Diving In

by Galway, Gretchen

“That’s not it. My hair’s down, so you didn’t know who I was.”

  He laughed. Then they gazed at each other over the counter for a few hot seconds.

  “I know who you are,” he said in a low voice.

  She slid off the stool. “Took you long enough.” Then she took his hand and pulled him into her bedroom.

  * * *

  At 3:34 a.m., Ansel watched Nicki sleep, wishing he could do the same.

  Diane was right: having a warm body next to him helped. But tonight, thinking about the woman who owned that warm body was keeping him awake.

  He’d inherited insomnia from his maternal grandfather. His mom said it must’ve skipped a generation, since she and her sister never had any problems sleeping at any time whatsoever, but that their dad had always complained about sleeping troubles.

  It wasn’t usually this bad. The last time Ansel had had this many bad nights in a row was in college. But it wasn’t getting bad grades that killed him then; it was giving up the partying. He’d given that up the night he’d almost slept with a girl—again—who was almost as drunk as he was. He’d left the fraternity a week later.

  Mickey, he’d thought her name was.

  He rubbed a strand of her hair between his fingers, tempted to wake her for more sex. Laughter. The sound of her voice.

  Grandfather Jury hadn’t only been an insomniac. His mom didn’t like to talk about her childhood much, and with the arrogant optimism of his own happy existence, he hadn’t thought much about it until she told him one morning, when he was just eighteen, that he’d better be careful. “You take after him in some ways,” she’d told him. “Lots of good ways. But maybe not all good.”

  She went on to say a lot of nice things about Grandpa’s intelligence and charm, but all he heard was the bad stuff. Even Ansel, with only photographs to go by, could see he was the spitting image of the old man—their build, the gray eyes. And this was the same man that, for as long as his mom could remember, had drunk himself to sleep. Every night. As her father got older, the nights and days became less distinct; family life deteriorated.

  “So take care of yourself,” his mom had said. Then, smiling, she assured him his fate was in his hands, nurture wasn’t nature, and she trusted him to ask for help if he needed it. “Love you, study hard, see you at Thanksgiving.”

  Thanks, Mom.

  So he didn’t drink anymore. He didn’t take medicine to knock him out, either; his mother’s words had haunted him as much as sleep deprivation.

  Eventually, around five, he left Nicki’s bed and stepped out on the balcony to watch the sunrise. He waited until the sun was up completely before showering, getting dressed, and heading down the hall to call a surprise business meeting.

  It took a couple of minutes of knocking on the brass pineapple before the door flew open. “What the hell?” Diane stood there with half of her hair pointing at San Francisco and the other half at Tokyo.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I’m here to see Brand.”

  “Why is he here? Answer me why a big important pain in the ass like him has to sleep in my condo?” she asked. “I don’t even have a job.”

  “Can I come in?” Ansel asked.

  “Fuck if I care.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Fuckity fuck, what did I drink last night?”

  Brand appeared behind her, arms crossed over his chest. He was already dressed, unfortunately; Ansel had been hoping for boxers and red eye. Maybe he could wake him up the next day, when his jet lag had worn off.

  “You’ve got two bedrooms in this unit, Di,” Brand said. “I was going to stay at the Westin, but this way I can keep an eye on my partner over there.”

  Ansel gave him a look that said, you’re so full of crap. He wanted to keep an eye on somebody, all right.

  “It’s not just the bed or the bathroom, which is bad enough,” Diane said. “He’s breathing my air.”

  “Open a window,” Brand said. “Besides, you said last night it was all right.”

  “I’m having second thoughts,” Diane said.

  “It’s about time,” Brand said in a low voice.

  As Diane turned red, Ansel took her by the shoulders and moved her out of the way so he could step inside. “I’ll protect you.”

  “Let’s trade,” Diane said. “You take him, I’ll take Nicki.”

  “I like this unit better,” Brand said. “The natural fabrics don’t irritate my environmental sensitivities.”

