It Happens All the Time

by Amy Hatvany

  “Daniel asked me to marry him,” she said. “And I said yes.” She wanted me to know before I saw them today, at her parents’ house, for her celebration. “I just got off the phone with my mom and dad, and I wanted to make sure you heard it from me, first.”

  “Wow. I’m happy for you guys,” I managed to respond, despite the wailing siren going off inside my head. “Congratulations.” I knew that was all I could say. That anything else would be pointless.

  “Thanks,” she said, followed by a smiley face emoji.

  “Can’t wait to meet him,” I said. Amber’s boyfriend—fiancé, I corrected myself—would only be visiting Bellingham for a couple of days before he started summer session at the University of Washington in Seattle. “He’s a total overachiever,” Amber had told me a few weeks ago. “He enrolled in a couple of seminars that his adviser said would help jump-start his first year in med school.” Amber planned to spend the summer at home, working to save money, and then join Daniel in the fall.

  Now, almost twenty-four hours after she told me the news, I sat up and gripped the edge of my mattress. Amber is getting married. To Daniel. I took a deep breath, and the muscles in my chest pulled so tight I was afraid they might snap. I wondered if Whitney was home, and then remembered that spring quarter at WWU was over. She had already gone back to her parents’ house for the summer.

  I rolled out of bed, pacing back and forth between my small bedroom and living room, trying to return my pulse to normal. “Fuck it,” I said aloud, to my empty apartment. If I couldn’t get laid, I needed another way to force my spiking adrenaline into submission. I had taken the day off for Amber’s party, which didn’t start until three, so I pulled on a pair of jogging shorts, a T-shirt, and my sneakers, then grabbed my iPhone and keys, heading out the front door.

  Only ten minutes into my run, my breathing was labored and my hamstrings were screaming at me to quit. But I dug my fingernails into my palms and pushed myself to keep going. It was a slightly overcast, cool, early June day, and still, beads of sweat gathered on my forehead and rolled into my eyes, causing them to sting. I wiped at them, stopping to jog in place on a busy street corner, waiting for the walk signal. I caught an attractive blond girl staring at me, and I immediately thought about how easy it would be to ask her to go out for coffee, then invite her to come to Amber’s party. Maybe that would make meeting Daniel easier, having a date with me. A few flattering words, a few suggestive jokes—that was all it would take. As introverted as I had been as a teenager, as an adult, I never had a problem getting girls. Things changed significantly when my body filled out. And while I was still fairly quiet, most women tended to assume that my lack of wordy machismo meant I was the strong silent type, in search of a soul mate. But with how often I struggled with anxiety, I didn’t feel very strong. And the truth was I didn’t need to search—I already knew who my soul mate was.

  Now, the blond girl smiled at me, and then ducked her head down. Flirting. But just as I was about to say hello, I realized how retaliatory and desperate bringing a stranger to Amber’s party would make me seem—like “oh, look, you might be engaged, but here’s a pretty girl I picked up on a street corner this morning!” I gave the girl quick, friendly nod, and then headed across the street, pumping my arms and lengthening my stride. I ran until I didn’t think I could keep going. And then I ran some more.

  When I finally returned to my apartment, my head was clear and my legs were shaking and weak, but the pressure in my chest was gone. I reveled in being able to take in deep, satisfying breaths. A few hours later, after a nap and a shower, I was on my way to Amber’s house, the present I had wrapped for her resting on the passenger seat of my truck. I parked on the street, the buzz of music and conversation already overflowing from the backyard. Grabbing her gift, I slowly made my way down the driveway and opened the gate to find a small gathering of the Bryants’ friends—people Helen worked with at the elementary school, Tom’s coworkers from his office, and a few teachers from Sehome High School, none of whom seemed to notice me arrive.

