by Erin Zak
Watching her father with Lila is almost harder than her mother. Even her dad is completely enamored with his new daughter. Gwendolyn has always been a daddy’s girl. He taught her so much about life and love. He showed her literature and Broadway shows. His love for musicals and the theatre is why she wanted so badly to become an actress. The desire to impress her father is in the background of everything she does. He always seems excited for her, too. And he never made her regret her decisions.
Unlike her mother, who even during a phone call, has a way of making Gwendolyn feel small and insignificant.
The first time Gwendolyn made the decision to not come home when invited, her dad called a few times, trying to talk her out of it. But she stood firm. And every time after the initial, it got easier and easier to…not go home.
She tried to a few years ago. There was a hot minute when her dad bribed her with tickets to take a cruise. An Alaskan cruise, all expenses paid. She would only need to purchase a plane ticket. Thankfully, she was cast in a supporting role of a Melissa McCarthy movie, so she was able to decline with no guilt. The movie ended up being one of the best things she’d done, and it set her up for the next role of a lifetime…which she was turned down for…and now… Well, now she’s home.
Home.
In fucking northwest Indiana.
She leans against the railing as she stretches her legs on the steps. She found a place to hide where no one stumbled across her while leaving. She can hear a lot of hustle and bustle from the cleaning crew inside the house, but so far, she is safe. No Bella. No Dad. No Mom. And more importantly, no Lila fucking Machowicz.
Gwendolyn raises her plastic cup filled halfway with vodka, the other half with lime LaCroix, and takes a very long drink. Honestly? Everything about the current moment feels amazing. The cool air, not too humid like Indiana and the Midwest can sometimes be. The gentle breeze keeps the mosquitos at bay, which is wonderful considering she always welts up when she gets bitten. The leftover yacht rock tunes still drift out the open windows. She doesn’t want this moment to end. She’d like for her life to resemble this kind of calm one day. She knows it’s a pipe dream if she continues acting.
If.
She should have never picked a career where one person’s decision can affect the rest of her life. She should have never done something that’s so easy for people to judge, criticize, make fun of. Her skin has always been thin. Ever since she was a child. And her mother’s incessant nagging never made it any better. There isn’t a person alive who doesn’t want to be loved and admired for who he or she is. And all Gwendolyn has ever wanted is exactly that. She wants to not fear who she is becoming or who she was. She wants to look in the mirror and see eyes that match her mood and skin which she’s worked so hard on and luxurious hair which does whatever she wants and needs it to.
Trying to be beautiful is not what it’s cracked up to be. She wants someone else to see her. Maybe it would help her see her, and maybe she wouldn’t be so fucking hard on herself.
She chuckles before she takes another long drink. “Yeah right.” You will always be hard on yourself.
She glances up at the night sky. The stars are out, not as bright as she remembers, but still there. She chuckles again because they remind her of herself: there, but not as bright as she remembers.
When the screen door creaks, her heart sinks. There goes her nice, calm, introspective nightcap. Her mother crosses the porch. She’s wearing slippers, but she’s still in her black dress. She has a cardigan on and her arms crossed as if she’s freezing. She steps down two steps and sits, leans forward, and props her crossed arms on her bare knees. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Her makeup is still flawless. And for the first time in years, Gwendolyn finds herself thinking she still looks beautiful.
Tired. Maybe a little sad.
But still beautiful.
They sit in silence for what feels like days. Gwendolyn doesn’t want to be the first to speak. She hates the awkwardness of an icebreaker, like:
How ‘bout those Cubbies?
Wow, what weird weather you guys are having.
How do you think the team’s gonna do this year?
Do you really think it was necessary to hate me for being gay?
Gwendolyn raises her cup, eyeing her mother over the brim. Is this what they will do the whole time? A standoff? Because her mother speaking first would be entirely too difficult. If their phone conversations were any indication of how this convo would go, they’d have already hung up.
Her mother clears her throat. The sound causes Gwendolyn’s heart to leap into her throat. Don’t. Don’t speak. It’s fine. We don’t have to talk.
