“Let’s go get lunch. I have a couple hours before I have to get Milo.”
“Okay.” I got up. “You driving?”
“Yeah, I’ll drive, then we can go straight to Milo’s school.”
I actually loved the kid, but I hated feeling like his stepdad. I didn’t mind looking after him from time to time, but this weird pseudo-side-family Penny had created made me uncomfortable. I liked hanging out with Milo but not when she and I were alone together. It felt odd but I agreed anyway, just to get out of the house and distract myself from my dad.
I followed her and Buckley down the street as she walked fast. “Are you in a hurry?” I asked.
“Well, I have to do pick-up duty so I need to get to the school a little earlier today.”
“What the hell is pick-up duty?” I felt ill already. “Like we have to take other kids home?”
She opened the front door as I followed her into the house. It was pristine inside, as always. “No, we just have to get out and direct traffic a little, maybe help kids to their cars and clear out the parking lot.”
“That is a million times worse.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I’m not going.”
“Stop whining. It’ll take half an hour with both of us.”
“Won’t it be weird, me and you there?”
Ushering Buckley into the laundry room, she turned on her heel. We were inches apart. “You’ve been to his school dozens of times, Gavin. Everyone thinks you’re his uncle.”
“Like . . . your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh god. Whatever, Penny.”
Her voice softened. “You’re kinda like a brother to me.”
I grimaced. “Let’s just go. I’m starving.”
When we got out to the garage, I noticed Penny had a new car. “A white Mercedes SUV?” I shot her a disappointed look.
“It’s four-wheel drive. You’re always getting stuck in the snow. I can’t get stuck in the snow. I have a kid.”
“It’s white. And didn’t you just have a new car?”
“We lease them for two years. Just get in. I didn’t pick the color.”
“Obviously.”
I got in and slouched down in the passenger seat.
“Where should we go?” she said, pulling out of the driveway.
“Odell’s?”
“Nooo,” she whined. “I’m not in the mood for food trucks.”
“What about Horse and Dragon?”
“That sounds dreadful.”
“It’s not. It’s actually very bright and cheery there. Jesus, Penny, you’ve really lost your edge.”
We were at a stoplight. She turned and scowled at me, and then hit the gas a little too hard, forcing the car to lurch forward. “Fine, Horse and Dragon it is.”
Once inside the restaurant, we took our seats at the bar. We always did that. It felt less intimate somehow. We were always trying to avoid intimacy in public.
“What’s new with you, P?”
“Nothing. Same shit, different day. What about you?”
“Well, you know, I sit in my dad’s house and watch him die. That’s pretty much it. I’m putting together a slideshow of pictures for his funeral. I’m already doing that.”
“I know you don’t want to leave him alone, Gavin, but you need to get out more.”
The bartender came over to take our order. “What can I get you two?”
“I’m not ready yet,” Penny said, as she scanned the menu.
“Do you want to share a flight?” I asked.
“I don’t want to drink beer in the middle of the day,” she said absently.
I ordered one beer after another while Penny pushed lettuce around her plate. She wasn’t skinny to an unhealthy degree, but she was very thin and probably borderline anorexic. I wished she’d eat more.
Four beers in and I was starting to feel bold. “Why don’t you eat a hot dog or something? You’ve had four bites of lettuce.”
“Thank you for keeping track,” she said bitterly.
“Have you ever talked to the hubs about how you don’t like to eat?”
“No. Drop it, Gavin. I do like to eat. This is just the size I’m used to. Let’s talk about you,” she said. “I know a girl I can introduce you to.”
I turned and shot her a dirty look. “You pushing me on someone else now?”
“No, I mean a girl to have some fun with. Get laid or whatever. She’s French—like, for-real French. She’s traveling across the country, kind of hippie-ish. She’s a singer in a band and works in that café where they used to do the open mic nights.”
“Joe’s?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know her?”
“Ling knows her from California. When she was out here last month, she introduced us. She’s supercool. Her name is Briel. Very pretty, in a pixie-ish kind of way.”
“What, like Tinker Bell?”
She elbowed me. “No, you know what I mean. She’ll end up going back to France in a few months. Maybe you can just take her out. Have some fun.”
“Fuck her at my dying father’s house?”
“Oh my God. What is wrong with you? No. She’s in Denver a lot, too.”
Penny was getting frustrated with me. She had enough on her mind. I knew her marriage was suffering, even though she never talked about it. I could just tell. But she was the most loyal person I knew. Even to me. I sometimes called her Pennyloyalty for the Unplugged version of Nirvana’s “Pennyroyal Tea.” She loved dancing to it, and I loved watching her.
It’s hard to understand how a woman could be loyal to two men, or how that even made sense, but it’s possible. She always said, There’s room for secrets in a marriage, but not lies . . . not deception. I think she had read that in some book. She was always fighting for individuality. She didn’t want to be defined or labeled. She hated when I said she was married with children, like it was an insult. But she told me once, I’m Penny. I have dimensions.
