The Life You've Imagined

by Kristina Riggle

  “We won’t know for sure it’s a scam until I sit in.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Listen, your dad is a charmer, yeah? Isn’t that what you said? You need to know what he’s up to so you can tell your mom exactly what’s going on.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I just said I’d come out here and get my money, then I’m going to ride over to the house. In an hour I’ll excuse myself and we’ll know exactly what’s going on.”

  I grab her arm and square myself to her in the seat. “Cami! You are not getting in this strange man’s car, especially if he’s up to something illegal and you want to bust him. I think we’ve seen enough. I want to get home and find my mother.”

  She yanks her arm back. “And I’m pissed on your behalf and I want to know what’s going on. Come get me in an hour.”

  She pulls away from me and disappears inside the bar.

  I can’t believe she’s so reckless. Maybe that’s what happens to a person who lives with someone who might beat the crap out of her at any given moment. Maybe she feels strange without a sense of danger.

  The door opens and a husky guy with a shaved, stubbly head and goatee walks out first, and I dive down as if I’m picking something up off the floor of the car. After a few moments I sit up slowly, taking a peek and watching the trio walk down the block toward the yellow Hummer a few spaces down. Cami is in the middle and bringing up the rear . . . That can only be my father, wearing a huge sweater and limping, his hair gray like a stormy summer sky.

  They drive off, and when they’re out of view, I look down at the scribbled address and reach for my phone to look up the directions. For good or ill, Cami has gone with them and I need to stick close by.

  I’ll admit to curiosity myself, now that I’ve caught a glimpse. And for all I know, my mother is waiting at this house. She wouldn’t approve of an illegal card game, but who knows what lies he’s telling?

  First, I type a message to Amy.

  Amy, I’m sorry but I can’t make the rehearsal dinner. It’s a long story, but a family emergency has come up. I’ll be there tomorrow and do my best to follow along.

  Anna

  Next, a note for Beck.

  Beck, I can’t come to the rehearsal dinner after all, but I’ll still be there tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s awkward for you, but I’ll be glad to see you, even so.

  Something’s going on and I don’t have time to explain. I really miss you, especially now.

  I pause for a moment. I want him here, to squeeze my hand and look at me with those sea-glass eyes until my breathing slows down and I feel okay again.

  So I add:

  Xoxo

  Anna

  I’m halfway to this mysterious card game house when my phone bleeps. I pull over on a side street to check the message.

  Anna,

  Can’t talk right now, at home with Sam and Maddie.

  Will

  Of course he’d be home the day before the wedding. They’ll go together after all, since Maddie is the flower girl. But . . . since when is he “Will”?

  I shake my head and pull back out onto the road. I don’t have time to think of it now.

  The house is on Lake Cadillac, a huge brick ranch with a hooked driveway that curves down toward what must be a walkout basement. It took fifteen minutes to drive, counting the phone distraction, and I’ve now been sitting here playing mindless games on my phone for an hour. She’s overdue and I can’t stand it anymore.

  I leave the car on the street and walk slowly up the drive, taking care not to smack my shoes too hard on the pavement. As I approach, I can hear noise coming from downstairs; someone must have left a door open.

  I come up on a patio slider from the side. There’s only a screen door closed. I can hear sounds of a baseball game on television, shuffling cards, deep male voices. I can’t hear Cami.

  I yank the slider open and look past the stunned faces of the men for a sign of Cami or my mother and think, What has she done? I should have stopped her. I turn back to the men at the card table. The large bald man is half standing, his hand moving toward the waistband of his pants, but someone’s hand is on his arm, halting him.

  And that man is my father.

  “What the fuck is this?” demands the bald man, but no one answers him.

  My dad’s mouth is open slightly, and his lips are moving soundlessly, like he’s trying to talk underwater. His hair is thick as ever, despite being gray. His face is more furrowed than I remember, but he’s still got that stubble he always had by this time of day, his eyes still that deep shade of coffee brown.

