Now That It's You

by Tawna Fenske

  “So does that count as my confession?” she asked softly.

  Kyle looked back at her. “Not unless it’s what you were thinking when you tugged your ear.”

  Meg sighed. “Okay, but you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

  “All right.”

  “And you won’t be mad or offended.”

  Kyle raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be intrigued or concerned. “You know I can’t promise something like that.”

  “Fine. But you have to remember that you have a five-foot replica of your ex-girlfriend’s vagina in your gallery.”

  He stared at her. “Um, okay.”

  Meg took another breath and stared straight ahead at the wall, her gaze not meeting his. “There’s this website Jess found a few years ago,” she said, talking fast the way she did when she was nervous. “It’s this thing where you take a mold of a guy’s, uh—pork sword.”

  “Pork sword?”

  “Right. And you send it in and they make this sex toy out of it. So Jess found out about it and forwarded the link to Matt, and he surprised me with that as a Christmas gift.”

  “Wait, what? What are you saying?”

  Her cheeks turned bright red, and she tugged at a loose thread on her quilt. “I’m saying I have a—um, an—uh—”

  “Dildo?”

  “Right. Modeled after your brother’s—um—”

  “Dick?” God, this was the weirdest game of Mad Libs ever.

  “Right,” Meg said, and tugged at the thread again.

  “Holy shit.” Kyle frowned. “I don’t remember you unwrapping that under the tree in front of the family.”

  She looked up then, and he saw her eyes filled with equal parts embarrassment and amusement. “It was that Christmas you were living in Montana and didn’t come home,” she said. “And obviously Matt didn’t have me open it in front of family.”

  “Right, of course,” he said, thinking the reason he’d fled to Montana in the first place was the same reason he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

  “Right, so anyway, I still have it.”

  “What?” Kyle shot a look at her nightstand drawer. “You’ve got my brother’s dick in a drawer?”

  “Not there! I mean, I don’t still use it or anything.”

  “Okay—”

  “But I wasn’t sure what to do with it after we broke up. I mean, it’s not the sort of thing you just stuff into the kitchen trash can and wheel out to the curb.”

  “It’s not?”

  “So I stuck it in a shoebox and forgot all about it until a couple weeks ago when I tore my house apart looking for proof of what I’d paid to Matt so far, and then I thought I really can’t just toss it in the trash at this point. Now that he’s gone, that seems like a terrible thing to do.”

  “I can see that,” Kyle said slowly, trying not to get hung up on the image of his brother creating a mold of his dick. Christ, how did that even work?

  “The thing is,” Meg said, “I’d like to get rid of it, but I don’t know how. A trash can seems so disrespectful of the deceased, but it’s not like I’m going to pack it up and take it down to Goodwill. So what does that leave me with?”

  Kyle shook his head, not sure whether to feel horrified or amused or jealous or some mix of the three.

  But he did know exactly what to do with Meg’s problem.

  “Come on,” he said, setting his mug on the nightstand and turning back to her so he could squeeze her knee. “We’re going to shower—together—and then I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking wary. “Don’t forget I have to finish the food for the bachelorette party and drop it off by noon.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I’ll help. Then after that, we’re picking up your mother and going to my gallery. I have a plan for all of us.”

  Meg put her hand on her mother’s shoulder as they stood together in Kyle’s studio, the heat from his forge warming their faces. They all wore protective goggles, but she could still feel her eyes watering.

  It probably wasn’t just the heat.

  “You ready, Patti?” Kyle asked.

  Meg watched him adjust the face shield he’d flipped on top of his head. He wore a heavy black apron over his clothes and thick gloves that made his hands look even larger as he held one palm out in front of him.

  Meg’s mom nodded and lifted her closed fist, then unclenched her fingers to drop the silver charm bracelet into Kyle’s hand.

  “There’s even a new charm on it,” Patti said, wiping her hand down the leg of her jeans like she’d touched something unclean. “The one he brought me last night to apologize.”

  “Because nothing says, ‘Sorry I cheated’ like a silver corn cob,” Kyle muttered.

  Patti gave a lopsided half-smile, and Meg squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “You sure about this, Mom? You’ve had that bracelet forever.”

  “I know I have,” she murmured. “That’s why I’m sure.”

  Meg felt Kyle’s gaze shift to her as his fingers closed around her mother’s bracelet. “I’ll let you handle yours on your own,” he told her.

  He picked up a large graphite crucible with one hand and dropped the bracelet into it. Then he held the vessel out to her. Meg reached into her purse and pulled out the purple velvet bag with a ribbon drawstring cinching the top closed. She started to tug the ribbon, but Kyle stopped her.

  “You can go ahead and leave it in the bag.”

  “You sure? It’ll burn okay like that?”

  “Pretty sure. I’ve never melted latex in my forge, but I can say with relative certainty that the melting point for plastics isn’t very high.”

  Meg nodded and stuffed the velvet bag and its contents into the crucible on top of her mother’s bracelet. Kyle set it on the edge of his worktable, used his teeth to pry off one glove. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Meg watched as he unhooked the keychain at the silver ring at the center of the cluster.

