Waiting for You

by Elle Spencer

  “I feel so covert,” Corey whispered. She’d painted black stripes under her eyes like the football players did. Brooke went all-in with her black knit facemask. Brookey the bank robber. Lindsay prayed the police didn’t decide now was a good time for a neighborhood patrol.

  Patty had on bright orange hunting gear. No one knew why, but they’d stuck her behind the largest tree so she didn’t give them away.

  Deb chose to wear normal clothes with mismatched rubber boots and a black beanie pulled low. Again, no one knew why. Or at least Lindsay didn’t.

  And then there was Ren, who was standing the farthest away from her. Tight jeans, a black turtleneck, those old boots she was so attached to, and a red and black lumberjack’s coat she was certain was another item stolen from Deb. God, she looked adorable. Lindsay wanted to take it all off and breathe Ren in for six hours straight, but things felt slightly tense between them. Friendly, but tense.

  Lindsay wondered if maybe it was because she’d rebuffed a kiss from Ren the day before. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the kiss. She just didn’t want Brooke to get attached to the idea of them dating in a serious way. Still, they could’ve stolen a quick kiss, and Lindsay found herself feeling regretful that she hadn’t let it happen.

  She wanted to be closer to Ren, so she worked her way through the small crowd. “Excuse me. Sorry. Can I get past? Hi.”

  “Hi,” Ren whispered. “You really know how to make an entrance.”

  Brooke put her finger over her lips and shushed everyone. “I see car lights.”

  Lindsay got behind Ren and wrapped her arms around her. She’d get all kinds of good whiffs of her scent in this position. She smiled when Ren took their hands and tucked them into her pockets.

  A car pulled into the driveway. Deb clasped her hands together and whispered, “Here we go, girls.”

  The car wasn’t nearly as old as the Mistmobile. And the woman who got out of what looked like a Prius wasn’t nearly as old as Mrs. Stokely, either. Or maybe she just dyed her hair. Lindsay felt a sense of panic rise up in her chest. What if this woman was too young for her? Would her heart be broken? And then the woman in the pretty blue pantsuit took her cane from the passenger seat and leaned heavily on it. Lindsay breathed a sigh of relief and whispered in Ren’s ear, “What do we think so far?”

  Ren put two thumbs up. Brooke and Corey were whispering to each other, and Patty was trying to make a pair of binoculars work. Lindsay kissed Ren’s ear. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

  Before Ren could answer, Patty whispered, “She’s inside. Follow me, troops.”

  They all crouched down single file and made their way to a small side window where, if they had the living room mapped out right, neither Mrs. Stokely or her date would discover them. But that was only if Mrs. Stokely sat in her regular spot.

  Patty, in her hunting gear and orange trapper’s hat, decided she would have the first look. “I got this,” she whispered. Then she made all these gestures with her hands like she was running a SWAT team operation. No one knew what any of it meant. Go left? Go right? Slice our necks open with our nonexistent knives?

  Lindsay didn’t think fast enough. If she had, she would’ve known to pull Patty and her loud hat away from the window before she peered in it and screamed at the top of her lungs, echoing Mrs. Stokely’s scream.

  Lindsay ran for the front door and knocked. “Mrs. Stokely? Mrs. Stokely, it’s Lindsay.”

  Mrs. Stokely opened the door, holding her hand over her chest. “What in damnation? I thought a deer hunter had mistaken me for a five-pointer, and I’d breathed my last breath.”

  The other five gathered around. Patty had magically removed all of her hunting gear. “We chased him away,” she said. “The hunter. Gone for good. No need to worry. How’s your date going?”

  Lindsay rolled her eyes. “We’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Oh, no.” Mrs. Stokely waved them in. “I’d love for Verna to meet my friends.”

  “We’re not really dressed for it,” Lindsay said. “Deb’s boots don’t match.”

  “Uh, your daughter looks like she just robbed a bank,” Deb said.

  Brooke pulled the mask off her face. “And Corey decided to join the football team. Tight end.” Brooke slapped Corey’s butt.