“Gwen,” her mother starts. And Gwendolyn’s heart sinks and sinks, past its home, all the way past her stomach.
She sighs. “Hmm?”
“I know you’re unhappy being here.”
Understatement of the year.
“I know you feel as if this is no longer your home. And I don’t mean Vale Park.” Her mother finally turns and locks eyes with her. “I mean here. This house.”
“It’s fine, Mom.” She waves a hand through the air. “I’ll survive.”
“I know you will. You’re strong.” The way she says those words causes something inside her to spring to life. Her mother smiles, but it’s not a happy smile. “I am glad you’re here, though.” She rubs Gwendolyn’s calf. Her touch feels good. Really, really good. And the whole scene is making Gwendolyn’s head spin. This is the first touch her mother has willingly participated in. “It’s good to see you. See you happy. See the beautiful woman you’ve become.”
Gwendolyn is speechless. Her mother has never said she is beautiful. Not once. Before prom, her mother said she looked really nice. But the word beautiful never left her lips.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this now. You may never want to talk about it.” She stops and smooths her hand over Gwendolyn’s calf. She looks down, hair falling into her face. She pushes the hair behind her ear, then places her hand back on Gwendolyn’s calf. “But I have never been the best mother to you. In fact, there have been moments when I was awful.” She looks at Gwendolyn. “To you.” She presses her lips together. Her eyes have welled with tears. “I hope one day, you can forgive me. Because you are lovely, and you deserved so much more than I gave you.”
“Mom.” Gwendolyn’s voice cracks, so she swallows the emotion. “The party was really nice.” She rolls her eyes at her icebreaker. “Dad really loved it.”
Her mother looks away, her smile genuine. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.”
“Oh?” The comment sort of shocks her. “What—”
“Girls, get in here!” Her dad shouts. “Carol, my love, you owe me a dance.” His words are slurred, and Gwendolyn can’t help but laugh.
Her mother turns, her eyes wide. “He’s joking.”
“No, I am not joking. Come dance with me,” he says as he opens the door, does a wobbly spin while continuing to hold the door open, then stops, his hand a few feet away “After all…” He pauses as the music quiets. When the first few lines start of the next song, “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing,” start, he wags his eyebrows. “M’lady?”
Gwendolyn laughs. “Oh, Mom, you can’t turn him down if he’s using his eyebrow game.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Her mother’s eyes are happy as she gazes across the porch at her father. She stands, closes the distance, and grabs his hand. Gwendolyn follows them inside as her dad wraps his arm around her mother’s waist and sways with her to Leo Sayer. Gwendolyn leans against the door frame as her father spins her mother a couple times. They move together gracefully. Years of marriage are clearly the key to being able to dance in sync. Gwendolyn glances over as Lila appears and mimics her position across the room, leaning against the door frame, her left leg over her right, head against the wood frame. Her smile is striking as she watches Gwendolyn’s parents.
Who are also kind of her parents, aren’t th
ey?
The entire situation is so fucked up. But as much as Gwendolyn wants to hate everything about it, hate everything about Lila, she can’t. And as she stands there, she also can’t seem to pull her eyes away. Not until the music changes, and Lila’s eyes drift over to hers, does she do so.
Chapter Five
Needless to say, Lila is not at all looking forward to brunch. The only thing getting her through is Carol’s text message after the party.
You have never been a replacement. Please know that. You are as important to me now as you always have been.
Lila reads it again as she sits in her car. She wants to screenshot it and send it to Gwendolyn. She’s thankful she doesn’t have her number, even though she would never do anything that awful. She always prides herself on being a good person. She doesn’t even have road rage. She knows every person is working on something.
Part of the reason she tries so hard to be the best person she can be is because of everything she went through growing up. Her life before Vale Park wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always fun, but Carol and David saved her from a lifetime of emotional instability. Paying it forward means being kind to others, regardless of how awful people are to her…and it includes Gwendolyn.