  “You’re about as sensitive to the environment as an oil executive,” Ansel said.

  “See? Get out,” Diane said. “Tell Nicki I give great pedicures.”’

  A pornographic lesbian daydream launched in Ansel’s brain. “Uh…”

  “He doesn’t want her to move out,” Brand said. “It would make it harder to have sex with her.”

  Diane went into the kitchen and took a liter of diet Coke out of the fridge. “You think I didn’t know that?” She lifted the bottle to her lips.

  “They go way back, you know,” Brand said.

  Ansel went over to him. “Shut up now.”

  Lowering the bottle, she said, “I thought she just showed up last week.”

  “He knew her in college,” Brand said.

  Diane turned to Ansel. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Didn’t come up.”

  “But he told you all about it?” she asked Brand.

  “He tried to.” Brand kicked back on the couch and put his hands behind his head. “That’s how I found out you were here, though accidentally, since he called to talk about her.”

  The hurt on Diane’s face made Ansel take a step backward. She hated to be the last to know anything. “Tell you what. I’m early. Much too early. I’ll go out for some coffee, maybe a few breakfast pastries, fresh fruit, and by the time I come back, everyone will be happy and normal again.”

  “Since when is being happy normal for either one of us?” Diane muttered.

  “I’ll take the biggest coffee they’ve got, cream, no sugar,” Brand said. “Something high protein to go with it, maybe a hard-boiled egg and some nuts if you can find them.”

  Ansel didn’t really want to do any business. His goal, showing Brand he was up and working early—even earlier than Brand—had been accomplished. “Sure, no problem.” He waved and ducked out into the hall before Diane could argue.

  He only made it as far as the elevator before Brand caught up to him, a black messenger bag slung across his chest, and thumped him on the back. “Watch out for that one. She’s got plans for you.”

  “You’ve never even met her,” Ansel said.

  “I mean Diane. She’s not the type to spend her nest egg on a vacation,” Brand said, “even if she hadn’t just lost her only source of income.”

  “You think she wants in on the business deal?”

  “No, Ansel,” Brand said tightly. “She wants in on you.”

  The elevator arrived. It was already filled with a family who had accidentally taken it up to the top floor on their way to the pool; Ansel had to stew for three long, angry minutes until they were walking into the foyer before he could reply.

  He took Brand by the arm. “Hold on, you can’t just say something like that and walk away.”

  “I’m not walking away, I’m walking with.”

  “Great, I choose a partner who had to go to both law school and business school,” Ansel muttered.

  “Why’d she get so drunk last night?”

  “Those fruity drinks are stronger than they look.”

  “How many did she drink?”

  Five and a half. At least. But Ansel said, “A few.”

  “She was trying to get up her courage. You didn’t make it easy, having a new girlfriend right there in your condo. Has she met her yet?”

  Ansel wondered if Brand was the one who’d been drinking. “Yes. They got along great.”

  “That’s all part of her plan. Just you wait. I hope Mickey likes you enough to stick around once Diane
gets going. She’s your best bet for staying out of a bad marriage.”

  “Nicki,” Ansel said.

  Brand adjusted Ansel’s collar, his face hardening. “Promise me. When Diane makes her move, think about what you want, not just what she wants, or thinks she wants,” he said. “You have this bad habit of giving too much. Just this once, say no.”

  First Diane, now Brand. What the hell was the matter with them? “Listen,” he said. “Diane and I will never, ever, have sex with each other again. We tried it. I know you want her, and I’m sorry she doesn’t seem to feel the same way, but it has nothing, nothing, to do with me.”

  “Who said anything about sex? She just wants the other stuff. She’s talked herself into believing that because you love each other, and you’re getting old, why not?”

  “She said this to you?”

  “She didn’t have to,” Brand said.

  “Yeah, she did. That’s exactly what she’d have to do for me to believe it.”

  Brand put his hands on his hips. “You’re having a midlife crisis of your own. Settling down with your best friend could seem like a logical next step.”

