“I knew we’d get around to Bryant at some point. I’m betting that was what you were really thinking about, no?”
Megan made a face at the Spanish inflection. “I was just thinking about the past few months, how different I feel.”
“You mean how much more you’re back to you?”
“Yes, that too.”
“What’s wrong then? You’re not exactly jolly about it.” Jillian finally selected a light jacket.
“The end of the fairy tale. Now reality awaits—two different states, he has no job, I have a lame one. He has no real life, and I don’t like mine. I really don’t know what’s going to happen from here.”
Jillian groaned. “So ask him.”
“I have, at least tried to. We’re supposed to meet tonight after the show.” She shook her head. “He always tells me, ‘Stop stressing about it. Let it be. Allow things to develop without all this extraneous planning.’”
“He’s right. Except why do you both always have to use such big words?” Jillian pulled on her shoes. “Megs, choose one thing and go to that point and be happy. Then, if you make it to that point in your relationship, choose the next thing—hurdle, challenge, uptight plan, whatever—and be happy, and go from there.”
She walked over to Megan and took her by the shoulder. “But whatever you do,” she stared intently, “don’t wear khaki pants and a T-shirt to my wedding.”
Megan rolled her eyes and they hugged, heading out to breakfast.
After the evening’s performance, most of the cast had chosen to hit an early string of good-bye parties. Brittany was rarely seen by cast members outside of performances. She was rumored to be spending time with several bigwigs and already had a possible contract on the Intrepid for the next tour. Jillian and Derek spent many uninterrupted hours together—Jillian discussing wedding details and Derek trying to enjoy the last days of unfettered life.
By mutual consent, Bryant and Megan had agreed to meet at the clubhouse swimming pool after the last curtain call. Thankfully, the clubhouse pool was generally empty at that hour due to the more popular outdoor pool and Jacuzzi on the Vista Deck.
Sitting on the low diving board side by side, Megan sat comfortably next to Bryant, her feet brushing and flicking the water. Her mid-length flowing skirt was gently tucked at her knees, though sometimes falling and spilling near the water.
“Just a couple of days. Ready to deal with your family?” said Bryant.
She knew what he meant. “Jacks—I mean, he and my sister won’t be there. They’re in Arizona with his family now, getting into a condo. They’re not planning to visit until Thanksgiving, so I don’t have to deal with anything until then.”
“But seeing your mom?”
“Yes, I’ll be glad to see her. She’s doing good. Better.”
“Better?”
“At times it’s still hard for her, even though it’s been so long since the divorce.” The word felt weighted, floating on the top of the conversation momentarily before sinking deep into it.
“What happened?” said Bryant, with his typical ease.
Pause. “He left.” She kicked the water. “With Edith—the town mayor.” Bryant gave her a look. “I know, it’s like a lame movie. The two of them moved to some dinky town in south Florida. We only hear from him at Christmas now. Really bizarre.”
“What went wrong?”
“Your guess, my guess. Mom’s guess. She doesn’t talk about it much, that’s just her way. But we do know a little something about the term bipolar, and a bunch of debts that Mom finally paid off a year ago. We’ve all made do—my brothers have finally settled down. One’s at college in Arizona dating a really nice girl. Eli works on a crabbing boat on the Oregon coast and stays pretty much year-round, though he doesn’t have to. Sam goes to Nevada State and comes home occasionally to do his laundry.” She shrugged. “They’re good boys and they adore her.” She looked at him. “And me. Won’t call to save their necks but very protective of who comes around.”
“How did they handle the whole King Lear’s Edmund thing?”
“Jackson? They dealt with it more your way. Gave him a black eye,” she said, a sly smile at the memory. “In a family-friendly football game.”
“Aha. All’s fair on the field.”
“Exactly. Sent the message, but generally they keep it low key now.”
He felt the diving board, checking the make of it. “They sound like my kind of guys.”