  Mrs. Stokely stared at them with a blank look on her face, then whispered, “Does my hair look okay?”

  She hadn’t done too bad trying to recreate what her stylist had done. And the matching navy pants and sweater were very age-appropriate. Everyone gave her a big nod and a thumbs-up.

  “Good. Now, get outta here. You’ll get a full report tomorrow.”

  The door slammed shut. They all shrugged, then ran to Deb’s minivan parked down the street.

  Patty threw all of her gear in but kept the binoculars, which most likely did not have night vision, around her neck. She put her hand out, palm facedown. “Bring it in, cohorts. This mission was a success.”

  Lindsay put her limp hand in. She couldn’t wait to hear what came out of Patty’s mouth next. Would it be a big oorah like the Marines did? Would they get tattoos to commemorate their first team mission? And what would that tattoo look like? A rainbow flag with a trapper’s hat hanging from it?

  “Brooke,” Patty said. “Stealth. Very stealth. Deb, excellent job creating confusion with the boots. Corey, the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders might be in your future. Ren, try harder next time. The lumberjack look didn’t fool anyone. And Lindsay…” Patty motioned with her head toward Lindsay’s coat pocket. “Yellow dishwashing gloves?”

  Lindsay stuffed the gloves hanging out of her pocket in farther. “Whatever. If it turned out that we’d had to belly crawl through Mrs. Stokely’s garden, I’d be the only one with clean hands right now.”

  Patty shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. Bring it back, boys. On three. Oh, wait. Here comes a car. Just act casual.” Patty put one hand in her hair and another on her hip. “Nothing to see here.”

  Brooke and Corey started up a fake conversation with silent laughter. Lindsay turned to Ren and said, “You look so hot in that lumberjack coat, I just want to…” She stopped when she realized everyone was looking right at them and most likely heard what she’d said. “Borrow it. I want to borrow it.”

  Giggles ensued as everyone climbed into the van. “Sure, Mom,” Brooke said.

  Ren motioned with her hand. “Maybe you can finish that sentence another time.”

  “Maybe I’ll do more than that.”

  * * *

  Ren wondered if Corey’s last-minute slumber party had nothing to do with studying for an exam and everything to do with getting Brooke out of the house so they’d have some time alone. She’d have to thank Deb later.

  As she followed Lindsay home, her thoughts turned to Paris. It was such a great job opportunity that she couldn’t give up. At the same time, she loved Salt Creek. She loved the laid-back attitude, the slower pace, the people. One person, specifically.

  She and Lindsay needed more time. They needed to get to know each other better. Ren needed to get a better understanding of all of this past life stuff so she wouldn’t fear it so much. That would take time she didn’t have.

  Once inside Lindsay’s home, Ren took off the now infamous jacket she’d borrowed from Deb’s coat closet. She looked up and realized Lindsay was leaning against the wall, watching her. “I thought you were going to let me do that,” Lindsay said.

  “I just saved you the trouble.”

  “Undressing you would be a pleasure, not a hardship.”

  Ren stepped a little closer. She slid her hands into her back pockets and said, “What if I said I wanted to spend the night? Sleep naked with you. Wake up next to you. Trace the lines of your body with my finger until you stir. Bring you coffee in bed.”

  Lindsay folded her arms. “Sounds like heaven. But then what?”

  “Then we both have a beautiful memory of our last time together.” Ren couldn’t read Lindsay’s exp
ression. Did she want this as much as Ren did? Would it feel too confusing? “Let’s not waste what little time we have left together, Linds. Let’s part on a good note, with good memories of each other.”

  Lindsay pushed off the wall. “I left a fan on in my studio. I’ll meet you upstairs in a minute.”

  “I’ll go with you. I love seeing your work.”

  Lindsay stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Roo I’ve been painting.”

  “Oh. Okay. Do you not want me to see it?”

  “Do you want to?”

  Ren wasn’t sure what she wanted. Time with Lindsay. That’s what it boiled down to. If that meant seeing this Roo person again, so be it. She forced a smile and said, “Let’s go.”

