by Marian Vere
Nick.
He’s sitting causally, eyes closed, in the very spot I was making for, leaning back against the wall of the house. His arms are crossed across his chest and shirt, which is the same ice-blue color as his eyes. A slight breeze ruffles his dark hair and he sighs softly, almost as if he’s sleeping.
God, he is beautiful!
His eyes open suddenly.
“I-I’m sorry,” I half whisper, choking over the dry patch in my throat. I start to back away. “I didn’t know anyone was…I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” He sits up, looking a bit awkward.
For what seems like the hundredth time this trip, I am waging an internal war. Part of me—the old safe and boring, duck and cover, no-risks-no-gains Julia—wants to run. A second and much louder part of me that still has an ounce of pride left refuses to take off like a wimp twice in the same day. However, there is a third part of me—my recently discovered fairy godmother part—that tells me that this is my chance. More than a chance: it’s a sign. I am supposed to talk to him. The situation couldn’t be more perfect—we’re alone, hidden away with no chance of being overheard or interrupted, every aspect of this meeting practically custom designed for my plan.
So why can’t I speak?
All I seem to be able to do is stand and stare, listening to the voice in my—
“Do you like it?” Nick asks, throwing me off guard. He looks down at the ground in front of him, still sitting on the bench.
“Like…what?” I ask confused, but trying not to seem rattled.
“This.” He glances around him. “The house, all of it. Do you like it?” Something about the personal tone in his voice gives me a warm feeling in my chest. He is asking me, not as a member of his financial team, but as someone he trusts. As a friend.
“It’s amazing,” I answer timidly. “Don’t you?”
“Sure. I mean I do, but it’s…I guess it’s not what I thought it would be.”
There is a sad undertone to his voice that draws me toward him. “What did you expect?” I sit down on the other end of the bench a few feet away from him.
“I don’t know.” He sighs, looking up to meet my eyes. After a pause so long that I think he won’t say any more, he continues. “My parents were married here. They used to talk all the time about what a wonderful place it was. How beautiful it was in the fall. How it was almost its own world being so far out of the way from everything else. How there was no other place like it anywhere they’d ever been. Cathy and I used to dream about coming here to Marston when we were kids. After years of listening to our parents talk about it, we’d built it up in our heads to be this amazing place, like something out of a movie.” He stands and begins to absently pace slowly back and forth. “Mom used to tell us that she and Dad would take us one day. That sort of became our dream. That one perfect place that we would go one day. For most kids it’s Disney World or Hawaii, but for Cathy and me—” he gestures around him “—this was it. Silly as it sounds, for us this was better than Disney World because it could really happen. Disney World was impossible for people like us with no money, but here…for some reason it seemed accessible, you know? Like it was more than just a dream because it was actually within reach.” He stops pacing and leans against the wall of the house with a sigh. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just not at all the way I pictured it, but at the same time, I don’t know for sure what it was that I pictured. Somehow still it’s disappointing. I know that doesn’t make any sense…”
He seems so sad and let down that it takes everything in me not to run over to him, throw my arms around his neck, and tell him that it’s okay. That everything will be all right. I know him well enough to see that he needs it, but I could very possibly be the last person he would want affection from, so I stay where I am.
“It does make sense,” I assure him quietly. “I understand. It’s like…going back to Chuck E. Cheese’s as an adult.” He chuckles at my analogy while I look down at my hands to hide my blush. “You expect it to be just as great as you remember it being as a kid, but it never is. The games that used to be so much fun are sort of lame, the crawl-through tubes that used to be huge now only come up to your shoulders, the ball pit that was the size of an ocean is really about as big as a bathtub…It almost makes you wonder why you ever thought it was so great to begin with. It’s disappointing, but in the end it doesn’t matter. What matters are the memories. The ball pit was an ocean when we were kids and we needed it to be. We needed to have a place with amazing games and gigantic tubes to dream about at night and look forward to for birthdays and special occasions. That’s what Marston is for you. Coming here and seeing that maybe it’s not so different from anywhere else doesn’t have to change what it’s meant to you. This place was amazing and wonderful and perfect when you needed it to be, and you’ll always have that.” I pause a moment before asking, “Do you still see yourself living here?”
“No,” he says, staring at the wall of the house without really seeing it. “Honestly, I don’t think I ever did.” He turns to me and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “But I feel like if I don’t take it I’m…I don’t know…giving up on…something.”
“Your parents.” It isn’t a question; I can see that’s what he means. It’s clear to me because I know him. Eight years or not—I know this man. His only response is to bow his head. “Just because you don’t see yourself living here doesn’t mean you have to give up on it altogether. There are ways to honor the memory without making yourself unhappy. You can still buy it, but instead of moving in, why not rent it out for weddings? Let other people get married here. That way, they’ll have somewhere special and amazing and perfect to tell their kids about.”