“You’d definitely get along.” Megan toyed with the water and looked up discreetly at him, watching his reaction. “Speaking of …”
“It begins.” Bryant checked his watch. “At least you waited for ten entire minutes, that’s a new record.” He stared down at the water. “Let me guess: two different states, two different cultures—although I agree with you there, Nevada is practically its own universe. How do we negotiate it, what exactly are we?”
Megan simply laughed. “You have been listening.” He had been joking but there was a familiar undercurrent of frustration. Over the past few weeks she’d come to know it and not be worried by it. The tone only meant he was figuring something out and hadn’t found the solution yet.
“Just because I don’t look into the whites of your eyes every second doesn’t mean my ears don’t work,” he said.
Megan gazed at the white hazy pool light emanating from the green water below.
“So … what exactly are we?” said Megan. It came out soft and contemplative.
“Two amazing people who have their lives ahead of them. Not to mention incredible and talented—okay, at least one of us.”
“And dead broke, and twelve hours away, if you include freeway construction.”
“There’s that too.” He seemed to pause for a long time. “So come see where I live.”
It hung in the air.
Megan considered how to take that. “I’m not moving.”
“I don’t recall asking you to. Although I thought you’d prefer other living arrangements, all things considered.”
“Funny.” She shook her head. “It’s on principle. The woman always moves, why can’t the man move?”
“Okay, equal rights girl, try this.” He turned to her. “We’ll take turns and see which city we like best. My awesome family—with the exception of a backwards father, but with incredible cooking—or your family with the King Lear psycho brother-in-law.”
Megan shook her head. “Gee, that’s an unbeatable offer. Almost. Because that’s your version. How do I know you don’t live like the Beverly hillbillies?”
“How do I know you don’t live like the Addams family? You could come out for a weekend, throw horseshoes with the relatives, and watch nonstop football on TV. What’s not to love?”
Megan looked up at him. “I don’t like watching televised sports. Is that a problem?”
He paused. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
She kicked up water playfully on his knees. “Okay, what about this? Jillian’s wedding is in a week, perfect timing. I’ll have some of my family there. And I could rig it to see you in a confining but stellar-looking tuxedo.”
“You know that’s a 12-hour drive for mints and a piece of cake.”
“And a tux.”
“Mine only involves horseshoes. Not a chance. I’ll do the drive but in khakis and a decent shirt. Period.”
“Deal.” Megan smiled at the compromise, knowing it was an absolute triumph.
“In fact, it might even be a plan,” he said.
“Is that a mocking tone or an actual pen-me-in?”
He looked down, touched her chin and lifted it to his. “That’s a promise.”
A darkness flitted over her face but she smiled to hide it. She didn’t want to disbelieve he would come through but something inside her did.
He stared, puzzled. “Doth milady doubt my word?”
“No, it’s just … no, I’m not doubting you.” But it came out weak. She moved as if to adjust her falling sk
irt. “Okay, that works. One visit to each place, and if neither works, it’s off.”
“Wow, you really work at relationships, don’t you?”
“It’s a good plan. A really good plan, actually.” She glanced sideways, pushing away the doubt and focusing on the fact that he was suggesting real post-cruise ideas.
He gave her that sun-on-water smile. “Surprised again? Just because I don’t verbalize my feelings every second—”
“—or look into the whites of my eyes—”
“—doesn’t mean it’s not on my mind.”
“Well, not as much as the Lakers.”
“That’s true.”
Megan fully turned to him, a sudden happy contentment in her soul. He looked back at her quizzically, then leaned toward her. In a quick sure motion she caught him off balance and pushed him into the pool. Laughing hard, she held onto the side of the diving board to steady herself. Bryant bobbed to the surface with a quick shake of his head to clear his hair. He gave a wicked grin and she instinctively pulled up her legs, but he swam around to the springy end of the diving board and pulled down hard and strong several times. Flying into the water she called out, “Bryant!”
