by Sara Biren
I never asked.
I wonder how many hundreds of agates Ben has collected. I wonder if he thinks about my agate, the agate with the L. L for Lulu, L for love. I wonder if he thinks about me, what we almost had.
I wonder what he was about to say to me the day that Trixie died, just as Clayton yelled for us that he couldn’t find her.
I’ll never know.
Now, in the tree house with Emily, I take the agate out of the pocket of my jeans. I roll it over and over between my index finger and thumb.
25 · Ben
Tami catches me as I’m getting into the car to go home after a long day out on the lake. I was with a couple of guys who complained the whole time about how subpar the experience was compared to some isolated, fly-in-only lodge up in Saskatchewan. I’m hot, I stink, and I’m crabby.
“Ben, wait a minute,” she says. She’s barefoot and drying her hands on a dish towel. “Can you tell your mom that we need to pick up Lucy on Friday, so we’ll just plan on meeting them at the rehearsal dinner?”
Why do they need to pick up Lucy? What does she have to do with the wedding?
“Lucy?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? She’s coming along to help with Emily.”
Lucy’s going to the wedding. Shit.
“Oh. Yeah, I’ll tell Mum.”
“Thanks, Ben. I’ve got to get back inside before the spaghetti boils over. See you tomorrow.”
I get in the hot car and slam the door.
I haven’t been back to Duluth since that last trip before Trixie died. Trixie begged to have Lucy come along, and I’m glad she did. I was sixteen and girl crazy, although last summer, it was more than girl crazy. Right before that trip, it hit me. I knew Lulu liked me. I’d known for a long time, since before she’d started leaving fudge on my desk. I knew then that I liked her, too. It was so natural, so right.
What I loved about Lulu: her laugh, her smile. Her white teeth, perfectly straight except for those two on the bottom, which bothered her even though no one noticed unless she pointed it out. Her long brown hair. I loved how she got irritated with herself whenever she forgot to put it up before we went out on the boat, and how she would braid it and tie the end with fishing line. I loved how she could spend an entire day out on the boat and never get bored, how her freckles popped out across her nose after all those hours in the sun. I loved that look she got in her eyes when she was excited or interested or amazed. She could lock eyes with you, and you’d feel like you never wanted her to look away.
I loved when she looked at me like that.
Like that day on the shore of Lake Superior when we found the inuksuit, at least fifty of them, on the rocky beach. She watched me with wide eyes as I tried to make my own stack, tried to balance the porous rocks, and then she tried, too, laughing as they collapsed and knocked mine over.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” And she laughed, high and light, and it was the most beautiful sound.
I never wanted to move from that spot, next to Lulu on the shore.
I loved her.
In Duluth, everything was good. Trixie was alive, and we didn’t know what summer would bring. Lulu was with us, happy and amazed by the expanse and energy of Lake Superior.
This trip to Duluth will be different. Trixie’s gone. Lucy isn’t Lulu anymore, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself.
I start the Firebird and drive home to give Mum the message from Tami.
26 · Lucy
Ben’s cousin Aaron gets married in a massive cathedral that overlooks Lake Superior. It’s a cloudy, windy day, but Aaron and his bride María don’t seem to mind. They are a vision of love and happily ever after. I stand outside and watch while the photographer takes picture after picture in the cold and wind.
When John and Tami are ready to go to their seats, by unluck of the draw, Ben is the usher up next to walk me down the aisle. He holds out his arm, and my hand shakes as I place it near his elbow. Beneath the fabric of his suit coat, his muscles tense; my hand instantly warms, a welcome sensation after the cold wind on the front steps of the church. We follow Tami on the arm of another usher, John with Emily. When we get near the front, I let go of Ben’s arm and am cold once again. I look up at him. I wonder if he felt it, too, but there is no emotion in his eyes.
Jane and Tom sit in the pew in front of us. Jane turns around as the wedding march begins and for the briefest moment catches my eye. Hers are filled with tears, but she smiles. As the ceremony begins, she slips her arm through Tom’s and rests her head on his shoulder.
Of course. This must be agonizing for them.
Tom will never walk his daughter down the aisle. Jane will never be the mother of the bride.
The ceremony is long, traditional, beautiful. John stands in an imposing marble pulpit to read a passage from the Bible, and I feel out of place, out of sorts. Emily squeezes my hand as her father reads, his words booming through the microphone and echoing to the far back corners of the church. She claps when he’s done, then looks around, embarrassed, when no one joins in her applause. I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head, filled with so much love for this little girl who reminds me of Trixie.
As I’m walking into the reception with Emily, Jane catches me.
“Oh, Lucy, sweetheart, it’s so nice to see you.” She pulls me into a hug. I stand, stiff, not sure what to do. When she steps back, I’m relieved. “You look absolutely lovely. How are you, my dear?”
“I’m—I’m okay,” I whisper.
She tilts her head, considering me, what she’ll say next. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Tom and I are the host and hostess, you see, but I’ll come find you later. I’d love to hear—” She falters, then says, “Well, I really must go.”