  My dad’s voice was the first one I heard. “Ty, my boy!” he called out. “Come meet Layla!” I glanced toward where he sat, on the patio near the bar—of course—with a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her late thirties. She wore a too-tight, low-cut black dress. She sat in a lawn chair next to my dad, who had one arm around her shoulders, his thick fingers dangling over her ample cleavage. In his other hand, he held a beer.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said, holding up the gift I carried in greeting. “Let me put this inside first. Say hi to Amber and her parents.” And Daniel, I thought, grinding my molars together until they squeaked. Don’t forget about Daniel.

  My dad nodded, and I walked from the gate to the French doors that led inside the kitchen, where I found my mom and Helen standing next to the counter, their backs to me.

  “Can you believe he brought that woman?” my mom said. “She looks like a hooker.” My mom had had ten years to get used to the parade of women in and out of my dad’s life, so it was likely that she was angrier with herself for not bringing a date than with my dad for bringing his.

  Helen shook her head. “I’m sorry. I told you Tom ran into him at the hardware store the other day, and when Jason asked when Amber would be home from school, he felt like he had to invite him. You know I’d never—”

  I cleared my throat, not wanting to hear more. They both turned, and my mother came over to hug me. “Hi, honey,” she said, standing on her tiptoes in order to give me a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “Good,” I said. “Where should I put this?” I held up a small box, nothing expensive or flashy, but a gift that I hoped that Amber would like. I hoped it would mean something to her.

  “Oh, aren’t you sweet,” Helen said. “The dining room table would be great. And I think Amber and Daniel are with Tom out in the living room.” She paused. “Did you hear the news?”

  “I did,” I said, purposely keeping my tone light. “Amber texted me yesterday.”

  “He’s just a doll,” my mom said. “So smart. And handsome! Amber sure knows how to pick them.”

  “I have no doubt,” I said, faking a smile. I’d never discussed my feelings for Amber with my mom, though from the sympathetic look on Helen’s face, I suspected that Amber had discussed them with hers. Heat rose in my cheeks.

  “I think you’ll like him,” Helen said.

  “I’m sure I will,” I said, hoping this would be true. Hoping that I could at least pretend for the duration of the party that I hadn’t spent the last nine months, since learning of his existence, silently wishing that he would screw up somehow and the relationship would end. Amber had dated other guys over the years, but none as long as Daniel. And now they were engaged and I worried that I’d lost my chance to change her mind about me.

  I headed into the dining room, where I set Amber’s present on the table, then proceeded into the living room, where I saw Amber standing with her dad and a tall, tan guy with black hair. Amber’s fingers were laced through his.

  “Hey,” I said, forcing another smile.

  “Tyler!” Amber said, letting go of her fiancé’s hand to come over and hug me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” I hugged her, and a familiar sensation of arousal and longing rushed over me. Stop it, I told myself. Just knock it the fuck off.

  “Come here,” she said, pulling back and grabbing me by the hand. She led me over to where her father and fiancé stood. “Daniel, this is Tyler. Tyler, Daniel.”

  “Nice to finally meet you, bro,” Daniel said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

  “You, too.” I gripped his fingers maybe a little too tightly before I let them go, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “How’s it going, Ty?” Tom asked. He put his stocky arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Can you believe our girl is all graduated?”

  “It’s pretty great,” I said, nodding my head.

  “L
ike you were expecting me not to?” Amber said in a teasing voice. She looked up at her dad, who kissed her on the forehead.

  “I expect you to kick ass at whatever you decide to do,” he said.

  “Aw, thanks, Pops,” Amber said, giving her dad an adoring look.

  “So,” I said. “I hear other congratulations are in order.” I smiled at Daniel, who nodded.

  “I’m a lucky guy,” he said.

  “The luckiest,” Amber agreed, and we all laughed. She held out her left hand to show me the ring, a small but sparkling round diamond on a silver band. “What do you think?” Her eyes were wide, a little worried, I suspected, that I might not be as happy for them as I seemed. After my behavior last August, I couldn’t blame her, but I’d worked hard since Christmas to act nothing other than supportive of their relationship. “If you’re happy,” I’d told her, more than once, “so am I.”

