by Sara Biren
My time with the bridesmaid—and the tequila, for that matter—is even hazier this morning.
But everything leading up to that point?
Crystal fucking clear.
Like when we posed for our family picture out on the steps of the church, and I had the craziest thoughts. Like: Lucy should be in the photo. She belongs with us.
Or even worse, when I walked her down the aisle before the ceremony began and I thought, Someday we’ll do this again. Her fingers trembled against my arm, and I wanted to take her hand, hold it in between mine, and tell her that I’m sorry. I’m sorry, and I want to marry her.
Jesus.
And then, when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
Lucy looked gorgeous and Emily wanted me to dance with her. And when could I ever say no to that girl? Either of them.
And before I knew it, I had the girl we used to call Lulu in my arms. She looked beautiful. She smelled like wildflowers. She fit into my arms like it was meant to be. I could have danced with her forever, and I hoped that the DJ would play another slow song so I could keep my girl close.
My girl. Lulu is not my girl.
I could hold her like that at a wedding, but not in our real lives. In real life, we are too damaged.
Mum is not happy with me, her mouth turned down in a constant frown. I should feel guilty—her daughter gone and her son a disappointment. I feel nothing but the lingering effects of the booze and too many cigarettes and the need to get the hell out of this place.
But why am I in such a hurry to get back home, where things are even worse?
28 · Lucy
Late Sunday afternoon, John and Tami drop me off at home. It’s been a long day. At the fancy gift-opening breakfast, Ben looked like hell and didn’t glance in my direction, not once. Emily was overtired and irritable on the drive home.
I’m thankful that my mom gave me the night off, even though she had to cover my shift herself. I’m looking forward to a hot shower, a quiet evening with a good book, and a full day off tomorrow.
I’m not surprised to find Simon sitting on the steps of my front porch, his long legs stretched out, earbuds in his ears. He hops up when he sees me, pulls out the earbuds, and grabs my suitcase.
“Let me carry that for you.”
“How long have you been waiting here?”
“Not long.” He smiles, a slow smile that lights up his whole face. “I missed you, Lucy.” Inside, he sets the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, then reaches his hand toward me and raises one eyebrow. He pulls me close and kisses me, slowly, gently. His kisses are sweet and comforting.
But I still feel Ben’s arms around my waist as we danced, his touch, the arc of electricity straight to my battered heart. I shake the thought away.
When Simon pulls away from me, he asks in a whisper, “Are you—are you okay?”
“Yes.” Not really.
He smiles. “How was the wedding?”
“Good, fine, okay.”
“Wow, that good?”
Of course I can’t tell him the truth. “Wonderful,” I lie. “I love Duluth so much. And the wedding was beautiful.”
“Want to come over to watch a movie tonight?”
“I’m really tired,” I tell him. “Tomorrow night?”
He smiles. “Promise?”
He’s satisfied with my nod and kisses me good-bye. “I’ll take you out for pie,” he says.
I carry my suitcase upstairs to my room and collapse onto my stomach on the bed, exhausted. The agate in my pocket digs into my thigh. I sit up and take it out. I place it in one palm and trace the L.
Oh, Ben.
I get up and walk over to my dresser. On the top is a small cedar treasure chest with an image of Split Rock Lighthouse on the lid, another souvenir from last year’s trip to the North Shore. It’s filled with small stones and agates that I collected on the beach. I set Ben’s agate there among the ordinary rocks, take a deep breath, and close the lid.
I’ve just gotten out of the shower and into my pajamas when Hannah calls.
I give her the two-minute version of my weekend, and she says, “I’ll be right over.”
I want to be alone after a weekend of not having one minute to myself, to fall into bed and sleep for days, but I need my Hannah, too. I wait for her in the living room.
She walks into the house without knocking, balancing two Dairy Queen Blizzards while she opens the door. She hands me one, then sits down in my dad’s recliner.
“Spill,” she says. “I want all the dirty details.”
I tell her everything, even the part about the agate. Nothing would make sense if I left out the agate. I never even told Trixie about it.
“Wait,” she says. “You’ve been carrying around an agate? A rock? Every day? For, like, a year?”
“Basically. Yes.”
“In your pocket.”
“Yes.”
“For a boy you’ve never even kissed?”
I feel the heat rushing up from my neck.
“Ohmygod Lucille, you kissed Ben and never told me?” she yells, so loud I’m sure Simon can hear across the yard. “When?”
“It was nothing,” I say.
“It was not nothing. Come on, tell me.”
I swallow against the hot, teary feeling in my throat. “After her funeral. He gave me a ride home and he—he kissed me.”
“Like, right after her funeral?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
And then.
And then he shattered me.
I shake my head.
“He hurt you,” Hannah says. She doesn’t push. “Oh, hon, you are so gone on that boy.”
I sigh and set my cup on the end table next to the sofa. “Ben isn’t going to happen. That’s just the way it is. And besides, I have a boyfriend, remember? Simon?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She pauses, then says, “You know what you need? You need to get away from this place.”
“I just got back.”
She huffs. “Let me rephrase that. You need to get away from Ben. You need a rodeo.”
