by Penny Wylder
“You know your dad’s friend, Bryce?”
All the breath rushes out of me, like I’ve been hit. I had no idea this would have anything to do with him. Shit. I need to breathe. I need to speak. “Yeah, of course,” I say. More than you fucking know. More than you’ll ever want to know or care. More than I can stand.
“Well his stepsister, Marcy, just had her baby! They’re both doing well, even though the baby was a little early. But when her mom called and told us, she mentioned that you’d stopped by the baby shower, so I thought you might want to see the baby.”
“Sorry about the shower,” I say. “It was a whirlwind trip.”
“I figured as much, though I didn’t know that you and Marcy were still friends.”
I sigh. I can tell her the truth, at least about this. “We’re not, really. I did the calligraphy on the place cards for the shower.”
“Oh,” she says brightly. “That was nice of you.”
I thought so. The tears well up and over and I try to keep my sobs silent. My mom doesn’t need to know about this. “Well, Marcy has invited everyone to see the baby, and since you haven’t been up to see us in a while, I thought you might come up and stay for a couple days and swing by the hospital before you go home.”
This will never happen for me. Not with Bryce. My mom won’t be calling all our relatives with ecstatic news that we’ve had our first child, and the hole inside me gapes like a black hole, threatening to suck me under. God, it hurts. I try to wipe the tears away, but they keep coming.
“The store,” I say.
My mom tsks. “You need to hire more than one employee so you can take some time off once in a while, dear. But we’d really love to see you. Maybe think about coming up tomorrow?”
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
The idea of getting out of my house is a good one, even if my mom doesn’t know why. I love it when I go home. She always makes delicious food and goes out of her way to make sure that I’m comfortable and happy. I want that more than anything right now. But will I be able to keep a grip on myself while I’m there and not give my parents reason to think that there’s something really wrong with me? That, I’m not so sure about.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mom asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Why?”
She sighs. “I don’t know. You just sound a little down.”
I laugh. A little down doesn’t even begin to cover it. A little down makes it sound like I lost a balloon or dropped an ice cream cone. This is so much more than that. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” she says, though it doesn’t sound like she entirely believes me.
“I’ll see if I can work things out to come up, and I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good. Love you!”
“Love you,” I reply, choking on the words as I hang up.
And then I let myself go. Sobs wrack my body as I curl around Ursula. I’ve never felt pain like this before, bone deep and splitting me open. I hate it. And I love it. Because if it didn’t hurt, then it wouldn’t have meant anything. And it meant everything.
I let the tears take me for a while before I’m exhausted and wrung out from them. The store is closed today—it’s the reason that I’m able to stay in bed. But I know that Elle will have her phone on her, and I need her right now. More than just to ask if she’ll be okay at the store alone.
Are you free today?
Her text is immediate.
I’ve got no plans other than to continue reading this ridiculous historical drama. What’s up?
I need some girl time. And ice cream.
I thought you’d never fucking ask. I’ll be right over.
When she knocks on my door thirty minutes later, she’s got three tubs of ice cream in various flavors, and vodka. “Geeze, Elle.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t even pretend that you don’t fucking need it. We both know that you do. Now get out of my way and let me put this stuff in the freezer.”
I stand aside and she strides past me into the kitchen. Ursula follows closely on her heels, sniffing at the visitor. Not that I think Ursula would be super interested in the ice cream or vodka. After she places the ice cream in the freezer, Elle reaches down and scratches the cat behind her ears. “Okay, so you’re going to tell me what the fuck’s been going on that has you so depressed. I knew you’d tell me eventually, but damn girl, something is up. I’m not stupid.”
“It’s nothing you don’t already know,” I say with a sigh. “It’s the same stuff I was worried about when Bryce and I first got together. The same stuff that I was worried about when I moved here so I wouldn’t want him anymore. It. Just. Won’t. Work. Our families would hate the fact that we were together.”
Elle walks around my kitchen, opening the cabinets and getting down bowls and glasses for our imminent feast. “But what changed? You guys were happy. I mean, I know it was fast, but you guys have a history. It’s not like you have to do you all the ‘getting to know you’ crap the rest of us do. So what happened?”
I shrug, and sit down at the kitchen table. Elle knows this kitchen almost as well as her own, so I don’t have to tell her where anything is, and I couldn’t make the effort right now even if I wanted to. All of my limbs feel heavy, like weights are attached to each of them. “At his sister’s baby shower, I made an offhand comment to some women who were looking at him. They wanted to know if he was single, and if he was, they were going to go after him.
“My mouth got the better of me, and I said that he was off the market. They wanted to know how, but his sister overheard. Even the implication that Bryce would date somebody as young as me disgusted her. She called it ‘absurd,’ ‘gross,’ and ‘stupid.’”
Elle closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Well, yeah,” she says. “I can see how that would get under your skin, for sure. But that was one person, and she was saying it about a hypothetical situation. Any person—and I’m including all of your family in this—wouldn’t think the two of you were gross if they saw you together. You guys are so sickeningly adorable you make me want to vomit.”
