by Juli Valenti
About halfway down the street, I remembered the lonely cup of coffee I’d doctored but left untouched. Luck is on my side today, I thought, my disappointment evaporating when I spotted the Starbucks on my right. Smiling, I flipped my blinker on and pulled up to the drive through. Hell, I even ordered two. Twins under the age of three, crazy early in the morning? I’m sure Elle needed the caffeine greatness even more than me.
Chapter Five
“Auntie Why-en,” a high-pitched child squeal met me when the door opened. My smile grew, almost painfully, as a tiny brown-haired girl sprinted toward me, never slowing as she flung herself into my arms. Kallie’s eyes were bright, her face pink with excitement.
My arms shot out, happily scooping her up and holding her tightly. I loved both of Elle’s daughters, but Kallie and I had a bond. I always joked and told my friend that there’d been some sort of mistake and she’d somehow given birth to a girl with my DNA. Putting her down, quickly remembering I’d been sick lately, I dutifully took her proffered hand and allowed her to lead me farther into the house.
“Heya, pretty girl,” I said, grinning wider when she giggled.
“Daddy say you and momma do big girl stuff. I wanna go! Me big too!” the child said, her bottom lip jutting out as she pouted at me. Between her little baby slur and the look on her face, she was almost too freaking adorable to see and I had to school my face not to smile. She was awfully serious.
“You are big … How about if you say it’s okay, your mommy and I will go this time. But,” I said, holding up a hand to stop her before she could protest. “Next time, just you and me will have a girls’ day?” I hated the frown that was still pinching her lips down. Good thing I wasn’t her momma … That girl would be spoiled with a capital “S.”
“Hmm,” she pondered, scrunching her tiny features as she chewed the idea over. “Oh kayyyyy, Auntie Why-en, but just Kawwie!”
“Yep, just you, angel.”
Hugging my leg, she bounded away, her voice carrying through the hall as she went. “Maceyyyyyy! Auntie Why-en gon’ take me for a girls’ day, and not you!”
Oh boy. What did I do? Surely that was going to cause a fight, or tears at the very least. Sure enough, high-pitched bickering commenced and filtered toward me until Macey appeared, holding her blanket tight to her chest. Oh no. Her eyes were filling with tears. I am in so much trouble …from a two-year-old.
“Oh, Macey!” I exclaimed, mentally cursing my stupidity. I knew better than to promise something for one and not the other one. I hadn’t been thinking. I blamed the Nyquil shots from last night – yeah, that was it. Hangover. “Don’t cry, little one.”
“Aunt Ry-Ry … do you not like me? Kallie said you didn’t … dat’s why I can’t come too.”
Whelp, my heart just officially broke. Stupid, stupid Ryen. I couldn’t help myself, I moved forward and pulled the tiny hurt girl tight against me. I could have slapped myself right about now. I almost wished she’d do it for me.
“No! Silly, silly girl! I love you both the same,” I soothed, my hand running through her short blonde curls. While she and Kallie were technically identical twins, to me, they looked nothing alike. Sure they had similarities and features equally taken from each parent, but that was about it. Macey had inherited her mom’s hair color with Nick’s curls. Kallie, on the other hand, had hair as dark as mine, like Nick – despite my genetic claims on her – with Elle’s naturally perfect, straight locks. Both girls had hazel eyes, their only true identical trait. They were so much more than the color described though; a true mixture of brown and blue, I was constantly jealous. Throw in the longest eyelashes ever and I was downright a green-eyed monster.
“Tell you what – when I get back from New York, I’ll take you out too … your choice. Anything you want to do, we’ll do.” I’d do anything, well, practically anything, to get Macey’s lip to stop quaking.
Deciding my offer sounded fair, the little girl smiled shyly, hugged me once more, and bounded back toward her room. “Kallllllllllllie…” her voice echoed and I sat down on the floor, my head in my hands. Déjà vu. I just couldn’t win with them. Note to self: Ryen apparently cannot handle more than one child at a time. I fail.