She had to have her own life. Things he didn’t know about her. Other relationships that didn’t involve him. She was always trying to define those boundaries with him, but he was overly possessive. Penny was hard to cage, but the guy tried his damnedest to do it. And she loved him. I had to accept that, even though I never understood it. I had been accepting of that for a long time. I would take whatever she would give me as long as she was in my life.
“I don’t want to take anyone out, P. I’m not ready yet. But thanks for trying.” I pulled her to my side and kissed her cheek. She pulled away quickly.
“You have some pretty heavy-duty beer breath. I hope Uncle G doesn’t make a scene at Milo’s school.”
“Have I ever made a scene?”
“Yes, pretty much every time I’m with you.”
“Why stop now? Let’s hit it.” I clapped my hands together and stood up. She shook her head.
13. Fourteen Years Ago
GAVIN
We spent almost every day together. Even through the holiday break. When my mom came from LA to visit, I took her to see Penny dance. She said Penny was phenomenal, and I think my mother was even a bit jealous of her, but I didn’t care.
Penny’s partner, Joey, was still being a dick. I didn’t know how she was able to put up with him, but she was patient. She practiced hard every day. And for me, there was nothing I liked more than watching her do what she loved.
I had Christmas Eve at her house, and her mom prodded me for details about our relationship. I’d been at their house a lot in the last couple of months, and Penny at mine, but we were still just being spoons in a drawer. Nothing went further. I felt like I deserved an award for my restraint. Both of us were studying hard for midterms, so I hadn’t pushed her, but our exams were over now. We had time to figure us out before we had to go back to school. I got a tattoo the week before on the inside of my bicep between two larger designs. It was just the lyrics, in my ears and in my eyes. Penny knew.
Every time Anne trapped me in the k
itchen, I’d try to change the subject from my relationship with her daughter, or I’d look for Penny’s dad, Liam, to get me out of a pinch. I’d been hanging out with him a lot lately, too. He had a sense of humor when Anne wasn’t around, but when she was there, especially with Kiki, talking about all the things they had to do for such-and-such pageants, Liam would get quiet and Penny would get judgmental, which would usually end in a fight among the whole family.
On Christmas Eve I was helping Penny set the table when Anne said, “So you guys have been inseparable lately.”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured.
“Penny?”
“Yes, Mom. We’re friends. We like to hang out.”
“Are you two being responsible?” she asked. I knew what she was getting at.
“You have no idea,” I said.
Penny shot me a dirty look. “Anne”—I walked over and braced her by the shoulders—“your daughter is a saint. We really are just friends, though I wish it were more.”
“Gavin,” Penny chided.
Her mom giggled. She found me charming despite the stupid T-shirts, tattoos, and wild hair, which I knew she had judged, at first. Every time I came over I was helpful and complimentary toward her. I don’t think I was the vision of her dream son-in-law, but she liked me. I knew that.
Later, in Penny’s room, as Penny was brushing out her hair in front of the vanity, I walked up to her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. She didn’t move. I made eye contact with her in the mirror. “Why can’t it be more?” I whispered.
She shook her head. I couldn’t read her expression. “This isn’t enough for you, is it?” she asked.
“I want all of you.”
She broke out of my embrace and walked over to her dresser, where there was a small box giftwrapped. Handing it to me she said, “It’s not much, but Merry Christmas.”
I tore it open to find one of those silly half-a-heart BFF trinkets. Smiling bitterly, I said, “Did you want me to wear this around my neck or something?”
“No. It’s just a symbol.” She frowned.
“I guess I’m way out in the friend zone. Like in the farthest section of the friend zone. Like, in the outfield.”
“More like in the stands in the nosebleed section.”
I laughed even though her comment pissed me off. “Really, Penny? We’re so close. We touch each other all the time. How can you say we’re just friends?”
“I know what we are, Gavin, and I want to keep it that way. You can date other girls anytime you want.”
“I want to date you. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be jealous if I was taking other girls out?”
It came on slowly as I watched her in silence. She tried to hold back, but eventually she started to cry. “No.” She sniffled. “I mean yes, I would be sad we wouldn’t be hanging out as much, but I want you to have what you need.” She was torn. I was pushing her too hard. I took her in my arms and hugged her. She tucked her head into my chest the way she always did.
“What do you need?” I asked.
“A friend. I need to get through this year. Everyone in my family doubts me. My dad has to work overtime every week to afford my tuition and all of Kiki’s pageants. I can’t fail them. I’ll be worthless. I will turn to ash in your arms, Gavin, or bones and goo.”
“That is a terrible visual, P.”
“It’s true. Will you wait for me?”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Until the end of the year?”
I shook my head. “And then what?”
“And then we’ll explore this. Just know I’m confused. And scared.”
It was painful to see what a lonely person Penny was. She was really hanging on to us being friends because, other than a surface-level relationship with Ling and a mild closeness with her dad, she had no one.
“But just tell me. What do you think will happen if we get together now?”
“I told you. I think it will be great at first, but too much. I think we’ll kill each other and break each other’s hearts. I think I’ll get lost in you and fail my classes.”
She was right, but instead of agreeing with her, which I should have done, I lashed out. I was hurt . . . so I hurt her back. “You’re not my Carissa, Penny. Not even close.”
