Watching the Sky Cry

by J. B. Hartnett

  “Parents split up then. It was a long time coming, and something did happen, Rylie, but that’s…not for today. Anyway, thought Dad would move on and finally have some peace.”

  “I didn’t know they’d split up when you were a baby. Lucy told me,” I confessed.

  “Told you what?”

  “About your parents splitting up…when you were a baby…”

  “Miles told her that?” He asked.

  My uh-oh radar began to sound.

  “Yes…she said you were a baby and Miles remembers—”

  “Stop talking,” he commanded.

  There was no ground left uncovered when we were kids. But it was becoming clear to me I may have told him everything, but he hadn’t been so forthcoming with me. The fact he hadn’t mentioned it before should have been my first clue. I feared I’d just uncovered a family secret he was probably never meant to know.

  “Miles was always better about not keeping shit inside. I told you a lot, but not everything. He and Lucy used to hang. He must’ve been fairly open with her.”

  “Quentin— I started, but he held up his hand to cease further talking.

  And there was my answer.

  “I’m not angry,” he said. “I’m thinking.”

  I moved in close again. “Can I just say one little tiny thing?” I asked.

  He couldn’t help but smile, which pleased me to no end. “Of course,” he invited.

  “Obviously, something is going on, and it involves not just your family, but my family, as well. Do you think you can just, I don’t know, ask your dad?” I was feeling a little desperate for answers myself now and added, “I’ll talk to my aunt.”

  He stood perfectly still, and finally, after a long silence, he pushed away from the counter and came to me, taking me into his arms and placing my cup on the counter.

  “I need something from you, Rylie.”

  My first response was to tell him I’d do whatever he wanted or needed me to.

  “Promise me, whatever happens, we do our best not to let it touch us. It’s you and me, and we’re new. We’ve waited a long time to give this a shot, and we don’t need anything interfering.”

  I nodded before I answered, “Of course. I promise.”

  “Because I remember you saying there are no guarantees. It would be unrealistic to think every day of our lives together is going to be like the last twenty-four hours.”

  “Quentin—”

  He pulled me in tight, squeezing me to make his point. “But we can try, Rylie.”

  ****

  It wasn’t easy, but I successfully convinced Quentin to spend the day apart. He needed to finish packing up his things from the apartment in Santa Rosa, or at the very least, bring essentials like pots, pans, and utensils to the house. I negotiated this break from new-relationship-bliss by promising we could go grocery shopping together in the evening, my argument being, his walk-in pantry was bare, a clear insult to his grand dame of a house by the river. When we said goodbye with one last kiss at my front door, I would have been happy to spend every waking moment with him. But there were things I needed and wanted to do.

  Things I needed to be alone for.

  One was to call my brother. Something in the way Quentin spoke about Miles made me miss Billy more than ever. The second, and more pressing issue, was to get my aunt alone and talk to her.

  With my car filled with odds and ends for the second bus décor, I stopped to buy a very large latte and sent a message to my aunt. I asked her to meet me at The Vineyard bus if she was free in about an hour. That gave me plenty of time to clear my head, call my brother, and make sure all my ducks were in a row for the second bus.

  I sat in one of the large chairs outside The Redwood, my feet propped up on the granite rocks of the fire pit, my coffee on the small side table next to me, my ear to the phone as it rang.

  “Yep,” Billy answered.

  “Brother o’ mine, how fair thee?”

  He chuckled before he replied, “I’m okay.” But he sound exhausted as usual.

  “How’s work?” I asked.

  “How about you tell me why you’re calling and we’ll save some time,” he suggested.

  I gave my own latte-muffled laugh in return. “Things are happening with Quentin. Good things. There’s family drama that seems to somehow involve Quentin, Miles, and me. I overheard a huge argument, or the end of it, between Aunt Ardie and Uncle Lee. He yelled, and I mean, he really yelled.”

  “At Aunt Ardie?” he asked in surprise.