She takes a deep breath and gets out of her car. She slams the door and heads across the street to Stacks. The restaurant is situated in an old building on the main drag of Vale Park. She knows the owner really well, and he’s always super welcoming, so instead of checking in with the host, she scans the restaurant and finds him behind the bar. His hand shoots into the air. He’s galloping to her within seconds, and he throws his arms around her.
“Lila, baby, how are you?”
“Nicholas, it’s so good to see you.” She hugs him back, and when he releases, she rubs his bearded face.
He’s so adorable in skinny black slacks and a dark purple button-down. The sleeves are rolled, but he pushes them above his elbows and crosses his arms. “You look like a million dollars. What’s the occasion?”
“I’m meeting Carol, Sabine, and Bella.” Lila swallows. “And Gwendolyn.”
“Shut the front door. Gwendolyn Carter is in town? Are you kidding me?” He starts to frantically look around. “I haven’t had someone famous here in forever.”
Lila purses her lips and squints. “Famous? She’s far from famous.”
“She’s been in like, three movies.” He laughs. “Sounds famous to me.”
“Five movies and she’s not famous. Supporting roles, all of them.”
Nicholas backs up a half step and looks at her. “Someone has done her research.”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, girl, what is going on there?”
“What?” Lila looks around, checks herself out, then looks at Nicholas. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about…” He pauses and puts his hand on her shoulder. “This very large blush covering your cheeks. Are you harboring a crush for Miss Carter?”
Lila lets out a laugh. Then another loud, “Ha,” before she shakes her head. “You are high as a kite. There is no crush. At all.”
“Mm-hmm. Please, tell me how it turns out.” His hand shoots into the air again. “Gotta mingle, baby. I’ll swing by in a few to greet the movie star.”
Lila watches him rush away. Her eyes land toward the front of the restaurant. Carol, Sabine, Gwendolyn, and some other woman are seated at a round table. Lila realizes her mouth is hanging open, so she closes it quickly. Bella is nowhere to be found. She’ll be late to her own funeral. And it pisses Lila off every single time.
As Lila approaches, Gwendolyn’s eyes shift to her. And fuck if the color and intensity don’t cause her to stumble over nothing. She can feel the heat in her cheeks as she catches herself, regains her balance and composure, and keeps walking. She wants to hide when she gets there. How embarrassing. She knew she should have worn different shoes instead of these stupid black heels.
“Well, if anyone gets up to go to the bathroom, there’s a wicked bump in the floor. Don’t trip over it.” Lila pulls a chair out, and all the women chuckle. Except Gwendolyn, who is reading the menu. “Hi, by the way.” Lila holds her hand toward the unnamed woman. “I’m Lila.”
“Samantha.”
“It’s so nice to meet you.” Lila smiles, looks at Carol, then Sabine. “Ladies.”
“How are you? Are you okay?” Carol kisses her on the cheek. “That was quite a stumble.” She laughs, then pats her gently on the cheek. “You look very pretty. I love this dress.”
“You don’t have to be so wonderful to me.” She looks at Carol. It always warms her heart how Carol treats her. She always feels as if Carol could have been her actual mother, but Gwendolyn’s comment last night has really thrown her. She’s on trial now, and every action is being scrutinized. Or so it seems.
Carol tilts her head, then moves it back and forth. “Stop,” she whispers.
Lila softens. “I’m sorry.” The look on Carol’s face means she’s forgiven, but it still makes her feel horrible for being so skittish. Not only is Carol a prominent parental figure in her life, but she is also one of Lila’s best friends. She tells Carol everything, including how nervous she was to meet Gwendolyn, so it’s not okay to take those nerves out on her. Or anyone else, honestly. She needs to take them out on Gwendolyn, who, of course, looks like a goddamn supermodel sitting across from her. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, she’s wearing tortoiseshell glasses, and if she looks any better, it’ll be a fucking crime. Lila is trying everything in her power to hate this woman. Hate everything about her. Including her inability to be a nice human being.
But it’s not working.
At all.
And as Gwendolyn sits there, quietly having a conversation with Samantha, Lila wants so badly to know what’s on her mind. What is she feeling? Is it jealousy? Is it rage? Or is it something else entirely? Because Lila knows she can’t be the only one sensing the attraction.
