That question would only invite reciprocity; she would ask about my job and I really didn’t want to get into it. It didn’t matter in the end because she told me what she did before I asked the question. “I’m a lawyer,” she said.
“That must be interesting work,” I said without really concentrating on what I was saying. I was too busy studying her face. She was wearing a lot of makeup. I wondered why women thought that the solution to ageing was to add another layer of makeup to their faces. In my opinion, it had the opposite effect.
“It can be,” she said tilting her head to one side. “My only free time is devoted to the gym.”
I nodded, trying to pretend as though I was interested.
“You look like you hit the gym a lot too,” she observed, touching my hand again.
“I try,” I said shortly.
“What do you do?” she asked predictably.
I hesitated for a moment. “I … own a small business in the city,” I lied quickly. “A construction company called Thomas and Company.”
I wondered what Tyler would say if he knew I was pilfering from his life. He had started the construction company almost eight years ago and it had done well in Bastrop. I spent the rest of the flight sharing details of my life with the woman sitting beside me; all the while, I stole things from Tyler’s life and passed them off as my own. There was something oddly satisfying about being someone else, even if it was just for a short time.
When we finally landed, I was all talked out and ready to see my family. She kept smiling at me suggestively and I knew she was expecting me to ask for her number, but all I could give her was a smile and a wave as I exited the terminal.
I saw Tyler as I walked out. He was the tallest one there, dressed in beige trousers and a navy-blue polo shirt. He looked more and more like dad every time I saw him. He came forward and we hugged awkwardly. It was the kind of hug where neither party leans into one another; we both maintained out stiff stances and then we backed away from one another in relief.
“How was the flight?” Tyler asked conventionally.
“It was fine,” I replied. “How are things here? Is everything sorted for Dad’s funeral?”
“Of course,” Tyler replied impatiently. “What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”
“I was just asking,” I replied as we started moving through the airport towards the exit. “And mom … how is she?”
“The same,” Tyler replied. “She’s still a little shell shocked; I don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet.”
“Has she spoken to you?” I asked hesitantly.
“Of course she’s spoken to me,” Tyler said.
“It’s just that … I asked to speak to her and she refused.”
“Oh, well … that’s different.”
I shot Tyler a look. “How is that different?” I asked trying to keep my annoyance in check. “We’re both her sons.”
“Yes but I’m the only one who’s been around,” Tyler said and the accusation was evident in his tone.
“Well I was being shipped off to war-torn countries on dangerous missions,” I snapped. “So I haven’t really had a lot of free time.”
Tyler shot me a glare. “And you think I have? At least you’ve only had to worry about yourself; I’ve had to look after mom and dad for the last eleven years. Not that I would have done anything else; I would never run out on my family.”
I stopped short. “You think I ran out on mom and dad?”
Tyler regarded me coldly. “You got the opportunity to go off and see the world and you took it. I don’t blame you for that.”
Then Tyler turned and kept walking and I was forced to follow after him, trying to resist the urge to punch him in the face. I was imagining his face if I actually attempted something like that and it did make me feel a little better. We got my bags and then made our way to the car. Tyler had upgraded since I’d last been in Bastrop. He had traded in his car for a Jeep and it took up nearly two sparking spaces.
“You couldn’t have found a larger vehicle?” I asked sarcastically. “I don’t think they’ll be enough room for both of us in there.”
“I thought you’d have more bags,” Tyler said ignoring me.
“I’m only here for four weeks,” I said.
“That’s it?”
“I would have thought that would be too much for you,” I said as we got into the Jeep.
“Maybe,” Tyler replied. “But mom might feel differently. Especially since you haven’t been home in years.”
I felt the sting of his words, more so because they held the insinuation that I had missed out on the last few years of dad’s life. I felt the need to justify myself, but I held the words in at the last moment. I wouldn’t convince Tyler so what was the use in trying?
We spent the first half hour of the drive in silence and I realized just how much Tyler and I had drifted apart in the last decade. It wasn’t just that we didn’t keep in touch as much as we should have; it had more to do with a sense of underlying bitterness that followed our relationship. Except that I wasn’t entirely sure why or
where that bitterness had originated from. We were always so touchy around one another that it was hard to carry a conversation without someone getting pissed or irritated.