Masculine laughter brought my face up and I found Nick leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Elle was standing right beside him, her hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to cover her smile. I idly wondered how long they’d been standing there. Then I wondered why the hell they didn’t save me.
My face must’ve expressed my thoughts because this time, Elle couldn’t cover up her laughter. I scowled at her, which only made her laugh harder. Were those tears forming in her eyes?
“Shut it, woman,” I grumped, remaining exactly where I was on the floor. If this was what she dealt with on a day-to-day basis, it was a wonder she even dressed herself in the mornings. Hell, I’d only been here for five freaking minutes and I was already exhausted. I don’t know how she does it.
“Sorry, can’t help but laugh. You should know better by now. It only happens ever freaking time you come over.” Though she’d finally stopped laughing, she was still smiling.
“Yeah, yeah … I just can’t help it. They break my heart.”
“They’re playing you, sister, and you fall right into their hands.”
So, she spoke the truth, doesn’t change anything. Every time I came over, I somehow ended up leaving with promises for more stuff. Candy, dolls, toys, trips to the park – you name it, I’ve promised it. Apparently I don’t learn. You probably wouldn’t either if you saw them. Maybe.
“You ready, Mrs. Laughy Pants?” I asked as I made my way to my feet. She was still trying to suppress her mirth at the situation, or me. I’m glad I could provide some adult entertainment.
“Yep,” she answered, loudly calling for the girls to come say goodbye to us. Soon after, they hugged us each in turn, and I swear on all that’s holy I saw them look at each other and wink. Well played, kids, well played.
“MMM. Thank you for the coffee,” Elle sighed loudly, reclining in the passenger seat of my Civic. I think she’s magic – not even kidding – she was not only dressed but also make-upped and chipper. Hair shining and perfectly styled, she looked great in her designer shoes, jeans, and ombre-pink lacy top. Despite my own attempts, I’d already gotten fed up and piled my hair in a top knot, and now felt like a slob in black.
“Yeah, well, it would’ve been warmer if you hadn’t let your children own me.” My ire of the situation was pretty much over. I couldn’t be upset over spending time with the girls. Besides, I’d known they had me wrapped around their pinkies … They had since the day they were born.
When they were born prematurely, I’d taken leave from work to stay with Elle, keeping her company in the NICU. Seeing my friend so broken and the two tiny little people fighting for their lives had been humbling. I’d cried, prayed, hoped, and smiled at every turn, just like they were my own. The minute Elle had asked me to be their godmother, they were; as close as I was getting for a while, anyway. They owned me and, if that’s the worst that happened, I was just peachy with it.
“The look on your face is always worth the lack of warmth in the coffee you bring me,” she answered, smiling, her eyes twinkling. “Besides, you love it and you know it.”
This time my smile was as big as hers as I answered, “True story.”
We rode in silence to the spa, me lost in my plans for New York and her soaking up the peace and quiet found during the trip. One of the best things about our friendship, we’d learned, was that we didn’t have to continuously talk; we were both content to just be in the other’s company. It was great, and took a great deal of pressure off when thinking of things to say. Instead, when we did talk, we weren’t forcing ourselves into mindless drivel so popular to our age group.
“Um … Ryen? I thought we were going for mani/pedis? Perfections is the other way,” Elle said, interrupting my thoughts. I forgot to tell her that I’d changed my mind;
we’d still be getting manicures and pedicures, but we’d also be getting a massage and facial – complete with food pampering. When I’d changed directions from the salon to the spa, it hadn’t even dawned on me to tell her. Besides, I was paying.
“We are getting mani/pedis … but we’re also getting the A-star treatment at Bella Sol.”
“We’re going to the spa?” my friend asked, sounding surprised and girly happy all at the same time. I loved it when she did that, I could practically see her bouncing in her seat.
“Yep! My treat! I figured the Hollywood package would suit. We’ll get our hands and feet done, along with facials and –”
“Massages! Strawberries and champagne, too!!” Okay, maybe I’d underestimated her excitement. She was just like her daughter, just this shy of squealing and fist pumping.