  “Um, yeah. Mom knows I heard, and I tried to get it out of her when she was drunk, but no dice.”

  “What was she drinking?”

  “Tequila,” I replied.

  “Shoulda worked.” He laughed. We all knew my mom, who wasn’t a big drinker, was easily swayed when tequila was involved.

  “Well, I don’t have a good feeling about it. Think you can make the trip sometime soon?”

  He was quiet for a moment, and this time, I didn’t hear the tell-tale sounds of him lighting up a smoke, or papers rustling. This time, all I could hear was…nothing. Nothing but the soft sound of him breathing.

  “Billy?” I asked. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. How’s the bus thing going?”

  I figured this was his way of changing the subject.

  “I’m sitting outside the first one. Mom and Dad stayed here, and the only big thing I had to change was moving the toilet roll holder to the wall on the left of the toilet.” I laughed. “She said, unless you’re a lefty, which most people aren’t, the toilet paper should always be on the left.” I could hear him chuckling on the other end. “Yeah. Leave it to Mom, right?”

  But when my tale ended and the conversation died, I gave it to him straight.

  “Billy…maybe this is something I should say in person, but I haven’t had the chance. So, I’m gonna tell you now.” I paused and took a breath, giving him a chance to stop me. When he didn’t, I went on. “If things…you know, move forward with Quentin…or if they don’t, either way, I really wish you could be here.”

  “Rylie…” he said, but not to interrupt or argue.

  “This is it, Billy. Our family is here. Mom and Dad have no intention of going back to San Clemente. Dad wants to be where he grew up, where he and Mom fell in love. Where we were born. And us…every great memory of my childhood is here. And the only thing missing is you.”

  With the afternoon sun high in the sky above me, the sound of birds chattering in the surrounding trees, I knew Billy could hear it, too.

  His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I’m not that guy, Rylie.”

  “I don’t understand what that means.”

  “I used to be happy…something happened. Mom suspects, but she won’t push me. I don’t want you to try it either. It’s mine, see?”

  I sat up, alert to every cryptic word he was saying.

  “I don’t…I don’t understand, but I want to. You know, it was me and Nick. For years, I was in that bubble. Then I was in a different bubble, of grief. And now…I’m free, Billy. And I know, no matter what happens, it’s different with Quentin. I’m different. I want to be there for you like you were for me.”

  “No, Rylie.” His words were firm.

  “You knew, when I called you. You knew before I even said it, this place would heal me, and it did.” I took another deep breath and begged, “Come home, Billy.”

  He said nothing, despite my desperate urging.

  “Aunt Ardie is walking across the field. I’m gonna ask her what’s going on. It’s probably none of my business, but I’d rather her tell me than be blindsided.” I knew, a few more steps, my aunt would be able to hear my conversation, so I ended it.

  “I’m here, whenever you need me. And if you need me there, I’m there. And I know you,” I whispered. “Maybe things have happened and you think you’re different. Changed. But for me, you’ll always be the man who saved me from drowning.” I wiped an escaped tear and told him, �
��Thank you for saving my life.”

  He didn’t say goodbye, he just hung up. What I’d gone through was intense and painful for everyone involved. For Mom and Dad, Billy, my in-laws, friends…we all suffered in our own way. But what Billy did for me when Nick died…everyone else had left the room. The nurse pressed buttons and everything went quiet. Then she left. But not Billy. I knew he was there, behind me, just in case I needed him. And for calling Mom and bringing me here…it wasn’t the kind of thing you could exchange a please and thank you for each breath I now took. For the sunrise. For the stars. For the branches that swayed in the wind above me. There is no way you can repay someone for saving your life.

  Except maybe saving theirs.

  ****

  Aunt Ardie looked tired. In fact, haggard was a better word for it. My earth-mother aunt looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but talking to me.

  She stopped and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

  “Why do I have the feeling this has nothing to do with these buses?”