There is a long pause, which makes me wonder if he’s still listening to me. I glance up to see he is standing completely still, arms crossed, looking down. “How do you always know what to say?” he asks me suddenly, lifting his head to meet my gaze with eyes so wistful and tender that it takes my breath away. He takes the four steps separating us, and sits down next to me. The smell of his aftershave gives me goose bumps. He lifts his hand and gently places it on my upper arm. “Thank you.” His voice is only a rough whisper.
My heart rate jumps through the roof as I look in his eyes and realize…
He’s going to kiss me!
It doesn’t seem possible, but I can just tell. Any second now, he’s going to lean in and—
“Nick!”
Nick drops his hand to his side and stands as we both turn to see Derek coming around the corner of the house.
Damn!
“There you are,” he says to Nick, then nods in my direction. “Hey, Julia.” Turning back to Nick he says, “Margaret is looking for you.”
“Right, thanks,” he says, then looks back at me. “I’ve got to—”
“Sure,” I say, cutting him off.
As though he doesn’t know what else to say, he turns and follows Derek back toward the front of the house, leaving me on the wall in an emotional stupor.
Yes.
Yes!
He wanted to kiss me, I can feel it!
I was right!
This really is going to work!
It is unbelievable! I feel like I’m going to float off the ground, like nothing will ever bother me again. All is well with the whole world.
We talked. Really talked, just like we used to. It was so wonderful just to be needed by him again, even in this small way. To be appreciated. To be able to help. It’s such a little thing, but at the same time, so huge!
Huge and exactly the confirmation that I need—he wants me, too!
I’m dying to talk to him. Itching to run up to the house and tell him everything I had planned to tell him this morning. But, due to my poor planning, I’ll have to wait until after his meeting with Margaret. Though even that can’t wipe the smile from my face. I’m on cloud nine!
I force myself to wait all of fifteen minutes before I m
ake my way back into the house. I had planned on twenty but the rain started up again, giving me an excuse to go in early. I’m practically skipping by the time I get to the front door. Once inside, I start to make my way up to my room to freshen up and kill a few more minutes, when I see Margaret walking down to our temporary office.
“Margaret?”
“Oh, hello, Julia,” she says, looking up from the document she is reading.
“I thought you had a meeting with Mr. Kerkley.”
“We just finished.”
“Oh.” My pulse suddenly races. “Is he still in the library?”
“I believe so.” She steps into the office, lost in her document once again.
I turn on my heel and head straight to the library. As the door comes into sight, my hands begin to tremble, but I am committed. I reach out and grab the door handle, this time with a strange combination of fear and pride. The fear part is obvious, but the pride is somewhat unexpected. It is a strange moment to realize I’m proud of myself, but I am. I’m proud that I have taken matters into my own hands, taking charge, going after what I want, and not running away.
You never expect the turning points in your life to be obvious to you until after they’ve happened, but I can tell this moment is an exception. This is my turning point. This is the beginning of the rest of my life.
I take a deep breath, turn the handle, open the door, and there is Nick…
…and Bree…
…and they are kissing.
11
BETWEEN THE RAIN HAMMERING DOWN on the windshield and the tears blurring my vision, I can barely make out the road in front of me. Combine that with the fact that I’m going entirely too fast in extremely hazardous weather, and it’s clear that there’s a very real possibility this could end badly. Thank God that Susan’s Hybrid Escape has a GPS, or I would be lost somewhere in the woods, two states over by now.
Escape. How appropriate.
The irony of the car’s name might have been amusing if I wasn’t currently busy berating and despising myself.
Idiot, idiot, IDIOT!
They were kissing.
Kissing!
I’m so stupid! What the hell have I been thinking! I knew he had feelings for Bree; I had seen it from the start. All the signs were there, staring me in the face, and instead of accepting them for what they were, I spent my time explaining them away. I could have tried to deal with the situation, but instead I dug myself into an emotional hole. What the hell was I thinking? “This is going so well.” “He is more friendly.” “He needed me.” “He wanted to kiss me.” Blah, blah, blah…I’d talked myself into believing there was a change in Nick, when I couldn’t have been more wrong. It wasn’t a change in Nick. I was the one who’d changed! I wasn’t afraid of him anymore, so he seemed friendlier. He needed someone to talk to and I was the first sap to come around the corner, so it seemed like he needed me. I was more comfortable around him, so he seemed more comfortable around me. I was projecting, for God’s sake!
I squeeze the steering wheel and try not to grind my teeth. Eight years! He had eight years to build a life, get married, have kids, and all that other crap, but no! He has to wait and do it all right in front of me! He couldn’t have planned a better revenge if he’d tried. And of course, leave it to me to make it ten times worse than it needs to be.
Why did I even come on this stupid trip? I’m sure I could have gotten out of it. How could I have possibly thought this would end well? I practically set myself up for disaster.
God damned, blind, stupid idiot…
My internal scolding is cut short by my phone buzzing on the passenger seat. I quickly wipe the tears off my face, grab my headset, and answer the call.
“Hey, Susan.” She must have gotten my message.
“Hi! So you are on your way?”
“Yep. GPS says I should be there around four o’clock. Is that okay?”
“Of course! We’re cooking out by the pool tonight. You can wear your new suit!”
