by Heidi Lowe
For the first time in a long time I saw my son's vulnerability. His childlike outrage at the world's unfairness, his naivety for thinking the opposite were still possible, beat down heavily on my heart. He loved that game – always had – and he was damn good at it. This was unfair, and I knew exactly why it had happened. No, it wasn't about any insubordination on his part, it was about me. Slowly the pieces started to fit into place. Both Rachel and Denny, along with a couple of the other moms on Azalea, were on the school board. They were getting back at me by hurting my son, just as Rachel had threatened in the supermarket. The company you keep reflects on you and your family, were her exact words. I didn't know how sinister they were until now.
“That bitch!” I snarled through gritted teeth. I charged from the house and marched to Rachel's door.
“Rachel, it's for you,” her husband said when he pulled the door open and saw my vexed face and clenched fists staring back at him. Then he retreated, both hands up, face displaying his refusal to get in the middle of whatever was about to go down.
“What can I do for you, Sabrina?” Rachel asked when she came to the door. She jutted her jaw out, head held high. She knew why I was there.
“I know you had something to do with my son being pulled from the basketball team,” I opened with. I watched carefully for her reaction, a flinch, acknowledgment, remorse – anything, but she was so calm and collected, she momentarily made me doubt my suspicions.
“Hey, once the rules are set, there's nothing anyone can do,” she said, with a sanctimonious air.
“Don't give me that crap. You set those rules the other day, probably right after our little chat in the produce isle.”
She pursed her lips in reply.
“This is low even for you, Rachel. I forgot how pathetic you were. Don't you have anything better to do than screw with my son to get back at me?”
“I'm not the one screwing with someone I'm not supposed to...”
“Wow, really?” My temple throbbed, my body shook with fury. I felt like I was going to implode. “Not supposed to? Listen to yourself. I can and will sleep with whomever I please, and I will not be dictated to by some... some bored housewife whose sex life is so non-existent she spends her time sticking her botched nose-job into other people's lives to get her kicks!”
I watched her face turn a bright crimson. A real friend would never have brought up the nose-job, which she'd never admitted to having, and expected everyone to ignore. But she'd made it clear that we weren't friends, so everything was fair game. The words had the effect I wanted; the sting showed in her eyes.
“Run back to your whore,” she said, her voice crackly. “She's the only friend you have left in this neighborhood. She can console you when you realize how lonely it is being on the outside.” I was already walking away when she added, “And things are going to get pretty tedious at Linwood High for your son when he finds he's too new to take part in any extra curricula activities...”
I stopped on the sidewalk, my hands rolled into fists, every piece of willpower I had being utilized to restrain myself. I took a deep breath to compose myself, then continued to my house.
I couldn't speak to Adrian when I returned, couldn't even look at him, knowing what I'd caused. Knowing that things would only deteriorate from here on out. They knew how to get to me. Anything they said about me or Casey, I could handle. But this? This was far beyond what I was capable of withstanding. My son may have been the asshole of the decade, but he didn't deserve this.
What should have been a relaxed night filled with excitement for Casey's return the following day, was instead filled with apprehension and little sleep. And when the morning arrived, I had come to a decision.
Adrian was already in bed when I answered the heavy, over-enthusiastic tapping on the door, and found Casey Adams and her huge, infectious smile standing on my doorstep. Her beauty was more breath-taking, more heartbreaking than it had ever been in that moment because I knew what had to be done.
She opened her mouth to speak, but my lips were on hers, my tongue slithering its way inside before she had the chance to greet me. My hands were on her waist, the feel of her once more reminding me how much I'd missed her. We kissed under the moonlight, under the streetlights, under the eyes of the avenue. It was my way of declaring my love for her, no matter what would later transpire.
“I missed you too,” she laughed, once our lips parted.
I took her by the hand and led her into the living-room. I didn't release it, even when we sat down on the couch. We were quiet for a while, but then she must have noticed that I hadn't so much as smiled since she'd arrived.
“You kiss me like we haven't seen each other in years, yet you look like you just lost your grandma...” She squeezed my hand. “You didn't just lose your grandma, did you?”
I shook my head slowly, eyes locked on hers. My mouth felt watery, the way it felt when I was about to be sick. “Nobody died. How was your flight?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head to one side. “Fine. Are you all right, babe?”
I shook my head again. This time she was the one to squeeze my hand. With her spare one she stroked my cheek. My eyes drooped shut, and a single tear trickled down my face.
“What happened while I was away?” She wiped the tear with her thumb. When my eyes sprang open once more, the concern had registered on her face.
I steadied my nerves, sucking in as much air as my lungs would allow. “I, I can't do this anymore.”
“Can't do what?”
“This. Us.”
She yanked her hand from mine. “W-what is this, Sabrina?”
“It's just too complicated. Being with you is too complicated. And I can't do that, because everything around me falls to shit.”