  “You don’t have to do that, you know,” Meg said. “It’s an antique, and I know you like it a lot.”

  Kyle shook his head. “Not that much. Besides, it’s important to the symbolism. The idea of letting things go, moving on, sending them up into smoke—”

  “Melting a dildo in a steel forge,” Patti supplied.

  Meg sighed. “Thanks, Mom. I still can’t believe I told you that.”

  “Well, what were you going to do? Pretend that’s a bag of M&M’S? Besides, I think that’s pretty nice symbolism. Burning the penis of the man who broke your heart when he stuck it in someone else?”

  “Beautifully put,” Kyle said.

  Meg rolled her eyes at her mother. “A man who happens to be the departed brother of the man performing this ceremony for us right now. Show a little respect.”

  “Sorry,” Patti said, looking up at Kyle. “Your brother had many fine qualities.”

  “It’s okay,” Kyle said. “My brother chose cremation for himself. This is a fitting way to dispose of the last memento of his physical being.”

  Meg nodded, glad he could look at it that way, or at least put up a good pretense of pretending he did. Honestly, Meg wasn’t sure she would be so cavalier about handling a replica of Kyle’s ex’s genitals.

  Then again, she had stuck her head in that calla lily sculpture. Frankly, she was relieved he hadn’t chosen to torch that. He’d suggested it, but she’d pointed to the price tag and assured him his symbolic gesture would work just as well with an object that didn’t cost more than her car.

  “Okay,” Kyle said, dropping the key into the crucible before pulling his glove on again. “I’m not a preacher or anything, but I feel like we ought to say a few words of remembrance.”

  Meg nodded and took her mother’s hand. Patti squeezed her fingers, and the intensity of her mom’s grip gave Meg an unexpected surge of strength.

  Kyle cleared his throat. “Here’s to memories of past loves, and the way they shape our fu
ture loves. We can’t forget them, but we can build from them, learn from them, and then let them go when the time comes.”

  “Amen,” Patti said, squeezing Meg’s hand.

  Meg stared at the velvet pouch, wondering why she hadn’t gotten rid of it before now. Nostalgia? Habit? Guilt? Or maybe mere forgetfulness.

  Kyle looked at her, and Meg cleared her throat, wondering if she should say something, too. “Here’s to taking the best of what we learned from past relationships, and letting everything else go up in smoke.”

  “Agreed.” Kyle picked up the crucible again and reached for a pair of wicked-looking tongs. He flipped down his face shield and looked at Meg. “You might want to take a few steps back.”

  Still gripping her mother’s hand, Meg moved backward, stumbling a little over a discarded metal pipe. They stepped back until their spines pressed against the far wall. While Kyle stoked the flames in his forge, Meg turned to look at her mother.

  “You okay?” she whispered.

  Patti nodded and offered a faint smile. “Not yet. But I think I will be.”

  “I’m proud of you, Mom.”

  “Thank you, honey.” Patti glanced at Kyle, who was still focused on the forge. She leaned closer to Meg, her voice so low Meg had to strain to hear her.

  “I’m proud of you, too,” Patti whispered. “I never told you that. After you left Matt? I told you I was sad for you and that I’d do anything I could to help. But I never told you I was proud. That you did the right thing.”

  Meg felt tears pricking the back of her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “It’s not our fault, you know. When men cheat? It’s taken me thirty-five years to realize that, but it’s true.”

  Meg nodded, not sure she trusted herself to say anything. Or maybe she could manage one thing.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  Kyle turned then and smiled at her, and Meg felt her whole body go liquid and warm. The studio was cozy around her, and the smell of smoke and hot metal hovered thick and heavy. Floral wisps of her mom’s perfume made a soft net over her, and Meg watched in fascination as Kyle picked up the crucible with the tongs.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Meg looked at him, admiring the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles in his arms, the creative genius of a mind that filled this whole studio with art and her whole life with something she hadn’t realized she was missing until this very moment.

  “I’m ready,” Meg said, and gripped her mother’s hand.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Meg had been dreading this moment from the first time her agent suggested that finding proof of an agreement with Matt could be a solution to all their problems.

  Okay, she’d been dreading it a lot longer than that. As she stood on the doorstep of the home she’d once shared with the man she loved, it occurred to her she hadn’t been here since three weeks after the wedding that hadn’t happened.

  After Meg had pulled her runaway-bride move, Matt had refused to let her stop by the house to collect her belongings. She’d spent several weeks living out of the suitcase she’d packed for their honeymoon until Kyle finally called to say she could come get her things. Matt hadn’t been there at the time, and the whole transaction had the aura of a bank heist. She’d scrambled furtively from one darkened room to the next, grabbing her possessions and wondering where Matt had gone.

  She’d assumed he’d taken their tickets to Tahiti and invited Annabelle. She hadn’t wanted to know. She’d just been concerned with gathering as much of her stuff as possible while Matt was out of the house. She hadn’t wanted much, really. A few family heirlooms, her clothes and personal things. There had been no fight left in her at that point. She just wanted to get in and get out with as little conflict as possible.

