This Close to Okay

by Leesa Cross-Smith

  “Lulaaah!” Zora squealed.

  “Zoraaaa!” Tallie squealed back, going to her and hugging her. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “We must suffer for beauty, girlfriend. And who, oh, who, is this? Emmett?” Zora asked, looking at him.

  “I see you’ve talked to my mother. Yes, Zora, this is my friend Emmett. Emmett, this is my beautiful and lovely sister-in-law, Zora.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Emmett said, putting out his hand once Tallie and Zora finished hugging.

  “Girl, now, you know Judith texted me everything. A pleasure to meet you, Emmett. Any friend of Tallulah’s is more than welcome here,” Zora said, ignoring his hand and hugging him instead. Zora was putting her flirty, sweet voice on top of her slightly slurred and starry champagne voice.

  “Where’s Li? He wouldn’t tell me his costume. I brought his favorite cake,” Tallie said, scanning the crowd behind her and what little she could see inside.

  “Oh, you’ll see him in there! And you’re—” She squinted at Tallie’s FBI badge; Emmett’s, too. “Mulder and Scully! Cute!” she said, waving at people behind them: an Elvis, two people dressed as panda bears, and a zookeeper followed by a person in a peacock costume plumed with blue, purple, and black feathers.

  “Where’s my nephew? River’s with your parents?” Tallie asked.

  “Yes! He’s a dinosaur. They took him trick-or-treating with his cousins. He’s so cute you’ll die. I’ll show you a million pictures later. Go, go! Put the cake down, get some food! Crush a cup of wine! Enjoy the night! Happy Halloween! Find me later!” Zora said, exclamation-pointing at them.

  * * *

  As soon as they got into the kitchen, Tallie put the cake with the rest of the food. Emmett was next to her smelling deliciously woodsy, looking up and around at what he could see of the house from where he stood. “Want to do a tour first? Probably the easiest way to find Lionel anyway.”

  “Okay,” Emmett agreed. She saw him eye the champagne.

  “Sure you feel okay having one?” Tallie asked, holding up a small green bottle and a fun, twisty straw for him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Me, too,” she said, getting one for herself. “And if we want, we can sleep here. A lot of people stay over…if they drink too much is what I mean…” She stopped, conflicted. Emmett wasn’t her client, and she wasn’t responsible for him. He was a grown man; he could have a drink. He could handle it, she’d seen him. But she also knew how fragile his headspace had been on Thursday evening. Okay. She decided to press Pause on taking mental therapy notes about him for the night, and they’d have one drink—two at most.

  “Got it,” he said.

  She spotted one of her clients across the room dressed as Wednesday Addams. She and her clients had a rule of ignoring one another whenever they crossed paths in public. Tallie always felt like a spy when she did it. They made eye contact and looked away. Clark, Tallie Clark. Tallie watched her when she wasn’t looking, attempting to see if she was with the man she’d shown Tallie a photo of, the man she discussed with a pinched red face every therapy session. And she was. Of course she was.

  Tallie turned and bumped into a friend from college; they’d recently reconnected in barre class.

  “Hey, girl. You look cute. Are your legs still sore from Tuesday’s class? Mine are! Is that normal? Who are you dressed up as?” her friend asked, rapid-fire. Happily buzzed.

  “Scully. From The X-Files. You’re Bella Swan?” Tallie asked after taking in the brunette wig, brown jacket, backpack, and long gray cabled mittens she was wearing. “That’s your Edward?” Tallie asked after looking behind her and finding a bloody-fanged vampire in a gray peacoat with the collar popped. He was talking to a guy dressed as the poop emoji.

  “Yes, it is. And whoa, I saw Nicodemus Tate around here somewhere! His name is so great… like some kind of prince or something. No, a king! Nicodemus Tate,” her friend said, letting Nico’s name linger on her tongue for a moment before glancing around wildly like a chicken. “He asked if I’d seen you. You guys aren’t dating again, right? Oh. Shit. Sorry,” she said to Emmett.

  “You’re fine.” Tallie put her hand on her shoulder. “No, Nico and I aren’t dating. But this is Emmett, my Mulder,” she said. Tallie had felt a twitch of something hearing Nico’s name and knowing he was in the house—like she was a guitar and someone had flicked one of her strings.

