[2018] Confessions From the Heart

by TB Markinson

  Sheila crooked her elbow for Kat. “Ready for pizza? Meat lovers since Veggie Buzz Kill isn’t tagging along?”

  “I so hate both of you right now.” I shook my head, staring at my tennis shoes.

  “Hey,” Annie said, standing behind Sheila and Kat, a look of confusion on her face.

  Sheila pulled out a chair. “Sit. Talk. We’re leaving.”

  The traitors hightailed it out of the bar faster than common sense at a light your own farts competition.

  Annie plopped down with her purse in her lap. “I take it this wasn’t your idea.”

  I shook my head. “I…” Unable to enunciate anything that resembled English, I poured her a beer, slid the glass in front of her, and then filled mine. After a deep pull, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “Might as well partake in the free beer.”

  “Afraid it might be your last?” Annie didn’t touch the glass.

  “Can’t say I would blame you if you did…” I mimed slicing my throat.

  Annie let out a puff of hair, rustling her red locks. “Is that your version of an apology?”

  I stifled the need to ask for what. Not falling in love with Annie, in my opinion, didn’t merit an apology. Instead, I said, “Did it work?”

  “What do you think?”

  I appraised her stiff posture. “Not by a long shot.”

  “At least you haven’t lost all of your brain cells. Love has a way of making people lose their shit.” She wrapped her fingers around the glass but didn’t lift it to her mouth. Still, I took it as a good sign.

  “True.”

  “Does that mean you are in love?”

  “I haven’t…” I finished by shrugging, not wanting to say I hadn’t said the words aloud, but…

  Annie downed half of her beer.

  I refilled it to the top.

  Neither of us spoke.

  “I…” she faltered. Looking over my head at the TV, she said, “I’m happy for you, even if I do hate your guts.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, I think. How’s everything going with Ireland?”

  “Does that mean we’re done with this?” She circled a finger in the air.

  “We can talk about it… more. Is that what you want?” I crouched in my seat to see into her eyes.

  She twisted her head to the left and then right. “I was perfectly happy not broaching this at all. I hate this shit.”

  “Me too, but Kat—”

  As if the mere mention of Kat cut her deeply, she rushed to say, “Sheila’s been on my case as well.”

  I scratched my forehead. “Are we going to be okay?”

  “Of course. I just need time. Getting laid might help me.” She scouted the bar like she used to do in the good old days.

  That was when it really sank in. How much Annie hid behind that veneer I’d admired for so many years. It broke me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

  I tossed an arm over the back of my chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not even looking at you.”

  “You better not. You may have half a foot on me, but I can take you to the ground. Don’t you ever forget that.” She jabbed a finger at me.

  I forced a smile. “I won’t. Not ever.” My nose burned, and it twitched.

  “Don’t. For the love of all that’s holy between us, don’t you dare feel sorry for me. It’s you who should be worried. Kat”—she swallowed—“will be a challenge for you. I’m sorry I won’t be around to see her put you through the wringer. You’re in for a world of hurt.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  She shifted in her chair. “Looks like the Sox won’t be in the playoffs this year. Pansies.”

  Her message was clear. Let it go for now because she was close to losing her shit. “Yeah, I never thought I’d say this, but I hope Texas kicks some Yankees ass.”

  After an hour of trying to make small talk, Annie bailed with the excuse of having to fill out immigration paperwork. I texted Kat, happy to learn she and Sheila had waited for us at the dive bar across the street.

  I met Kat outside. “Where’s Sheila?”

  “She went after Annie. You aren’t the only one who needs a hug.” Kat opened her arms and pulled me in tightly against her. “How’d it go?”

  “Okay, I guess,” I said into her shoulder.

  “Meaning you two barely scratched the surface.”

  Pulling away, I had to smile. “It’s scary how well you know me.”

  Kat released a cleansing breath. “Do you know what I learned from Sheila?”

  I cringed. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  Kat barreled on. “Apparently, my favorite writer lives within walking distance from here.”

