Sass & Serendipity

by Ziegler, Jennifer

  “No! Luke didn’t do anything,” Daphne said. “I just … called off our date and walked over here. It was farther than I thought.”

  “Samuel? Who is that?” came a man’s voice from inside the house.

  “It’s okay, Dad!” Mule shouted back. “It’s … a friend of mine! Go back to sleep.” He waited a few beats and then turned back toward Daphne. “Come here,” he said, grasping her hands and pulling her toward the porch swing. “You should get off your feet.”

  They sat down, side by side. Daphne kicked off her shoes—or what was left of them—and tucked her legs beneath the many layers of skirt.

  “So what happened?” Mule asked. “Why’d you call off your date?”

  “Because it was a big mistake.” She looked over at him. “You were right.”

  “Right about what?”

  “I don’t love him,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. “It was just me. Like … I have all this love inside me, and I can’t wait to give it to someone. So I made up someone perfect and pretended Luke was him. I went out with him for all the wrong reasons.”

  Mule stared out at the darkening sky. His big Converse sneakers pointed and flexed against the wooden planks, rocking the swing back and forth … back and forth.… Daphne was struck by how easy it was to just sit with Mule and say nothing. She felt comfy and protected, free of all worries.

  Except one.

  “Mule?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you ask me to prom because you felt sorry for me?”

  He looked at her, one side of his face in shadow, the other lit up by the glow from the nearby window. “No,” he said.

  “Was it because I’m Gabby’s sister?”

  He shook his head, and the soft light danced across his features. “It was because you’re you, and because I like being with you.”

  She smiled. Gradually, Mule’s mouth stretched and curved until he was grinning back at her.

  He reached over and gently pushed a wing-shaped clump of hair away from her face. “You know, we could still go to prom,” he said. “I still have a suit.”

  Daphne laughed. “I’m a mess!”

  “You look great,” he said, sliding his finger down her cheek. “Nothing a box of wet wipes won’t fix.”

  “No,” she said, still chuckling. “I think I’d rather just … stay here. If you don’t mind.” She leaned sideways and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “That’s fine, too,” he said, circling his arm around her.

  Once again his shoes moved them back and forth … back and forth.… And once again a snug sense of belonging settled over Daphne.

  “Mule?” she murmured.

  “Hmm?”

  “Have I ever shown you my duck impression?”

  “There you go,” Prentiss said, opening the door wide. “You got a spare car key somewhere so you can get back in there?”

  Gabby nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “No biggie,” he said to the door, instead of her. He examined the jamb. “You know, y’all really should have a kick plate on here. I’ll talk to my parents about it.”

  “Okay.”

  “All right then,” he said with a nod. “I’ll be on my way.”

  “Prentiss?”

  He spun back around, looking wary.

  Gabby stood there, not knowing what to say. She’d just felt as if she needed to stop him. He’d done her a favor—yet again. But the whole time he was stooped and mumbling and averting his eyes. It made her feel radioactive, and she wanted to make things okay between them. Somehow.

  “Hey, look,” he said, before she could come up with any words herself. “I’m sorry about the other night on my porch. I was out of line.”

  Again he was talking to the doormat instead of to her. His jaw muscles flexed as if he were gritting his teeth, and a neat little groove divided the space between his brows.

  “I just thought … I thought there was something between us,” he went on. “It won’t happen again.” He turned to go.

  “Wait,” Gabby said. Again she had the unsettling feeling that the entire world had been reinvented without her knowledge. Nothing made sense, and she needed to get some answers. “I don’t get it. What made you think there was something between us? Especially after the way I treated you.”

  “It was just …” His mouth curved into a small smile. “It was something in your eyes. You frown an awful lot, but your eyes don’t. They’re all big and round and shy, like you’re always asking a question. And that night, when you looked at me, they’d gone all soft. It was like they were asking me to kiss you. Like you needed it. Know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  Prentiss’s face fell. “My mistake.” For a third time, he turned to leave.