  “Gotcha. Whew. Girl, Emmett’s cute,” her friend said, holding her hand to her mouth and whispering the last part although on no planet would Emmett not be able to hear her. “Nice to meet you, Emmett. It’s good to see you both. Maybe I’ll text you tomorrow and let you know if my legs are still sore. Maybe she broke us. She kicked our ass. That’s still sore, too!” she said, waving at them before rejoining her vampire love.

  “Okay, are you overwhelmed?” Tallie asked Emmett when they were alone.

  “I’m enjoying myself.”

  “Perfect,” she said, opening her bottle of champagne, slipping in the straw. Emmett skipped the straw but opened his bottle and drank from it. She took his hand again, happy this was a new habit they’d sunk their teeth into.

  * * *

  Tallie and Emmett walked down the hallway and up the stairs, taking their time, stepping aside for a jockey in neon carrying a near-life-size cardboard horse cutout, a man in a three-piece pumpkin suit, and a Little Bo-Peep, complete with shepherd’s crook and her two costumed sheep. Tallie pointed to the photos on Lionel’s wide cream-colored wall, drinking and describing them to Emmett.

  Lionel, Zora, and River backed by the Pacific Ocean, the Atlantic, Lake Michigan. River bundled up in a teddy-bear costume. Lionel holding baby River up, up, up in the infinity pool water. Zora, ready-to-pop pregnant with River.

  Tallie paused at the photo of Zora, remembering how cute she was waddling around that monster of a house. How Zora would take Tallie’s hand and place it on her belly so she could feel her nephew thump-flop around in there like a fish.

  Tallie’s dad and Lionel in Yellowstone. Lionel, Zora, and River in Atlanta. Lionel and Zora in Vancouver at the 2010 Winter Olympics. Lionel and his best friend at the 2014 FIFA World Cup. Lionel, Zora, and River sitting next to a pile of leaves. Lionel, Zora, and River and a snowman, waving at the camera. Lionel and Tallie and their parents at Lionel and Zora’s wedding.

  Nico and Tallie had gone together to that wedding all those years ago, and Nico had been stoked when Tallie caught the bouquet. There’d been some overlap between those first few dates with Joel and a reconnect with Nico. Joel had been at the wedding, too, and he and Tallie had shared a drunksy slow dance to a Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald duet. She and Nico went back to his place and had sex in the kitchen. He slicked the hem of her dress up around her waist and unzipped himself—his suit pants sliding down slowly, pooling around his feet like an inkblot.

  She knew all the stories behind the photos on Lionel’s wall. She’d even noticed a year ago when Lionel replaced a picture of him and Joel—sweaty after one of their soccer matches—with one of Tallie and Zora in the kitchen, posing like supermodels.

  * * *

  “Way too many bedrooms up here. I mean, who’s sleeping in these bedrooms?” Tallie said, drinking her champagne. She and Emmett had made it to the third floor of Lionel’s house after stopping to chat with a few more people Tallie knew. On the top floor: four bedrooms, two bathrooms, an office the size of a public library, and a library the size of a small city. At least one amorous couple had hijacked the biggest bedroom at the end of the hallway; a tube sock hung limp and phallic on the doorknob.

  “I saw Tinker Bell and a werewolf go in there. Although I didn’t know adults needed to do the tube-sock thing. We get it. It’s overkill, really. Now, that’s braggy,” Emmett said quietly, thumbing toward the door.

  “Wow, you’re right. It is braggy,” Tallie said, laughing.

  They wandered lazily, taking everything in. Still no sign of Lionel, but there was plenty to see
. Tallie peeked into one bedroom with the door open. A couple dressed as a fork and spoon kissed against the wall. A Bride of Frankenstein sat on the bed, scrolling through her phone before looking up and giving Tallie a smile that she returned. In another bedroom, two of Tallie’s cousins, dressed as salt and pepper shakers, waved to her. She asked them if they knew the fork and spoon and they exploded into laughter, telling her she was the fourth person to ask them that.

  “Fork person to ask us that,” her cousin said before laughing again.

  Tallie giggled, patting them both on the head.

  “Have you seen my brother?” she asked.

  “Not yet. What’s his costume?” her cousin asked.

  “He never tells me,” Tallie said. Emmett stood quietly, listening.

  “Lionel is withholding. He’s been like that since he was a boy,” her cousin said.

  “Don’t I know it? And this is Emmett,” Tallie said, touching his shoulder.