After leaving the pool, they used towels to dry off their clothes as best they could, laughing and talking on the way back to their rooms. But in the back of her mind, Megan knew nothing much had changed about the real concerns. It would be different on dry land, and all that that implied. But he had promised he would come to the wedding, his first test of loyalty and reality. And she was ready to trust him, no holding back.
But somewhere in the sky of her mind, a doubtful gray feeling hovered.
***
The final performance was flawless. Even Mrs. Van De Morelle had clapped enthusiastically and brought overflowing yellow rose bouquets backstage for the female cast members. After stowing the last scenery pieces, the cast had enjoyed a private buffet—Megan guessed that was the “flowers” for the men—and hugs, good-byes, and last cell numbers were all exchanged.
Early the next morning, the cast ambled down the gangplank onto the pier. Megan couldn’t believe it had only been a few months ago she had stood and looked up at the massive ship for the first time. She and Bryant said good-bye to several of their favorite passengers. Rosa had said farewell that morning—she and Miguel had brought them a carved wooden statue of two Turtledoves. The Bow-tie Man escorted the Senior Sensation in an old-fashioned arm-in-arm down the plank, while he carried one of her white suitcases. They stopped to give Bryant and Megan a hug and a thank you.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Van De Morelle stopped by the casually grouped cast members. She paused before the two of them.
“I’ll be in touch, dear”— she leaned into Megan —“unless I see something first in the mail. Say, something sleek and gold embossed?” She winked then lightly embraced Bryant. “All right, I don’t want to get sloppy, or play favorites in front of the cast.” He pecked her on the cheek.
As she walked away, Megan saw Brittany cocooned by a large group of important looking people with slicked hair and expensive watches. An Indian man toted her baby blue matching luggage. She paused and glided over to them. Megan stood tall, ready for a sharp exchange but inconveniently remembered the phrase from her mother—do unto others as you would have done unto you.
“I wish you both the best,” Brittany said, extending her hands to Megan, enamel sentinels at attention.
“Congrats on the Intrepid, Brittany,” said Megan, trying to think kind thoughts. “We just heard officially at breakfast.”
Bryant, who barely acknowledged her, simply nodded.
She had the decency to appear slightly embarrassed but recovered as a Premier Performer would. “Thank you. And good job, Megan, especially for your first cruise.” With a momentary linger, she added, “See you two around.” Bryant put both hands on Megan’s shoulders. Megan reached up with her hand and squeezed his. Brittany got the message and walked away.
A few hours later, both Megan and Bryant headed for the airport in a shuttle, sinking into the seats and their own thoughts. Megan couldn’t fight the worry, the knowledge that real life and home were waiting just one day away. What would that mean for her and Bryant?
Megan’s flight left 45 minutes before Bryant’s so he walked her to the D-gate. Pausing before entering the boarding line, she turned quickly to him. She didn’t like sentimental good-byes.
“I’ll make this short and sweet, and no mushy garbage. Call me when you land so I know you didn’t pull a Robinson Crusoe on me.”
“Daniel Defoe,” he said. “Or a Swiss Family Robinson.”
“Johann David somebody or other.”
“Wyss.” He smiled. “Or, how about just ‘see you soon’?”
“For the wedding,” she said, more firmly than she intended.
“Express miniature ponies couldn’t keep me away.”
“I’m reassured.”
“I always keep my word.” He leaned down and hugged her close, warm and enveloping. She breathed in his ocean scent and felt his messy hair tickle her face. The reality hit her, and she released herself just as the tears came close. Tucking the luggage strap unnecessarily on her shoulder, she turned and walked into the line.
“Hey, Berlin …”
Megan turned instinctively though she had reached the head of the line.
“I think that wall’s down.”
“Communist.” She gave a sardonic smile, then turned and walked into the gangway.