  Cami exits from a door to my right, drying her hands on a towel.

  “Oh, hi,” she says. “Sorry for the delay. The boys here were anxious for a chance to win some of their money back, so they convinced me to stay.”

  Despite her casual tone, she fixes me with a hard, significant look, and darts her eyes over toward the big man, who must be Charley.

  My father turns toward Cami, understanding dawning on him. “You! You’re together? What are you, cops or something?”

  “No,” I say quickly, for fear of alarming Charley, who seems fidgety and hasn’t moved his hand away from what is probably a gun in his pants. “We were simply . . . curious.”

  Charley begins again, reddening: “What. The Fuck. Is going on?”

  My dad stands up and walks over to me, taking my elbow. “I’ll deal with this.” I let him lead me to a side room, some kind of study. Cami follows me, and I’m grateful for the back-up; also, I don’t like the idea of leaving her out there with those men.

  He closes the door and flips on a radio to mask our conversation, I suppose.

  “It’s really you,” he says, peering at me through narrowed eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “You look so much like your mother.”

  “Where is my mother?”

  “She left. She’s a little upset with me.”

  I laugh, but the sound, even to my own ears, comes out harsh and sickly, like a tune in a minor key.

  “Gee, she’s really upset?” I ask him. “Now why on earth would she be upset with you?”

  “No call to get snippy, young lady.”

  I draw myself up straight, noticing up close that I’m taller than he is. “Don’t you ‘young lady’ me. I don’t know what you were thinking trying to win her back after abandoning her for twenty years in that shithole store. Did you think that gorgeous trailer would do the trick?”

  “It’s just temporary; that’s a beautiful piece of land.”

  I should feel triumphant now, having been proven right. But there’s no joy; in fact, I now realize part of me, somehow, had been pulling for him since I got that call.

  Cami clears her throat. “We should probably go, yeah?” She jerks her head toward the door.

  Oh, right. The armed man.

  “Wait,” my dad says, reaching out to grab my hand. His touch startles me, not having felt it in twenty years. A hard stone settles in my throat and I suck in a breath, blinking rapidly. “Let me make my case. Look, I’m earning money now. That’s why I wrote your mother; I’m finally getting ahead a little, working with Charley here. I really am gonna buy that land and make her proud of me, and make you proud of me, too . . .”

  “So proud you snuck around with Mom but didn’t dare acknowledge my existence.”

  “Your mom said you’d be upset, so I wanted to do it right, you know, gradually and all.”

  “Do what right, exactly?” Cami interjects. “Card scams? What do you do when your rich sap out there finds out you’re cheating?” She pulls a card from her pocket, shows it to us, and then flicks a barely perceptible notch with her fingernail.

  “Hey, now,” he addresses himself to Cami, still grasping my hand, and I look down at it, noticing how much older he looks based on his hand alone. “Where do you get off—”

  I say, “What’s your wife’s name?”

 
“What?”

  He turns back to me and then looks down at his hand himself and winces.

  He’s wearing a wedding band. It’s yellow gold. My mom’s ring is white gold.

  “I said, what’s your wife’s name?” I yank my hand away and fold my arms.

  “Technically she’s not my wife, seeing as how I’m not divorced. I just got this to shut her up about it.”

  “She throw you out, then? Or did you abandon her, too?”

  He steps toward me, his arms outstretched. “Anna Banana . . .”

  “No!” I jerk my finger at him. “No. Just . . . Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

  I pull open the door and figure if we walk fast enough, heading straight out without looking around, maybe the men won’t care that we were here at all.

  “Let ’em go,” I hear my dad say, and I can see Cami in my peripheral vision, looking determined and moving more quickly than I’ve ever seen.

  Out on the driveway I start to breathe again. My dad’s voice stops me.

  “Wait . . . Anna, do I have grandbabies?”

