by ACF Bookens
I stared out the window wondering exactly why Effie had such a visceral reaction to conversations about and images of people with disabilities.
8
At four p.m., Mart pulled up to the curb just as Elle arrived at the store, and I waved to Marcus and blew Rocky a kiss. Normally, I felt bad leaving the store at all, but tonight, I knew I needed my people.
I had thought we were going to pick up Mom and Dad at their condo, but when I got into the back seat of Mart's car, Mom was already there. "Oh, Hi," I blurted. "Where's Dad?"
She sighed. "He did his usual and bailed when he heard there were going to be four women. Used some excuse about us having girl time, but really, he just doesn't like to be outnumbered."
"Might be a smart move," I quipped to cover up my hurt. I really needed my dad right now. I needed a man to sit with me and hear me, to take my side. The light buzz of excitement I'd been feeling about the night faded as we pulled out.
Fortunately, a dirty martini and some mozzarella sticks lifted my mood rather quickly, although I still missed Dad, and once we'd caught up on all the news about the fundraiser for DNRN and about how the investigation into Lizzie's murder had gone, the table got quiet. My friends and Mom just sat in the silence for a few minutes before Mart said, "Okay, Harvey, tell us."
I felt tears stinging my eyes, and so I took a huge gulp of my second martini. Then, I said, "I think I need to break it off with Daniel."
I had been expecting gasps or words of shock. But all three of them simply nodded, and Mom said, 'Yeah" in an almost whisper.
"You guys aren't surprised? Why not? I'm kind of surprised." I wasn't sure what to feel – relieved that they weren't surprised or frustrated that they weren't. So I went with neither. "Tell me why this isn't a shock."
Elle went first, which I was grateful for because she was the newest friend in the group and didn't know me that well. Mart and Mom might just tell me what I wanted to hear, but Elle, while kind, didn't know me well enough yet to do that expertly.
"Daniel is a good guy. A great guy. But for someone else. He's reliable. Simple in the best way. But he's also not that curious. He doesn't want to travel, even through pages or music. He's very content to just be who he is where he is." Her voice was clear and solid, and I could hear the truth in it. "You, however, want all kinds of things that stretch you, change you. You are not a woman content to just be. You want to go, not necessarily on planes or ships, but at least in your mind. You need to be free to do that, and I'm not sure you could ever feel free as long as you felt like you were leaving Daniel behind."
Now, I was the one to take a deep, long inhale. Elle was completely right. I hadn't been able to articulate what I was feeling about Daniel – probably because Max was in the mix – but that was it exactly. Daniel was good, but he wasn't curious. I was nothing if not curious. If I separated out my strange draw to Max, I was left with less than great joy about the idea of marrying Daniel, a fact which made me profoundly sad.
"Harvey, do you remember that conversation you and I had on your birthday just after you and Daniel started dating?" She reached over and took my hand. "We were sitting by the fire in the yard, and you were telling me you liked him but weren't sure."
I sighed. I did remember. "You told me that he was a nice guy, but you had one hesitation: that he and you would run out of things to talk about." I could remember her exact words, had thought about them over the past couple of years, but now, they spoke volumes, volumes I hadn't been able to hear before.
She squeezed my fingers. "I think you've run out of things to talk about."
I swallowed hard.
Mom leaned her stomach against the table's edge and took my face in her hands. "It's okay to just do what you want, Harvey. You don't have to sacrifice your happiness for any reason, not even a promise." She looked down at the ring on my finger. "Daniel will understand, someday maybe, but he will. And darling, if you feel this way, don't you expect he does, too."
I thought about his voice on the phone the night before, the distance in it. Not coldness. Not anger. Not even sadness. Just distance. "Thanks, Mom." I sat back hard against the booth. "I guess I know what I need to do."
Mart took my hand again. "We're here, Harvey."
"Yes, we are," said a voice behind me, and I spun around to see Henri and Cate. "We heard it was going to be a hard night, so we came to live it up with you, help you pass the hours," Henri said.
