A Little Bit of Everything Lost

by Stephanie Elliot

  There was a whoosh of a flush, and Marnie took that moment to exhale quietly. She could see a pair of hands pulling up the little kid’s shorts. They left the stall, and moved toward the sinks. “Wash your hands really good Annie,” the mother instructed.

  The amount of time they had been in there seemed far too long for a woman to take a kid to the bathroom. When the bathroom was finally empty, Marnie exhaled again, and realized just how incredibly stoned she was.

  She suppressed a laugh.

  Then she remembered what Joe had asked her to do. She didn’t take her shorts off, just unbuttoned the top and placed her fingers down the front of them, feeling the smoothness of her naked skin. She would never let the hair grow back, now that she knew how good everything felt without it there.

  Her fingers found their way between and she touched. She knew she would be damp, but she didn’t think she’d be so slick. In and out she moved her fingertips, slowly at first. And then deeper. She took her fingers out, moving to the top. She moved her fingers until she felt the warmth flood to her toes. Marnie could postpone the waves, but knew that Joe was out there, waiting for her, so she pushed harder, rubbing quickly, up and down, and in circles, sometimes delving back into the wetness, when suddenly, she was there, grinding against her own hand, until she came, shuddering, and she came again, and her hand was still moving but she was telling her brain to make it stop, but she couldn’t and it happened again, and she moaned quietly, trying to still herself, as the rolling waves slowed.

  Seconds later, she stood, steadying herself against the bathroom stall door until she felt ready to open it and go to the sink. She looked at her reflection. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She had the world’s greatest secret, right there, in the bathroom. She lifted her shoulders, touched at her hair, reached for the soap, then changed her mind.

  Marnie walked out of the bathroom.

  The smile on Joe’s face matched hers, she was sure, and she slid into the booth next to him.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  She took her fingers to his lips and said, “You tell me.”

  He kissed the tip of her finger, delicately, and inhaled. “Oh wow. You really did it.”

  “Oh yeah,” she laughed.

  Food had arrived at the table, a plate of nachos, some cheesy dip with bread, but Marnie wasn’t hungry anymore.

  Joe took her hand into his, brought it up to his lips. Kissed her hand. To anyone, this would not look unusual, two young people in love, smooching in the back booth, sharing secrets. He kissed at her hand, took tiny nips at her thumb, playfully.

  Their waitress interrupted, placing two more beers onto the table. “Everything okay over here?”

  Joe answered, Marnie’s palm still held in his hand, “Everything’s great. Just great.”

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” and she walked away as Joe replied, “Oh, we’re just fine here.”

  Joe kissed Marnie’s neck now, playfully. She grabbed her beer, took a full swallow, and set it back onto the table. Joe took Marnie’s hand and placed it onto his shorts.

  “Look what you do to me,” he whispered. She moved her hand over him, in slow circular motions, and his penis pulled against the fabric of his cargo shorts. The table was covered with a dark green cloth, and the two of them were tucked away in a back booth in the dim of the restaurant. Marnie could do anything to him and only the two of them would know.

  She felt for the zipper and lowered it, undid the button on the top of his shorts, and his penis sprang forward. He drank his beer and kissed her ear, then grinned at her, sharing her secret now. She ran circles over his tip, and felt the wetness of a few drops emerge. She could make him suffer, really suffer, but she didn’t want to. She wanted him to feel as good as she had felt just minutes before. She was still amazed at how large he was, at how it felt so warm, so hot, stuck there inside his shorts all day long. It needed to breathe. She wanted to give it air.

  She rubbed him, and slid her fingers up and down, touched feathery light at him, and squeezed parts of him. And then when it felt like she was close, she moved her hand up and down, faster and faster, watching the scene around them, families having an early dinner, business men jotting down notes, a lone writer tapping away at his keyboard, and the mother and her child – Annie – who had made it to the bathroom in time. All the while she moved, faster still, and then Joe pressed his head into her shoulder, and he shuddered, and shuddered again, and then her hand was wet and warm and sticky. He whispered into her ear, “Check, please.”

  Later, back at her house, back in her room, they smoked some more, and drank some tequila from her parent’s liquor cabinet. The Cure played over and over on her boom box and there was a moment where Marnie couldn’t tell where she ended and Joe began. She was holding on so tight and she feared letting go would let go of him forever.

  The words to the song were about being alone with someone and feeling whole again, which made absolute perfect sense to Marnie. Joe clutched onto her, pulling her into him. They were naked, sweat-soaked, stoned and drunk, blankets and sheets strewn all over the bed. It was that night that he finally said the words she had been waiting for him to say. His head pressed hard into her neck, as he shuddered into her as he came, and he whispered, “Oh God Mar, I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  November 2004

  Marnie didn’t think walking back into Allesiano’s would reel her senses so strongly but when she did, she could almost taste the cannolis from that day on the pier so many years ago. The memories of that day, the first time she walked into that bakery with Joe, the day she almost told him that she loved him, came flooding back like a typhoon. Fortunately, Collette was there to pull her back into reality.

  “Keep it together sister. Keep it together.”

  Marnie took a deep breath.