  “Very nice,” I said about the ring now.

  “Amber tells me you’re a paramedic,” Daniel said. “One of my cousins in Denver does the same thing. I admire the hell out of you guys.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But you, heading off to become a doctor. That’s something to admire.” I’m doing this for your sake, I wanted to tell Amber. I’m going to be nice to him. I’m going to be welcoming and friendly all because of you. But even as I thought this, I couldn’t help but concede that, so far, Daniel was a likable guy. However much I hated to admit it, I could see why Amber fell for him.

  “Thanks, man,” Daniel said.

  “Well!” Tom exclaimed, drawing away from Amber. He rubbed the palms of his thick hands together. “I’d better go fire up the grill if we’re going to eat anytime tonight.” He clapped me on the back and pulled me into a quick side hug. “Good to see you, Son. Don’t be such a stranger. You know Amber doesn’t have to be here for you to come see us.”

  “I know,” I said. “Thanks.” I watched as he headed through the arched doorway which led to the dining room and into the kitchen, then out the back door. Not for the first time, I wished that my dad was more like Tom—affable, laid-back, and easy to talk to—qualities my own father had never possessed.

  “Did you see your dad?” Amber asked me as she scooted over next to Daniel again. “And his date?” She screwed up her face, raising a single, questioning eyebrow. There were a hundred meanings behind that one expression, years of conversations about the complicated nature of my relationship with my dad.

  I suppressed a sigh. “Yep. On my way in. They seem very . . . content.”

  “No girlfriend for you, man?” Daniel asked.

  I cringed a little at the continued use of “man” and “bro” at the ends of Daniel’s sentences. I was nit-picking, I knew, but it was irritating. “Nope,” I said. “I was seeing a girl in my building, but she went back to Bellevue to live with her parents for the summer.”

  “Wait, what?” Amber said. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  I shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” I only mentioned Whitney because I knew the chance of Amber ever meeting her was basically zero. I just didn’t want her or Daniel to think that, when I wasn’t working, I spent all of my time alone—the poor, pathetic, miserable bachelor.

  “I shouldn’t have to!” Amber stepped forward and hit me on the arm.

  “Ow! Sorry!” I said, rubbing my bicep and pretending that her punch hurt more than it did.

  Daniel laughed. “Careful, dude,” he said. “She’s feisty.”

  I smiled, but inside I was screaming. I’m not your dude, dude! And you think I don’t know that she’s feisty? I’m her best friend. I know more about her than you ever could. I love her more than you ever will.

  Instead, I said, “Don’t I know it.”

  “All right,” Amber said. “We should probably stop hiding and go socialize with all my parents’ friends who were kind enough to write this feisty girl a graduation check.” She grinned, and both Daniel and I followed her outside, where my mom and Helen had set up a table with appetizers, and Tom was standing in front of the grill, sipping a beer and chatting with a man I didn’t recognize. I looked at the pool, remembering, and felt as though a rock had dropped from my chest into my gut. I wasn’t afraid of the deep end anymore, but I had never been able to shake the humiliating memory of what my father did to me that day.

  “Tyler!” my dad called out. He and Layla hadn’t moved from their lawn chairs. “Come here, Son. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  You think that’s an accident? I thought. Still, as Amber and Daniel walked over to talk with a group of her parents’ friends closer to the pool, I made my way to my dad, shaking Layla’s hand when I got there. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too, hon,” she said, taking a sip of the beer she held. “Your dad’s told me so much about you. That you’re a fireman, just like him.”

  “I’m a paramedic, actually,” I said, clenching my jaws at the idea that my father would lie about what I did for a living, as though my actual job were a shameful thing. Both jobs served important purposes. Both saved lives. I had been terrified to tell my father that I wasn’t going to follow in his footsteps. But then, at the beginning of my senior year, on one of the two weekends a month I spent with him at his condo instead of home with my mom, I somehow worked up the courage. We had just finished breakfast in the small nook off the kitchen, and I asked him to join me in the living room.

