Hero Ever After: A Novel

by Sarah Ready

  What’d Bean say? That she chose me because she knew I could make her mom happy?

  I can’t save the day. This situation is way beyond my fake powers.

  “She’s asleep,” Ginny says. She looks at me standing at the door. “You’re going?”

  I nod. “It’s an early morning. Five a.m.” I reach toward the door.

  “You could stay.” I turn back to her and she gives me a hesitant half-smile. She’s scrubbed her face clean of makeup and removed the red wig, but she’s still in her miniskirt and tank top. I take in that half-smile and realize that this is way beyond just a physical want. I crave this woman.

  “I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” I say.

  Her smile drops from her face and she looks away. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t inviting you…” She looks back up and her face is red. “I just thought we could hang out. As friends.”

  My gut clenches at the word “friends.” I don’t want to be her friend. Friends hang out, friends are platonic, friends don’t do the things I’m fantasizing about doing to her.

  “Friends?” I say.

  She sighs and blows the hair out of her eyes. “Yes. Friends.”

  I put my hands in my pockets and lean back on my heels. She glances at the flowers on the counter.

  Then she looks back to me and says, “I just want to get past the awkwardness of this morning. I get that you’re not looking for a relationship. Heck, neither am I. That would be the worst thing I could do. Have you seen my life? I gotta give everything I’ve got to my kid. I don’t have time for anything else.”

  As she’s talking I notice the shadows under her eyes and the sagging in her shoulders. She’s tired, a sort of bone-deep tired that I didn’t notice before. Maybe it’s because she’s in her home and she’s less on guard, but suddenly I can see how much she actually does need a friend.

  Just a friend.

  I make a split second decision. I can do that. I can be a friend to her. If I’m a friend, I won’t leave a broken heart, I won’t make anything complicated, nothing can go wrong if I’m only a friend.

  “Got any movies?” I ask.

  She looks up and her eyes are filled with happy surprise. “You’ll stay?”

  “Depends on what kind of movies you like,” I say.

  I follow her to the living room and we settle on the couch. She tucks her feet under her and her miniskirt rides up high. I pull my gaze back up from her long smooth legs to her face.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I said, I like horror. The scarier the better. Like pee-your-pants scary.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She shakes her head. “Are you kidding? How can you not like them? The rules are set in horror movies. There’s a monster. There’s a sin. And there’s punishment from the monster on anyone who sins.”

  “Like losing your virginity?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Or…hmm,” I think about other horror movies, “hubris.”

  “Gee whiz, what big words you use.”

  I laugh.

  “Alright, induct me,” I say.

  Ginny pulls up a movie, a black and white film. “Prepare to have your pants scared off,” she says.

  Hmm, I kind of like that thought.

  I try my best not to look at her skirt inching its way up her legs. The movie starts. Ginny relaxes back into the couch, but I can’t relax. I’m hyperaware of her. I notice every time she shifts, or catches her breath, or leans forward in excitement. My body tingles and I just want to inch closer to her. I can’t pay attention to the movie when she’s right there next to me. It’s getting scarier though, I can tell because her breath comes faster and she’s all tense.

  I ache to touch her. What would a friend do? A friend could hold her hand if she were scared, couldn’t he?

  I drop my hand to the couch, palm up and rest it close to her. I don’t look at her, I just let it rest there. She glances down at it then up at me. I don’t say anything and neither does she. After a minute of neither of us moving or saying anything at all, she nestles her hand into mine. I let out the breath I was holding. I have no idea what happens for the rest of the movie, the only thing I can see or feel is the weight of her hand resting in mine. The touch of her, the heat, the warm vibration traveling up my arm and through the rest of my body. Every breath I take I have to restrain myself from taking her hand and pulling her to me.

  The movie ends and the credits roll over the screen. Neither of us moves. We sit there, still as stone, her hand nestled in mine. The credits stop. The screen goes blank and the music ends. Still, we don’t move.

  Finally, she pulls her hand out of mine.

  “Did you like it?” she whispers.

  I swallow. “It was incredible.”

  “I thought you might,” she says. “That was one of the original…”

  I turn to her and she trails off. Her lips twitch and she licks them. Then, “One of the precursors to…”

  “To?”

  She shakes her head and her eyes are glassy. “Don’t remember.”

  “Right.”

  She leans forward and runs her fingers along my jawbone. They’re light on my skin and send a shock through me. I look into her eyes. She doesn’t look away as her hand sends shivers across me. Finally, she drops her hand to her lap.

  “See you in the morning,” she whispers.

  I curl my fingers in the couch cushion so that I don’t reach out and pull her to me.

  “Sure thing,” I say. With extreme difficulty I give her a devil may care smile.

  “We should do this again sometime,” she says. She walks me to the door.

  I nod, and suddenly I feel like a sixteen-year-old standing at the door of his first date. Kiss her, don’t kiss her, kiss her, don’t—

  “It’s good having a friend,” she says.

  Right. Don’t kiss her.

  “Sure is.”

  Her eyes are tired, but happy. That’s alright then.

