by Allie Larkin
Janie let out a little sob like a hiccup and I tried to remember if I even had tissues. Joe went over to her and leaned up against her.
“Geez!” She sidestepped away from him, but he leaned in again. “Go! Get away from me!” She tried to wave him away with her hand. “Van, get him off me.”
I took a deep breath. “Joe, ku mne,” I called. Joe came over and leaned against me. I ran my hand along his side. “He was trying to comfort you.”
“No he’s not. He’s a dog, Van.”
“So?”
“So, he’s not comforting me.”
“Well, he’s trying, Janie.” I wanted to say that we were all trying. I wanted to say that it was her own damn fault if she wasn’t happy with it, but I thought about how she’d feel if she’d known I was one of the stops on her husband’s quest for Preparation H. It made it easier to hold my tongue.
“He got fur all over me,” Janie said, picking black hairs off her cream-colored skirt.
I felt Pete’s eyes on me. When I finally looked at him, he raised his eyebrows and shrugged. It was infuriating.
“Why don’t you two go get bagels?” I said. They’d been in my kitchen for less than ten minutes and already I desperately needed a breather.
Janie sniffed. It was her way of saying, “What do you mean, I have to go get food for my own party?”
“It’ll give you a chance to make a big entrance,” I said.
“Oh, that sounds like a good idea,” Pete said, walking over to Janie and putting his arm around her. “Doesn’t it, Jane? Everyone will be here and we’ll make our grand entrance.”
Janie sighed. “Fine.”
As they walked back to the door, Pete looked over his shoulder and had the nerve to wink at me. He closed the door behind them. I threw the bagel at the door as soon as it clicked shut. I felt ridiculous as soon as I did it, but Joe grabbed it when it fell and jumped on the couch to gnaw on it like I’d just intended to give him a treat.
Chapter Twenty-five
I went for the bottle of Stoli I kept under the kitchen sink. I thought about the limeade and OJ I’d bought, but drank straight from the bottle to save time.
I took a swig and then the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Van!” It was Alex.
Joe dropped his bagel and sat up to look out the window. I ran over and jumped up next to him. A black Town Car was pulling into the driveway.
“Hello?” Alex said.
“Um, hi.” With my free hand, I dropped Joe’s bagel behind the couch and brushed crumbs into the crack between the cushions.
Charles got out of the car and started walking around to the passenger side.
“Not feeling so hot, huh?” Alex said.
Charles opened the passenger door and Diane slipped a black pump out onto the asphalt.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now.” I took a big swig out of the bottle.
Diane was out of the car and smoothing out her suit.
“I can call back later. I just wanted to see if you needed anything. Is there anything I can get you? Ginger ale? Crackers?”
Diane and Charles were walking up the path. Diane looked up at the condo. She clearly saw us-Joe and I peeking out of the window-and curled her lips into a slow, cool smile.
“Van?”
“Oh, no. I don’t need anything. I wouldn’t want you to catch it.” I faked a cough, and I felt horribly guilty about it. He was being so nice. “I should go. But thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you soon,” I said, quickly, desperate to finish the conversation before Diane and Charles got to the door. I hung up as soon as Alex said good-bye, and dropped the phone on the couch.
I ran over to the door to get it before they rang the doorbell and Joe started barking.
When I opened the door, Joe ran out to greet them.
“Savannah, you get this thing away from me,” Diane said calmly through her smile. I’d been so nervous about how Diane would react to me when she arrived. She’d paid me to stay away from Peter and here I was throwing him a party. I should have known she’d just play it cool.
“Joe, ku mne.”
Joe ran back over to me and sat down.
Diane and Charles walked in, slipped out of their coats, and handed them to me. I still had the bottle of Stoli in my hand. I grabbed the coats with my other arm and threw them over the side of the couch.
Diane pursed her lips.
“Once everyone comes, I’ll take all the coats upstairs,” I said.
“Shouldn’t you have a paper bag over that?” Diane gestured to the bottle.
Had it been just Diane and me, I would have said something like “Tip your head back. I’ll pour,” but not with Charles around. He always looked like he was about to pull a pair of white leather gloves out of his pocket and smack me across the face. So I just said, “I thought you might want screwdrivers.”
“Charles?” Diane asked.
“Please,” he mumbled to Diane. Charles never spoke directly to me if he could help it. I wasn’t even hired help. I was the extension of hired help.
Diane followed me into the kitchen. Joe followed too, walking next to Diane and licking her hand.
“Oh! Oh!” Diane looked at her hand like it might turn black and fall off. “Tell me about this beast you have here.”
“He’s not a beast.” I grabbed the OJ out of the fridge.
“He looks feral.” Diane held her hand out, limp at the wrist, to keep it from touching her clothes.
“He’s from Slovakia,” I said, dropping three ice cubes in each glass. “He’s from working lines.”
“So he’s a working-class dog?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
I poured a glass of vodka and splashed enough OJ into it to change the color. I handed her the glass, but she looked at her hand.
“I have to wash up.”
“Upstairs,” I said. “It’s the only door that’s open.”