  “No,” Ansel said.

  “It could happen. If you had to marry me or Diane, which would you choose?”

  “Is this your apocalyptic vision I’m hearing? Where will we be—an island in the South Pacific? The last remaining cubicle farm in North America as the land around us descends into preindustrial chaos?”

  “You’d choose Diane,” he said. “It’s not that crazy.”

  “I’m heterosexual. I’d choose that lady over there before I chose you.”

  Brand glanced over his shoulder. A gaggle of tourists wandered around the potted plants, fountain, padded wicker furniture. “Which one?”

  Ansel shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Any one of them. Because I’m not gay.”

  “You protest too much.”

  “I thought this was about you getting revenge for that nasty breakup of yours, but now I think you’ve got to be in love with her.” Ansel whacked him on the arm. “Totally around the bend.”

  Brand didn’t laugh. “Maybe I am.”

  Still wound up, Ansel took a few long seconds before he realized Brand was serious. He was always serious, but this was a different kind of serious.

  This was serious in a chick kind of way.

  “Huh,” Ansel said and fell quiet.

  “Yeah,” Brand said.

  “Wow.”

  “We going to get coffee or what? I’m half dead,” Brand said.

  They walked out to the front drive in silence. While they were waiting for the valet to get the car, Ansel struggled to think of something appropriate to say. Good luck? Tough break?

  They got in the car. When they were on the road, halfway to the coffee shop, Ansel finally thought of something.

  “I think I might be in love, too,” he said.

  Chapter 24

  “WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH HER?” Brand asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Something must be the matter with her for you to be getting serious so fast. You have a thing for damaged women.”

  Ansel braked, nearly causing the car behind him to rear-end the family’s vintage hybrid. He clutched the wheel, pulse racing. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on. It’s always something.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His sister teased him about it, but that didn’t mean it was true. He signaled and turned off the road into a complex of shops and boutique hotels, where he parked.

  He couldn’t look Brand in the eye.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Brand repeated.

  “It’s not like that. She’s not like…” Not like Anna or Yvonne. The two serious women from his twenties, each very different from the other except for the way they drained him. “She’s a teacher. She’s funny and smart. Very hot.”

  “Okay,” Brand said. “Forget it.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Let’s get the coffee.” Brand opened the door.

  “It’s not like before,” Ansel said. “She’s not a mess.”

  “I’m sure she’s very nice.”

  Except she was a bit of a mess. “She’s not an addict. And she doesn’t want me for my money.”

  “Great. We going in?”

  “You’re just humoring me. You don’t believe it.”

  “I’ve never met her,” Brand said, walking across the lot. “Think this place has anything without sugar in it? I’m trying to cut back. Not getting any younger, you know.”

  Ansel followed him into the café to the pastry case. He scowled at it without seeing anything. After Brand ordered a box of pineapple fritters, chocolate doughnuts, and banana bread—“they’re for Diane”—Ansel looked at him and said, “She’s afraid of things.”

  Brand handed his money to the young girl behind the counter.

  “But she’s working on it,” Ansel said. “She was afraid of water but went snorkeling off a charter boat anyway.” He wouldn’t mention the stupid life jacket thing; he didn’t think it would help his case.

  Brand took a deep breath, not looking at him as he put his wallet in his back pocket. “You were there? Helping her?”

  “Of course I was—no. This has nothing to do with me. She would’ve gone without my help.”

  “Okay,” Brand said.

  Ansel shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t want Nicki because she needed his help. It wasn’t like that.

  “Aloha,” the girl said. “What can I get you?”

  Ansel stared at her. She had on more makeup than a mime. The beige stuff was caked on at least a quarter inch thick, and her eyelashes looked like tarantula legs. Why did teenagers wear so much makeup these days?

  And when did he get so old he talked about teenagers like his father did?

  “Coffee,” he said. “Venti. You know, biggest you have.”