  Elegantly decorated cakes, pastries, and cupcakes still filled the bakery cases, yet it seemed as if the place had gotten a facelift and looked more corporate and less homey than it had been 15 years ago. People crowded around the counter, drinking coffee, eating fresh-baked donuts, reading the paper. Apparently, Joe’s family business was still doing well. Good for him, Marnie thought, even though she had no idea if he had any part of it.

  An Italian woman wearing a charcoal gray pencil skirt and a white buttoned-down tailored dress shirt took orders behind the counter. Her dark hair was in a tight slick bun. Every few seconds, she called out another order to the back kitchen through a small window.

  Collette and Marnie glanced at one another when the lady turned her attention to them.

  “You ladies, up next, what would you like?”

  Marnie, still stunned, didn’t speak, so Collette ordered two cinnamon twists and medium coffees. When they moved to the cash register to pay, Collette nudged Marnie and nodded in the direction of a huge bulletin board on the wall.

  Surrounded by local neighborhood events and school function announcements, random business cards and fliers, there it was:

  Lucianna Allesiano Turns 90!

  Mark your calendars for

  Sunday, November 28

  As we share the original spirit of

  Allesiano’s Italiano Bakery

  With friends and family!

  Cakes and Coffee

  Noon to 2 p.m.

  Collette paid and steered Marnie out the door. It was the exact information Marnie hoped to find, but now that she had it, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. She couldn’t just show up and say, “Hi. I’ve got lots to tell you.” Marnie was out of her mind.

  She mourned the baby she lost five months ago and the guilt she felt from the abortion in college was weighing heavily on her heart. The recent loss had churned up so many feelings from the abortion that she hadn’t expected to ever resurface. She thought she had long ago buried that guilt. But now the two losses were somehow, oddly enough, connected. Woven together, quilted together in the patchwork of her make
up.

  She didn’t know if she could hang on any longer, the guilt she felt was immense. Because she had never told Joe he could have fathered a baby she aborted. And the guilt toward her own husband – who was loyal and committed and loving and caring – she had been so blasé about her pregnancy for the first three months, practically ignoring the fact that she was pregnant, keeping the information from Stuart, trying to convince herself that he was so busy with work that he didn’t need to worry about it. She had been insane. She wondered if she had gone to Stuart right away with the news of her pregnancy, would things have turned out differently?

  If she had taken better care of herself, seen her doctor sooner, told Stuart right away that she was pregnant, could she have changed the outcome? What kind of woman was she? Did she even deserve to be a mother to Trey and Jeremy? God, she needed help.

  Marnie slumped down to the curb as people shuffled in and out of the bakery, unaware of the magnitude of what was going on in her personal life. Dogs sniffed light posts, people laughed and chatted about the unseasonably warm fall air and their Thanksgiving plans as they walked by, arms filled with packages. Collette sat next to her, and Marnie laid her head onto her arms, propped up by her knees. They sat there as cars drove by, and the street light went from green to yellow to red, then back to green again.

  Collette put her arm around Marnie and rubbed her shoulder in that soothing way only a best friend could.

  They sat for a long time, not saying anything. Finally, Marnie took a deep breath. “This is crazy. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here?”

  She stood up abruptly, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  August 1988

  Marnie lay in the dentist chair, cotton puffs filled the inside of her cheeks. Her eyes were closed yet she felt the hot lights from above blinding through her eyelids. Her wisdom teeth were being pulled, and she tried to ask why, because she had them taken out in high school, but she couldn’t talk because of all the cotton shoved into her cheeks. And she knew wisdom teeth couldn’t grow back, and why hadn’t they given her any pain meds? The cotton in her mouth, and the drilling sound coming through her ears, the throbbing through her teeth… they were absolutely being yanked.

  Then Marnie woke. And the pain in her head and her ears and her teeth made her feel that yes, definitely she had her wisdom teeth pulled out again.

  Except that wasn’t it. It was a hangover. The worst in her life.

  Yet even through the excruciating pain, the realization of the night before crept in.

  Had he really said it?

  She reached over. And felt his warm skin.

  He was still there. Next to her. Asleep.

  She willed her eyes to open.

  His hair fell over his eyes and she wanted to brush it away, to look at his closed lids, to kiss his eyelashes, to wake him, but she was afraid. Afraid it was all really just a dream, and if she woke him, it would all be over. She was also afraid she would vomit.

  She got up, leaned over and grabbed his crumpled shirt from the floor. She put it on and crawled into the bathroom.

  She’d never been so hungover, never gotten that high, or done anything as crazy as what they’d done in the diner, and then what they did afterward. Marnie knelt onto the bathroom floor and her heart beat into her ears, and her pulse vibrated throughout her limp body. She pulled her hair from her face, gagged and threw up. She slumped over the toilet, resting her head on the cool porcelain, thinking that it was a disgusting place to lie, that it would be a horrible place to die.

  She might have fallen asleep for fifteen minutes or an hour, she wasn’t sure, but time had definitely passed. When she could move again, she stood up, went to the sink and splashed water all over her face. She shook three Advil out of the bottle and placed them onto her tongue, leaned down to slurp water straight from the faucet.