He’ll keep his word, she practiced in her mind. But somewhere inside, a deep doubt wriggled into the hollow of her stomach.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Gathered at the first big family dinner home, Bryant felt the familiarity of clanking dinner plates and casual chatter. But underneath he sensed an unmistakable tension. So far they had talked of everything in a superficial newsy way—his cruise experience, their life at home, even his dad’s travels to Uncle Pete’s, which was surprising. Usually nothing but the lumber yard or golfing with Arthur got him off his recliner. Bryant couldn’t place the underlying negativity until his sister Piper coughed and stared meaningfully at her husband, and then at Mitch who sat beside his wife.
“So, sounds like the cruise was a great experience,” she said. “Especially meeting great people.” Piper adjusted her seat to account for her pregnant stomach.
“Yeah, the people are always key.”
“And Megan, is that her name? She sounded a little bit … key.” Piper slightly raised her eyebrows, playfully enough that Bryant smiled but kept slicing his steak.
“Yes, Megan was key.”
His father chewed slowly and silently, as was his way, but his mother leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Anything we can know or do we have to draw and quarter you first?”
The table conversation dropped to silence. Bryant could hear his knife slicing against the plate.
“I get it—first the fatted calf then lead the lamb to slaughter. I’m getting the theme here.” He took a bite. “What do you want to know?” He played it casual but inside he didn’t want to say anything. At all. It felt private and not something to discuss over steak, especially in front of his dad.
“Is she brunette, blonde, bigger than a bread box?” said Mitch, a light brown-haired, solid and serious looking man.
“She’s . . .” he paused—how did he describe her in a way his family would get? “Like Gidget. Only more of a headache.” But he couldn’t repress the smile, so he cut another piece of steak, not missing the glance his mother gave to his sister as she sat back and folded her arms, satisfied.
“So is she going to see you soon, or is it not that serious?” said Piper.
It was inevitable. First the marriage side, then bam, it would be the lumber yard. He could almost write the script. His jaw tightened but he kept calm. “Actually, I’m going to visit her this weekend. Her best friend is getting married so I’m driving up.” Pictures flashed through his mind—Megan dancing with h
im on the deck, sitting on the diving board, him holding her at the airport. If he were honest, he couldn’t wait and would be there right now, if he didn’t have to do the dutiful family bit.
Bryant looked up, then side-to-side. The tension had ratcheted up and the faces looked obviously strained. Piper sipped on her water, looking at her husband over the top of the glass.
“What? What did I say?” said Bryant.
“Well, it’s just that—” Piper began.
“I’ve got an offer, in Seattle,” said Mitch.
“That’s great news, what’s wrong with that?”
“I need to fly out this weekend for it.”
Bryant’s jaw tightened. “Can’t Ross run the yard?”
His dad folded his arms. “Ross is on vacation till next week. And he’s not a lead guy,” he said, breaking his silence. His tiredness now gave way to the sour expression Bryant knew all too well. “It’s the first vacation he’s had in months.”
The barb found its target. But still Bryant rebelled inside. If his dad loved the yard so much, why didn’t he stop traipsing to every family member’s house and stay here? He noticed the strained expression on his mother’s face, glancing between his dad and him.
Bryant looked at Mitch. “What about Bertie?”
Mitch shook his head. “Come on, Bertie’s good with numbers but not the hands on.” He paused, looking at his wife, Trisha. “I could ask them to reschedule the interview.”
Bryant knew the anger was wrong, but still it spiked, raw and intense, making him want to upend the table and slam it into the wall. He’d been on a cruise, living the life, and they’d been holding down the fort. It was a fact. But he didn’t want it any more than they did. If only he knew what he did want—it was barely out of reach, all the time, like a taste he could remember but couldn’t explain. Time was ticking and he’d drawn it out as long as possible, though why he couldn’t understand. The past few years were like a stuck needle on his dad’s 45s—dating the same girls, going to the same places, doing the same gigs, over and over, like an old track that he used to like.
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