“A rodeo?”
“Is there an echo in here? Damn right, a rodeo. Nothing cheers me up like seeing a hot cowboy with something firm and sturdy between his legs.”
I roll my eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but the last time I checked, there’s no rodeo in Halcyon Lake.”
“Babe, it’s rodeo season in South Dakota. The Stampede is next weekend!” She squeals.
“The Stampede?”
“Are you for real? You’ve never heard of the Corn Palace Stampede? Oh, you are in for the time of your life.”
“Hannah, I can’t go to South Dakota.”
“Yes, you can. My cousin can hook us up with tickets, and we can stay at the campground. This is perfect. Just what you need!”
I shake my head. “My parents will never let me go.”
“Sure they will! We’ll get Dustin to drive us. And we’ll invite your boy Simon—your mom and dad like him, right? With two strong men to protect us, how can your parents say no?”
“Do you honestly think they’ll let me go to South Dakota with you and two guys we barely know?”
“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” She grins.
When Hannah gets an idea in her head, especially a crazy one like this, there’s no stopping her. I only knew her a few weeks when she convinced me that the best place to watch the Homecoming game was from the platform of the old water tower, even though she knew I was afraid of heights. She was right, and we had a great night until it was time to come down and I could hardly move. I was so terrified, dizzy.
“Isn’t it?” she says again.
I’m exhausted. She sets her empty cup on the end table and sits on the sofa next to me. She loops her arm through mine and reaches for the remote.
“Let’s watch a movie. It will take your mind off things.” She flips through the channels until she finds an old Meg Ryan movie with a h
appy ending. “This will cheer you up, I promise.”
My heart swells with love for her. We’ve only been friends since the beginning of the school year, but I love her. She’s not Trixie—I will never have another friend like Trixie—but she’s Hannah, and she’s unique and loud and crass and she cares about my broken heart.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “For everything.”
She squeezes my arm. “Anything for you, Lucille.”
29 · Ben
You’ve got to be kidding.
I’ve been lucky this summer, except for that one time, that Lucy hasn’t been at the Full Loon on Monday nights.
But tonight when I walk in, catching the red screen door with my foot so it doesn’t slam, I see her. I stop dead right there and my stomach lurches, like I’m still hungover from all that tequila, which is probably the case.
She’s at a table in the far corner with Simon, and he’s got this big grin on his face. He reaches across the table and runs his finger across the back of her hand. She smiles at him.
No. She should be with me. All the time, not just at a wedding.
No. Whatever. Her life. Her decision.
In a split second, I have to decide if I’m going to stay or go. My foot is in the door. I could turn and go out and no one would ever know I was there.
“Ben,” Daniel calls from behind the counter. “You want your usual?”
Lucy looks up and her eyes bore into mine, her smile fades. I’m frozen. I can’t move. Shit.
And it’s like something has taken over my body when I shake my head in Daniel’s direction. “No, I just remembered—”
I’m gone. I turn and I’m out the door, and I don’t care who saw me and who didn’t, but I will not sit there and eat a burger in front of Lucy and her douchebag boyfriend. Again.
Guthrie is in the parking lot.
“Hey, man,” he says. “You going in?”
I shake my head.
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, fine,” I say.
But I’m not fine. I’m angry. The rage courses through me, my heart pumping poison instead of blood. I could beat the shit out of Guthrie right now. I could beat the shit out of Simon. I could beat the shit out of me.
“You leaving?” he asks.
“Yeah, I gotta go.”
He nods. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive. You can get pants-shitting drunk and pass out on the couch in my basement.”
The way he says it, so serious, all the tension I feel disappears. I laugh and follow him to his car.
We drive out to his house, and his mom makes us macaroni and cheese. I don’t get pants-shitting drunk. I don’t drink at all. I have to work in the morning and there’s nothing quite like the glare of the sun off the lake when you’ve got a hangover.
Especially when I’ve still got one from Saturday night.
Later, while Guthrie builds a fire in the pit, I decide to call Dana. I walk down to the lake.
I’m going to tell her that I think we should break up. I’ve been working up to it since Lucy put her arm through mine at the church. Besides, I’m a shit boyfriend and she deserves someone better.
It’s quiet on the shore, except for the bullfrogs, not like when I sit at the dock at Apple Tree Lane and can hear every car on Main Street. There’s a pile of rocks next to the dock. I stack one on top of the other. It’s not easy, and the rocks spill again and again, but I crave the repetition.
Dana picks up on the first ring. “Is everything okay? Aren’t you with Guthrie? It’s Monday.”
“Yeah,” I tell her.
“Are you drunk?”
“Nope.”
I put another rock on top of the stack but it’s not flat enough, and the whole thing falls over.
“Seriously, Ben, what’s wrong?”
I fucking chicken out.
“I called to tell you good night,” I say.
Dead silence.
“Dana?”
She clears her throat. “Good night, Ben. I love you.”
I end the call. I toss my phone aside and restack the rocks, this time more carefully, more strategically. I get up and walk along the shore to find more stones and fill the pockets of my cargo shorts. I build another tower.