  “I didn’t know that about Wilkie Collins.”

  Kat rolled her eyes. “And this writer has a hot tub. Here, I thought all this time she was running home to take long hot baths for her back, not slipping into a hot tub.”

  I crooked my arm. “Luckily for you, I know a certain writer well enough for us to gain access. Did you learn anything else from Sheila?”

  “I sure did.”

  “Care to fill me in?” I guided us around the roots of a tree that had broken through the sidewalk.

  “Tell you what. I’ll share a secret if you tell me one of yours.” Kat squeezed my arm with her hand.

  “Oh, you think you’re so smart.”

  She rested her head on my shoulder.

  “Don’t get too cozy. We’re catching a cab.”

  Kat sighed. “We aren’t going to your place, are we?”

  “Nope. I promised Mom I’d watch her house while she and Dad are away. Trust me; it’s heads above mine.” She stiffened at my side. “Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  Through clenched teeth, she said, “But it only took six days to burn down.”

  Chapter Twenty

  By mid-November I submitted two short stories to my thesis director, another step closer to finishing my master’s. Kat, sensing my anxiety, asked me to meet her at a sports bar near Boston Common around six.

  I arrived thirty minutes prior and scored a booth. Ten minutes later, Kat, carrying several shopping bags, smiled broadly when she spied me.

  “I had a feeling you’d be early.” She leaned over, kissed my cheek, and then arranged the bags on the bench.

  “Get anything good?” I had my eye on the Victoria’s Secret bag.

  Kat rifled through them, retrieving a Nike shoebox. “These are for you.”

  I flipped the lid open. “Running shoes?”

  “You love to run.”

  I pulled one of the black shoes out and held it in the air. “Something gives me the idea that you’re trying to make a point.”

  “What could that be?” Kat propped her chin on the backs of her hands, staring deeply into my eyes.

  “Two things in particular. Your smirk and tone.” I ticked each off with a finger.

  “I meant, what message do you think I’m trying to convey?”

  I crooked my index finger and beckoned her lips. “Kiss me.”

  She didn’t budge. “Why?”

  I laughed. “I want to thank you.”

  “Then thank me.”

  I shook the shoe. “Thank you, Kat, for the not-so-hidden message.”

  “How do you feel now that you turned the stories in?”

  I dropped the shoe back into the box. “Okay, I guess. Relieved to set them aside for a bit, but not completely happy. I don’t think I hit the tension enough, especially in the first story. My advisor recommended a workshop I might sign up for. I have a feeling I underestimated how much time I’ll need to polish all the short stories so they’re ready for publication.”

  “Is this the brush-off?”

  “Not at all.” I tapped my forehead. “I’m processing everything.”

  “I bet.” She squeezed my hand. “And on top of everything, you ha
ven’t heard about the secret story you submitted to The New Yorker. Have you told your mom yet?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. I used a pen name to fly under the radar. I need to know if I’m good enough on my own. Not have something published with an intro stating, Here’s a promising story from Nell Tisdale’s daughter.” I waved la-di-da.

  The waitress sidled up to the table. “Can I get you two anything?”

  Kat scanned the menu, settling quickly on the appetizer sampler, and ordered a White Russian. When the waitress retreated, Kat took a sip of my beer, scrunching her face.

  I scooted my water glass to her side.

  “You know what you need? To help you survive?”

  “What?”

  “Me.”

  “Is that right?” I couldn’t stop the grin from forming.

  “Don’t you think so?”

  “I think I need to hear more. How exactly?” I tapped my fingers on the table.

  Kat leaned on her arms, allowing my eyes to absorb one of the ways. “Here’s the way I see it. You don’t take care of yourself, and I’m the caretaking type. I can cook meals. Listen to your story ideas, or”—her eyes lit up—“you can read them to me. That may help relieve your stress levels. Of course, I have more in mind on that front.” Her wink was more than suggestive. “How’s it going with Professor Brown’s research project?” Her tone was mocking.