  She didn’t sound at all pleased

  “Because it doesn’t,” I admitted. “I’ll just get down to it, Aunt Ardie. Quentin said the night before I left, he begged Uncle Lee to let him talk to me. He told him everything, explained everything.”

  She looked off toward the house and back to me.

  “Doesn’t change anything now, does it?” she said, but it wasn’t a question. “Do you know?” she asked. “I mean, do you know what’s going on?”

  “No…” I shook my head. “I don’t think I do.”

  She came closer and took my hands, leaning down to kneel in front of me where I was sitting. “Are you and Quentin tight? I mean, you think it’s gonna stick?”

  I squeezed back. “I promised him today that whatever happens around us won’t affect what we’re starting.”

  “Honey…” she began. “Honey, I love your uncle. He breathes, I breathe. It’s that kind of love.”

  “Okay…”

  “But even the best of men make mistakes.” She took the chair next to me and got comfortable. “We’d lost our last child…the kind of thing that breaks people, broke us both, but broke me to the point I couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed anymore. That’s what I was crying about the other day. And he was hurting, too. Except he found comfort in the bed of a married woman, a woman he got pregnant.”

  I stopped breathing, completely stunned at this information.

  “I couldn’t do that,” she said, her eyes a mirrored pools just like mine. “I couldn’t give him that. But she could…she did…and she claimed to love your uncle. She was wild, full of life. At the time, he didn’t even know she was married. But he didn’t love her, not like that, not like he loved me. He came home and told me everything and begged me to come back to him. I told him I’d take him back on one condition. He gave up his son, Rylie. He gave up his boy, for me. If he hadn’t…I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  I waited patiently as she went on.

  “We all agreed. Her husband knew, we all knew, but it was kept quiet. We’d keep our distance from them; they’d keep their distance from us. It’s a small town though. A few years later, we heard they were having another baby. She didn’t think it would happen, thought she and her husband couldn’t conceive, thought it was her husband. But she did. They did.” She paused, and her hands began to shake. “Something happened, after she had her baby. Some kind of breakdown. I know he left her for a while, took his sons and left. And I’d see them around, kinda keeping an eye out for Lee’s kid. And one day, we saw you talking to the youngest boy, and we knew, one day, it was all gonna come out. I think he loved you the moment he met you. Not just some adolescent crush. Lee and I talked about it, what we would do when the time came. It wasn’t our secret, Rylie. But Lee…he was scared, don’t know why. The way things were going with you and Quentin, we had no doubt, Lee’s son would one day be your brother-in-law. Maybe because he’d have to see him, see what he gave up. And that last summer you were here, he couldn’t face it. So he sent Quentin away,” she cried. “He knew…he knew because Quentin told him he meant to marry you. And then Nick…” she sobbed, shaking even harder, and all I could do was take it. “He blames himself, honey. Knowing if only he’d let him talk to you…maybe you never would’ve had to go through all that. We knew what it was to lose someone you love, and all I can do is tell you the truth and let you decide if you can forgive us for making the biggest mistake of our lives.”

  By now, I was wishing Quentin was with me, because I hated the idea I’d have to divulge all of this to him on my own.

  “I went to Quentin when you were about to get married because…” She wiped her face and looked to the sky. Tears dripped off her chin like rain, and I held her close and tight to keep her balanced. “I wanted him to go to you. I wanted you to have the love of your life.”

  I pulled her into me with a great, crushing hug. “I have it now, Aunt Ardie. It’s okay, you hear me? I have it now. And more importantly,” I said, pushing her back and wiping her tears, “I had it then. Two great loves. I had two.”

  Now, armed with the truth, or a good part of it anyway, I sat with my aunt for the next two hours. We talked about the past. I convinced her, as tempting as it was to be upset with Uncle Lee, I held no ill will toward him. We talked about Nick. We talked about my budding romance with Quentin. Then we talked about the business. The direction she wanted to go with the cottages. The little café she was in the process of completing. The buses… And finally, she explained how they wanted their long-held secret to be revealed.