She’s so wonderful, Trixie’s mom, and I’m a terrible person. I haven’t gone to see her. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief, I haven’t considered hers or Tom’s.
Emily takes my hand. “C’mon, Luce, let’s go find Mom and Dad.”
Later, after the dinner and toasts to the couple’s happiness, after the first dance and more photographs, Emily pulls me out on the dance floor with Tami.
“She’s doing great,” I say to Tami. We’d been worried she would get tired and cranky after a long day at the church. I was certain we’d be back in our hotel room by now.
“It’s because you’re here,” Tami says.
Emily grabs our hands and we swing together. She sees Ben and drags him over. He joins our circle in between Tami and Emily, directly across from me, but he doesn’t look at me. The music changes to a slow song and Ben scoops Emily into his arms. They sway together and Emily squeals. Tami smiles and takes my hand as we walk back to the table.
“Thank you so much for coming with us,” she says as we sit down. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. You’re part of the family.” Her voice sounds a little sad at the last part, and I know she’s thinking of Trixie.
I nod, too choked up by her words to speak. I take a drink from my water glass. The ice has melted; I watch flakes of minerals swirl in the water.
My phone buzzes. Simon has been sending text messages all day. Friday morning, before John and Tami picked me up, he kissed me hard and said, “I’m going to miss you, Lucy. I’ll think about you while I feed my sorrow with pie at the Full Loon.”
“I’ll only be gone two days, Simon,” I’d said.
“Two and a half. And you’ll be with Ben all weekend.” His words were lined with jealousy.
I furrowed my brows. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I hope not,” he said with a lift of one eyebrow.
Hope you’re having a good time, Simon’s text reads. Call me later.
I’m about to reply when I look up, and Ben’s standing at my chair, his hand held out. I suck in a breath.
Emily hops on one foot next to him. “Ben wants to dance with you, Lucy.” She bounces to the other foot.
For a moment, I am unable to move. I don’t know
if I can be that close to him.
I need to be close to him.
I tremble as he leads me out to the dance floor. The music is slow and romantic and he takes me in his arms and it’s like a dream. He places his hands on either side of my waist, and I slip my arms up around his neck, Simon’s messages and kisses forgotten.
In this moment, it’s almost as if last summer hasn’t changed us. I close my eyes and imagine what this day would have been like if Trixie hadn’t died. Maybe Ben wouldn’t have pushed me away. Maybe we would have been together since that afternoon on the float, when he’d tugged on my ponytail and started to say something, something important, I’m sure of it. Maybe I would have been invited to this wedding not as Emily’s nanny but as Ben’s girlfriend. I would have been included in the family photograph, Ben’s arm around my waist, instead of standing off to the side, out of the shot.
His fingers move, tighten against the fabric of my dress, press into me, and a strong current moves up my back. I shiver and wish that he could hold me like this forever.
The song ends, too soon, and Ben says nothing. He offers me his arm and we walk back to the table.
Our moment is over, but I can still feel his hands on me—on my waist, my arm, everywhere he touched me and didn’t. We haven’t said a word to each other.
Emily still hops. “Ben, will you dance with me again?”
“Emily,” I say, “do you need to powder your nose?”
She nods.
“I’ll take her,” Tami says.
I shake my head. “I’ll go.” I need a minute, a chance to catch my breath and come back to reality. I reach for my small beaded purse, but my hand shakes and it falls. Everything inside spills onto the floor—my lip gloss, a few coins, a tin of mints, the agate.
Oh no.
The agate.
I kneel down quickly to retrieve it, but Ben does, too, and we bump heads.
“I’m so sorry.” I reach for the agate, but he gets to it first.
He picks it up, holds it in his palm. With the index finger of his other hand, he traces the L.
“Why is this in your purse?” he asks. His voice is tight.
“Because I don’t have a pocket in this dress,” I say, and I realize how ridiculous that sounds.
“I mean, why do you have it with you?” he says, softer.
“I always have it with me. Always,” I whisper. I scoop the rest of my things into the purse and stand up, glad for a reason to get away from him. But Emily and Tami are already gone, walking hand-in-hand out of the reception hall.
“Oh,” I say in a rush of breath. I feel dizzy from standing too quickly, and Ben reaches out to steady me as I sway. His fingers on my arm send a jolt right to my empty, aching, broken heart.
Now Ben knows about the agate, that I still love him, even though I’ve tried not to. I need air. I need to be able to breathe again. I wrench my arm out of his grasp as I turn and run out past the lobby to the patio.
It’s cool here behind the hotel, right on the lake. I head toward an empty bench but don’t make it that far before I hear him.
“Lucy, wait,” Ben calls.
I stop, there’s nothing else I can do. He overtakes me and stands in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. He looks so handsome in his tux, the tie loose around his neck, his curls starting to rebel against whatever product has tamed them today.
“I—I need some air,” I tell him, and I feel like such a fool.
I tuck my chin down so I don’t have to look at him anymore, but he puts one finger lightly under my chin and pulls me up again. I’m afraid he’ll try to kiss me. I’m afraid, and I want it more than anything.