  “Goodnight, Ginny.”

  Goodnight, friend.

  14

  Ginny

  The late nights where Liam and I hang out have become routine. He works out in the morning, then I go to work or take Bean to her appointments, then we come back together in the evening for superhero training with Bean if she’s not too tired. It sort of became an unspoken agreement that Liam would stick around while I tuck Bean into bed and then we just hang out.

  “I can’t believe you never learned how to do a cartwheel,” I say.

  “I’m a guy,” he says. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a look like I should know better than to think a guy would do a cartwheel.

  “Yeah, so. It’s secret or stunt. You either have to tell me a secret or do a stunt.”

  He looks at the living room. There’s definitely not enough room in here for him to attempt a cartwheel.

  He sighs and shakes his head at me.

  I grin evilly.

  “Fine. I hate lima beans. Can’t eat them, they’re like disgusting beany turtles. They make me gag.”

  I start to laugh, then stop when I see that he’s serious. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not kidding. Your turn.”

  “But that’s not a secret.”

  “Sure it is. Nobody else knows it. Just you and me.”

  “Huh.”

  I tuck my legs under me and lean back into the couch. I came up with the game this afternoon. Liam took Bean to a gymnastics open gym. She couldn’t do too many of the activities, but she still loved it. I guess I got into the spirit. I suggested the game after I tucked her in.

  Liam considers me for a moment and I shift under his scrutiny. There’s a slight indentation in his chin and I have the strongest urge to lick it. His eyes narrow on me, like he can hear my thoughts.

  “What’s the stunt?” I ask, trying to distract him.

  “A backwards somersault,” he says.

  I grin at him
. I could do a backwards somersault in my sleep.

  “Tell me a secret,” he says as he looks at my lips. “Or do a backwards somersault.”

  I pull my gaze away from his chin and look up at him. “I want you to come to the end of summer picnic with us.”

  “That’s your secret?”

  “Oh. No, I mean…it just popped into my head.” I pull my lip through my teeth. “It’s a yearly thing. Enid invites the neighborhood, we grill out in the backyard, have games.”

  “Alright,” he says. “Sounds fun.”

  Because he’d be there as a friend. I look at his hands. They’re both on the couch, palm down. He’s not inviting me to hold them. He hasn’t.

  “Hmm. A secret,” I say. I can’t think of any, I’m too focused on the trace of stubble over his jaw and his lip. “Nope,” I say. Then I stand up and perform a backwards somersault. “Ta-da,” I say as I pop back up.

  “Chicken,” he says.

  I drop back onto the couch and sink closer to him.

  “I’ll tell another. I’m not afraid.”

  “Oh really?”

  He nods. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor.”

  “You did?” I’m surprised, that’s so far from where he ended up.

  “Yeah. Then I realized how long I’d have to be in school and I changed my mind.”

  “You didn’t like school?”

  “I liked recess.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  He grins at me and flashes the dimple in his cheek. “I mean, I liked being able to make kids laugh.”

  “You were the class clown?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Let me guess. You wanted to be the center of attention.”

  He frowns and looks up. “Kind of. I was a really shy kid.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “I learned pretty quickly that if I could make kids laugh, or act goofy, that I’d have friends. And no one would notice that I wasn’t talking or approaching people any other time. Nobody notices you’re terrified of talking to people if you’re joking or acting funny.”

  Huh. I guess that’s true. I never thought about it before. “Are you still shy?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You don’t have trouble talking, or saying what you want.”

  “Not usually,” he says. He eyes flick again to my lips and they start to tingle from the attention.

  “I’m taking classes online, for my degree,” I say. “It’s a secret.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  I shrug. “It feels weird doing something for myself. And I think if people knew, and I didn’t finish, I’d feel like a bigger failure than if I was the only one that knew about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. The time I’m spending studying could go to working more or to spending time with Bean. Or the money I spend on tuition, that could go to getting an apartment or better clothes or more groceries or medical bills.”

  “Hey,” he says. I’m working myself up and he puts a finger to my cheek, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “What?” I ask, kind of scared at what he’s going to say.

  “You’re doing good.”

  I tighten up at the words.

  “You’re doing good,” he repeats.

  “One more secret,” I say.

  He nods.

  “It’s hard being a caregiver. You stop taking care of yourself. You stop being anything but a caregiver. And you keep giving. And giving. Sometimes, it seems like there won’t be anything left and I’ll lose myself in the process.” There’s a hard pinch in my chest. “But then, I feel so selfish even thinking that.”

  He doesn’t say anything and I feel like he must be judging me. I’m scared to look at his face, but I make myself look up.

  I sort of crumble when I do see his expression. Because there’s no judgment, just understanding.

  “Thanks,” I say. I let out a long sigh.

  “I think you should keep pursuing your degree,” he says.

  “I will.” I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “I’ll go with you to the picnic,” he says.

  “Oh,” I say. I’d forgotten I asked him. “Thank you.”

  15

  Liam

  I’m at the picnic and Enid has cornered me at the dessert table.