Diane’s heels clicked across the linoleum until she got to the carpet. Joe followed her and I heard her say, “You leave me alone,” before shutting the bathroom door.
I gave her drink to Charles. He was standing in front of the couch, staring at it like he couldn’t decide if it was safe to sit on.
“Here,” I said. “It’s mostly vodka.” I’d known Charles pretty much my entire life, and I’d never felt comfortable around him. Actually, I didn’t think Janie or Diane did either. He was grouchy and humorless. And even when he was being fairly pleasant, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Charles angry was not a pretty sight, and it was hard to predict what might set him off. Usually, when he left a room, I’d realize I’d been holding my breath.
“Good girl,” he said, without looking at me.
“It’s not going to bite you,” I said, pointing at the couch.
He pulled a cigarette out of a silver case in the inside pocket of his sports coat. “Ashtray.”
“I don’t really smoke,” I said.
“I do.” He looked away from me. He pulled out a lighter. It was slim and silver like a fancy pen. He lit his cigarette and blew smoke at my couch cushions.
I went back to the kitchen and got an old coffee mug. I plunked it down on the coffee table. “Ashtray,” I said. I was flirting with the idea of saying more, thinking that maybe a Charles temper flare might cut the party short, but the doorbell rang.
Joe came charging down the stairs, barking. The hair on his back stood up, and as he barked, he bared his teeth. Charles stepped back. He looked paler than usual, and the hand he held the cigarette with was shaking.
I told Joe to bark, “Štekat’! Štekat’!” but held my hands out and waved them up and down like I was trying to get him to calm down.
Charles was actually sweating. “Aren’t you going to answer the door?” he asked, his voice in a higher register.
Peter’s aunt Agnes pushed her way in as soon as I opened the door. She wore a big red church hat and a purple coat that
made her look as wide as she was tall.
“Hi, Vannie, remember me?” she said, in her singsongy voice. “Peter’s favorite aunt.” I was scared she might try to pinch my cheeks.
Joe walked right up to her and sat down at her feet.
“Oh! You precious baby!” she squealed, and bent down. He licked her face. She cupped her hands under his jaw. “Oh, you’re just a lover, aren’t you! Oh, yes you are, ohyesyouare!”
“Oh, Aunt Agnes. Joe sure does love you,” I said with a big smile. For once, I was happy to see her.
Charles scowled and mashed his cigarette into the coffee mug.
“Now, this is for you, Van, dear,” Agnes said, pushing the handle of a shiny red gift bag into my hands. It was heavy. “It’s just a little something for our gracious hostess.” She looked at Charles. “How’s it going, Charlie? I don’t know if you remember me. We met last year at the engagement brunch. I barely saw you at all at the wedding.”
Charles grunted a hello and sat down on the couch. He sank in until his knees almost touched his chest.
“Let’s get this in the kitchen now,” Agnes said, patting the bottom of the bag. She put her arm around my waist and hustled me into the kitchen. “I was so sorry we didn’t get to talk at the wedding.”
“Me too,” I said, feeling guilty about avoiding her at the wedding. Right now, chatting with Agnes was a comfort.
She opened cabinets until she found the right one, and pulled out two glasses. “I always liked you, Van. You’re good to my Peter.”
I was still holding the red bag. Agnes reached in it and pulled out a bottle of Maker’s Mark. Then she grabbed ice out of the freezer in two fistfuls and plunked them in the glasses. She opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. She sniffed it before pouring, filled each glass to about half, and gestured for me to pour bourbon.
I splashed a few fingers into each glass and looked up for her approval. She smiled and raised an eyebrow. I poured a little more in her glass.
“Perfect!”
She lifted her glass and held it up. I did the same.
“To Pete,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, and clinked my glass against hers.
“So, does Pete know that Joe is a dog yet?” Agnes took a sip of her drink and looked up at me. The sparkle in her eyes seemed magnified by the crow’s-feet that framed them. I knew Peter called her constantly, but I couldn’t believe he’d told her that. It was a new level of weird, even for Peter and Agnes.
“Did you do it on purpose, or was it just convenient?” she asked.
“He told you about Joe?” I took a big gulp of my drink. I didn’t think I’d be able to get away with acting like I didn’t know what she was talking about. The milk cut down on the burn of the bourbon, but I could still feel it.
“Sweetheart, that boy is leaking all over the place right now. I don’t know what to do with him!” She took a healthy swig of her drink. “He thinks he’s being sly, telling me you picked up a boyfriend like it’s nothing. But you know how he is.” She looked me straight in the eyes like she was signaling to me that there was more meaning to her words. Her eyes were the same gray-blue as Peter’s. “He’s very protective of you.”
“I- It just happened,” I said, disarmed by her candor, and her Maker’s Mark. It was the first time I’d ever admitted to something involving Peter. I’d always kept all the pieces jumbled up and hidden, but I’d just shown Agnes a corner piece. One piece would click into the next and then the whole picture would be there for all to see.
“Oh, sweetie, after all this time, it was bound to,” Agnes said, patting my arm.
I wasn’t completely sure what she meant, or if we were even having the same conversation. I took another gulp of my drink. My stomach was warm and getting warmer.