  “You mean the paper we’re writing about how sensationalist literature in the 1800s detrimentally shaped society’s opinion on femininity? Drawing particular attention to The Moonstone, by what’s his name… Wilkie Collins, one of your faves, I believe?”

  “You know, T.S. Eliot proclaimed the novel to be the first and greatest English detective novel.”

  “I have heard that before.” I straightened in my seat. “From you, in fact, whenever we discuss Dr. Brown’s research project,” I said in the mocking way Kat had used earlier. “What’s your take on why Rachel doesn’t confront Franklin about taking the diamond in the novel?”

  Kat crossed her arms defiantly. “Nope. Not going there with you now.”

  I waggled a finger in her face. “Because you’re starting to agree with our thesis. The diamond represents Rachel’s virginity. Rachel’s pissed Franklin broke into her room to steal her diamond, not for ravishing her. Being a proper woman doesn’t allow her to say it.”

  “Not true!” She pounded her fist on the table. “Her not saying anything is proof of her love.”

  “Come on!”

  Before I could really get going, the waitress set Kat’s drink down, not stopping entirely, as her tray was overloaded with pints of beer.

  Kat chewed seductively on the tiny straw. “Are you feeling less stressed now?”

  I watched her dip her finger into the drink and insert it into her mouth. “What?”

  “I’m good for you. Your shoulders are softening, but”—she gripped the side of the table and levered up to peer across—“you seem to be squirming down there. Everything okay?”

  “Trust me; my day is getting better and better.”

  “Hello, there.”

  I swiveled my head in Brooke’s direction. Bumping into the woman I’d had a one-night stand with earlier in the summer drained all the good feelings from my mind. “Oh… hey. How are you?”

  Brooke stuck her hand in Kat’s face. “I’m Brooke. Are you thinking of sleeping with this one?” She jerked her head at me.

  Kat switched her gaze from Brooke to me. “Excuse me?”

  Brooke, probably thinking Kat was quizzing me, didn’t respond.

  Neither did I.

  Kat turned to Brooke and repeated, “Excuse me?”

  “Listen, sister, this one”—she pointed at me—“isn’t worth your time. As soon as I let her taste the goods, she left me high and dry.”

  “I doubt you were left dry,” Kat said.

  Brooke blinked as if trying to decipher Kat’s words.

  I stifled a laugh.

  Kat continued, “Listen, sister, I’ve already been with Cori, and trust me when I say she’s the best. Just looking at her makes me wet.” Kat briefly met my eye, winking. “She didn’t run after getting a taste of me.”

  Brooke opened her mouth to rebut, but Kat flicked her fingers. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d rather spend the evening with Cori, not you. Please walk away, so we all can go on with our lives. Capisce?”

  “Just you wait. She’ll leave you as well,” Brooke muttered under her breath, tucking tail and leaving the bar.

  “Another not-so-satisfied customer.” Kat joined her fingers together and rested her chin on them.

  “Apparently.”

  Not wanting to live through another night of pondering my faults, I asked, “Do I really make you wet?”

  “Is that the part you want to discuss right now?” Kat’s eyes trained on mine.

  “What part would you like to focus on?” I tried to banish culpability from my face.

  Kat propped her cheek on her folded hands, her eyes facing the door Brooke had so recently vacated, as if Kat was battling inside whether or not to push me on the Brooke situation or something else that troubled her. My eyes fell to the shoebox and the meaning. Or could she be thinking of Barb and Roger’s separate bedrooms, one of her go-to topics since that first dinner with my family?

  A group of men in business suits jumped to their feet, cheering a Patriot’s touchdown. The music seemed louder. More people getting off work streamed in for Monday night football.

  “Would you like to go someplace quieter for dinner?” I asked.

  Her head snapped up. “That might be best. I know just the place.”

  I flagged down the waitress and paid for the appetizers we weren’t going to eat.

  Kat stood and reached for her bags.