“So … is that an okay change? I mean, I could always turn back around…” I said, laughing at her. I couldn’t help it, but her happiness was completely contagious.
“YES!”
I flinched, her response coming out as a high-pitched scream. She saw it, and immediately toned it down a level so I could concentrate on driving. I felt a little bad for that; I loved her excitement. Luckily we were pulling into the parking lot and would soon be in absolute heaven.
“This. Is. The. Life,” Elle crooned.
We were both lying face down on a rather comfortable leather massage bed, two hunky men working us over. Not like that, you perv; massaging us. It would have been super perfect if only Jorge and Gustaf weren’t completely gay … and married to each other. Dang it. See, this was why women like me have such a hard time with men. All the mega hotties with great personalities, and hands, are either taken, gay, or both.
I moaned my agreement as Gustaf’s magic hands smoothed between my shoulder blades. It really was the life. After becoming closely acquainted with death the past few days, I needed this. I was completely relaxed, boneless; moving was a prospect I was already beginning to dread.
“So, what all do you need to do before you go? Have you called your mom to tell her?”
I tensed, mentally cursing Elle. Seriously, she had a knack for knowing just what to say to get to me. Damn it, I did NOT want to ruin this massage with thoughts of my mother.
“Elle, I think you missed the memo. Massages are supposed to be relaxing. I would’ve thought with a house like yours, and with your kids and all, you’d cherish that idea.”
“Oh, I am … I’m perfectly relaxed. Then again, I’m not the one with, well, your mother.”
I sighed. She was right – my mom was, well, bat-shit crazy about covered it. Losing my father had done things to her, despite the fact they’d been divorced by then. His leaving everything to me only made it that much worse. She’d spiraled out of control; drugs, men, you name it, she’d done it. It’d been hard to see, especially when I’d needed her. Now she mainly only called when she needed money, or to get bailed out of jail … again. Recently she’d taken on this whole “I’m-going-to-be-your-mother” bit, along with her street walker routine, and flipped shit if I didn’t call her every time I decided to leave the zip code.
“No.”
“No, what? No, I’m not the one with your mother, or no, you haven’t called her?” she asked, her tone confused, even as the sound of Jorge karate chopping her back floated toward me.
“No, I’m not going to call her.”
“Ryen,” she started, but I cut her off.
“No. That woman is not my momma. She used to be, but now, I don’t even recognize her. Let someone else bail her out of trouble. It’s not my fault Daddy died. It’s not my fault she’d found a younger man and left him. Jesus, they were divorced for almost four years before the accident. I’m sick as shit of having to deal with her. Can you divorce your parents?”
It took me a second to realize that Gustaf had stopped massaging me as my voice rose. I sat up a little to look at him, my eyebrows raised, before I plopped back down. He got the message and started back up, having to work out the tension he’d already released once. Thankfully, Elle dropped the subject and I was able to enjoy the rest of my massage.
Unfortunately, her silence only kept until we got situated in the bath chairs, our plush provided robes tightly wrapped, and our feet in the warm water.
“I’m sorry for ruining your massage,” Elle said. My face snapped up to find hers downcast and her expression unreadable.
“You didn’t … just … I imagine I feel like she did when we were fifteen and snuck out to go to that senior party with those guys, remember? For the life of me I can’t remember their names.” I shook my head, deciding it didn’t matter though I knew it was going to drive me insane. “Anyway, I just, I can’t take care of her anymore. For once, I want to do something for myself.”
“And this trip is just that … for you,” Elle finished my thought process, knowing me well. “For what it’s worth? I think it’s about damned time you stopped bailing your mom out every time she calls. She is not your responsibility.”
I’d never admit it out loud, but her support in me meant a lot. I couldn’t help but feel guilty; I mean, she’d given birth to me for godsakes, but there comes a time when you have to do what’s best for you. This was it for me.
“Oh, and it was Jake and Dennis,” she added, and I snapped my fingers in approval.
“That’s them! Man, they were hot.”