  Did he really say it? And what did she say back to him? What if he didn’t remember saying what she was pretty sure he told her? What if he hadn’t meant it?

  “Mar, you in there?” he called from her bed.

  “Yeah.” Her voice croaked out the syllable.

  “Can you bring me my one-hitter and a lighter?”

  “You’re gonna get high?”

  “I’ve got a huge hangover.”

  Marnie walked back into her room and flopped herself onto the bed.

  “Oh, don’t do that!”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Move so fast.”

  “Sorry.”

  “We shouldn’t have had that tequila. On top of everything else, I’m no good with tequila,” he said. “Did you bring me the lighter?”

  “Do you really think you should do that?” Marnie asked.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” He rubbed his temples.

  “Come on, seriously though? Don’t you feel like shit?” Marnie touched his abdomen.

  Joe pushed her hand away. “I’m not feeling too good right now. I just want a quick hit, and I need more sleep. What time did we pass out anyway?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Joe shook his head. “Grab my one-hitter. Then let’s go back to bed? I want your body next to mine.”

  Marnie went to the dresser and took the one-hitter from his pants pocket and tossed it over to him.

  “That’s my girl. Is the lighter in there?”

  She fished around for it in another pocket and sent it flying toward the bed, then she moved toward the door.

  “Where you going?” Joe asked, positioning the pipe to his lips, tapping it to make sure there was still a bud left in it.

  “I need water.”

  “Will you get me some too? Then come back to bed?”

  Marnie went into the kitchen and slumped down at the table, head in her hands. She felt worse than she did when she woke up. She was certain now that the words Joe had said were just because he was drunk and stoned.

  He didn’t remember saying he loved her.

  So maybe he didn’t.

  The pregnancy

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  December 2003

  It happened because Marnie had been bored.

  She had been doing some minimal freelance photography after the boys were born. And while she had had some minor success in that – the occasional wedding request or family portraiture – she hadn’t fully delved into that project of starting her own photography business. She was in the process of getting a website built and was working with a marketing expert to design a logo, but she’d been trying to put that together for a few years. What lay most heavy on her mind was the fact that she’d always planned on, hoped to be a mom to more than just two kids. In truth, she’d always wanted a daughter.

  Deep in her heart she knew it was selfish, so she never shared her thoughts with anyone, especially not Collette, who had one of each, the perfect replicas of what a boy and a girl should be. Collette’s kids went to private school, took all sorts of after-school activities and made their beds every morning. How on earth Marnie managed to love Collette and suppress her jealousy, she never knew. Her children and her life were too perfect.

  Brett, Collette’s son, nearly Jeremy’s age, but light years ahead in intelligence, was dapper and polite, yet smart and athletic. He was the type to stop kids from bullying, while Marnie feared that Jeremy might become one of the bullies. But it was Collette’s daughter, Kaylee, who put a lump in Marnie’s throat each time she saw her. Marnie’s goddaughter, four-year-old Kaylee, was all curly blonde and big blue-eyed, precocious, and was the spitting image of an American Girl doll. She took ballet and singing lessons, loved dolls and horses, had the pink canopy bed. She embodied everything that was little girl. Marnie had to mentally check it at the door whenever they got the kids together, which wasn’t too often because of their busy and conflicting schedules.

  Marnie dreamed of a perfect little daughter since long, long ago, and Kaylee was the const
ant reminder of all that she had wanted. Kaylee was the vision Marnie secretly kept in her head of what she imagined a daughter of hers might look like someday, except with brown hair. It was wrong to think like that, Marnie knew, and she tried to shake it away. Collette was her best friend, and for God’s sake, Kaylee was her goddaughter; she had to not think like that, but she couldn’t force her mind otherwise, although she tried desperately to do so.

  Marnie never stopped talking about a third child, and after Jeremy started kindergarten, and Trey was finally out of diapers and using the potty, she tried to convince Stuart that a third baby was what the family needed. Things were much easier. The boys were getting easier. They seemed to get along well. Life was flowing along nicely, she and Stuart had adjusted to his schedule and it appeared that they were making things work. While theirs wasn’t a feisty love, Marnie was always happy when Stuart returned home from a trip and theirs was a comfortable, happy, relatively solid relationship. He was dependable, a wonderful dad, a caring and loyal husband. Didn’t all relationships lose that intensity after the first few years and a couple of babies anyway?

  But every time she brought up the baby question, he turned on her.

  “We don’t need another baby in this house. Things are fine the way they are.”

  “That’s the problem. I’m bored with ‘just fine.’ I don’t want a family that’s just fine.” Marnie said.

  “The boys want a puppy; why don’t we get a puppy?” Stuart suggested.

  The boys, who were building Legos on the floor, perked up at the mention of a puppy. They said nothing, but Marnie could tell they were both now listening.

  She lowered her voice, “I don’t want a puppy. I’m ready for another baby. We talked about this. We said we wanted three or four children. If we wait much longer… ”

  “Honey, I’m gone all the time. How are you going to manage with another baby in the house? I really think we’ve got a great little crew here.”

  Marnie hated when he referred to their home and family in airplane terms. “Our family is not your flight crew.”