  “Should we sit?” I asked when we stood next to the couch, and then immediately regretted it. I’d just turned eighteen, and questions like that implied my father was still in charge of my decisions.

  “I’m good,” my dad said. He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve made a decision.” I forced myself to retain eye contact with him.

  “About?”

  Before I answered, I straightened my posture to my full six-foot-two height, which I’d reached over the summer, finally tall enough to look my dad in the eye. A small part of me believed that, if I stood my ground about what I wanted to do with my life, my father might actually respect me. Wasn’t that what he always said he wanted from me—for me to “ball up” and “be a man”? I swallowed and went on. “I’m going to school to be a paramedic. I’m not going to be a firefighter.”

  I held my breath, waiting for my father’s response. I hoped he might see that I was choosing a noble and important profession, even if it wasn’t the one he wanted me to have. I didn’t know how to articulate my need to differentiate from my father while at the same time wanting to make him proud.

  My dad remained quiet for what felt like a long couple of minutes after I spoke, staring at me with void, blinking green eyes. “You gonna make fifteen dollars an hour for the rest of your life, Son?” he finally said. “Is that how you’re going to take care of a family?”

  Being a paramedic would allow me to make significantly more than that, but in that moment, my father’s scorn had gutted me. It also made me even more determined to prove that I could be successful without being like him.

  “Layla, honey,” my dad said now. “Why don’t you go get me another beer? And something to eat.” He held up his empty bottle and gave it a little shake. She smiled, took the bottle, then stood up, and as she turned, my dad smacked her ass, loud enough that it made the people near us turn their heads.

  “That woman is pure wildcat,” my dad said under his breath, after she’d walked away. “Best blow jobs I’ve ever had.”

  “Jesus, Dad,” I said. “Don’t tell me shit like that.”

  “What?” he said, blustering. “Your little boy ears can’t take it?”

  I stared at him, but didn’t say a word. It was safer not to.

  “I hear Amber went and got herself engaged,” he continued, as though that brief, tense exchange hadn’t happened.

  “Yep.”

  He lowered his voice again. “You ever ride that ride? You two spent enough time together.”

  “Shut up!” I sai
d. The words came out as a hiss. “Right now, Dad. Do you understand me?” I glanced around to make sure that no one had heard him, grateful that it didn’t seem like anyone was looking our way. Layla stood by the food table, using a toothpick to nibble on tiny blocks of cheese, then set a few different appetizers on a plate.

  “Whoa!” he said, holding up both hands, his palms facing me. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I was joking.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” I said, even as I tried to steady my breath. My face was hot and my chest was instantly as tight as it had been that morning, before my run. Don’t lose it, now, I thought. Don’t ruin this night for Amber.

  “Whatever you say,” my dad said, staring me down. Daring me to push the argument further.

  “I’m going to see if I can help Tom with anything,” I said, standing up, towering over my father.

  “You do that,” he said, and I walked away, feeling sick, wishing, as I had the first time I stepped foot in Amber’s backyard, that I could find a way to disappear.

  • • •

  I didn’t hear from Amber for three days after her party, nor did I reach out to her. I suspected that she’d be spending all the time she could with Daniel before he left for Seattle, and the truth was that I didn’t think I could handle witnessing more of what I already had of the two of them together—his long arm around her shoulders, his talented, going-to-be-a-doctor fingers resting on the small of her back. Whenever I looked at them during the party, he was constantly reaching out, holding her close, leaning in to kiss her. His touch was like a branding tool on her skin, a reminder that he possessed what I’d always wanted.

  I left before she opened her gifts, citing my having to be up early the next morning for work. It wasn’t until Tuesday that I woke to find a text from her on my phone. “Want to get coffee?” she asked. “Our usual place?”