  “Tell me about Sonny,” she cried out. The words seemed to burst from her mouth of their own accord, surprising even herself.

  Prentiss stopped in midstride. His back bowed slightly, and then … nothing. He simply remained rooted there, slightly hunched, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

  “Why do you want to know?” he asked. His tone was low and scratchy. And because he remained motionless with his back to her, it didn’t even seem to emanate from him. A dismal, disembodied voice.

  “I just … do,” she said.

  He slowly pivoted to face her. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

  “No. Yes. What does it matter?” For some reason, tears were running down her cheeks. She hadn’t planned that, either. Now even her own body wasn’t acting the way it was supposed to.

  “You think I’m the one at fault.” Prentiss took a step toward her. His face was twisted in a look of utter despair. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “No, I don’t. Not anymore. You weren’t driving.”

  “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault!” he shouted, his words echoing throughout the house. A deep cranberry-colored flush spread over his neck and cheeks.

  All of a sudden, his eyes switched from angry to startled, and his hands balled into fists. One he raised to his mouth, his thumb knuckle pressed hard against his lips; the other he banged repeatedly against his left thigh. Each time he shuddered, she could hear a tiny sound, like a moan trapped inside his throat.

  Seeing him like that, seeing someone in more distress than she was in, somehow made Gabby feel strong again.

  She grabbed hold of his clenched left hand and pulled him over to the couch. “Sit down,” she said. He dropped onto the end cushion—the same one he’d sat on when he’d visited them at their old place—and bent forward, rocking slightly as he battled to control his emotions.

  Gabby sat down on the middle cushion and laid a hand on his shoulder. It pained her to see him so agitated. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Let it out.” At the same time, she realized how strange it was to hear herself say this. She, who pretended most of her emotions had been surgically removed. She, who only days before had screamed at Prentiss for having seen her in a similar vulnerable state.

  Eventually, he quieted down but remained slumped over, head in hands. She couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or just spent.

  “It really was my fault,” he said into his lap. “The accident.”

  “So … you were driving?” she asked, feeling a slight wrenching sensation, as if she were preparing herself for imminent fury.

  He shook his head and sat up. His face was streaked with tears, and his inflamed eyes focused on a spot of nothingness in front of him. “I was drunk,” he said. “I’m talking real drunk. And I talked Sonny into driving. He was only fifteen and hadn’t ever driven at night before, but I talked him into it. I said it would be okay.” Prentiss’s voice quavered and he swallowed hard. “So stupid. I could have just called home, but I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

  Gabby sat perfectly still, afraid that any movement on her part might break the spell he seemed to be under and send him scurrying from the house. She needed to hear this, even though it hurt. It was li
ke getting stitches, only this was mending an old wound hidden deep inside her.

  “He was scared, but he didn’t want to let me down. He always looked up to me, and I guess I took advantage of that.” Prentiss shut his eyes and cursed under his breath. When he opened them back up, he looked right at Gabby. “Did you know he saved my life?”

  She shook her head.

  “I wanted to stretch out in the backseat, but he made me sit up and put on my seat belt. Wouldn’t start the car until I did.” He smiled weakly, his bottom lip quivering. Gabby smiled, too. It seemed like the kind of thing Sonny would do—at least, the person she assumed he was. “Anyway,” he continued, taking a long, shaky breath, “I guess I sort of passed out a bit. I don’t know what happened. I heard screeching sounds and a big bump and then … then … the whole world exploded.”

  Prentiss once again focused hard on that invisible point in front of him. His chest heaved and his hands gripped his knees tightly. Gabby wanted to reach over and rescue him, to pull him out of the intangible wreckage and guide him back to the present. But she stayed put, waiting and watching.

  “Sonny … He’d hit his head … stupid goddamn convertible … and blood … it was everywhere. He could only look at me. He looked right at me … and then … then he …” Prentiss made a choking sound and fell backward against the cushions.