Cate's voice was kind but exuberant, too, and I felt gratitude swimming out my eyes. "Pull up another table."
"Already in the works," Henri said as Cate helped two waiters drag another table from across the room. The restaurant was getting empty, but the bar would be open for hours yet. I expected our waiter was glad for the padding to his tip.
The women sat down, and Cate leaned her head on my shoulder. "Do you want to talk more?" She looked up at me, her face open to whatever I needed.
"No," I shook my head and felt my curls bounce around my face. "No, I know what I need to do. I'll fill you all in on how our dinner goes via text tomorrow night." I didn't need to ask how everyone knew. Friends told friends thing, even private things, because friends knew that in the hard days, a woman needs all her people. "Mart, though, I'll need some peanut butter popcorn, white wine, and cheese doodles at the ready."
Mart nodded and said, "Already in the pantry."
I laughed, and Henri reached around Cate to hand me another martini. "Drink this and that big glass of water. We want you to have fun tonight but not regret it in the morning."
"Regret what?" a male voice asked, and from around the corner of the bar stepped Stephen and Walter. "Harvey, mind if we join you?"
"Not one bit," I said with a wave of my slightly tipsy hand toward the other side of the new table. "Everyone else will catch you up. I'm eating olives." I slid one of the big juicy ones into my mouth and sat back to see my friends. They had rallied, and while I was desperately sad, they were all here . . . and I remembered that the best moments of life are often perfectly bitter sweet.
We sat around with drinks and a few more orders of mozzarella sticks for a couple of hours. I had one more martini and three more glasses of ice water, and then Mart had to help me to the bathroom before we drove home. It wasn't the best night of my life, but it wasn't the worst either . . . and it could have been that.
* * *
The next morning, I definitely felt the effects of the four martinis, but a couple of ibuprofen and a bacon sandwich later, I was feeling pretty good. Well, pretty good except for the knot in my stomach about dinner with Daniel.
I couldn't dwell on that though. I had an event to sell tickets for, and Galen was coming by at nine thirty to interview me on his Instagram stories with the hopes that he'd help bolster the buzz Mom already had going with Segarra. I'd had my doubts, but sure enough, it looked like we'd be in good shape for Wednesday's event as long as it didn't snow again.
When I arrived at the store after a brisk walk to finish clearing my head, the lights were already on, and everyone was already there. And by everyone, I meant "everyone." Stephen and Walter were out front planting fresh winter cabbages that I knew Elle had brought by when she dropped off the bouquets. Normally I hated those plants because people put them in, let them bolt in the warm days, and never tended them. But these were pert balls of purple, and they really did pep up the window boxes Woody had made and that I'd simply been filling with greenery since the holidays.
Woody himself was inside hanging a wood-burned sign above the ticket desk that said, "Tickets Here," and in the cafe, Lucas had set up a table with tiered dishes full of cupcakes. "Another small fundraiser for you, Harvey," he said.
I laughed. "Mom?"
He nodded, and I headed to Rocky's counter for the double espresso latte I had requested via text on my way in. I needed the extra boost. She had it perfectly made in a super-large mug and with a steamed milk "thumbs up" on top. "Thank you," I said and gave her my own thumbs up.
/> At the register, Marcus was counting cash and sliding change into the cashbox for the ticket table, and from there, I could see that Cate was facing all the shelves so that the spines came just to the edge. Elle was placing small bouquets of flowers on all the side tables near my reading chairs, and Henri was dusting everything in sight. My team was on hand, and I took a deep breath. It was going to be alright. No matter what. It was going to be alright.
A few minutes later, Mom and Dad arrived, and while Mom arranged Serraga's T-shirts and other merch on the display Marcus had created, Dad came right to me. "Honey," he said and put out his arms.
I fell hard against his chest and let him squeeze me tight. "Thanks, Dad. I missed you last night."