“And you somehow think that's because of us?” Her pitch spiked, displaying her incredulity at the mere idea. “You think that fucking me has made your life, what, miserable? Jesus, I didn't know my vagina had that much power!” There was no sign of humor in her face or her voice.
“I didn't say it like that–”
“No, but that's what you meant. What the hell happened during those five days that made you change your tune and do a complete 180?”
“How can I keep doing this if everyone in this town condemns me for it? And not just me but my son.”
She jumped to her feet. “Oh, so it's about the bitches on the street? Really? You're gonna let them tell you who you can and cannot date?”
“If it makes my life easier, yes.” I didn't mean to sound so defeated, so relenting, but the pressure of her ire had gotten to me.
“You know what you are, Sabrina? A fucking coward! You've spent all your goddamn life living in privilege, never breaking the rules, never speaking up, and always settling for being just okay, never happy.”
“I'm not a coward.” I, too, was standing now. “I have to think about my son. They're going through him to get to me. How can I let that happen?”
“You fight them. Make them see they don't have any power over you. If you don't, they'll be telling you what to do for the rest of your life.”
Of course she was right, about everything. She was always right. She'd been dealing with them for three years; she knew how to handle them.
“I'm not as strong as you, Casey. I can't be a pariah, and I can't let my son become one either. I'm sorry.”
“Yeah, so am I.” She charged to the door to leave, but turned back. “You were the only thing keeping me in this town mired in shit and misery and judgment. It was as if I'd put up with it for so long just so I was around for your arrival. It's silly and lame, but I really felt like we were meant to find each other... meant to be together.” She removed something from her jacket pocket. On closer inspection I saw that it was a little souvenir of the Milan Duomo. She fingered it, peering down at it sadly, before finally saying, “Now there's nothing keeping me here. You're done, and I'm done.”
“What are you saying?”
She put the souvenir on the coffee table, looked at me one final time – all the heartache imprinted on her features – then walked out of my house.
I had no words, then or immediately after. I wasn't expecting any of that. I just assumed I could love her from afar, see her every day, be civil to her from a distance. I had no idea how much distance would actually be involved.
The little cathedral stared at me from the table, as though re-delivering Casey's harrowing words. And I hated everything about it. I hated Milan and I hated that stupid building. Once I'd dreamed of visiting; now I wished for the city to be razed to the ground. My wrath bubbled to the surface, and I picked up the souvenir and hurled it against the wall, letting out a furious cry in the process. It clanged to the ground, still in one piece. Unlike my heart.
I wished for the strength to fight back, to stand up to the fucks who'd come between me and Casey. I prayed for it. But it never came, and, a week after our breakup, she was gone. Just like that. From my bedroom window I watched her pack up her life, sell her beautiful Porsche, and give away half of her closet. Gradually she extinguished every last memory of her time on Azalea Avenue, in preparation for her new life on another continent. Her new life without me.
And then, Wednesday at dawn, Conrad arrived and loaded her cases into his Jeep. Casey cast her eyes up at my window, as if she knew I was there (though I was hidden from sight by the blind). Maybe she was waiting for me to change my mind at the last minute. I willed myself to be like those saps in romantic comedies who always got the girl just in time, before she walked out of their lives forever. But I wasn't that person, and I wasn't that brave. Moments later, she climbed into the passenger's seat and they took off.
A couple of days later, a For Rent sign appeared on the lawn, adding insult to injury and thus ending the most compelling chapter of my life.
*****
“Jenny took a course in Mixology at a community college, so apparently she's now the queen of cocktails. I've never tried hers myself, but they can't be worse than Heather's.”
What followed was the squeakiest guffaw I'd ever heard originate from a human being. This travesty of a voice belonged to an Azalea resident, one of the many who'd suddenly and entirely changed their position on my pariah-status. It had been two months since Casey's departure from the street, and equally as long as my re-admittance into the fold. Two months of hell!
She stood in my doorway, where she'd been for fifteen minutes. I'd lost all hope of her getting the message – from my monotonous moans of agreement, and half-hearted nods – that I wasn't interested in her gossip.
“So the party should be fun. I'll see you there, won't I?”
“I'm not sure, I think I have something on that evening,” I said, feigning regret.
“Oh, well if it falls through, there'll be a bunch of inebriated wives gossiping and letting their hair down at number 37.” Another high-pitched guffaw. “Toodles.”
I would rather stick spears in my eyes, I thought, waving goodbye.
Being back in the fold was torture. People had been inviting me to tedious shindigs for two months, had come to think of me as their friend. Only, their friendship was as superficial as the rest of them. They'd been more than happy to freeze me out when I was dating Casey. How would I ever trust a friendship that could be so fleeting? How could I ever trust people who gossiped as much as they did behind one another's backs, when I knew they were almost certainly doing the same to me? Theirs wasn't a friendship I wanted or needed. But they gave it to me anyway, to my detriment.
Just as I closed the door, I heard my phone buzzing in the kitchen.
“Why do you have a phone if you don't answer it?” Eric's grumpy voice greeted me when I picked up. “I've been trying you for five minutes.”
