The Milkman

by Tabatha Kiss

  Well, this night just got a whole lot longer.

  “Will? Jovie? That you?” Mom calls out from the kitchen down the hall.

  “Yeah, Mom,” I say.

  She appears in the doorway wearing an apron and a bright, red smile. “Oh, Jovie! You look wonderful.”

  Jovie’s cheeks flush pink. “This old thing?” she asks, gesturing to her skirt and blouse.

  “If I had calves like yours, I’d show them off, too. Hell, at one time, that’s exactly what I did…”

  I wince. “Mom…”

  “I’m just saying…” she teases. “Would you two like a drink? We have wine!”

  “Yes, please,” Jovie says, barely hiding the desperation behind the words.

  Mom smiles. “Sara, do you mind?”

  Sara frowns and fires a few silent daggers at each of us through her eyes. “Sure,” she mutters.

  She heads toward the kitchen with fast, purposeful steps.

  I glance at Jovie’s amused grin and tap her ankle with my foot. Her lips slide down but her eyes continue to twinkle behind her lashes.

  I nudge her into the living room where my father sits, lounging back in a loveseat with his iPad.

  Jovie takes a seat on the couch. “Hello, Dr. Myers,” she says.

  He glances up and nods. “Jovie,” he greets. “You look well.”

  “Thank you. You do, too.”

  “How are your teeth?”

  I roll my eyes as I sit down beside her. “Dad…”

  Jovie chuckles. “They’re still in there, last I checked.”

  He grunts. “Well, if that changes…”

  “I’ll be sure to give you a call,” she says.

  Mom and Sara walk in with four fresh wineglasses and Andy nipping at their heels. He rushes over to me and I help him up onto the couch to sit with us while Sara takes an armchair.

  “So, what are we talking about?” Mom asks.

  “Oh, nothing,” my father answers as she hands us our glasses. “Jovie’s teeth are in her mouth.”

  She sits down on the loveseat beside him and nods at Jovie. “Well, that’s a good place for them to be, but if that changes…”

  “I already told her.”

  “Oh, good.”

  I clench my eyes closed. “Dear God…” I mutter to myself.

  Mom looks at me. “What’s that, honey?”

  “Nothing.” I clear my throat. “So, what’s for dinner? Smells good.”

  “I have a roast in the oven with rosemary potatoes and roasted vegetables and cheesecake for dessert. Oh—” She looks at Jovie. “You’re not a vegetarian, right?”

  “No,” Jovie answers.

  “No food allergies?”

  “Shellfish. So, unless you started making roast with crab meat, we should be okay.”

  Mom grins at the joke. “Good. I couldn’t quite remember.”

  “Mom,” I say, “you didn’t have to go through this much trouble. We would have been happy with spaghetti and meatballs.”

  She gawks at me. “Well, I wanted to give Jovie a nice, warm welcome. Who knows how long its been since she had a decent home-cooked meal?”

  I frown at the assumption but Jovie lays her hand on mine. “It sounds wonderful, actually,” she says. “I really appreciate it, Rachel. Thank you.”

  Our hands linger together, drawing Sara’s eyes into my lap. She focuses directly on the diamond ring taking over Jovie’s finger and she stiffens in her seat.

  My mother doesn’t seem to notice. “So,” she says, leaning forward, “you two are back together.”

  Sara’s face falls and she brings her glass to her lips as she stares at the floor.

  I take Jovie’s hand and twist it away to hide the ring from view. “Yes,” I answer.

  Mom fidgets delightfully. “I’m so happy for you, honey. We both are. Right, Dave?”

  Dad grunts.

  “And now that you’re dating and you have a good job, what’s next?” she asks Jovie. “You’re staying in town for good, right?”

  I want to ask Mom to ease off the questions but I glance at Jovie instead, silently awaiting her response. Honestly, I’m just as interested in hearing the answer to that one as they are. Probably more so.

  Jovie drags it out, barely opening her mouth for what feels like a whole minute before she finally nods. “Yeah,” she says. “I am.”