The stones of this one are irregular. The tower’s off-balance, and the stack topples, knocking into the first one I made.
“Fuck,” I mumble.
So I start over, switching out one rock for another, trying again when the towers tumble, until I’ve balanced the last stone.
I let out a long breath.
“Hey.” Guthrie is behind me. I turn to face him. “You are on the right path,” he says.
“What?”
“Those look like inuksuit. One of the meanings of inuksuit is ‘You are on the right path.’ A marker. It’s a way to let others know that you’ve been here, that this is the right path.”
“Oh,” I say. “Right.”
We go back to the fire and Guthrie rattles on about this new hot spot he found on Papyrus, but I can’t stop thinking about what he said.
You are on the right path.
Nothing feels right.
30 · Lucy
Tuesday night, I get up enough courage to ask my dad about the rodeo. My mom’s still at work. I figure it will be easier to convince Dad without her around, and then he can convince her.
Hannah comes with me. “Moral support,” she says. “How can he say no when I’m standing right here?”
I’m pretty sure seeing Hannah in her miniscule tank top and skimpy, frayed cutoffs might have the opposite effect.
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you serious? Maybe you should put on some clothes first.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your dad loves me.”
I snort.
Dad’s at the kitchen table with the paper and a cup of coffee.
“Hey.” I sit down across from him. Hannah stands in the doorway.
“Hi, Luce.” He nods in Hannah’s direction. “Hannah.”
“Hey, Mr. Meadows,” Hannah says with an extra splash of twang.
There’s no point in prolonging this. “Dad,” I say, “Hannah’s invited me to go to the Stampede in Mitchell this weekend.”
He looks from me to Hannah and back to me. “That’s the rodeo?”
“Yes.”
“With her parents?”
“No, sir,” Hannah pipes in. “With Dustin and Simon.”
The boys were more than on board when Hannah mentioned a road trip.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Exactly what I was expecting.
“Dad, listen—”
“No, Lucy. You are sixteen years old. You’re not old enough to go away for the weekend without an adult.”
“Dustin’s eighteen,” Hannah offers, but my dad turns to glare at her, and she mumbles something about waiting outside before she disappears. So much for moral support.
“Dad, it’s not like that.”
“It’s not like what?”
“I don’t know, like that. Whatever you think. You automatically assume we’re going to get in trouble or get pregnant or something. We’re just going to go camping and see the rodeo, that’s all. Two tents. Girls and boys. I swear.”
“Sounds like you’ve got this all planned out.”
“It was Simon’s idea,” I say. The lie slips out without a thought, and for a minute, I think it might work. Since that fishing trip on Father’s Day when they bonded over Bond, my dad thinks Simon can do no wrong.
“The answer is no, Lucy.”
“Dad, please,” I can’t keep the pleading out of my voice. “I don’t ask for much. I want to get away for a weekend.”
He interrupts me. “You just spent a weekend in Duluth. How much more time away do you need?”
If he only knew. “I was working. Isn’t this what you wanted, for me to spend more time with friends? I promise, nothing will happen. And it’s Simon. Don’t you trust him?”
“I don’t trust him enough for you to go away for the weekend with him. We don’t know him.”
“I know him,” I say, and bite my lip.
He looks at me with a tilt of his head and his eyes narrow.
“How well do you know him, Lucy? You two have been seeing a lot of each other lately, haven’t you?”
I nod. “Yes. We’re dating, Dad. It’s not a crime.”
“No,” he says again. “You’re not going to South Dakota with a boy we hardly know.”
“You know him! He’s been living next door all summer!”
“Lucy—”
“You would let Clayton go.”
“That’s different.”
Of course it’s different. It’s different to him but not to me. Clayton at sixteen? He would have loved to raise hell at a rodeo.
“Nice double standard, Dad.” My words are sharp, bitter.
I don’t wait to hear his reply, if he has one. I turn and am out of the kitchen in a flash. I head to the front porch where Hannah waits.
“We’re going,” I tell her. “I don’t care what he says, and I’m not even going to bother asking my mom. We’re going.”
“Yeehaw!” Hannah whoops and throws her pink cowgirl hat high into the air.
Sneaking out of the house Friday night is almost too easy. I stay up later than my parents, watching TV. I turn the volume down, set the timer for it to power off at 12:30, and slip out the front door a few minutes before midnight. I don’t bother to leave a note. They’ll figure it out soon enough.
I walk down our long driveway, where Dustin will have parked his truck. Simon will meet us there, too, although he’s going to South Dakota with his mother’s blessing, since she’s got an art fair in St. Paul this weekend. She told him to have a great time, that she was proud of him for broadening his horizons.
Dustin’s enormous red pickup is parked on the shoulder. Hannah’s with him, and of course they’re making out. She sits on the open tailgate, her legs wrapped around him.
I don’t see Simon. I clear my throat.
Dustin turns his head but keeps his arms around Hannah’s waist.
“Hey, Lucy,” he says, and grins. “All set?”
“Yep.” I shove my duffel bag into the covered bed next to Hannah. Simon shows up with a backpack and a plastic bag full of convenience-store snacks.