  Gabby stopped restraining herself and threw her arms around him, pulling him up against her. It was another action without thought. She simply had to hold him. Thankfully, Prentiss let her comfort him, laying his head on her shoulder and slipping his arms around her middle. He seemed weak, but he wasn’t crying anymore. Instead, she was the one weeping. She hurt for him.

  She could never know the pain he was feeling, but she understood what it had taken for him to reveal all that to her. It made her feel humbled and honored—and slightly ashamed.

  “I kissed Sonny,” she said, right into his ear. She’d heard those words over and over in her head, for years after she’d left him under the tree, but she’d never uttered them aloud. It sounded strange hearing them. It was the truth, and yet it didn’t even come close to conveying the truth. The nouns and verb were correct, but there’d been more. So much more.

  Prentiss pulled back and frowned at her. “What? What did you say?”

  “I kissed Sonny,” she repeated. “A few days before the accident. I ran into him at Make-Out Ridge and—”

  “You’re the wood nymph?”

  “The … what?”

  “Oh, my god. That was you!” Prentiss’s eyes widened and he pulled back even farther, as if trying to behold as much of Gabby as possible. “He wouldn’t say who you were, though. He talked about how you just appeared out of nowhere, dancing around like some wood sprite. I should have known … the way he described you … wow.”

  A tingly warmth spread over her, as if the room had suddenly filled with vapors. Sonny had mentioned her. Their encounter really did happen. It had signified something to him—enough to divulge it to Prentiss.

  “What did he say?” she asked, pitching forward to close the gap between them.

  Prentiss smiled. “He talked about how you just came out of thin air, floated over to him, kissed him, and then ran away.”

  Gabby’s mind flipped backward. She hadn’t realized it would seem that way to him. Where she saw it as young and stupid, he’d thought it was … romantic.

  “He also said you were beautiful,” Prentiss went on, gently cupping her chin in his hand. “He told me about your long wavy hair and that pretty face with the dark, sad eyes.”

  Sad eyes? Gabby blinked self-consciously. Did she really have sad eyes?

  Prentiss’s hand had moved up her cheek. He was still smiling softly. But even though he was looking right at her, he seemed focused on something far away.

  “So … you lost him, too,” he whispered. His smile disappeared and his hand dropped from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, but not like you. I hardly knew him. You two—”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, staring down at the plaid fabric of the couch. “No wonder you hated me. God.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “I’m trying to be good,” he said to the couch cushions. “I don’t drink anymore. I’m helping out my folks. I tried going to UT, but … all those students drinking and partying every night. It was too hard. I’ll try again in the fall. At the junior college.”

  Gabby wasn’t sure if he was talking to her. She wasn’t even sure if he was in the here and now. It almost sounded like a litany. His words followed a patterned cadence, like the practiced tone her grandmother used when saying her Hail Marys. Was he asking for forgiveness? Was he actually hoping to be absolved by Gabby, someone who held grudges so long they practically took on breath and form?

  She reached over and grabbed his hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. People make mistakes. I know you miss Sonny, but you can’t stay stuck in the past.” As soon as she spoke the words they seemed to hover around her, gently prodding, reminding her of a similar conversation she’d had not long before. A feeling of clarity came over her, as well as deep compassion for Prentiss. She cupped his chin in her hand, just as he had done to her earlier, and turned his face toward her. “You have to move forward. You have to live your life. Sonny would want that.”

  A watery sheen covered his eyes. He blinked hard and let out a gaspy chuckle. “Are you sure you aren’t a magical being that came out of nowhere?”

  She laughed.

  “I should have known you were the wood nymph,” he said, his expression growing serious.

  “How?”

  “Because. I felt drawn to you. I think, on some level, I recognized you. Or maybe I recognized your loss. I don’t know. I just … wanted to get closer.”

  Suddenly, just like that night on his porch, there was something there between them, spiking the air and pulling her toward him. Gabby fell forward into the sparkling current until her face was right in front of his. For a second, they stared at each other, holding each other with their eyes. Then they held each other with their arms, coming together for a long kiss.