  He paid; they returned to the car. Ansel was grinding his molars. He didn’t like Nicki because she was afraid of stuff. That would make him some creepy, pathetic guy who needed to feel superior because his ego was so weak. Or a guy who’d get off on seeing her overcome her fears and then move on to his next project.

  Could Dad be right?

  “I think Diane will like this,” Brand said, patting the box in his lap. “Since she likes to eat so much.”

  “I’d like to see you tell her that.”

  “But she does.”

  “Add this algorithm into your code,” Ansel said. “‘If you tell a woman she eats a lot, then she will hate you.’”

  “It’s not like she’s fat.”

  “You might want to trust me on this one.”

  Brand looked into the box. “Maybe we should drive down to Safeway for a fruit plate.”

  “Oh, no. You got her just what she wanted.”

  “You sure?”

  Ansel glanced at him. Brand asking for advice? It had to be love.

  Poor guy. Diane hated his guts. No amount of baked goods would fix that. “I’m sure.”

  “I’m trusting you, man.”

  “I know. Give her the box, but don’t suggest she’s going to snarf it all down by herself, even if she does,” Ansel said. “And you should take one for yourself so she doesn’t feel embarrassed to dig in.”

  “But… I’m off sugar for a while.”

  “Tell her that as you’re stuffing her face. It’ll make her sympathize with your lack of willpower.”

  Brand frowned at him. “I’m not sure I want to love somebody that irrational.”

  Ansel drove into the resort, feeling a kinship with Brand he’d never felt before. “I hear you, man,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “I hear you.”

  * * *

  Nicki was sprawling out on the living room sofa, wearing nothing but a robe and a coffee mug, when Ansel arrived with his friends. She scrambled to her feet, tightened the satin sash, and held out her hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you.�
� She shook Brand’s hand, trying not to stare. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The rest of him wasn’t bad, either. He had dark movie star hair and a cleft chin and was one of those men who, against all odds, made pleated khakis sexy.

  “Hope we’re not too early,” Diane said, making a beeline for the coffeepot in the kitchen. “Even though I know we are, since I’d be asleep if these two losers hadn’t woken me up.” She had bags under her eyes and still wore sweats and bunny slippers. She lifted the mug to her lips as soon as she poured it.

  “Help yourself to the coffee.” Ansel smiled at Diane, who was already gulping it down.

  “I just brought you some coffee,” Brand said.

  Diane took another sip. “I needed more.”

  “Have as much as you like,” Nicki said. “I can’t handle any more caffeine today.”

  “I’m familiar with the concept,” Diane said, “but must admit I’ve never experienced it for myself.”

  Brand turned to Nicki. “So, you and Ansel go way back, I hear?”

  Nicki smiled politely, glancing at Ansel. “We met in college. He was visiting Rachel. I’m friends with her.”

  “Ah,” Brand said, as if she’d illuminated a mystery. He didn’t elaborate.

  Nicki decided it was his turn to face the spotlight. “What brings you to Maui?”

  Brand walked over to an armchair near the balcony and sat down. He faced Nicki, but his eyes kept darting to Diane, who’d climbed up on a stool at the breakfast counter. “When I heard Diane was here, I couldn’t resist. She and I go way back, too.”

  “Unfortunately,” Diane said, rotating on the seat with the mug at her lips.

  “I didn’t realize she’d just lost her job,” Brand continued. “Maybe she’ll have the time to show me around the island. I’ve never been here. Except on business.”

  “Sorry,” Diane said. “Busy.”

  Brand smiled. “Aren’t you always?”

  Diane slid off the stool, went into the kitchen, and put her mug in the sink. “Nice seeing you again, Nicki. I’ve got to get going. Thanks for the coffee.” With a wave, she walked out. The door banged behind her.

  Brand stood. “I’d better go, too. I pushed our appointment with the electrical guy to the day after tomorrow,” he told Ansel. “I’ll send you an email with the new time.”