In a Moon Smile

by Coner, Sherri

  “Your father will be so upset that he missed visiting with you, dear.”

  “Another time,” Chesney said as she tried to breathe through the stomach pain. “I really should get going.” She offered an air kiss before hurrying out the door of the house that didn’t look at all familiar anymore. She crunched across the snow-covered driveway, blinking away tears.

  Why in the world do I regress the moment I step into my childhood home? Especially when it doesn’t look anything like the place I lived in as a child? Why don’t I simply sit down with my mother, tell her the truth and walk out with my head held high?

  Chesney dialed Becca’s number while turning left at the end of Shade Creek Avenue.

  “Well? Are you okay? How did your mom take the news? Does she need to be medicated?” Becca’s voice, a mix of humor and concern, took some of the hot shame away from the tears rolling down Chesney’s cheeks.

  “I didn’t tell her,” Chesney said with a loud sigh as she rubbed her temples.

  “What?” All the air gushed through Becca’s voice on the other end of the line. “Chesney, what in the hell are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Chesney whispered, now suddenly honest. “I just couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t destroy her dream wedding. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Do you see a problem, Chesney? You aren’t confronting anything. You’re pretending you are still a bride-to-be,” Becca said. “Tell your family the truth. No one would expect you to marry that guy if they knew what he did. He cheated on you, Chez.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Chesney rolled her eyes, now aware that she was sweating profusely.

  “When?” Becca squealed. “You’re driving me crazy. You are absolutely the queen of procrastination, Chesney. The wedding is…”

  “Less than a month away,” Chesney mumbled.

  “Get busy,” Becca said sternly. “Take control. Do something about this mess. It won’t fix itself. And the longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

  “Okay,” A pounding headache now pulsed behind her left eye.

  For a few moments there was silence. Then Becca’s voice was softer, more patient. “Why don’t you stop by?” she asked. “I’ll help you make a plan.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Chesney flipped the cell phone shut and tossed it into the passenger seat. “Becca is right, you know,” She said aloud. “You’ve got to stop acting like you don’t have major issues to resolve. You’ve got to stop being so damned afraid of doing what is right for you instead of what everyone else expects you to do.”

  Chapter Three

  Chesney and Becca sat together at Delilah’s, the local coffee shop. It was one of the few non-chains left on this side of town. The wallpaper, a faded newsprint theme, was peeling. It was the same décor since the early eighties. Fresh, homemade pastries lined the glass counter, lovingly prepared every morning around four a.m. by Delilah Dixon, her daughter Sam, and Rueben, Delilah’s fourth or fifth husband. Chesney guessed the bakery business was hard on marriages. Or maybe Delilah was hard on men. But the cheerful fiftyish woman certainly didn’t look like the type who married and divorced so frequently.

  Standing behind the counter with her huge torpedo-shaped breasts barely contained under a stained polyester tank top, Delilah smiled warmly at Chesney. “Do you know I am a psychic?” she whispered. Chesney shook her head and Delilah moved closer. “Come to see me very soon.”

  Chesney didn’t know how to respond so she simply nodded and made her way to the wobbly table by the window where Becca was already devouring a cream cheese pastry. She sipped hot chocolate since she hated coffee. It was a truth that made Chesney feel unworldly. She felt the same way when everyone else at a dinner table ordered wine but she requested sweet tea. Sometimes Becca required five entire minutes to place a coffee order, soy milk and a dash of blah blah with extra blah. No wonder Jack was banging Belinda. She was a grown woman who knew about espresso and which wine to order with what meal. Chesney had none of those skills and rarely cared about them.

  “That guy was trying to be nice to you,” she said as a mild-mannered jock-looking guy with iPod buds in his ears introduced himself to Becca. When Becca practically growled a response, Chesney cringed. “If you aren’t interested in someone, can’t you get your point across without castrating him?”