  I scrunch my eyes shut at this, at the unexpected stab I feel in my gut at his question. “No. Do I have siblings?”

  He actually smiles a little. “Twins. Boys, fifteen years old.”

  “I hope their mother has her own source of income.”

  We scurry up the drive, Cami and I, as the angry Charley shouts from inside for Robert to get his ass back in the house. It’s clear who’s the boss in that room.

  Cami takes the driver’s seat without having to ask, but as she sits down, she fishes around in her shorts pocket, slapping a wad of bills into my lap.

  “What’s this?”

  “Winnings,” she says, buckling up. “Now let’s get the hell home, yeah?”

  Chapter 51

  Maeve

  The sign says “closed forever,” and I hustle myself inside before any busybody types can intercept me to grill me about the closing, or the new store, or whether I’ll be staying with Anna.

  I pull myself along the counter and tumble into the office chair, face in my hands.

  “What did you expect?” I say out loud to myself.

  I’m glad Anna isn’t here, because I couldn’t look her in the face now. I’d never be able to keep my composure, and somehow she would know, she just would.

  Also, I need to tell her. Let her know that her father is back in the state and where she can find him if she chooses to. She won’t choose to, of course. She’s smarter than stupid, foolish me. Anna will probably snort and roll her eyes and say, What would I want with him?

  Someone knocks hard on the front door, and it feels like someone kicking me in the head. I fumble under the counter for my bottle of Excedrin, and when the knocking has stopped and the intruder has moved on, I force myself up the stairs.

  I flop on my bed with my feet aimed at the headboard, the better to stare at my wedding picture. I was so utterly certain, that day. Not a bit of doubt. My jitters were all related to getting caught by my mother and having a dramatic scene on the courthouse steps. When we finally got married, I was so lightheaded with relief I think I giggled the whole way to that cabin in Ludington where we finally made love and I walked around completely naked, giggling again at how womanly I was at last.

  I choke down the Excedrin dry.

  He still looks like himself. A little damaged by time, but who isn’t? I’ve got varicose veins popping up, and my hands are looking wrinkled and scarred. I have a healthy start on an excellent pair of crow’s feet, too.

  I close my eyes and remember his tight embrace, and suddenly I’m angry, not at him but at myself for my haste. So he hasn’t started the cabin yet. The land truly was pretty, and it was so quiet out there. Maybe this time he’ll listen to my advice, knowing how wrong it all went before, knowing I was right. In fact, he’ll have to listen to me, because I won’t put up with anything less. This time, I’ll leave him if he doesn’t toe the line!

  I’m in a position of strength, in fact, leaving him angrily like I did. I’ll send him a letter at that address, explaining exactly the conditions under which I’ll see him again. Yes, that will work. It could all work out yet.

  My eyelids are heavy, and my limbs feel shaky. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until just now when I’m finally relaxing. I could turn around and crawl under the covers properly, but I prefer to drift off to sleep looking at this wedding picture and the new start we could yet have.

  “Mom?”

  I pop awake on the comforter, squinting in the afternoon sun falling directly over my eyes.

  I hear rumbling feet up the steps, and when I pull myself upright, Anna is framed in the doorway, hanging on as if in an earthquake.

  “Oh, thank goodness. Are you all right?” she says.

  I clear my throat. My headache has receded to a dull echo of pain. “Yes. I decided to come back early—I got bored all by myself.” Weak excuse, but she surprised me; forgot to think of a better one.

  “Mom. You don’t have to lie to me. I know.”

  I pull myself to stand next to the bed. “Know? What do you mean?”

  “I followed you.”

  I put my hand to my chest. “How dare you!”

  “Well, not right behind you. But my father called here, thinking I was you. He gave the address, so I went. I was worried about you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you were worried. You wanted to ruin it!”

  Anna puts her hand to her head. “Mom, can’t you admit now this was a bad idea? You saw that trailer, no better than the one Sally torched. And you must have figured out he’s got no legitimate employment.”