  “Aunt Judy told us all about Emmett. Well, Aunt Judy told Mama, and Mama told us,” her cousin said, motioning to his sister standing next to him.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Emmett said.

  One cousin winked, the other waved before Tallie and Emmett went across the hallway to nose around. That bedroom ceiling was covered with orange and silver balloons trailing slick, curly ribbons. They found a small group of costumed partyers, a rainbow strobe light, a phone on the bed with trippy electronica beeping from it. Lionel’s best friend, Ben, dressed as LeBron James, was laughing and dancing with a woman in an owl costume. He waved to Tallie, and she waved back.

  * * *

  The second-floor landing was astir with a gob of women in beaded flapper dresses. Tallie stared in wonder before looking down over the balcony and turning, literally bumping into Nico, not immediately recognizing him in costume.

  “Hey!” he said, his voice giving him away. And if it hadn’t, his eyes would’ve—that unmistakable cerulean blinking at her from his pale greenish-yellow face. He was wearing tattered pants, and the T-shirt underneath his blazer read THE MONSTER’S NAME IS NOT FRANKENSTEIN. Was the Bride of Frankenstein his date? Something that felt like jealousy prickled Tallie’s armpits; she’d lied to herself when she thought she wouldn’t feel it. She was an electric guitar now, and someone had plugged her in, started shredding.

  “Hey! Hi! Nico! There you are!” she said, looking at the fake bloodied-plastic bolts stabbing out of his neck.

  “What’s up, Scully? You look stunning,” he said, showing all his teeth. One of Tallie’s favorite things about Nico: the sharky shock of his full smile.

  “Oh! Thank you,” she said. “Um yeah, Nico, this is Emmett. He’s Mulder.” Nicodemus. Nico, Nico, Nico. It was a great pleasure seeing him after one non-Nico month.

  “Nice to meet you, man,” Nico said, shaking Emmett’s hand. Emmett smiled politely, drank his champagne.

  “Have you seen Lionel?”

  “Not yet. I think some friends of mine came up this way,” he said.

  “Are you looking for a Bride of Frankenstein?” Tallie asked.

  “Nope. Should I be?”

  “There’s one up there. I thought maybe she was yours,” she said, with relief ticking and cooling.

  “She’s definitely not mine,” Nico said and smiled again like he could eat her up in one bite.

  “Okay, well, there’s also Tinker Bell and a werewolf in the bedroom, the twins from The Shining, superheroes in the library, maybe a piece of toast, too,” Tallie recalled.

  “Superheroes! That’s them. I’ll catch up with you later, lieve schat?” he asked, looking at her, calling her dear treasure like always. Nico’s mother was from the Netherlands. He was a polyglot, and Tallie especially loved hearing the Dutch walk up the stairs of his throat and stomp out.

  “Yes. Come find me later!” she said, feeling hot. She waved and Nico continued up the stairs.

  “So that’s your man,” Emmett said before taking another pull of champagne.

  “What? Oh. No. I mean in college, yes, but not um…anymore.”

  “You’re blushing. You look like you just got plucked.”

  “What?! I don’t even know what that means. Quit it.”

  They walked down the second-floor hallway, where through the crowd, she recognized her brother by his height and how his body moved. He was standing in the corner, tall and hairy in a fully masked Bigfoot costume that looked straight off a Hollywood backlot. The kind of expensive, realistic Bigfoot costume pranksters bought and donned so their friends could film them walking through the woods in order to sell the footage to sensationalists.

  BIGFOOT SPOTTED AGAIN, THIS TIME IN KENTUCKY!

  Small orange bulbs twinkled and drooped across the ceiling, glimmered from the open bedrooms. When they got to him, Lionel reached into the cooler on the floor, slooshed around in the ice, and pulled his Bigfoot hand out. He shoved a glowing pony of beer at Emmett, awash in pumpkin light. He’d finished his champagne, and Lionel took the bottle from him, clinking it into a small recycling box. It was classic, perfect-timing, larger-than-life Lionel, anticipating Emmett having an empty bottle although he’d never met him and being responsible enough to make sure he recycled the glass. Her brother was cosmically unreal.

  “Li, this is Emmett,” Tallie said, hugging her brother around his furry waist. Lionel hugged Tallie back, squeezing her until she squeaked. He reached up and snatched his mask off, held it in his hand like an Old Testament king who’d just decapitated a traitor. His handsome face was a little sweaty, smiling.