  “Men never ask themselves, ‘Do I have anything to offer that woman? Will she be uncomfortable if I walk right up to her table and start my bad version of being sexy? Does that woman have more class than me? Will she find me attractive?’” Becca sipped her coffee and stuffed a bite of apple fritter in her mouth. “No, Chez, I can tell you they never ask themselves those questions. And so, my answer is no. I never feel bad about squashing the bad intentions of slimy bugs dressed in big boy clothes.”

  Chesney sighed, wishing she had just a bit of Becca’s confidence. Men did not take advantage of Becca. Her best friend absolutely refused to be treated like anything but royalty. And because of that demand, Becca rarely dated and had not been involved in a relationship since two years ago, when she and Mike parted ways. Chesney stared at the naked place on her left ring finger, where the big fat diamond once glistened. Just yesterday, while soaking in the tub, she had again removed the ring. There was no drama. She simply placed it in her jewelry box and an unmistakable calm trickled through her veins. It was finally over. She wasn’t headed down the aisle. She was not changing her address or her last name.

  “I still don’t know how to break the news to my perfect mother,” Chesney said softly. “She’ll crack up. This might be the last straw. I could be kicked out of the family, you know. This could be the big one.”

  “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Becca grinned. “You’re thirty-three years old and you’re still so afraid to be yourself.”

  “Try being me,” Chesney said with a whine. “Try being the only woman in the Blake family with bad hair. The only one with small breasts. The only one who can’t whip up a gourmet meal or stand taller than five feet, five inches. The only one who isn’t married. Well, actually, try being the only one with two cancelled weddings. The only one who hasn’t used her uterus to produce a grandchild for Mother Madelyn.”

  “There’s more to life than marriage,” Becca said. “Plus, you really need to take a look at your situation, Chez. For some reason, you just don’t attract the right kind of men.”

  “The last time I nearly made it to the altar but failed, my mother swore she got a bald spot from all the stress,” Chesney reminded. “Did you forget that? She actually got shingles. And it was all my fault.”

  “Ernie was gay, Chez,” Becca gently reminded. “It’s not your fault that Ernie chose to jump on out of that closet the night before the nuptials.”

  Because they had been dear friends for so many years, Becca knew all about Chesney’s tormented life story; from the bad boyfriends to the difficult relationship with Madelyn to the fact that Chesney had the self-confidence of a dead cow. She rarely found it necessary to drag out all the dirt from Chesney’s turbulent life but at that moment, Becca suddenly decided to discuss Chesney’s college beau, Calvin, the guy with a stuffy nasal voice and the personality of a dish rag, who Chesney sweetly left behind.

  “Tell the truth,” Becca challenged. “You only stuck with the relationship because your dad liked to play golf with Calvin, right? And you tried not to care about the fact that you and Calvin had absolutely nothing in common. He was absolutely the worst lay in the world. You said so yourself. In fact, I remember Chesney, that you described his penis as a small cocktail wiener, the shriveled, uncircumcised kind of sausage, perhaps a bit bigger than my thumb but certainly not as wide.”

  Shrieking with laughter, Chesney hid her blazing red face behind her napkin. “I can’t believe you actually brought that up,” she laughed. “We haven’t talked about poor Calvin for at least a million years. I wanted that nightmare to stay buried, Bec. Calvin and his annoying habits, cat dick and all. In the ground, gone
and forgotten.”

  “I brought the subject back to life because I wanted you to remember another time when you did something you did not want to do, Chez. But you did it hoping it would make your parents happier with you.”

  “Oh, God,” Chesney sighed and offered half of a chocolate fudge donut to Becca. “When you add all of that to the conversation, it’s not funny anymore.”

  “Your mom is quietly psychotic,” Becca said. “And you are right, Chez. There’s nothing funny about it. She has a weird hold on you. And your sister is a clone of your mother, with that matching bun on the back of her head. It’s scary, really, to see the two of them together.”

  “I can’t put all the blame on them,” Chesney said. “I’ve done a lot of stupid things. I’ve given both of them a lot of reason to worry about my decisions. I’m not sure I know who I am.” Her voice trembled and she swallowed hard. “I can’t remember the last time I made a decision based solely on what I wanted.”