  I take the small victory but it doesn’t break the crushing weight on my shoulders. I look at Sara again. Her expectant, disappointed gaze bores holes into my skull. She knows now what we came here to do and it’s obvious how she feels about it. Still, we came here to set a lie in motion. Can’t back out now.

  “Actually…” I clear my throat. “That’s one of the things we wanted to talk to you guys about.”

  Mom tilts her head and knocks her knuckles against Dad’s knee to force him to drop the iPad and pay attention. Sara deflates and takes another sip of wine, silently preparing for the inevitable calamity that’s sure to follow.

  Jovie’s once dry hands are now clammy and cold with nerves. I squeeze her a little tighter and ease the ring into view again.

  “We’re getting married,” I say.

  My mother gasps, her mouth curling upward, while my father sits stoic and poised as usual.

  “We know it’s sudden,” I add, “but it feels right.”

  “Of course, it does!” My mother launches off the loveseat and rushes over to Jovie. “Come here!”

  Jovie can barely stand up the whole way before Mom throws her arms around her. I release her hand to stop myself from being sucked into my mother’s vortex of an embrace as she rattles Jovie back and forth.

  She suddenly pulls back and nudges Jovie’s chin. “See? What did I tell you? My boy adores you.”

  I squint with confusion but I let it slide.

  “Dave—” My mother twists around. “Do we have champagne? We need champagne.”

  I hold up a hand. “Mom, we don’t need champagne.”

  Dad shakes his head once. “We don’t have champagne.”

  “Can we get champagne?” she asks.

  “Mom…” I stand up and gently pull Jovie from her shaking grasp. “The wine will do just fine, all right?”

  She slaps my shoulder. “And you wanted me to make spaghetti?”

  I exhale with defeat as Andy tugs on my pant leg. “Yeah, buddy?” I ask him.

  “What’s going on?” he asks.

  I kneel as Mom yanks Jovie into another choke-hold. “Jovie and I are getting married,” I explain. “Like grandma and grandpa and your mom and dad. We’re partners. Does that make sense?”

  He glances around as his eyes grow wide. “Am I getting a cousin to play with?”

  I hesitate. “Um…”

  “Have you two picked a date yet?” my mother asks.

  “No,” I answer, withdrawing from Andy’s question. “We haven’t had a chance to hammer down details at all.”

  “But, it’ll be soon,” Jovie says, smiling. “We’ve already applied for our license.”

  My mother squeals while I glance at Sara’s horrified expression hidden behind her wineglass.

  “You’re definitely here to stay, then!”

  Jovie gives a sly nod. “Clover is my home. I want to be a part of it again. Even if it doesn’t want me back…”

  “Oh, they’ll get used to you once they see how much you’ve grown up.”

  “I’d like to get more involved in town committees,” Jovie continues, “but I seem to be getting a lot of doors shut in my face.”

  “Well, that’s not very Cloverly. Oh—!” Mom claps once. “I have a great idea! Sara, you should invite Jovie to join the party planning committee.”

  Jovie beams in triumph. “That is a wonderful suggestion, Rachel.” Her face slowly turns toward my sister’s growing scowl. “I would love to join the party planning committee.”

  Sara rises from her chair. “Will, can I talk to you in the other room?”

  I wince
on the inside. “Well, we’re kind of—”

  “Kitchen. Now.”

  She marches into the hallway and we all pause, listening to the sound of her heels as they clack into the kitchen.

  Mom snorts and reaches for her wineglass. “She’s slowly becoming me, isn’t she?”

  I glare at Jovie’s opportunistic smile but that just makes her lips curl even more as Mom cackles beside her.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, following Sara.

  Dread increases on me as I make my way across the house. Since day one, Sara’s been as anti-Jovie as anyone else in this town but her hatred doesn’t come from Jovie’s family or her teenage rebellion phase. She’s hated Jovie since before any of that mattered just because of who she is or, more accurately, who she claims Jovie is.

  I step one foot into the kitchen and Sara starts in on me.