  After an unfathomable amount of time, their lips broke apart and they simply stayed in each other’s embrace. It was a nice feeling. Like being set free.

  And the only thing that prevented it from being perfectly perfect was that Gabby’s nose was starting to run.

  “Excuse me,” she said, rising to her feet. “I need to get a Kleenex.”

  She glanced around and was suddenly struck by the room’s disarrayed state. Makeup and hair care products were strewn all over the coffee table, her mom’s full-length mirror was propped in front of the TV set, and a pair of pantyhose was draped over the armchair. “Damn!” Gabby exclaimed. “What happened here?”

  Prentiss laughed. “I saw some guy come by earlier and pick up your sister. They going to prom?”

  Gabby nodded. “I hope so,” she said, plucking a beaded necklace off the carpet and carefully setting it on the coffee table. “That or they’re eloping.”

  He chuckled again and gave her a handkerchief.

  “Thanks,” she said, swabbing her nose as daintily as possible.

  “You know what?” Prentiss stood up beside her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “We need to get out.”

  “We do?”

  “Yeah. What do you say we go find some fun?”

  Gabby lowered her brows. “What, exactly, do you have in mind?”

  Prentiss just smiled.

  “I still can’t believe you went to prom and not me!” Daphne said, staring over Gabby’s shoulder at the photos Prentiss had dropped off earlier.

  Gabby thought they were hilarious. Prentiss in his Spurs T-shirt and jeans. She in her red polyester work uniform, carefully holding the thorny rose he’d sliced off one of the bushes before they’d left. But she loved their big goofy grins. It reminded her of all the fun they’d had that night.

  “I don’t understand wh
y you didn’t wear one of my dresses,” her mom said. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

  “I guess I could have, but most of what you have is office wear,” Gabby said.

  Mrs. Rivera raised her eyebrows. “Are you saying my wardrobe is boring?”

  “No!” Gabby’s reply was quick and automatic, the familiar protective instinct taking hold. Then she noticed the smile on her mom’s face. “Well … for the office, no. For parties, maybe.”

  “That’ll change,” her mom said. “Every time she does my hair Sue tries to talk me into going clothes shopping with her. About time I take her up on that.”

  Daphne cheered and Mrs. Rivera laughed. It was startling how different their mom seemed since she’d returned home the day before. Her smile was more relaxed and frequent, and she even giggled on occasion. It was as if some sort of switch had taken place in Atlanta. The mom who’d left had been tense and frantic. The mom who’d come back was far merrier, more like the warm, happy person she’d been when Gabby was a child. She even looked younger. But then, Gabby had to admit the same about herself. Looking at the silly photos, she saw evidence of something she hadn’t seen—or felt—in years: real joy.

  At first when Prentiss had pulled up in front of the gymnasium, which was all garlanded with crepe paper and string lights for prom, Gabby had almost pitched one of her trademark tilde-mouth fits. Now she was glad she hadn’t.

  The whole thing was almost over by the time they’d arrived—no doubt generating new town gossip with their sudden presence. They’d danced to the last five songs, grabbed a papier-mâché clouds-and-rainbow souvenir off one of the tables, and then headed up to Make-Out Ridge, where they’d talked for hours—mainly about Sonny, but about other things, too, like family and friends and future plans.

  And, of course, they’d kissed. A lot.

  “I like that one best,” Daphne said, pointing at a photo of Gabby laughing.

  “Please don’t touch it,” Gabby said. “Your fingers are sticky.”

  She made sure her tone wasn’t all that scolding. For one thing, Gabby loved that photo, too. (What had she been laughing at? She couldn’t remember. She’d been giddy practically the whole night.) And for another thing, Daphne was messy for good reason. She’d been making her famous camp cookies all morning, which was why her hands were buttery, and why she’d somehow managed to get a smudge of flour on the tip of her nose. The whole house smelled amazing.