  “You made an excellent decision a few days ago,” Becca said brightly. “You broke off the engagement.”

  “Not true,” Chesney shook her head sadly. “Don’t you remember, Bec? Jack walked into the kitchen and announced that he didn’t want to marry me. He had to say that to me, even though I walked in on him and Belinda the dominatrix. I’m so embarrassed to admit that. I wanted to salvage the relationship. I suggested that we rush into counseling with Father Martin, just as soon as Jack got the handcuffs removed, of course.”

  “You were in shock,” Becca offered a lifeline and Chesney wanted to believe that might actually be true. But she knew it wasn’t.

  “Are you tossing up some positive bullshit for the sole purpose of making me feel less suicidal?” Chesney asked. Then she leaned toward Becca and whispered. “Here’s the truth, Bec. I probably would have married Jack, just because he impressed my parents. I haven’t lived up to any of my mother’s expectations. And she just keeps pulling harder at those invisible puppet strings, trying to get me to be who she wants me to be. So yeah, I would have turned my head and pretended Jack wasn’t cheating. It meant that much to me. I would have sacrificed myself to avoid disappointing my family again.”

  Becca placed her hand on top of Chesney’s and smiled. “You are so crazy awesome for being so brutally honest, Chez. I’m really proud of you. But here’s the deal, okay? That is an extremely screwed up way to look at life decisions. Maybe it’s time for you to find your own expectations,” she blinked sudden tears from her kind brown eyes. “Live up to the expectations you set for yourself,” Becca smiled sweetly. “And to hell with everybody else.”

  Chesney sat back against the pink metal chair and smiled. These were the moments when she thanked God most for Becca’s friendship.

  She believes in me when I don’t. She encourages me to fight back and grow up. She shoves me toward adulthood, even when I’m subconsciously looking for that plastic box filled with Barbies.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Chesney said softly.

  “Leaving?” Becca asked, looking alarmed. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

  “I want to get away for a while,” Chesney said with a shrug.

  “Chez,” Becca moaned. “Come on. Stop this. You can’t leave and just pretend this will all go away. You’ve got to tell your family the truth about the wedding.”

  “I’m going to southern Indiana, to visit my grandmother’s place,” Chesney said evenly. “And when I get back in a day or so, I will go over to the Blake family home and drop the big fat bomb.”

  “Wasn’t that place sold?”

  “Yes,” Chesney nodded. “But for some reason I just want to drive past it again. I want to be where I once loved to be, even if it’s just for a while. You remember all the holidays and summers I spent there with my grandmother?”

  “Oh, gosh, I loved Grace,” Becca’s hand spread across her heart as if it was suddenly spilling over from sweet memories. “Remember when she invited us to help with the Christmas cookie party at church? She was so amazing. And she loved you so much, didn’t she?”

  Chesney smiled and nodded even though her throat was filling up with grief. Just a few days ago, she had knocked around the idea. But the decision to go had not been made until last night when Jack showed up unannounced at Chesney’s apartment. He begged her to have a drink with him at what used to be their favorite pub on Madison. So Chesney followed him like a puppy dog out of her building and down the block. Even though she did not want to sit with him or hear anything Jack had to say, she went with him anyway. In the dark bar, Chesney was stunned to feel so relieved that she was not marrying the jack ass.

  “I think it was cold feet that made me do that…” Jack had said in a low voice.

  “Do what?” Chesney challenged.

  “You know…what I did with Belinda…” Jack dropped his eyes and his face got red.

  “What you did with Belinda…” Chesney sat there for a moment, quietly stirring her drink. “If I remember correctly, what you did with Belinda involved some handcuffs and...”

  “She meant nothing to me,” Jack said.

  “And obviously, neither did I,” Chesney added dryly.

  “I didn’t know what you meant to me until I lost you,” Jack said in a high, squeaky voice. While he continued to claim a deep, unending love for her, Chesney tuned him out as well as she tuned out the busy chit chat from her mother or her sister.