Despite being a hard-nosed business man, my dad hated conflict and confrontation – Mom always said he was a quintessential Enneagram 9 – and so he wouldn't meet my eyes. But he did, while staring at Marcus and Mom, say, "Sorry, Harvey. I thought it was just a fun night. If I'd known . . ."
"I know, Dad. Next time, though, maybe come anyway. Women are pretty fun to hang with, and besides, you wouldn't have been the only man. Stephen and Walter were there."
To his credit, Dad looked a little chagrined. "Deal." He hugged me again. "Now, your mother has given me my marching orders – I am to hang balloons outside – unless you need something else in here."
I smiled. "And counteract the balloon operation? No sir." I pointed toward the door. "Anything I need cowers in the face of the helium requirements."
Dad rolled his eyes, and I even winced at my own plodding attempts at humor. Clearly, I needed rest . . . and to have this day over with.
Still, I put on a good face and enjoyed my conversation with Galen and Mom, who I pressured into joining me, and Galen said we had several hundred viewers. He was optimistic it might result in a few sales or at least a few donations to the DNRN. And sure enough, Mom's phone pinged a few moments later to notify her that a sizable donation had been made to her Venmo account in support of the DNRN.
I hadn't even known my mom knew what Venmo was much less how to use it, but there she was sending emoji gratitude signs back to the donor as she drifted toward the ticket table.
At the kick-offs for the other fundraisers the shop had helped support, Daniel had always been here, and I missed him. But only now did I realize that it was the absence of a friend that I was noting, not the sorrow I might expect if the most important person in my life wasn't part of a big day. It was another hint, another reminder that I was doing the right thing, as hard as it was.
I took a moment and went to sit with Mack and Mayhem, who had taken up prime position in the front window and were already attracting attention. It was 9:50, and a line was forming at the door. Mom had done it again.
In the last ten minutes before opening, I did a quick sweep of the store to make sure everything was shipshape, and I pulled out a couple of boxes of backstock and tucked them under the ticket table so that Marcus and I could refill the window display if needed.
Then, I turned on the neon sign, unlocked the door, and stepped out of the way as the two dozen or so people who were waiting made their way in.
* * *
By noon, we'd sold two hundred tickets, and by the time we closed up at seven, the event was sold out, thanks in no small part to Segarra's own Instagram story and regular tweets throughout the day. Fortunately, Mom had set up a system to keep the tickets available for people who would be actually attending but that also allowed people to buy "solidarity" tickets to support the cause and to create another means of social media promo for just before the event. She was being cryptic about exactly what she planned to do, but I knew it would be good.
Still, even with the good news about the event, I locked up the shop that night with a heavy heart.
As I walked to my car, which Mart had dropped off for me earlier along with a card to say she loved me and would be at home waiting when I got there, I saw her and Symeon on the sidewalk in front of Max's restaurant. Symeon had his portable pizza oven going, and there was a banner saying, "Support Equality for Disabled People. Buy a Pizza." on the front of their table.
I stopped briefly and said to Symeon, "Mom got to you, too."
Mart came around the table and put her arm around me. "Actually, this was our idea. A way to support you and your good heart." She squeezed me, and I took a deep breath to keep from sobbing.
"Thank you," I said. "You are both amazing." I took another shuddery breath and said, "Text you when I'm on my way back." I handed her Mayhem's leash and turned to go.
"Or I’ll come get you if you need me, too." She held up her phone. "I'm all yours tonight."
I waved as I started the car and pulled away from the curb. I would be a total mess – as opposed to the partial mess of the moment – without such amazing friends.
Nothing good was going to come of me stewing over things on the drive, so I turned on the copy of There There by Tommy Orange that I'd just borrowed from the library's audiobook app and let myself be distracted by the story of people recovering from generations of trauma and re-discovering their stories. It was a hard book, which meant it was perfect for this night.