  Then she told me the reason behind the argument with my uncle I’d overheard.

  Something I almost wished I didn’t know.

  FOURTEEN

  Later that evening, my head nervously juggling all the new information and my hands in a white-knuckled clench, I strolled the aisles of the local Safeway with Quentin. His elbows rested on the shopping cart handle, totally relaxed, at one with our maiden shopping expedition. Still, I caught him every now and then turning his head to smile at me, and just as quickly turning it back so I wouldn’t see. I got it. What might seem totally benign to some was huge for a man who’d never lived with a woman. Never been married. But always wanted those little things and, more importantly, wanted them with me.

  In my marriage, there was a clear division of some duties, but others held a certain grey area of shared labor. I could only cook about five dishes fit for human consumption. But Nick was a great cook. He could make a hell of a steak or a five-hour roast. He said my ability to turn meat into rubber was a special gift. But I was good at other things. I managed the bank accounts and the calendar. I bought the gifts for whatever birthday or baptism or wedding we were invited to.

  Shopping for groceries on a Sunday morning was a shared duty. We’d drop everything at home, go for a walk, and just talk.

  Little things.

  And losing that person you do the little things with is something you can never prepare for. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve had to get used to the idea. You can fill in all the paperwork, you can be prepared for the financial impact of the loss. But even knowing it’s going to happen doesn’t cushion the blows that continue to punch holes in your heart long after they’re gone.

  Like going to the grocery store on a Sunday afternoon.

  I had to bring myself back into the present. I had to choose to weigh my partner’s happiness against this tiny reminder of my old life. And I had to remember, Quentin was about to face much bigger fish than his girlfriend having a “moment” in the local Safeway.

  “So,” he said, tossing two bags of tortilla chips into the cart. “You mentioned you and your aunt had a chat?”

  I’d used the word chat, but when he said it, it sounded ridiculous.

  “Yes,” I replied with a light, unconvincing laugh. “But this isn’t the place to talk about it.”

  He stopped. Then he looked at me. And the fun, loose, an
d happy Quentin was gone, and I instantly regretted I hadn’t found a way to divert the conversation elsewhere, or at least not make it sound like what she’d told me was as daunting as it actually was.

  I reached over and took his hand in mine. “I didn’t handle that very well. I’m so sorry.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, Rylie. It’s all good.” He continued to push the cart forward and grabbed a bag of shredded cheese. “I think that’s everything, if you’re ready.”

  “Quentin…” I followed behind him, catching up as he sped to the checkout. “Quentin. Stop.”

  I was firm in my request, and I hated that his back was to me when I said it. But there was no way to stop whatever thoughts were racing through his mind unless I got through.

  And I had to get through.

  Unfortunately, my volume was what stopped him. I watched as he put his head back, his eyes to the ceiling, and, finally, he pushed the cart to the side, where it thunked into a display of canned veggies.

  This was late afternoon, close to dinnertime, and people were out shopping for last-minute items at the only grocery store in town. He turned to me with his broad shoulders, commanding height, scruffy beard, and bright blue eyes. It was the same look he’d given me that first night at The Boon. And without him telling me to, not a care to the other patrons in the store, I walked right to him, lifted my hand to the back of his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I whispered against his lips.

  “This wasn’t easy for you.”

  I’d never be able to pull one over on Quentin.

  “Making new memories,” I returned.

  “Let’s go. We’re drawing a crowd.” He smiled at my lips.

  And that’s what I’d hoped for. To make a statement, publicly, so Quentin knew I was with him, there, not hiding my affection from anyone, including myself. And I did this with the knowledge that not once had Nick kissed me in a crowded grocery store.

  ****

  Something new I learned about Quentin that night? He made the best nachos I’d ever tasted in my life. We fooled around a little, neither one of us in any hurry to bring up the giant elephant in the room. Because, before we walked through the front door, he turned to me and said, “Not in the house. We’ll try to keep whatever this is out of it.”