“Now what can I do to help, Van?” Agnes asked.
“Um, there’s nothing that can be done. That’s the problem.”
“Well, surely there’s something.”
I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. I didn’t know what my options were. Was she going to be my evil ally and bust up their marriage? Was she going to smack Pete upside the head until he chose me? Did I even want that anymore?
“Oh, see Van, here. You don’t have your main dish out yet. I can help you with that.”
My face blushed so fast and so hard I thought I could feel the blood vessels in my cheeks bursting. Luckily, Agnes was oblivious, bustling around the table, moving plates, tearing a piece of salmon off and tasting it.
“Oh, oh yeah,” I said. I could tell I was talking too loudly, but I couldn’t seem to turn down my volume. “My main dish.” I opened the refrigerator door like I actually had something in there.
“I saw that casserole in there. It looks great. I didn’t know you were such a cook!” Agnes reached past me for the milk and started making herself another drink.
“Casserole.” I saw the stockpot full of Joe’s food on the top shelf. “Oh, yeah.”
I pulled the pot out of the fridge, took the plastic wrap off the top, and wadded it into a ball. The condensation from the wrap dripped down the leg of my jeans.
Agnes found a baking dish out in the cabinet and spooned Joe’s food into it. She preheated the oven.
“Have a drink with me while we let that heat up.”
Before I knew it, there was another glass of Maker’s Mark and milk in my hand.
Diane walked into the kitchen, her heels clicking sharply on the linoleum.
“Your dog is terrorizing my husband, Van,” she said. “Maybe you should put him away.”
“Charles?” I asked. “I think it would be better if you put him away. I’m scared he might bite.”
Agnes giggled into her drink and winked at me. Diane huffed out a big sigh, turned on her toe, and walked out of the kitchen.
“You burnt the toast,” she snapped, as she left the room.
I had no idea what she meant.
It wasn’t until the smoke detector went off a few minutes later that it registered. Joe tore into the kitchen, barking.
I opened the oven door and got a mouthful of charred- bagel smoke. I grabbed one of the bagels to pull it out. It burnt the palm of my hand, but I couldn’t think. I couldn’t let go of it.
Agnes came running over with a dish towel, grabbed the bagel out of my hand, and threw it in the sink. I could see a red ring forming on my palm. My eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, you poor child,” she said, smoothing my hair, and tucking a piece behind my ear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the bagels like that. I didn’t know they were in there.” She handed me her drink. “Take this, sweetie. It will help.”
Chapter Twenty-six
The smoke detector was still blaring, the oven was still on, and the bagels were still smoking. Agnes was putting a plastic grocery bag full of ice in my hand when all of a sudden, Alex came running into the kitchen, holding a Christmas tree in one hand and a Wegmans bag in the other. Joe ran over to him, barking and wagging his tail. He tried to take the tree from Alex like it was another present for him.
The tree was small, but perfect. And Alex was perfect, standing there in his gray wool jacket. The gust of air he brought in with him was cool and it felt good. I wanted him to just pick me up and carry me out of the party like my knight in shining armor. I wanted to be done with the party and the drama and everything else and just move on.
“Are you okay?” he said, resting the base of the tree on the floor.
I nodded. My hand was pulsing and my head was spinning.
Agnes opened the kitchen window and fanned the towel at the smoke detector until it stopped beeping. Joe tried to bite the towel as she waved it.
“What is this?” Alex said. “I thought you were sick.” He held up the grocery bag. “I brought you soup.” He shook the tree a little. “You said you were sick.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, quietly.
Agnes squeezed past us to get to the oven. “I’m Peter’s aun
t, Agnes,” she said over her shoulder as she used a towel to push the bagels into the garbage.
“Who’s Peter?” Alex asked.
“Well, this is under control here,” Agnes said, shoving the garbage pail back under the sink. “I am going to check on the rest of your guests. I hear more people.” She winked at me and scooted out of the room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Alex.
“You hung up so quick. I was worried.”
“About me?”
“Stop being coy,” he said.
“I’m not coy. I’m drunk,” I said. Tears started dripping down my face. “I’m so drunk.” I buried my head into his chest. He stiffened.
“Look,” he said, pulling away from me, “if you didn’t want to go to the market with me you should have just said so.”
“But, I did,” I said. “I wanted to. It’s just really complicated, Alex.” I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him. I wasn’t sure I could hold it together if I did. I took the ice off my hand and stared at the red ring on my palm. It was so red it almost glowed.
“So, explain,” he said. “I’ll listen.”
I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him that this was the last little bit of my old life following me, that it was almost over and then things would be simple. But I heard heels clicking on the kitchen floor again, followed by dog nails.
“Savannah Leone,” Diane called as she walked over to us, “don’t you want to check in on your guests?” She pulled a cigarette out of her clutch and lit it off the stove.
“It’s not a good time,” I said to Alex.
“What am I supposed to do then?” Alex said. “Sit around waiting for it to be a good time? I don’t understand what’s going on here, Van. I thought- I trusted you.”
I thought about him, in my bed, holding my hand. I thought about how badly I wanted things to work with him. And I knew I couldn’t let Diane get in the middle of it.