  “He just moved back to the state. Times are tough.”

  “When are you going to stop defending him? He said himself you were upset when you left; think of the reasons you were upset; think of why you took off instead of staying for the romantic reunion. Whatever made you do that, it’s all still true. It didn’t cure itself in the hundred-mile drive back here.”

  “Don’t take that superior tone.”

  “Don’t change the subject!”

  “It’s very much on point! Your whole life you’ve thought yourself better than me, with your education and your job and your smarts, and you’re right, you are better than me and I’m glad. That’s what I wanted for you. But I didn’t expect you to throw it in my face all the time. Just because he doesn’t meet your standards of what’s acceptable doesn’t mean I can’t have him back if I want him.”

  “My standards? Like my standards are so high! How about a man who didn’t jilt you twenty years ago with nothing? A man who is gainfully employed and not a liar and a criminal?”

  “Get out of my way.” I push past her, breathing easier now that she’s not blocking my exit. “Criminal!” I shout over my shoulder. “Now you’re exaggerating.” I storm to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water, just for something to do so I don’t slap her impudent face.

  She follows me to the kitchen. “Oh, is that what you think? Cami and I caught him running an illegal card game, cheating, no less. The guy who was running the game? Had a gun and was about ready to pull it on us.”

  I clutch my glass with two hands, force myself to take slow sips so I don’t make myself sick. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m not the liar here.”

  I glare at Anna. She stands with her feet apart, arms folded, her eyes narrowed at me. She’s got her attorney face on.

  “You take that back.”

  “You’re the one who promised me you wouldn’t write him.”

  “I never should have promised you that. It was none of your business, anyway.”

  “How is it not my business if I have to pick up the pieces when he leaves you again?”

  “I never expected you to pick up anything! I can take care of myself!”

  “Oh, is that why I have to pay your rent?”

  I whirl toward the kitchen sink and throw the glass into it, hard, jumping as it cracks in half, water
splashing up. “You don’t have to pay anything for me. Your father and I will be just fine.”

  “Until his new wife wants him back, that is.”

  “That’s crazy. What wife? He can’t be married.”

  “He’s wearing a wedding band, and it’s not the one you gave him. Says he has fifteen-year-old twin sons.”

  My heart pounds so loud in my ears I can’t hear what she’s saying now, though I can see her posture softening from one of righteous anger. She’s tilting her head and her face is painted with sadness. She steps toward me with an arm outstretched. That’s when her sympathetic expression tips over into pity and I can no longer stand it.

  Through the roaring in my head I can’t hear myself scream at her to get out, out, out, leave me alone. I cover my face with my hands and just screech until I feel her vibrating footsteps retreat down the steps.

  I curl down to the kitchen tile and wait for my blood to slow down, and picture those cool, piney woods with the birds calling to each other in the hushed forest air.

  Chapter 52

  Amy

  My lipstick is too pink.

  I knew I should have done a practice run with my makeup at the salon, but with the delay, there wasn’t time. Now I look like a tart with lipstick the shade of a child’s crayon, instead of the soft, subtle peachy-pink I was hoping for. I keep blotting it, but then it fades off, so I put it back on, all the while my bridesmaids keep chirping at me like squirrels about this and that, and don’t get any lipstick on the dress.

  Sarah and Kristi have been at my elbow since dawn, practically, rushing to get me glasses of water or tissues or whatever I might need, and I would have thought this attention would be flattering—just what a bride deserves—but I have a powerful urge to smash their faces into the wedding cake.

  What is wrong with me today?

  We’ve commandeered a nursery room at First Presbyterian and turned it into a dressing room of sorts, though we were all dressed and primped when we arrived, courtesy of Mrs. Becker’s fancy salon and the limousine paid for by Mr. Becker. It’s hot in here. I’m afraid I’m starting to smell less like a bride and more like a sweat sock. Each time I look in the mirror, something else is wrong.