  But as she stood here now on the doorstep, it occurred to her she should have fought for more. She ran a hand over the small copper fountain she and Matt had found together at an antique store, its surface smooth and turquoise with patina. Should she have laid claim to it? Or had she been smart to cut her losses and go?

  The door swung open, jarring her from her memory. Meg looked up to see Chloe staring at her with a blank expression. “It’s you.”

  “It’s me,” Meg confirmed. “You said two o’clock worked?”

  “You’re five minutes early.”

  “I’m sorry.” Meg glanced at her watch. Dammit, how did she always manage to do that? “I can come back if you want.”

  “It’s fine.” Chloe held the door open and Meg stepped through, thinking how weird it felt to have another woman granting her entrance to the home that used to be hers.

  It hadn’t really been hers, though. Not legally, anyway. Matt’s name had been the only one on the loan, and it had just been easier to walk away and let him have it. After everything that had happened by then, it wasn’t like she wanted to live there anyway.

  Now she stood here in the entryway, hands folded in front of her so Chloe could see she wasn’t armed and didn’t plan to take anything that didn’t belong to her. Or was that even a concern?

  “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re going to find,” Chloe said, pushing the door shut behind Meg. “We’ve already gone through all the file cabinets.”

  “I know.” Meg swallowed, knowing she had to tread carefully here. “It’s just that something might jump out at me that wouldn’t necessarily catch your attention or mean anything significant to Sylvia or—”

  “I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Chloe interrupted, putting her hands up as though surrendering. “That lawsuit thing, you know that’s not my doing, right?”

  “I know.” Meg swallowed. “And I appreciate you letting me look around.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t thrilled when Sylvia told me she’d filed that suit. I was engaged to him. I think I should have had some say in his estate, don’t you think?”

  Meg nodded, not sure it was her place to comment and not wanting to say anything that would make it worse.

  But maybe she could make it a tiny bit better.

  “I don’t think Sylvia means any harm,” Meg said softly. “She just sees relationships as ‘less than’ if there’s no certificate attached. Just because you didn’t sign your names on a piece of paper doesn’t mean the relationship was any less valid. The history, the understandings you had together as a couple—those things existed, even if you didn’t walk down the aisle and say those two words.”

  “I do,” Chloe murmured, nodding. “I do get it.”

  Meg stood there silent for a moment, not sure if she should offer a hug or a smile or a snarky comment about her former-future-mother-in-law. None of those things felt right, so she just stood there with her hands clasped in front of her and Chloe watching her like she was still trying to figure out Meg’s place in her life.

  “I’m sorry,” Meg said at last. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to marry him. And I’m sorry for anything I might have done to make him less inclined to hurry down the aisle again.”

  Chloe dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue she pulled from the pocket of her cashmere cardigan. “Actually, I think it was the opposite. I think he was more eager to go through with marrying me to prove he was capable of it. That he could commit to forever with someone, even after everything that happened with you.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Chloe shook her head and stuffed the tissue back in her pocket. “That was one thing I never understood about him,” she said. “The constant need to measure himself against everyone else.”

  “Matt was always competitive,” Meg agreed. She kept her voice soft, expecting at any moment that Chloe would remember they weren’t girlfriends, that they didn’t really owe each other explanations or confessions or even kindness.

  But Chloe seemed to be in a talking mood. “It’s like he had this idea that his parents set the bar so high for a happy relationship, and he wanted so badly to get that right in his own life.
”

  “Wow,” Meg said, not sure she would have made that same observation. Is that why Matt had been reluctant to marry her? The desire not to screw up something his parents had done so well? “I never thought about it like that.”

  Chloe shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few weeks. You’re right, his competitive nature probably drove a lot of it. Not just with relationships, but with everything in his life.”

  “How do you mean?” Meg asked, not sure it was her place to pry, but intrigued by Chloe’s line of thought.

  “Take Kyle, for instance.”

  “Okay,” Meg said, hoping nothing in her face gave away the flash of emotion that arced through her at the mention of his name.

  If Chloe saw anything, she didn’t let on. “It just always seemed like Matt had this brotherly competition with Kyle going on in his mind—who had the most career success, who had the nicer car, who had the most notches on his bedpost. And the thing is, I don’t think Kyle even knew they were competing.”

  “He didn’t,” Meg said, too quickly, perhaps. Did she have any right to speak for him? But she knew with absolute certainty she was right. “Kyle’s not the competitive type,” she added.

  “And then with you—” Chloe swallowed, seeming to consider her words for the first time. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Matt always kept tabs on you.”

  “Really?” There was a funny roaring in Meg’s ears, and she felt herself twisting her fingers into tighter knots.

  “He didn’t stalk you or anything,” Chloe said quickly, turning to straighten a framed photo on the wall. Her family, from the look of it. “It wasn’t like that. But sometimes he’d be distant, so I’d check his internet browser to see if there was something suspicious going on. And I’d see that he’d been looking at your Facebook page.”

  “But we weren’t even friends,” Meg protested. “Facebook friends, I mean. Matt’s whole family unfriended me right after the split.”

  “I know. But you must not have your profile privacy protected?”

  “That’s true.”