  They walked hand in hand to the studio, but the minute Ren saw the huge painting through the window, she dropped Lindsay’s hand. She wasn’t working on the painting she’d already seen. This was a new one, and it was enormous. Twice, maybe three times the size of the first painting of Roo. And the look on Roo’s face was as come hither as it got. Follow me to my boudoir and let me do naughty things to you, was the vibe Ren got.

  They walked in, and Ren stood in a protective stance with her arms folded. Lindsay turned off the fan and sat on a stool. She gazed at the painting and said, “She’s been such a huge part of me for so long. It’s strange to look at her from a distance.”

  The work was extraordinary. Ren couldn’t deny that. But it gave her such a feeling of inadequacy, she couldn’t fully comprehend why. She felt vulnerable and small in the presence of this larger-than-life version of Roo. In fact, larger-than-life was the perfect description for her. A supposed dead woman had taken over Lindsay’s life, and in Ren’s estimation, there really wasn’t room for anyone else.

  “Is she going to hang in your living room?”

  Lindsay turned to Ren. “What?”

  “Your living room, Linds. Or maybe over your bed? Or better yet, on the ceiling above your bed so you don’t have to crank your neck to look at her?”

  “Wow. Where is this coming from?”

  Ren shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s just too much. Even if I wanted to try to have more than a fling with you, would you ever really be mine?”

  Lindsay stood. “I’m going to sell her. One day, I’ll sell her.”

  Ren didn’t believe it for a second. Lindsay would never sell that painting. Or any painting of Roo. If she struggled to sell paintings of a boy she didn’t know, how would she ever bring herself to let go of Roo? “You won’t. You won’t ever sell her, Linds. And I can’t compete with her. I won’t even try.”

  Ren walked out of the studio and got in her car. She wanted to scream. She wanted to take that painting and throw it in the trash. She wanted to shout at Lindsay, wake up! Stop living in someone else’s past. And stop pretending you could love anyone else but Roo.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was for the best. Wasn’t it? Ren could focus on her job in Paris. Her heart wouldn’t be in two places at once. She could explore France without wishing her girlfriend was there with her. She could date French women, which she’d been looking forward to doing. The pros of ending it with Lindsay outweighed the cons. It never should’ve started in the first place. Deb was right. Ren was old enough to know better.

  She hated the idea of having to say good-bye to Lindsay before she left the next day. She’d said some pretty rude things about the painting of Roo before she left in a bitter huff. She’d have to start with an apology. And then have an awkward hug while saying awkward things like, it was nice getting to know you. And having sex with you. And almost falling madly in love with you. Almost? Who was she kidding?

  One good thing had come of it. Together, they’d managed to make Mrs. Stokely’s life a little better. Ren felt a sense of pride about that. And when she turned the corner onto Main Street and saw the Mistmobile parked in front of the art gallery, she found herself hoping Mrs. Stokely would be visiting Patty so they’d have a few minutes to talk about how her date went.

  Patty didn’t look happy when Ren walked in. In fact, she scowled so hard, Ren was tempted to leave. “Oh, no,” Patty said. “Oh, no, no, no. That sale was final.”

  A sense of relief washed over Ren. She wasn’t scowling at her. She was scowling at the paintings in her hands. “Wait. I’m not here to return them. I’d just like you to pack them up and ship them to me.”

  “Oh.” Patty swiped a hand over her brow. “That could’ve been so awkward. I mean, I would’ve had to throw you out on your ass, which I kind of want to do anyway.”

  “Right. Okay.” Ren noticed there was a new art installation against the back wall. In fact, it looked as if it was part of the building. She set the paintings down so she could get a closer look.

  It wasn’t graffiti on the walls. Just words painted haphazardly, sort of like what you’d find at a crime scene where the criminal felt the need to express a thought before he fled. The word “Ladies” with an arrow pointing to an opening had been crossed out and replaced with the words “Defiant Queens.” On the other side, the word “Men” had been expanded to “Menstruate.”