  “You’re engaged now?” she asks. “Engaged?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  She stumbles on her tongue. “I— wha— she’s been back like a week.”

  “So?”

  “So, did you ask her or did she ask you?”

  I shrug. “Does it make a difference?”

  “Yes. She’s playing you, Will.”

  “How?” I hold up my hands. “Wait, no. Don’t answer that. I don’t care.”

  “You can’t possibly think that getting married to her is a good idea after everything she’s put you through.”

  “I do, actually,” I argue. “This is what I’ve wanted since I was fourteen. I can absolutely say it’s a good idea.”

  She shows a pained expression. “You’ve fallen in love with her again, haven’t you?”

  “No, Sara. I never stopped in the first place.”

  “Okay, Will,” she steps closer to the counter, “there’s something you need to know about Jovie.”

  “I don’t care. Nothing you have to say will change my mind about her.”

  “Believe me,” she says. “This will.”

  “Then, I don’t want to know.”

  She stands taller. “Will, a few days before you two broke up—”

  “Sara, I am happy.” My voice rises and she takes a step back. “Isn’t that what you claimed you and everyone else in this stupid town always wanted? For me to be happy?” I extend my arms, presenting myself. “Well, here it is. So, please, whatever it is, just leave it alone. Let it go.”

  “I can’t just let it go. I’m your sister.”

  “Honestly, if you’re so hell-bent on ruining this for me then you’re not much of a sister to begin with.”

  Her jaw drops slowly. “Will, I… can I at least say, for the record, that I think you’re making a huge mistake?”

  “Noted.” I take a breath. “Now, would you please, for me, just let her on that damn committee?”

  Sara sighs. “Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mom shuffles into the kitchen behind me. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she says. “I’m just checking on my roast. Sara, did you set the table?”

  “Yes,” Sara says through her teeth. “I set the table.”

  “Good, good. Will, get everyone moving into the dining room, please.”

  I spin around and take advantage of the moment to retreat from the conversation. Blood rushes to my face so I take a lean against the wall until the feeling returns to my legs and my head stops throbbing.

  I follow the silence back into the living room where Dad and Jovie keep Andy company.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I say.

  Dad stands up to walk into the dining room but he pauses for a quick moment to pat me on the shoulder as he passes by.

  I look at Jovie as she wanders over to take my hand. Our fingers entwine in a subtle, loving squeeze as we both visibly exhale the air from our lungs.

  There’s something you need to know about Jovie.

  She gazes at me with a warm, elegant smile, one equally as heart-warming as it is bone-chilling.

  Ignorance is bliss, right?

  Twenty-Seven

  Jovie

  The teacher’s lounge is a busy fray of voices by the time I make it for the party planning meeting. Sara and the others have already arrived, each one of them sitting around the table with tall mugs of fresh coffee and multi-colored ribbons scattered among them, mostly various shades of red and blue.

  My first instinct is to apologize for being tardy but that’s comparable to jumping into shark-infested waters covered in fresh blood. Any obvious weakness will be my downfall here and I’ve already worked too hard to get on this committee in the first place.

  I walk right in with my head high but my guts lurch the moment Sara’s eyes flick over at me and she casts that look of judgment at me and my red smock.

  “You’re late,” she spits out as she trims a piece of sapphire ribbon with scissors.

  I take the one empty seat on Natalie’s left. “The toy store didn’t close until seven.”

  “If you’re going to be involved, Jovie, then you have to be on time. Otherwise, you can go.”

  Natalie scoffs. “Oh, please, Sara. We literally just sat down. Un-bunch thyself.” She twists in her seat to stare at me. “Let me see it.”

  I lean back. “See what?”

  She launches forward and reaches across my lap to snatch my left wrist. Her jaw drops as she whips my hand closer to her face to get a good look at my ring.

  “Oh, my gosh!” she says. “It’s so pretty!”

  I smile. “Thank y—”

  She practically yanks me from my chair to thrust it into Claudia’s face. “Look at it!”

  Claudia makes the same fawning expression. “Oh, wow. Will has such good taste!”