Elle’s snort of laughter broke the seriousness of the mood. She sounded like freaking Babe laughing like that, and I just stared at her, crooked smile in place. Why was she laughing? They were … weren’t they? Damn, just like their names, I could barely remember their faces. I did, however, remember the experience. We’d gotten into so much trouble, but it had been worth it. We’d dressed well beyond our age, painted our faces within an inch of doll-like, and lived it up that night. I think we’d even had a couple beers.
“What is so funny?!” I asked her, incredulous, squinting like it would help me see them better in my mind. It didn’t, but I couldn’t help but try.
“Please. Please,” she panted, out of breath, making me feel stupid. “Dennis was built like a football and Jake was square … literally. He was shaped like a freaking square.”
“Huh. Maybe you’re right, I can’t remember. Quite literally, I can’t remember their faces at all. Or anything about them, really. I do remember how much trouble we got in trying to sneak back into the house, though.”
“I don’t think it was the ‘sneaking’ so much as the fact that you broke the damned window. Your dad, man, he was mad,” she said, still chuckling.
“Not my fault! I was trying to lift the stupid thing … You’re supposed to press upward when opening a window! Not my fault it busted completely,” I grumbled, hiding my grin. Dad had grounded me for a week. Ironically, he’d also grounded Elle … who didn’t even live there. He’d even done the finger wag at me. God I missed him. What I wouldn’t give to hear that “my rules, my house, my way” lecture again. I’d take every long, drawn-out talking to he wanted to dish out as long as I could run and jump into his arms and have him hug me.
I hadn’t realized silence filled the room, affecting everyone around. Elle was fidgeting with her nails, while both mine and her pedicurist stopped their work, looking between us. I took a breath, ready to fill the void with anything possible, except Elle beat me to it.
“Anyway, you never answered me. What all do you have left to do before your trip?”
“Tell my boss and pack,” I told her, more grateful to her than she’d know for changing the subject. The subject of my mom was just depressing and disappointing; my dad, on the other hand? That was also depressing, but for different reasons. I wasn’t really the ‘let’s-talk-about-it’ kind of girl. I’d accepted the losses of both of my parents, to different things, but accepting it didn’t mean it was my favorite thing to talk about.
“What about Chris?”
“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I broke up with him.”<
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“What?! When? How could you just forget to tell me something like that? Especially when I’ve been practically begging forever for you to leave him?” Elle’s head had snapped over to me, her eyes narrowed in equal parts accusation and happiness.
“Yesterday, over the phone.” She opened her mouth to speak but I held up a hand, stopping her. When her mouth snapped closed, I continued, “I know, I know, I should have done it in person. As it was, it still took me two hours to get him to accept it. If we’d been face to face? I shudder to think what a debacle that would’ve been.”
“Two hours? Wow. I’m assuming it didn’t go well since it took so long. He beg?”
“Yep. Worse than a dog wanting the female in heat just outside his glass door,” I told her, pursing my lips together. Elle snickered, which soon turned into full-blown laughter, and I smiled, grasping my champagne glass tightly to my chest before sipping it. She stopped so abruptly I almost dropped my glass, turning to stare at her.
“What?” I asked, concerned. Elle was thinking something, and chances were I wouldn’t like it. Sure enough.
“You’re single! Oh. My. God, Ryen!! You’re single!”
“Um … duh.” Geez, could she be saying that any louder? I’m pretty sure that even Gustaf’s next client could hear her, and he was behind a closed door with relaxation music on. “Shout that a little louder, friend. I’m pretty sure the old biddy under the hair dryer didn’t hear you.”
“No! You’re going to be single in Manhattan! The Big City! The City of Dreams!” Her eyes were bright, excited, but I still wasn’t getting it. Yes, I was going to New York City … we’d already determined that. What did it matter if I was going single?
“So?” I caved when she continued looking at me with her eyes wide. There were days we were completely in sync and we could finish each others’ sentences. Then there were days like today, days where I was pretty sure our brains lived in different worlds.