An attraction neither of them could, nor would, ever act on.
But an attraction nonetheless.
* * *
“You are being a bitch.”
Gwendolyn glances over the top of her glasses at Samantha. “No, I’m not.”
“Um, yes, you are.” Her ability to whisper without moving her lips is uncanny.
“I’m being a nice person.”
Samantha leans over, points to something on the menu, and laughs. “I was thinking I’d get this. The chicken and waffles,” she says and follows it with another whispered, “You didn’t even greet her.”
“I bet that’s delicious.” Gwendolyn nods, then says softly, “I don’t need to like her.”
“You know what they say about people who protest too much?”
Gwendolyn points at a line on the menu with her middle finger, essentially flipping her off. “I was thinking I would get this.” Samantha giggles, and it makes Gwendolyn laugh, too, which feels really great. She knows Samantha is right, and it’s ridiculous how right she is. But Gwendolyn cannot seem to sing a lullaby to the green-eyed monster inside her. He’s awake, and he’s cranky.
“I am so sorry I am late,” Bella shouts after she arrives in a frenzy and sits. “You are not going to believe what happened.”
Gwendolyn puts her menu down. “A tree fell on your car.”
“No, her cat was up a tree, and she had to wait on the fire truck to get him down.” Carol leans forward. “Right?”
“No, no, it had to be a train derailed right on the crossing she was at. Am I close?” Lila folds her arms and rests them on the table.
“Lightning struck your house.” Gwendolyn laughs. “Oh no, I bet lightning struck your cat.”
“The one in the tree,” Lila adds. Gwendolyn glances at her and nods because Lila’s addition to the joke was actually really good.
Bella has a completely straight face. She is not amused whatsoever, which makes Gwendolyn so happy, considering it’s her fault she’s stuck at brunch with p
eople she can’t stand.
“Are you going to tell us, or was one of us right?” Gwendolyn leans in, elbow on the table, and props her chin on her palm. “Hmm?”
“Well, first of all, you are all the worst.” Bella folds the napkin in half and drapes it across her lap. “Second, no, none of you were right. At all. Not even close.” She welcomes the mimosa when it’s delivered as if she’s been a regular for years, takes a sip, then sets it on the table. “I signed the papers on my downtown office space where I’m opening the bridal shop portion of my event planning business. This is huge. I’m sorry I was late, but it was worth it.”
“Oh my God, Bella, I am so proud of you,” Gwendolyn’s mother says as she stands and hurries to give a hug. Gwendolyn is shocked. Her mother has never been a hugger, and now she’s getting up to hug someone? What the hell has happened to her?
“Thank you so much.” Bella’s voice is layered with excitement.
“I am so happy for you, Bell.” Gwendolyn raises her bloody Mary, and the table follows suit. “To Bella Arleen and We Had a Time Events!” They all clink glasses, and when Gwendolyn reaches across the table to tap Lila’s mimosa, she makes eye contact, and the flutter in her chest is unmistakable. Lila raises her sculpted brows, a small smile displayed, and clinks her glass against Gwendolyn’s.
After their orders are placed, Bella falls into an easy conversation with Samantha while Sabine talks Carol’s ear off. Gwendolyn wants to sink into the safety of her cell phone, but she resists the temptation. Samantha’s words about being a bitch are floating through her head as she stares at her empty drink. She lets herself do what she’s been fighting and looks at Lila, who, of course, is looking right at her, so she leans forward and says, “So you coach with my mother?”
The way Lila’s face lights up is incredible. Her eyes soften, and the muscles in her jaw and shoulders relax. Gwendolyn doesn’t want to like this woman, but she also hates being mean. And she is beginning to hate herself for making Lila visibly feel out of place in her own life.
Lila runs her hand through her hair, starting at her forehead. The way she pulls out of the mass of large auburn curls is mesmerizing. Gwendolyn is having a hard time looking anywhere else. It’s so shiny…it has to be soft. “Yes, actually. For about ten years now.”