“Elle,” I say. “You’re not helping.”
“Seriously, Katti. What you guys have is what I want. The fact that you’re letting fear stand in the way of this is not okay.”
“You make it sound like it’s so simple.”
She grabs the ice cream back out of the freezer and starts scooping it into the bowls for the both of us. “That’s because it is simple.”
“It’s not,” I insist. “I can’t just undo more than thirty years of friendship between him and my dad over nothing. And I can’t change the fact that my dad will never get over Bryce’ betrayal if he finds out. He’ll hate all of it. And then he’ll hate me.”
Elle points at me “There it is. That’s what you’re afraid of. You’re afraid that your dad is going to disown you over this?”
“Of course I am! How else should I feel?”
She shrugs, and gets spoons out of the drawer before passing me a giant bowl of vanilla, chocolate, and mint ice cream. “I don’t know, maybe you should feel like your father loves you enough to respect your choices. And is smart enough to recognize when two people genuinely love each other and aren’t just fucking for fun.” She lets those words hang in the air for a moment. “You don’t think your dad will get it? You don’t think he’s been in love before? I think he’ll understand. Sure, it’s a little unconventional. It might even make him uncomfortable for a while, but after seeing you together…I don’t think there’s any way he could deny that you guys are amazing together.”
“You’ve never met my dad, Elle. I don’t think it’s going to be that way. He’s old-fashioned, and traditional. It’s not going to fly.”
She drags me out of the chair, and into the living room where she flops on the couch across from me, and digs into the ice cream. “Okay, so let’s play out a hypothetical situation.”
“That’s not what we’re already doing?”
She rolls her eyes. “Stay with me. What’s the worst thing that would happen?”
I think about it, but there are too many possibilities, and just shrug.
“No, come on,” She says. “Try to think. Right now. If this happened, what is the absolute worst thing that would happen?”
“So many bad things could happen,” I say. “They could call Bryce a monster or a predator for wanting to be with me because I’m half his age. They could be so angry that they never speak to him again. They could be so angry that they never speak to me again. What if Marcy suddenly decides that her brother is a bad person for doing this, and he never gets his to see his niece because of me?”
Elle shakes her head. “You don’t know if any of those things will happen.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t. But if they do, it will be bad.” I take a bite of ice cream while Elle studies me.
She seems to be thinking about something, and I wait, because I know she’ll get to it eventually. Finally, she says, “You’re not going to agree, but I think you’re making too big of a deal out of this. Bryce isn’t a bad person. You know that, and I know that. Your families both know that, too. And whether or not Bryce knew you before you were eighteen has nothing to do with your relationship now.
“You’re both adults. You can choose what you want, and the rest of everybody can fuck off. As for all the things that might happen, why are you the one that gets to make the decision?”
I don’t meet her eyes, mixing some of the mint and chocolate ice cream together. “What do you mean?”
“You and Bryce were in a relationship, right? Did he agree that the risks were too big?”
“No,” I shake my head. “He said that he didn’t care.”
“Then why did you walk away?”
“Because he doesn’t realize how bad it will be. He doesn’t know what it will be like when he loses the most important relationships in his life because of me.”
Elle gives me a look like I’m being utterly stupid. “But that’s his choice to make. It’s your choice to make together as a couple, but you didn’t let him. You made it for him. Did you ever consider that maybe you’re the most important relationship in his life?”
That’s not possible. A one-week relationship doesn’t come above a thirty-year friendship. That’s just not the way it works. “He’ll see that I’m right in the end,” I say.
Elle rolls her eyes again, harder this time so that I know she’s not pleased. “I’m sure that you both will get a great deal of satisfaction out of you being right. Ten years from now, when you’re both miserable because you’re not together, I’m sure that will be the thing that keeps you warm.”
“You’ve seen him,” I say. “He’ll find somebody. He’ll be happy.”
“And what about you?” she asks, her voice loud and echoing in the room. “Doesn’t that matter?”
I shake my head. It’s better this way. I’ll survive.
Elle puts her bowl of ice cream on the table and looks unhappy. I’ve never seen her put down ice cream before. “Anyway,” she says, “what was it that made you call me? You’ve been moping around the store for a week without saying anything, so why now?”
“Marcy had the baby. My mom wants me to go up there and see her and also go to the hospital to see the baby. And I don’t know what to do.”
She laughs. “And ask me if I can take care of things at the store.”
“No,” I say. “I mean yes, but is not just that. If I go, I might see him. I was hoping you’d assure me that I’m doing the right thing. Tell me to be strong so that I don’t collapse into a puddle of tears.”
“You know I’m not going to do that,” she says.
I laugh. “Yeah, I know that now.”
Elle snatches the bowl of ice cream again. “I wouldn’t tell you that even if I agreed with you, Katti. This sucks. It’s okay to be in pain. You don’t have to be strong when you see the man you love, even if you made the choice to break your heart yourself.”