I took a deep internal breath and started again. “Do you remember that time dad decided to teach us poker?”
“Dylan, I really don’t want to talk about dad ok?”
“But …”
“I’m serious.”
I understood why Tyler didn’t want to talk, but at the same time I felt as though I really needed to. Yes, it was hard to talk about him but I felt it would be harder not to. Tyler’s face was set however and I knew he wouldn’t participate.
“How’s business?” I said taking a different route.
“You’re asking about my business?”
“As you pointed out, it’s my first trip home in years ok? I just want to know what you guys have been doing. I’m interested. And it beats the awkward silence.”
“I thought you preferred silence?”
“With strangers,” I clarified. “Not with my own brother. Can you at least try?”
“All right,” Tyler said with a sigh. “What was the question?”
I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. “How’s the business?”
“It’s doing well,” Tyler replied. “We manage to get at least one big contract every month and that keeps us afloat.”
“That’s good,” I nodded.
“How are … things with you?” Tyler asked out of obligation.
“Fine,” I replied. “The same as always.”
“Still training?”
“We never stop,” I said. “Actually, speaking of work, I’m thinking of retiring soon.”
That got an expression out of him. He glanced at me with raised eyebrows. “Retiring?”
“Yes.”
“That’s … unexpected,” Tyler said. “I would have thought you’d want to die in the Navy.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said impatiently. “I think I’ve paid my dues and I think it’s time for a change.”
“What will you do?” Tyler asked. “Where will you go?”
“Well, I was actually thinking of coming back here,” I admitted.
“To Bastrop?” Tyler asked incredulously.
“Yeah.”
“What on earth would you do here?” he asked.
I hesitated for a moment. “I’m not sure yet,” I said evasively. “I haven’t figured that part out.”
In fact I did have something in mind. It was an idea that had been forming in my head for quite some time now but I didn’t want to share it with Tyler just yet. I didn’t want him scoffing at it.
“Well you might want to think about that,” Tyler said. “Instead of up and quitting before you have a solid plan?"
“I will.”
“I don’t see the point of coming back to this town,” Tyler went on. “You’d be bored here.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I countered. “Maybe I want to be bored.”
Tyler gave me a look. “I think that’s your grief talking.”
I didn’t bother to argue, Tyler didn’t get it. I’d probably be hard pressed to find anyone who would. You’d need to have lived the kind of life I had in order to really understand. The thing is, I was tired of the travelling, and I was tired of the fighting and the missions. I wanted to find a little piece of land that was mine and make something out of it.
I had always wondered why my father had seemed so happy after retiring from the Navy. I wondered why he hadn’t milked it and stayed till he had been asked to go. But now I finally understood. The irony was that he was gone and there was no one I could talk to, no one who would see that I wasn’t just making an impulsive decision. I was tired and I wanted some peace and quiet.
“I bet lots of people have stopped by the house,” I said changing the subject.
Tyler nodded wordlessly.
“Has … Lizzie been around?”
Tyler shot me a glance. “I met her this morning,” he replied. “I think she might drop in before the funeral.”
“How is she?” I asked. “What’s she been doing these past few years?"
“You’d have to ask her,” Tyler replied unhelpfully. “But I do know that she’s divorced.”
“I heard something about her getting married,” I said. “Didn’t work out huh?”
“You went to school with the guy didn’t you?”
“Who?” I asked. “The guy she married?”
“Yeah,” Tyler nodded. “Paul Kapke.”
“Paul fucking Kapke?” I choked. “That’s who she married?”
“Yeah … you didn’t know?”
“No,” I said trying to let that sink in. “What happened between them?”
“As I understand it, he was verbally abusive.”
I felt my hands curl up into fists and I had to remind myself that I had no place in this town anymore, and I certainly didn’t have a place in Lizzie’s life. I wondered suddenly why that bothered me so much.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth
Once the lasagna was finished, I left it on the kitchen counter to cool and then I moved into my bedroom. Elvis followed at my heels, purring and pawing at me for attention. I bent down and picked him as I stood in front of my wardrobe trying to figure out what to wear.