I saw Daniel's truck as soon as I reached the restaurant parking lot, and I also saw two long ears hanging and a wet nose against the truck window. I bent over with sorrow. Taco. I was losing Taco, too. All my life, I'd found the love I have for animals to be more pure, more uncomplicated than any I'd had for humans, and so while I couldn't let myself break down for more than a second before dinner, I knew that, later on, it was going to be Taco's face that let me crack open my sadness all the way.
I tapped on the window and let him sniff my fingers through the small open sliver in the window Daniel had left for him. There was a pile of wool blankets on the seat, and I knew Taco – unlike Mayhem – was not hampered by the cold. He'd curl up there and be just fine, especially because I thought our meal was probably going to be pretty short. I knew I couldn't hold what I needed to say long and wasn't even sure I should try to order food.
Daniel had managed to get us a quiet booth in the front corner of the restaurant. It was private, but it also meant I didn't have to snake through a bunch of tables while I tried not to cry. I wondered if this choice had been intentional and once again thought, maybe, he was feeling the same way I was.
He waved casually when he saw me, and I slid into the booth across from him. "Hi," I said, trying to be friendly without appearing overly chipper. I had never understood those scenes in movies where the person at the restaurant makes it all the way through dinner before giving the big speech. That felt so false, so dishonest to me.
"It's good to see you," he said, and I could tell he meant it, even though there was sadness in his voice. "It's been a few days."
"It has," I said. "I noticed your garage has been closed. Are you okay?" The fact that I had to ask that question wasn't lost on me. Even a month ago, I would have known if he wasn't, but clearly, something had shifted.
"I am. I'm good actually. But I'm sad, too." He took a sip of his soda and then moved the bowl of homemade potato chips he'd ordered around on the table. "I'm moving, Harvey."
I blinked a few times while I stared at him. I knew something was up, but I had not expected that, not from Daniel. He loved St. Marin's and had a really good business. I was shocked. "Moving? Where?" I could hear the sharpness in my voice, and I hoped it didn't sound like anger. It wasn't, just surprise.
"Damascus." His voice was quiet.
"Syria?"
"No," he smiled then. "Maryland. Do you remember that show Junkyard Empire?"
"Maybe. Remind me which one it was?" Daniel loved every auto reality show, and I enjoyed watching them with him because I learned a lot. But to be honest, I had a hard time keeping them straight.
"It's the one where the father and son own a salvage yard and sell parts but also fix-up cars sometimes." There was a gleam in his eye, and his voice was becoming more animated.
"I'm going to work on the show." Daniel stared at me, waiting for a reaction.
It took me a minute to process what he said, but once my synapses fired all the way, I took a deep breath and smiled. "You're going to be a on a car TV show? Congratulations." I hadn’t thought that television was Daniel's dream, but getting to work on cars without having to contend with customers every day definitely was.
"Well, I won't actually be on the show. I'll be behind the scenes doing the mechanical work." He dropped his eyes to the table. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
I felt the lump in my throat lodge at the back of my mouth. "How long have you known?" I still felt sure about what I needed to do, and I expected this news meant my announcement wouldn't hit Daniel so hard. But still, I didn't want to think he'd been hiding this news from me for months or something.
"Since Tuesday." He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I mean, I heard about the position on Tuesday, but I didn't want to tell you until I was sure. I was up there the rest of the week getting the lay of the land. They offered me the job on Wednesday."
The day he'd called me to set up this dinner. Relief flooded my chest. "Oh, Daniel, I really am happy for you. When do you start?" I knew the answer, I think, but I needed to hear him say it.
"Monday." He looked up at me then, and I could see the plea in his eyes. He needed me to be behind this. No, actually, he needed me to let him go.
"Wow. They must really like you." I kept my voice light, and I felt lighter. Still very sad but also truly happy for him. This was his opportunity of a lifetime, and I was so glad he was taking it. "You're moving this weekend?"
"I am." He took my hand. "Harvey, I'm so sorry."