  Somewhere between her second and third dirty martini, she made a couple of decisions. One was that she definitely hated Jack’s guts. And second, that she definitely needed to be somewhere safe. A vision of Grace’s house flooded her mind and made her smile.

  “I didn’t really mean what I said the other day,” Jack was saying when Chesney decided to tune back in to the conversation. “Chesney, I still love you. And I do want to marry you. In fact, I want to go with the original date and all the plans, okay? I’m telling you, sweetie, it would have been more than terrible for both of us if these troubles had been leaked to the media. Can you imagine? Here I am, running for a seat on county council and I’m second in line for partner at my firm. And you, well you write those cute little love books. My career would have taken a big beating, you know? What in the world was I thinking? Of course we will go through with the wedding, honey, just like we planned.”

  Her mouth was numb from the evening’s alcoholic jaunt through heartbreak and Chesney grinned stupidly across the table at Jack. What was he saying? Her mind felt fuzzy from the drinks. “Go through with the wedding?” she stared at him, suddenly very aware that she was drunk. No, actually she was more than drunk. She was downright shit-faced, as her male friends in high school used to say. “You said you still want to marry me?” She looked at Jack, puzzled. “Is that what you said?”

  “Yes,” he nodded happily. Isn’t that great news, honey? I didn’t mean what I said that day in my apartment about not wanting to marry you. And I know, Chesney, that you didn’t mean what you said either.”

  “Oh no, no, no,” Chesney wagged a finger back and forth like a windshield wiper. “Oh no, Jack. I absolutely did mean what I said to you. I absolutely do hate your hairless little ball sack and your slick chest. I absolutely do hope Belinda Fat Ass suffers from terrible crotch rot. I absolutely do hope that your dick falls off.”

  Trying not to stumble, she stood up and patted Jack’s hand. “By the way, I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to your career. And let’s see,” she paused and planted her hand thoughtfully on her hip. “Oh yes, I remember now. Jack, you can go straight to hell, okay? Good-bye, Jack.”

  Chesney left the bar, thankful for the sobering cold air on her face once she stepped outside on the street. She walked home, never feeling again like she wanted to cry over that man or any other men, for that matter. All she could think about was how much she wanted to see her grandmother’s house. It had been far too long since she had been there, in the midst of those priceless memories.

  She smiled easily at Becc
a and sighed, knowing all of a sudden that her life would be fine. It would require some redirection, but it certainly was not ruined. Jack Ass was not worth a total wipe-out of all the good things she had in her life.

  “Maybe the people who live there now will invite you to walk around inside the house again,” Becca said. “Maybe that experience will help you get grounded again.”

  “Maybe,” Chesney shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll be away for a couple of days. And like I said, when I get back, I’ll drop the bomb at the Blake household about the cancelled wedding.”

  Chapter Four

  Nervously pasting a fake smile on her face as she arranged the casserole lid covering the too dry, too spicy, baked ziti, Chesney carefully stepped on the rug by the door. She prayed that her heart continued to beat. She felt sweaty and sick.

  You are not the same person your mother saw a few days ago. You must introduce yourself today as the adult daughter who grew herself one bad ass backbone.

  “Chesney? Is that you, dear?” Madelyn, the willowy mother of perfection floated through the formal dining room. Chesney stiffly stood in the entry, forcing herself not to fling the ziti and bolt. “You brought a dish? Oh, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

  Madelyn brushed her pink cheek against her daughter’s, took away the casserole and smiled. Crisp, cool looking Madelyn Blake could pass as a countess. She offered that royal attitude that often left Chesney wondering if she should kiss her mother’s hand or something, being such an underling in her presence. Again, Chesney wished for the energy to make it through this family get-together without sprinting off to the bathroom to sob or vomit or both.

  “You look lovely,” Madelyn said. “Your hair is very becoming when you wear it long. It makes you look so young.”

  Oh, my gosh! My hair has not been above my frigging shoulder blades since eighth grade. Natural curl turns it into a puffy Brillo pad. So if it is short, my hair looks exactly like a woman’s very neglected bush. Come on, Mom. Don’t you know anything about me?