“I don’t love him.” The words come out automatically, because I’ve been telling myself that for the last week. I don’t love him. I don’t.
I don’t.
I don’t.
I do not.
Elle snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will.”
She sighs. “Of course I can take care of things at the store. You know I’ve got you.”
“I need to give you a raise.”
“You know I’ll take that any time,” she says, nearly spitting out her mouthful of ice cream. “Get your shit figured out. We’ve got a smooth machine. It’ll still be running when you get back.”
I laugh, and it feels good. “Thanks, Elle.”
“Anytime. Now. Vodka.”
“You really want to get drunk with me? Even though you think I’m an idiot?”
She yells on her way to the kitchen. “Of course I do. Yes, you’re an idiot who’s in love and won’t admit it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re hurting, so we’re going to get drunk and binge bad TV.”
I sigh as she hands me one of the shot glasses that we use when we do this, and relax into the feeling of doing something normal. Just for a little while.
12
The drive is not an easy one to make alone this time. Not with the memories of my last trip with Bryce so fresh. I think about the stop and the diner and the playful flirtation that we had. I think about the way he sang to me, and I have to blink back tears so that I can still see the road to drive.
I make a point not to stop at the same exits that we did. Nothing good is going to come of that. Nothing at all.
I turn off the radio and try to think about nothing. Having the radio on just makes me think of Bryce. But of course, my mind drifts. It goes all the way back to that night that seems to have started everything: the night of my graduation.
One of my friends snuck in jello shots, and I ate way too many of them. I may have even said to her, “You’ll never guess what I’m going to do tonight.”
“What?”
“Seduce someone.”
And then we collapsed into giggles. That whole night is blurry, but I try to focus in on the memory. Bryce was dressed in a blue button down. I remember that. “Bryce,” I may have slurred my words. “Can you help me with something in the pool house? I can’t reach it.”
He nodded. “Sure.”
I remember feeling the timbre of his voice down to my very bones. Holding the door open for him, I waited until he passed through before I closed the door and leaned against it. I remember seeing him turn to me, and looking for whatever it was that I needed help with.
But this time I try to see my fuzzy memory with new information: he wanted me too. Now, I see the shock as he takes in my position by the door, and the way he looks me up and down. Subtle signs, but they were there. Oh, how I wish I’d seen them.
The exact words that I said to him have been lost by time and alcohol, but I remember walking up to him slowly, and doing my best to be sexy. I stumbled and he caught me in his arms. At the time I thought his reluctance to touch me came from being a drunk idiot. Now I think he might have been holding himself back.
It makes that entire moment feel so different and charged with possibility. And then I see it in my mind, that moment where hesitation turns into determination. And I think he might have been getting ready to kiss me when my mom comes through the door. Instead of dropping his arms and stepping away, Bryce wraps his arms further around me and makes it look like he caught me in a stumble. “Too much to drink,” he says to my mom. “You should get her to bed.”
If that night had gone differently, would I still be driving this highway and fighting tears? Would we have gotten together and stayed together, damn the consequences? Would it have been a one-night thing that ended, sating both of our curiosity? Would we have been caught by my mother causing Bryce’s exile years before now?
There are so many questions, and I don’t know the
answers to them. But getting caught up in the hypotheticals isn’t going to help me either. But I wish that I could change things. Still have Bryce in all my memories and parts of my life without him being my father’s best friend. Why did life have to be cruel like that? It just seems unfair.
I manage to find a radio station that doesn’t remind me entirely of Bryce, and listen to that for the duration of the drive to my parents’ house. This morning I texted my mother and told her that I was going to be coming up, and she was so happy that I might need to come up here more often simply to hear that smile in her voice.
It’s strange to note how the hedges have grown since I was here last. That alone tells me that I haven’t been here enough the past few years. Now that Bryce is out of the picture, coming here won’t nearly be as painful.
I mean, in one way it will, because if I see him, I’ll be reminded of what I can’t have. But by the same token, I won’t be in constant fear of ruining things. Can’t ruin things when I’ve already ruined them intentionally, you know?
When I pull up, my mom sees me out the window, and rushes out to meet me. She pulls me into a huge hug. It lasts for a long time. “It’s been way too long since I saw you last,” she says. “I need to come see you down in Boston. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. You are just as busy as I am. Maybe more.” My mother is the director of a large nonprofit that’s based here in Waterton. Honestly, for all her talk about me needing to hire somebody so I have free time, she rarely has any herself.
“Still,” she says, “I’m going to make an effort. It shouldn’t be all on you for us to see each other. I have a car, and I need to take the time.”
“Well,” I say, drawing out the word. “Ursula would really like to see you. She misses you.”
She beams at me. “It’s settled, then.” Helping me grab my bags from the car, Mom walks with me inside the house.
From across the open space, I hear a booming voice. “Is that my girl?”