“I’m ridiculous aren’t I?” I asked Elvis. “It doesn’t matter what I wear; no one is going to care.”
Elvis looked bored with me so I set him back down and reached for a plain black LBD that was both appropriate and flattering. “Maybe I should save this one for the actual funeral.” I reminded myself that this was just a casual visit and a dress was probably a little overkill.
“I’m being ridiculous,” I said firmly and threw on my dark denim and a white, lace blouse. I kept my hair loose and resisted the urge to put a little gloss on my lips.
I had just finished feeding Elvis when the doorbell rang and I ran to get it. “Hi, Maddie,” I greeted. “You’re right on time.”
“You ready?” she asked.
Maddie was wearing jeans and a simple, crocheted, beige top that made me feel as though I had made the right decision. “Yup,” I said. “Just let me get the lasagna and we can get going.”
It had been a long time since I’d driven to Dylan’s home. It felt so natural that I was uncomfortable by the thought. I reminded myself that at one point in my life it had been my second home. I remembered all those times when Dylan and I had gone straight from school to his house. Mrs. Thomas would make us lunch and then we would play video games, go biking or just sit in the backyard and talk.
“Are you ok?” Maddie asked.
“Sure,” I said unconvincingly.
“I can feel the nerves coming off you,” Maddie pointed out.
I gulped. “I’m just … psyching myself out a little. I really shouldn’t be this nervous.”
“Lizzie, you need to breath,” Maddie said calmly. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Do you think he’s changed much?” I asked.
“I’m sure we all have,” Maddie answered. “But at the heart of it, I’m sure he’s the same person he’s always been.”
“I don’t know how to react when I see him,” I admitted. “I mean, should I hug him? Should I shake his hand? Should I just wave from across the room?”
Maddie smiled. “Just do whatever comes naturally.”
I glared at her. “Oh you’re a big help, I’m so glad I brought you.”
Maddie laughed and instantly I realized how neurotic I must sound to her. “I know it must seem like the only reason I’m going tonight is because of Dylan but it’s not.”
“I know…”
“I mean I do want to see him but … even if he wasn’t going to be there, I would still be going and I would still have brought the lasagna.”
“I know, Lizzie,” Maddie said firmly. “You don’t have to tell me that. We’ve known each other for twenty-five years. If there’s anyone who’s willing to m
ake food and take it to someone in need, it’s going to be you.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’m just a little nervous.”
Maddie glanced at me curiously.
“What?”
“Do you think that maybe the reason you’re so nervous is because you might still have feelings for Dylan?”
“No,” I said before I could even consider the question. “Definitely not.”
“You sound sure.”
“I am,” I said quickly. “I mean, I haven’t seen the man in eleven years. I’m just nervous because, well, he was my high school sweetheart. Wouldn’t you be?”
“I suppose so,” Maddie said with a shrug that wasn’t very convincing.
Our conversation came to an abrupt halt as I pulled up outside Dylan’s large driveway. There was already a parade of cars outside and I knew the house would be packed with people. I got out and straightened my blouse, then I got the lasagna and Maddie and I headed for the open front door.
We walked in and headed straight for the long table where the food had been laid out. There was already a range of different things: fruits, sandwiches, pies, and more. A few people nodded to us as we moved through the room, but I was too preoccupied to have a conversation with any of them.
That’s when I saw Mrs. Thomas. She was sitting in one corner of the room with a bunch of tissues in her hand. Her eyes were red from crying and her cheeks were tear stained. I left Maddie at the food table and moved towards Mrs. Thomas. My heart broke at the expression on her face and I realized how much she had loved her husband.
I knelt down right in front of her. “Hello, Mrs. Thomas,” I said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” The words didn’t sound right as they came out. It was such a conventional thing to say that it seemed to me as though all meaning had been drained from it. She looked at me in confusion for a moment and then it clicked.
“Elizabeth?”
I smiled and nodded.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“I know,” I replied. “I should have dropped by to see you, it’s just—”
“I know,” she said before I could finish my sentence. “You don’t have to explain.”