“Great,” I say, trying to match her enthusiasm and failing miserably.
There’s a pause on the other end. “Oh no, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. Same old,” I tell her, hoping she will understand without further explanation. If I go into it now, I’ll just end up blubbering into the phone and scaring the hell out of her. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Oh, okay. Well, drive safe, and I’ll see you in a few hours. Call if you have any trouble.”
“Will do. See you then.”
I toss my phone back on the seat and take a deep breath. Shameful and lame as it is to run away like this, I have to admit it feels really good. I know it’s the definitive wrong thing to do in regard to your problems, but honestly I don’t think I could have stayed in that house for three more days without completely losing it. Due to our rescheduling all of Monday’s inspections, Margaret and Bree would now have to stay until Friday, and I would definitely have gone crazy by then. Luckily, I’ve never been the sort of person to miss work or slack off in any way, so when I went to Margaret immediately after “the sighting” and told her I needed to leave right away, she didn’t hesitate to let me go. I do feel bad though. She probably thinks I have some major family emergency going on, got evicted from my apartment, or something else horrible like that, when actually I’m just having an emotional breakdown. But hey, personal emergencies have to count for something too, right?
I drive toward Susan’s family’s ranch, trying to get my mind in a more comfortable, not to mention socially acceptable, state.
So much for being my own fairy godmother. I’m pretty sure my wings have been revoked. Or, at the very least, have been fitted with the fairy wing equivalent of a parking boot.
How could I have let myself get so carried away? Thank God I didn’t have the opportunity to talk to Nick like I’d planned. He would have laughed in my face! If there is any good that’s come of walking in on them like I did, it’s that now the pain and embarrassment I currently feel is private, and no one else, particularly Nick, knows anything about it. That’s at least something.
The rain lets up while I dig around in the glove box for something to blow my nose with. So what now? My latest plan has hit the crapper, and all I have to show for it is the undeniable knowledge that my instincts are shitty. Oh well. I’m not going to worry about it now. Later, I can talk to Susan and see if she can give me some of my perspective back, but for now, I have some time to clear my head and make myself presentable. Can’t very well show up at Susan’s, red-faced and sniffling. I’m going to turn all my attention to having a nice, relaxing time with one of my closest friends. There’s always time to be miserable later.
“I am so happy you could come!” Susan’s mother, Andrea says, giving me a hug and a peck on the cheek. “It’s been years!”
“I know, thank you so much for having me. I hope it’s no trouble.”
“Trouble? Please! How could you even think such a thing? You stay just as long as you possibly can!” She pinches my cheek, and moves on to talk to the next group of people gathered nearby, leaving Susan and I as she found us—reclining on lawn chairs by the pool, wine in hand.
“I’m glad you came too. It will be great to see you for more than a couple of hours. Plus, there is a serious lack of women here this time.”
I look around and see she’s right. Susan has four brothers, only one of whom has a wife, and she was unable to make it here for some reason. Susan, her mother, and I make up the entire female population, while the men out number us three to one if you count Susan’s three little nephews.
“So,” she says after refilling our wine, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I am curious…”
She leaves her sentence hanging, knowing I would realize what she meant. With a sigh and a swig, I begin my tale of embarrassment and botched plans. I go over everything: the beach, the hospital, all my ill-conceived notions that night, my observations, and everything
else that led up to my fleeing the house this morning. When I finish, I let out a shaky breath and take another long sip. Susan doesn’t seem to know what to say, and joins me in watching her husband and brothers wrestle with her nephews in the water.
“So,” she says after a long moment, “what are you going to do?”
“What is there to do? I’ll go back to my life, and try my best to pretend none of this ever happened.”
“I’m really sorry. This is kind of my fault isn’t it?”
“What?” God, does everyone have to try to take the blame for my stupidity? “Of course not. What are you talking about?”
“I’m the one who said you should talk to him.”
“Oh, that. It’s not your fault. This happened because I got carried away. I thought that I could trust my own instincts for once, and make my own fate, or whatever. My instincts suck, and it was a horrible plan, that’s all.”
We lapse into silence for a while, and watch the boys have a pool noodle fight. After a few minutes, Susan’s stepdad calls over from the grill, and we head for the food. Before I can stand, Susan puts a hand on my arm. “Just one more thing, and I won’t bug you any more about it,” she says. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was a horrible plan. It might not have worked out the way you wanted, and maybe you had the wrong goal in mind, but I think the basic idea was good. You are the only one who can make yourself happy.” She leans in and gives me a quick hug before walking over to dinner.
After we eat, the boys talk their aunt into joining a game of pool volleyball, leaving me to have my dessert on my own. As I watch the match, I can’t get Susan’s words out of my head. Maybe she’s right. Just because my first attempt at fairy godmothering went awry, doesn’t mean I have to retire my wings altogether.
In any event, I’m not going to worry about it. I have almost three weeks of freedom, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend my first vacation in God knows how long being broody and miserable. I’m going to push aside any feelings that aren’t vacation appropriate and have a good time.