“Okay.”
He reaches for my hand, turns it palm up, and sets the agate in the center. He closes my fingers around it. I hold my breath, wait for him to say something.
Finally, he does. “So that guy, Simon? Is he your boyfriend, then?”
I hesitate before I answer. “Yes.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then his eyes narrow. “Does he know you carry that around with you?”
“What?”
“The agate. Does Simon know you carry the agate around with you?”
“N-no,” I stammer.
“You should be careful, Lucy. You wouldn’t want to give your boyfriend any reason to be jealous.” His words are sharp, mocking.
When I don’t speak, he keeps going. “Not that the agate means anything.”
My stomach twists. His words echo what he said to me in the car that day. He took my already shattered heart and completely obliterated it.
The agate means everything.
I can’t stand to be near him. Five minutes ago, I couldn’t be close enough to him; I wanted him to hold on to me forever. And now—
“You asshole.”
He flinches and he closes his eyes, but not before I see that he’s hurt.
Good. I want him to be hurt.
He turns and walks back into the hotel, and I’m alone on the Lakewalk.
I can’t breathe.
I should be careful? It’s much too late for that. I should have been careful years ago, before Ben broke my heart.
• • •
When I go back into the reception hall, Emily has crashed. She’s on Tami’s lap, her head slumped against Tami’s shoulder, her eyes slits. She wakes, and I take her by the hand to lead her to the elevators, grateful to make my escape.
This isn’t how the night should have gone. Ben should have avoided me like he always does, given Emily any number of excuses not to dance with me.
I open my fist, close it again around Ben’s agate.
Before the elevator reaches our floor, I’ve decided: I won’t give Simon any reason to be jealous.
27 · Ben
She’s right, I’m an asshole.
I walk away from her, my heart in my throat, my agate in her hand. God, she has the agate. She always has it with her.
Why do I keep finding ways to fuck this up?
As soon as I get back to the reception, I find Aaron.
“Hey,” I say, “can you vouch for me at the bar?”
My cousin grins and nods as Nate, his best man, says, “I can do ya one better, little man. Come on out to the parking lot.”
Aaron is intercepted by María on our way out, but the best man and I meet up with another groomsman who has a mini-bar set up on the tailgate of a black Silverado pickup.
“What’s your poison?” Nate asks me, and I reach for a smallish bottle of tequila. No sense in fucking around.
“You sure about that?” Nate says.
I nod.
“Take that outta here,” the other groomsman says. “And if anyone asks, you didn’t get it from us.”
I give him a salute and tuck the bottle in the inside pocket of my tux. I find a bench on the Lakewalk, close to where I’d left Lucy, but I figure she won’t still be there and I’m right.
I sit there under the dim light of the streetlamp and listen to the waves of Lake Superior crash against the shore. Over and over. I imagine that the waves wash away the guilt and stupidity and grief, especially the grief. Washing it all away, numbing me. Or maybe it’s the tequila, not the waves.
That bottle of tequila and I become good friends.
We have a really fun time together out on the Lakewalk, me and my friend tequila, and then a bridesmaid, María’s little sister, joins us.
Little Sister: Hey, you.
Me: Hey.
Little Sister: Whatcha got there?
Me (holds up the bottle): This is my good friend, tequila.
Little Sister (grabs the bottle, downs the last few swallows): Nice to meet you, tequila. I’m Alicia.
Me: Ah-lee-see-ah.
Little Sister (dabbing at the corners of her mouth): Your friend is nice, but I’d rather get to know you, Ben.
She knows my name. She has a really wide, beautiful smile. Like the moon glistening on the water. Bright. Blinding.
“I’m sure my parents would love that,” I say.
“Your parents? How old are you?”
“Does it matter? How old are you?”
She scowls at me and adjusts her dress. She stands up and walks away, and I don’t stop her. She left her pack of cigarettes and that makes us square, I guess, since she drank the last of my tequila.
The rest of the night is hazy, but somehow I make it back up to the hotel suite before my new best friend revolts. I spend a couple of hours on the cool bathroom floor but wake up in the bed, still in my tux with an ashtray mouth, a pounding headache, and a pool of acid in the pit of my stomach.
I deserve it, just like I deserve every bad name Lulu calls me.
I fall asleep or pass out, whichever, with her name on my numb lips.
What seems like only minutes later, Mum pulls me out of bed and tells me I need to hustle to get ready for the gift opening.
“Why do I have to go?” I mumble.
“You’re in the wedding party, that’s why. Now get going.”
At breakfast, I can barely stomach the smell of waffles and eggs. I sit down next to Dad with a cup of coffee and a hardboiled egg. He shakes his head and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but I cut him off.
“Save it,” I tell him. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of other opportunities to rag my ass this summer.”
Lucy’s here with John and Tami and Emily, but they’re at a table across the room and Lucy has her back to me. Which is good.
And the bride’s little sister, Ah-lee-see-ah, she’s here, too, shooting daggers at me. She leans close to María and whispers in her ear. María looks in my direction and laughs.