  “Emmett, I’m Lionel Clark, Lulah’s big brother. Welcome to my home. Welcome,” he said, wrapping his arms around Emmett and patting his back.

  “Nice to meet you, Lionel. I’ve heard so many awesome things about you,” Emmett said.

  “Well, same, because our mom called this afternoon and told me she had breakfast with you two. And that you were cleaning out Lulah’s gutters. Thank you, Emmett. I was going to say something to you about it,” Lionel said, looking at Tallie.

  “Of course, no problem,” Emmett said.

  Tallie walked around Lionel, petting his costume.

  “It’s got Chewbacca vibes, right?” Lionel said. “And you two are X-Files! I dig it. You both look great. I’ve just been chilling up here by the cooler, spying on people walking around looking for me.”

  “There’s a Tinker Bell and a werewolf totally boning in one of your bedrooms upstairs. And Nico’s here,” Tallie said.

  “Nico Tate? Are you…y’know what…all right, then,” Lionel said. Tallie shook her head and smiled at him. “Happy Halloween, right?”

  “Happy Halloween!” Tallie said, giggling a bit.

  “So Emmett, you’re from Clementine?”

  “I am,” Emmett said.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you’re taking good care of my sister,” he said, putting Tallie in a mild headlock, giving her a gentle noogie.

  “Li, stop. You’re messing up my Scully-ness!” Lionel released her, and she punched his arm. “Are Dad and Glory here?” Tallie asked, refluffing her hair.

  “Yeah, Dad texted me. They should be down there somewhere,” he said. “Hey, let me know if y’all need anything. Make yourself at home.”

  Tallie finished the rest of her champagne, and Lionel took the bottle from her before reaching into the cooler and handing her a drippy pony of penny-colored beer.

  “Oh, I love you,” she said to him.

  “I love you, too, Sis.”

  Tallie and Emmett walked down the long twinkling hallway, pulsing like a bloody vein leading away from her brother: the heart. She turned to see him pulling his Bigfoot mask onto his head, secreting himself again.

  EMMETT

  (There is a small art gallery on the first floor of Lionel’s house. Most people would probably call it a hallway, but it’s wildly spacious, lined with framed paintings. Two large Goldscheider vases frame the doorway like centurions. A golden Brâncuși-like
sculpture on a table casts its shadow on the shiny hardwood. A Brâncuși recently bagged over fifty-seven million at auction. Everything in the house is moneyed, dripping with it like the waterfall splashing beneath the large living-room window.)

  Since he’d left his phone at Tallie’s, Emmett had no access to his emails, but he was still thinking about them. It was all he could think about when he met Lionel for the first time upstairs. It was all he could think about when Zora welcomed them in. On sight, Emmett had decided that Lionel wasn’t a douchey finance bro or an asshole. He was generous and kind, not worried about his house and expensive art collection getting trashed by drunken people in elaborate costumes. Emmett had liked him immediately, and Lionel and Tallie really did seem to click on and glow around each other.

  The party was catered, but partygoers had also brought a bounty of cakes, cookies, pies, fruit. It wasn’t quite bacchanalian, or at least not yet, but the atmosphere whished, as if anything could happen. Everything in excess—the wine, the food, the house that grew before Emmett’s eyes anytime he moved around inside the wide expanse of it.

  (Costumed people fill the kitchen, milling in and out of the three pairs of tall glass doors leading to open air. Drinking. Dancing. Mingling. Eating. Revelers swig bubbly gin with tropical-green wedges of lime. Clink bourbon. Chug beers. Slush their glasses full of red or white from the wine spheres, bob for apples in the sink. A rotating cast of bodies octopussing—arms reaching out for marshmallow-chocolate squares, salted nuts, stinky cheese, and figs. Limp hands made alive and desirous over and over like The Creation of Adam.)

  He and Tallie filled their plates with spicy chicken wings and steak kebabs with green peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms. Fries, jalapeño poppers, and sweet piquant peppers. Olives stuffed with herbed goat cheese. A man in a yellow hat carrying a copper bucket of champagne bottles scooted past them with a white-faced capuchin monkey on his shoulder. The monkey squeaked, looked Emmett in the eyes, opened his little mouth wide; Emmett stared back at it, opened his mouth, too.