  “Here, let me take them for you.” I returned the shoebox to the Modell’s Sporting Goods’ bag and gathered the remaining bags.

  “Thank you,” Kat kissed my cheek.

  Outside the bar, I asked, “Where to?”

  “It’s just around the corner.” Kat led the way, the swish of her hips making it hard for me to focus on navigating the crowded sidewalk.

  Kat’s perfect place was a joint specializing in hot dogs. The canary yellow walls were covered with beat-up and rusted license plates. A quick glance gave me the impression there was a plate from each of the states.

  Kat eyed me over her shoulder. “They have veggie dogs and curly fries with cheese dip that’s to die for. Do you trust me?”

  Taken aback by her tone, I said, “Yeah, why?”

  Kat motioned to a booth. “Take a seat. I’ll order.”

  Aside from the two employees, the place was deserted, surprising me some, given the location. Maybe the lack of televisions and a fluttering of snow outside were the reasons. I stared at the license plates on the wall, trying to count the different states.

  Before I got to fifteen, Kat stood at the soda machine. “Regular or diet?” she asked me.

  “Regular, please.”

  I watched as she filled both with regular. She tore the paper off the straws with her mouth and discarded the scraps in the trash.

  Kat set my drink down in front of me, taking a seat. “So, Brooke. Tell me about her.”

  I chewed on the straw. “I don’t know much about her.”

  Kat smiled. “I gathered that. Where’d you meet?”

  I filled in the details, briefly mentioning Annie razzing me but didn’t divulge all of Annie’s comments or accusations.

  An employee rang the bell.

  I stood. “Let me.”

  Kat stared out the window, people watching.

  Retaking my seat, I placed both plastic baskets in the middle. “I don’t know which is the veggie.”

  “Both. I wanted to share my two faves: the Texan and buffalo dog.”

  I chomped into the buffalo dog, blue cheese spilling onto my hand.
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  Kat dipped a fry into the liquid cheese dip. “Are there many Brookes in your past?”

  “I don’t recall anyone else named Brooke.”

  Kat tilted her head. “Don’t try being cute. You’ve been dodging this question for too long.”

  Feeling cornered, I smiled sweetly. “Okay. If you’re asking for a number, I don’t have one.”

  “Because it’s so large?” Kat took a bite of the Texan and then proceeded to lick the barbeque sauce off her hand.

  “If you want me to concentrate on the conversation, please refrain from doing that.”

  “You’re a grad student; surely you can multitask.” Kat took another dainty bite, which still necessitated cleanup action.

  “There are some things in life that shouldn’t be multitasked. You, for example.” I pointed a curly fry at her, uselessly since it dipped downward.

  “Try for my benefit. I’m famished.” She flicked her fingers for me to relinquish the buffalo dog. Before taking a bite, she sipped her drink. “Even though you’ve denied it in the past, I’m really starting to think you used to be the love ’em and then leave ’em type.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  The heat swirling in her eyes could have singed my eyebrow hairs if she actually had superpowers.

  “I think you’re used to not talking about relationships because of your aunt and uncle.”

  I scoffed.

  “No.” She motioned for me to pipe down. “I’ve thought about this a lot. And Brooke, unwittingly, gave me an opening to present my theory.”

  “I’ve had some relationships.” I jabbed a fry at her. “Case in point.”

  “Thanks, Mistress Obvious. But, did you take any of them seriously?”

  “Define serious.”

  She laughed, but it filled me with a cold sensation. “So, I should be expecting you to disappear?”

  I held up my hand. “Wait. Let me explain. It wasn’t easy for me to have a long-term relationship in the past, with school, basketball, and my family. Not many appreciated where they ranked.”

  “Which was?”

  I closed my eyes, regretting my words. “L-last,” I stuttered.

  Kat set the hot dog down. “Why?” Her voice was warmer. Encouraging even.

  I sighed. “With Brooke ambushing our table, Annie, and my earlier statements, I know it sounds and looks bad—”