“Well I'm sorry I have a life and can't be at your beck and call every second of the day! What is it?”
“You said you'd send me the code to get into the safety deposit box. That was a week ago. I'm still waiting.”
“I did send it.”
“So why don't I have it?”
I tutted. I hated it when he called in a bad mood. It was like speaking to a petulant child. It was like speaking to his petulant child.
“Give me a second. I'll look through my sent texts.”
I put him on hold while I scanned through my outbox. There the message was, sent a week prior, just as I'd said. Just above it was a sent message to an unknown number. I didn't remember sending anything to that number. Curiously, I opened the message. My stomach felt queasy, like someone had punched me in it, as I read:
We had our fun but I'd ask you not to contact me again. I'm seeing someone new, a man, and I'd rather put what we did behind me. Lose my number please.
“Eric, I, I have to call you back.” I cut him off before he could speak. I opened the message and read it over and over, the nausea building. I knew instantly who it had been addressed to, and I knew exactly who'd sent it.
Serendipitously, the guilty party arrived home from school. Whistling, with not a care in the world. He'd taken care of the ex-lover and thought he was in the clear.
“Mom, where are you?”
I didn't respond, and eventually he made his way into the kitchen. I sat at the dinner table, cellphone in hand. As soon as he entered I read the message aloud.
He gulped but didn't speak.
“Why? I just want to know why?”
Red-faced and flustered, he replied, “Because I didn't want her coming back and ruining things again, and turning you gay again. Everything's better without her.”
“For who?” I screamed, losing the temper I'd been fighting hard to keep in check. “I gave her up for you, and you couldn't even let me have this, even with a million miles separating us.”
“You gave her up because you came to your senses and realized she wasn't worth the disruption to your comfortable life. Don't make this about me,” he screamed back.
I could have matched him in volume, tried to make him see the error of his ways, but he was right. If I'd thought she was worth it, I would have fought for her. I would have fought for us. That wasn't about Adrian, that was all on me.
“You've never forgiven me for uprooting you.” I shook my head, realization hitting me. “I never should have. That was selfish of me. I wasn't thinking about you at all, just my loneliness. So I'm going to ask you what I should have asked you seven months ago: Do you want to live with your father?”
“Yes.” His response was so rapid it was clear he'd come to that decision long ago.
I breathed deep, exhaled loudly, and nodded. “Okay. I'll talk it over with him. We'll work something out.”
He hovered in the doorway, uncertain and confused. “Uh... thanks.” Then he went upstairs.
I made a call, but it wasn't to Eric. That conversation could wait. There was one far more pressing that I needed to make.
“Ciao!” The language wasn't familiar, but the voice – Casey's voice – was.
“Thank God,” I said, and before I could stop myself, I was bawling my eyes out. I'd gone from calm to a blubbering mess all in the space of three seconds!
“Sabrina?”
“Yeah, it's me.”
“Are you all right?”
I sniffed. “Yeah... I am now.”
“I thought I'd never hear from you again, after–”
“That message, it wasn't from me. It was Adrian.”
“That explains why it was so... mean.” She let out an awkward laugh.
“I thought you'd forgotten about me. You were so angry when you left.”
“How could I forget about you, Sabrina? I've been here two months and you're still the only person I think about constantly.”
He
r admission made my heart skip a beat. After all that had happened, I was still in her thoughts. “Even with all those hot Italian women walking around?”
“I hadn't noticed.”
“Why didn't we work when you were here?” I asked, once a long beat of silence had passed. “Was it the neighborhood?”
“Ultimately, yes. That place is poison.”
“And without the neighborhood?”
She went quiet for a moment, thinking it over, then said, “We'd be happy, like everyone else.” I heard her sigh sadly.
It sounded so simple, this concept of happiness. Yet had those five months with Casey not happened, I would never have believed I was capable of feeling it. Because up until she'd entered my life, I'd barely scratched the surface of contentment, let alone happiness. I'd been in a slump for as long as I could remember.
“What's the weather like in Milan?”
“Cold and wet, mostly. Florida it ain't.”
“Then I should probably pack a few sweaters...”
It took a while for the penny to drop.
“Oh my God! Does that mean you're coming here?” I could almost see the elation.
“If you'll still have me. Adrian's moving back to Wilmington to live with his dad. I think it's time I lived a little myself.”
“Of course I'll still have you,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion and tears.
I didn't know how we would make it work, or how long it would last. All I did know was that happiness, much like Casey Adams, was addictive, and I wasn't ready to give up on either of them just yet.
THE END
BOOKS BY HEIDI LOWE
Series:
My Mother's Best Friend
Justified Affair
The Neighbor
Set Dreams
Le Coeur Island
Novellas:
Crave: Nikki's Story
Crave: Faye's Story
At Her Service
Novels:
My Beautiful Sin (Beautiful Sin Saga, Book 1)
Sinning Again (Beautiful Sin Saga, Book 2)