  “Enjoying yourself?” she asks.

  I look at her face and see if I’m hearing her sarcasm correctly, but I can’t make out her expression under the brim of her sun hat.

  “I am. Thank you, ma’am,” I say.

  “Don’t thank me. I didn’t invite you.” It’s pretty clear that she wouldn’t have invited me if she’d been asked for input.

  “Ah. Well…” I go to pick up a slice of apple pie for Ginny and a piece of carrot cake for Bean, but Enid holds out her hand over the desserts. I stop and turn back to her.

  “You’re not a drunk.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  The wrinkles on her face deepen. “Beatrice likes you,” she says, and her mouth turns down like she tastes something awful.

  I’m not sure who she’s talking about at first, then I remember that she calls Bean Beatrice.

  “She’s a good kid,” I say.

  “I wish you’d never come around,” she says. “I wish you’d stayed in that trailer and pickled yourself to death.”

  I drop my chin to my chest and stare in shock at the woman. I knew she didn’t like me, but this takes all.

  “All due respect—”

  “I have some advice. Because I care about my daughter-in-law and granddaughter.”

  I stop. I look at Ginny off on the other side of the yard, she and Bean are playing cards on a picnic blanket, but she’s looking over at me and her forehead wrinkles. Yeah, she’s concerned about this conversation.

  “Okay,” I say.

  Enid turns and scoops a piece of lemon meringue pie onto a paper plate.

  “They don’t need you complicating their life.”

  I go to reply but she stops me.

  “They don’t need a friend, they don’t need a superhero. They need a miracle. And unless you can give them a miracle, I suggest you get out of their lives before you do them damage.”

  “I…” I don’t know what to say.

  She takes in my expression and nods. “That’s what I thought,” she says bitterly. “Try the lemon meringue. It’s not too sour.”

  She walks away, back toward Finick and a group of his friends. She starts to terrorize them when she realizes they’re throwing pocket knives at the walnut tree.

  I finish scooping desserts onto the plate. I choose randomly, not able to concentrate on the task anymore. She’s right. They don’t need me, they need a miracle.

  Bean needs a donor, and so far, they haven’t found one in all the donor registries in the whole wide world. She’s running out of time.

  On my way back to the picnic blanket, Heather steps in my path.

  “You’re looking good, Stoney,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I say in a curt voice. I’m not in the mood.

  “Having fun with Ginny and little Bean?” she asks. The way she asks the question makes it clear she doubts it.

  “Yes. Very much.” I try to move past her but she grabs my wrist. I stop, the plate of desserts balanced between us.

  “I heard you’re headed back to Hollywood. Another big role on the horizon,” she says.

  “Heard more than me then,” I say. I still haven’t heard anything from my agent after I turned down the hemorrhoid commercial. Although, the thought of that commercial sparks something in the back of my mind. A little flicker of an idea.

  I look down at her hand on my wrist and then back up at her. I bring back the glare that used to terrify assistants.

  She drops her hand and steps back quickly. Her expression changes from coy to angry.

  “I just wanted to give you a friendly warning,” she says. “But I guess it wouldn’t be apprec
iated.”

  “No,” I say. The place between my shoulder blades itches.

  “Well. Far be it from me to tell you what you should already know.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, hoping that the sooner she spits it out the sooner I can get back to Ginny and Bean.

  “Ginny’s using you. She expects you to be the Prince Charming to her Cinderella. She plays the role of desperate maiden so well that before you know it you’ll be shackled and living in Centreville the rest of your life. In your trailer. Or a garage. If it were up to her, you’d never get back to Hollywood. I’ve seen it happen before. She derails men.”

  I look at Heather and all I see is hate, and one other thing that I’m certain of, “We were never in a movie together.”

  Her face goes white then she composes herself. “Of course we were. I was an extra. I worked on lots of sets as an extra.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  She glares at me and the color floods back into her face. Before she can say anything I gesture to Finick. He’s got his knife out again and is flinging it at the tree. “Your son’s getting into trouble.”

  Her mouth opens wide and she goes white again. “He’s…he’s not my…” She hurries away, toward Finick. Right, he’s her brother.

  I sigh and shake it off.

  Between Enid and Heather, I’ve had enough confrontations to last a year.

  I sit on the blanket and set the dessert plate down.

  “There you go,” I say. “Enough sugar to keep you awake for a week.”

  “Yay,” says Bean. She takes a big bite of the carrot cake.

  “You alright?” asks Ginny. “I saw you talking, it looked kind of heated.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “They just wanted to say how much they admire my movies.”

  Ginny gives me a disbelieving look, then, “You’re so full of it.”

  I grin. “You got that right.”

  The bad feeling I had after talking with Enid and Heather lifts. I spend the rest of the afternoon eating insane amounts of hot dogs, corn on the cob, watermelon and pie. We play cards and horseshoes and lay in the sun. At dusk, Bean tries to coax fireflies to land on her hand. I grab one from the sky and hold it out on my palm. Bean’s face lights up when the firefly glows for her. She reaches out her finger and it climbs on.