  Two others pop out of their chairs to rush over and see. I peek through the group to check out Sara’s impatient, almost furious, face. Honestly, it’s more than a little satisfying watching the steam billow from her pink nostrils as her friends unanimously praise me for anchoring down her little brother.

  “Let’s concentrate, people,” Sara says, her voice rising. “We need to come up with decorations to match our theme.”

  “Theme?” I ask as the others disperse back to their chairs. “It’s the Valentine’s dance. Isn’t the theme always Valentine’s Day?”

  Natalie giggles over Sara’s annoyed glare. “Not anymore. Ever since Sara took over, we’ve started doing themes to increase attendance and it really got people excited again. Last year, it was the Renaissance, and the year before that, it was Romeo and Juliet.”

  I chuckle. “Aren’t those pretty much the same thing?”

  Sara’s stare hardens but she doesn’t answer.

  “Okay…” I move on, “what’s the theme this year?”

  “A USO show,” Natalie says, still grinning.

  I raise a brow. “Like entertaining the troops and stuff?”

  “World War II style, baby!” She tugs on my arm. “It’s going to be so much fun! Swing dancing and jazz music and cigarette girls — candy ones, of course. I can’t wait!”

  “Yeah.” I nod. Actually, it could be much worse. “Sounds cool.”

  Sara lays her scissors down a little too hard. “Good. Then, you won’t mind making signs to display around town to announce the theme.”

  It’s a ploy to get rid of me. Not from the committee, of course. Just out of her face.

  “Sure,” I answer, sitting a little taller. “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Ohh, let me help!” Natalie says. “I live for signage.”

  “I don’t care,” Sara says. “Just have at least five done tonight and posted around the square tomorrow morning.”

  Natalie latches onto my arm. “Come on, Jovie.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Shopping for supplies.”

  I let her pull me out of my chair and she guides us out into the hallway.

  “Okay, Jovie. Spill,” she says. “What do you have planned so far?”

  “Planned?”

  “You know. F
or the wedding. Where’s your venue? The two of you have lived here your whole lives — save your little vacation, of course — so you’re probably going to have it here, right? There are three churches in Clover but only one of them has a sanctuary big enough to give a damn about. Or you can be like me and my Dickie and get hitched in the town square. Plenty of space there for whatever kind of ceremony you want.”

  “Oh, I don’t think we’ll have a ceremony or anything,” I say. “We’ll probably just elope at the courthouse.”

  Natalie halts in the hallway mid-stride. “What?” she gasps. “Why—why—why would you elope? Why would you do that? What’s wrong with you?”

  I glance around the sea of lockers and trophy cases. “What’s wrong with eloping?”

  “Everything.” Her eyes grow wider. “You need a real wedding, Jovie. You need a big, white dress and flowers and a cake the size of your torso.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  Her mouth opens but only light stuttering comes out as she stares at me. “That’s… just… what you’re supposed to do.”

  “Sounds expensive,” I say, nudging us forward again. “And, traditionally speaking, it’d be on me and my family to pay for that and I don’t know if you’ve ever met Hank Ross, but he’s not exactly a big saver and I stock dolls for minimum wage.”

  She stops in front of the art room door. “Well, I’m sure the town would chip in to make your day special.”

  I snort. “Really?”

  “Well, I would.”

  Natalie shoves it open and walks straight toward the paint cabinet in the corner. I flick on the light and pause as a few stray memories invade from my teenage days. I only took one art class the entire four years here. Don’t remember a damn thing I learned, though.

  “Thanks, Natalie,” I say, watching as she sifts through large bottles of paint. “But I don’t think so.”

  “What does Will think?” She points at my feet. “Grab that crate, will you?” I bend over and pick up an old milk crate from underneath the teacher’s desk. “Doesn’t he want a real wedding? Doesn’t he want to watch you walk down the aisle toward him?”

  I stand beside her as she fills the crate with various paints and brushes. “I doubt he cares, honestly.”

  Natalie tilts her head. “Are you sure?”

  “I mean, we haven’t exactly talked about it or anything.”