She pulled away and glared at me. “I didn’t say—”
“I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with you.”
“What?” Tears sprang from her eyes.
“I just thought we should sleep together. I mean, we’re obviously attracted to each other.” Oh God, what the hell was I saying?
“Let me rephrase it then, Gavin.” She squared her shoulders and frantically wiped tears from her face. “What I should have said was that I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good enough for you, and that you’d break my heart. Is that better? Do you feel good about yourself now?”
I nodded and shrugged like I didn’t give a shit.
“I know my gift was silly, but at least I got you one. You can leave now.”
“Fine. Bye. Merry Christmas,” I said as I walked out. Penny didn’t break like a little girl. She was strong.
When I got into my car, I grabbed the gift I had gotten for her and left it on the doorstep before peeling out of her driveway and screeching down the street.
14. Fourteen Years Ago
PENNY
Sitting on my bed alone, I opened the gift-wrapped box from Gavin that he had left on my porch. It was a homemade CD and a leather-bound journal. I popped the CD into my player and immediately recognized the first song, “Just Like a Woman,” sung beautifully by Gavin.
When I opened the journal, I noticed Gavin’s sloppy handwriting on the inside cover.
For you, Little P, to write down all those thoughts you keep from me. I hope it takes our entire lives to fill this thing up because I want to know everything on you mind . . . every day. There are no Carissas or Kimbers that have ever made me feel the way you do. Now start writing away. I’ll leave a little quote here to inspire you . . .
“It’s not what you look at that matters. It’s what you see.”
—Henry David Thoreau
I was crying then. I wasn’t his Carissa. He said he wasn’t in love with me. Why would he be? But why would he write this. Why would he say every day?
WE KEPT OUR distance for the rest of the winter holiday break. I got a cell phone for Christmas and called him, but he didn’t pick up. I left a message so he could have my number. He didn’t return my call.
Once I got back to school, I was busy preparing all day, almost every day for our big spring dance recital. I got coffee at Java Hut with Ling every Wednesday afternoon. I always hoped I’d run into Gavin, just to say hello, but I never saw him. I even went to fill up my car at Pete’s gas station, but he wasn’t working that day. Pete said Gavin had cut back on hours to take an extra course he needed, so I assumed he was busy, too.
One particularly freezing Wednesday, Ling and I huddled together on a bench outside the packed Java Hut and were drinking tea when Lance came walking up. “What’s up, ladies?”
“Lance,” Ling said.
They seemed more familiar with each other than the last time we’d all been together, and I wondered if maybe they’d had a fling after the party. They lived in the same building after all.
In exactly the next moment, the universe decided to take a shit right in my lap: Gavin was walking toward Java Hut, only he wasn’t coming over to say hi to me; he was with some redhead, completely oblivious to me, Ling, and Lance. They were laughing and he was holding her hand as they approached the door to the café. I watched them as if they were moving in slow motion in a movie—slow enough for me to catch the joy in their expressions. I could practically fucking smell their joy, it was so visceral. Lance’s back was to Gavin, but Ling saw the whole scene play out. When I dry heaved, she turned to me and started rubbing my back. I was like every other girl to him, and it was all my fault. He hadn’t even noticed I was s
itting there.
“Ahem!” Ling said loudly right before he swung the door open. He glanced over, looking as equally shocked as I was.
He walked up to me, still holding Raspberryhead’s hand. “What are you doing here, Penny?”
I held up my cup. “Drinking tea. Remember? I practically own stock in this place.”
“Right.” He looked nervous.
“Hi, Gavin,” Ling said.
“Hi, um, how are you?”
“Who’s this?” she said, pointing to Raspberryhead.
“Oh sorry.” Gavin ran his hand through his messy hair. “This is Lottie.”
The fuck kind of name is Lottie? Guess not much worse than Penny Piper.
I pointed to Lance. “That’s Lance,” I said.
Understanding spread across Gavin’s face. “Hey man. You’re Penny’s friend, the microbiology major, right?” I had pointed Lance out to Gavin once on our way to the library. Still, I was impressed with his recall.
“Yeah, we’re friends,” Lance replied, uncertainly.
Oh, that word.
Gavin gave me a pointed look. “Penny, can I talk to you for a sec?”
“What about?”
“Privately?”
I huffed but got up anyway and walked a few feet with him. He left Lottie with Ling the Wolf. I almost actually felt sorry for Gavin’s new arm candy.
“What’s up?” I said.
“I thought you had conditioning on Wednesdays and Fridays?”
“Nope, my schedule changed.” I shivered, and he instinctively reached out to rub his hands up and down my arms, something he always did. I jerked away.
“I don’t think Lottie would appreciate that, do you?”
I took him in. God, he was handsome. Why had I turned him down? I’d lost both the possibility of friendship and the dream of something more. The outcome was totally predictable but I had deluded myself into believing I could control our fate. Our “friendship” had started with a life-changing kiss. Why had I thought it would lead anywhere but here?
“I’m sorry for what I said.” He swallowed. “On Christmas Eve.”
“Water under your bridge.”
“I believe the correct saying is ‘water under the bridge.’ ”
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