  There were messages everywhere. Some large, some so small, Ren couldn’t read them. The ones she could read were all messages of empowerment. The message right in the middle seemed like an important one since it had a black frame around it. She read it to herself.

  Bad things happened here. Hearts were broken. Souls crushed. Young lives changed forever. This will stand as a monument to those who have suffered at the hand of bigotry and hate. It will stand for those who have lived in fear for far too long. For those who can’t touch the one they love in public. For those whose rights are still ignored. This monument is your safe space.

  “Too dramatic? Over the top? Angry?” Patty stood next to Ren and folded her arms. “Well, I never claimed to be a real artist, but I had something to say, and this is going to stay here until I…hey, wait, you don’t want to go back there. It’s just some old dressing rooms.”

  Ren was so moved by the work, she had to see more. She pushed on the first door. It swung open with a loud squeak. Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest, but she had to know what this was about. It was an urge she couldn’t control, kind of like in the movies when the person was drawn to the strange noise coming from behind a closed door. The audience was yelling, “Don’t open the door!” but the character did it anyway. Ren had to know what was behind those closed doors. The next dressing room door opened with an even louder squeak. The bench was dusty. It didn’t matter. Ren sat on it anyway. The mirror was so dirty she could only see a blurred version of herself with what little light there was.

  Her breath was shallow. If felt as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air, but she couldn’t leave. She put one hand on the mirror and the other on the opposite wall. She needed to dig her heels in. Or better yet, slam them up against the door. She pushed against a force that wasn’t there.

  A fluorescent light turned on above her head. “Ren? Are you okay back there?”

  She could see more detail now. The broken lock on the door. The splintered wood around the lock. Patty pushed on the door, but Ren had her feet firmly planted against it. “I’m fine, Patty.”

  But Ren wasn’t fine. She was on the verge of tears. She dropped her feet to the floor and flung the door open. She raced out of the gallery and only stopped when she was on the other side of the street. She bent over and inhaled the fresh air. At least she tried to.

  She felt unsteady as she stumbled to her car. Like the Earth had tilted on its axis. She leaned against the trunk and tried to take deep breaths while frantically wiping soot on her jeans that had gotten on her hands. Patty put a hand on Ren’s shoulder. She jerked around and said, “Sorry. I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but I had to get out there.”

  “Lindsay reacted the same way, but she blamed it on the dust.”

  “It’s not the fucking dust.” Ren w
iped her face with the back of her hands. “I’ll email a forwarding address. And for God’s sake, get a priest in there to perform an exorcism.”

  * * *

  Lindsay opened her front door. Patty pushed past her, turned, and put her hands on her hips. “What are you not telling me?”

  Lindsay shook her head. “I’m not sure—”

  “Ren came into the gallery today, and after a big scene where she’s hyperventilating in the middle of the street, she basically ordered me to call the Ghostbusters, and you know what it reminded me of?”

  Lindsay closed the door. “I thought you were going to board it back up.”

  “So you do know what I’m talking about. Damnit, Lindsay!”

  Lindsay went into the kitchen and sat on a barstool. Patty followed, but the anger in her eyes remained. “Calm down, Cakes.”

  “I’ll calm down when you tell me the truth.”

  “Okay,” Lindsay said. “It was Roo and Katie. That’s who your grandfather caught. Or at least, I think it was.”

  Patty didn’t move for a moment. Then she threw her hands in the air. “What am I going to do with you, Linds? How could you have kept that from me?”

  “Your words from before ran through my head when it happened. It all seemed a little bit too convenient.”

  “So you didn’t tell me because you thought I wouldn’t believe you?”

  “Would you have?”

  Patty started to say something but stopped. Tears filled her eyes. “I’d like to make a request to be in the safe zone right now, but the first time I did that, it bit me in the ass so hard.”

  “Let me say it for you. You would’ve thought I was making up everything about me and Roo again. Everything has to circle back to Roo for me, right?”

  Patty nodded.

  “I’m not angry, Cakes. I get it. I do. But you’ve stood by me for so long. Please don’t ever stop being my best friend.”

  Patty went in for a hug. “Never. I’m here. Always.”

  * * *