by Leslie Pike
If I pick up my life, I would be losing all my contacts and the goodwill built over fifteen years. I’ve worked hard to reach the level I have with my contracting business, and I would be starting over at forty. Who knows if I’d even be able to recreate my success.
But if Dominique moves, she loses her own hard-won customer base and reputation. And the biggest piece of her story? Bing. I would be changing everything about his life too. It’s one thing to expect an adult to make a huge sacrifice. It’s another to make a choice for a child who has only known this town, these friends, the loving closeness of his extended family.
That’s the one con on my list I can’t find a rebuttal for. I sound like a parent, for God’s sake. It feels like my better self is showing up. I am putting a child before my own considerations. There is no clear choice. No simple solution to our problem.
Chapter Seventeen
Dominique
“Tell me more about this, Maxen. It sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.”
“It’s something I’ve had in my sights for a long time.”
Keeping his eyes on the road, we approach the parking lot of Jack Rye’s Steakhouse. Hopefully, July and Wes will be there already and have a table for us. I’m looking forward to a proper dinner and a few cocktails.
Maxen told me about this new development earlier today, but I’ve had time to think of more questions. There’s so much to consider if we are going to have a long-distance relationship. As much as I hate the idea, I haven’t been able to develop a better plan. Every way I’ve looked at it, one of us is making a sacrifice that would cost us dearly.
“I’ve been seriously working on getting their business for about five years now. Before that, I was too small a fish in a big pond. But after becoming the general contractor for a luxury development that eventually won awards, they started to pay attention.”
“What kind of numbers are we talking about? I mean, I don’t know the building business, but is this something that you might be working on for years?”
I hold my breath for the answer. But before I hear it, Maxen’s face says it all. He looks at me, and his eyebrows knit together.
“Yes. It could go on for decades. They have been in business in California since the nineties. The men and women who work for them have job security. That’s hard to find in this business. The company is solvent and steady. They’ve survived recessions and all the economic downturns that have happened.”
I just sit still for a few beats.
“Well, that’s great,” I say without meaning a word of it.
We pull up to the valet, and he opens my door. Stepping out, I straighten my skirt and take Maxen’s hand as he comes around the car.
“I can smell the steaks cooking,” he says, letting me enter the restaurant first.
It’s obvious both of us are somewhere else in our minds. I can’t get away from the thought we are going to be living apart. It hurts.
We walk to the podium, and Maxen speaks to the hostess. “Ripley. Reservations for eight.”
“Your party is already at the table. Follow me, please.”
We snake through the tables of diners, enjoying their evenings. Low light casts a pinkish glow over the room. It makes everyone look like they’re behind a filter.
“Evening, you two,” I say, approaching July and Wes.
She and I exchange cheek kisses, even though we just left each other three hours ago.
“We started without you,” Wes says, holding up his whiskey.
Maxen holds out my chair, and I slide in. He sits beside me.
“I need a drink,” I say, half laughing.
Maxen looks at me and nods.
“Me too,” he says.
Their faces reflect our moods—no need to explain. July knows because I told her at work today. I’m sure she told Wes if Maxen hadn’t already. The server comes to the table.
“Can I offer you a cocktail?” she says to me first.
“I’ll have a Grey Goose Martini, two olives, please.”
She turns to Maxen.
“Tequila. Do you have El Tesoro?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll have that.”
As the young girl walks away, we return to the problem at hand.
“So, what are you going to do?” Wes says without mincing words.
July doesn’t protest his question, and neither do I. Maxen runs a hand through his thick hair and closes his eyes for a moment.
“I don’t know.”
Then all eyes are on me. On my reaction.
“What can he do? It’s something he’s worked hard for. I think he should take it.”
No one says a word. What are they going to say? Should he abandon his dream for me? Should I abandon mine for him? Would he leave his family for a second time, when it turned out to be a mistake the first time? And I know I can’t make Bing leave everything he’s known and everybody he loves for a new life we know nothing about.
And my practice? That’s my dream. I don’t want to abandon that either. That’s why I understand his tough position. Do we sacrifice what we’ve built for the dream that hasn’t come true yet?
“You know we’re with you two, whatever you decide,” Wes says.
“That’s right, honey. Just know we are in your corner. Maxen can come here for long weekends, same with you, Dominique. You’ll figure it out,” July adds, trying to soothe my soul.
We all know how weak that sounds. What kind of love is that? Being with each other on random weekends isn’t my idea of a relationship. It’s less than what love requires, and I know it. He does, too, by the look on his face.
Besides that, everyone is different when you only see each other occasionally. You’re on your best behavior; you put other parts of life aside for a few days to make room for the thing that pleases you most. It’s a kind of a false story that belittles what love is really made of.
The real is so much better and more powerful than the surface. The sad part of our story is that we both know we could have it all if only we were together. But damn, you’ve got to want it enough regardless of the cost. In my case, I have something greater to consider—my child. The sacrifice must be Maxen’s. Oh my God, I just realized that.
Our drinks arrive just in time to stop my tears.
I lay in his arms, tangled up in the sheets. This hotel business is getting old. Bing is staying at Kim’s for the night, and normally Maxen and I would be loving on each other. That’s not what’s happening here. We are deep in our thoughts, far away from the bed.
I want more. I want him in my bed, my house. But for tonight, I have to try to be in the moment because the moments are about to evaporate.
“You know I love you, right?” he says in low tones.
“Yes.”
He rolls onto his side and looks me in the eyes. “Dominique, don’t give up on me. Please.”
A sigh precedes my words. “I would never give up on you. But how will we survive being apart?”
“I can’t answer that except to say nothing is going to change how I feel. We have to have faith that we will figure this out. I believe that. Do you?”
I cannot form words. One fat tear runs out the corner of my eye and lands on his arm. My chin starts to wobble. Everything I believe about love is on the line. Does God love the sound of a broken heart? It’s when we are most human—understanding the gift’s worth when it can all be taken away.
Maybe it’s how we rise.
Chapter Eighteen
Bing
“Fix your hair. It looks weird.”
I’m watching Hunter in the boys’ bathroom mirror, trying to comb down the piece of hair that sticks up and to the side.
“What do you think I’m doing? I slept on it wrong, shithead.”
Hard to see the extent of the damage with so much water spray and pimple puss stuck to the glass. It’s official; boys are pigs. It’s not just our lousy aim at the urinal that proves it.
My mother has no idea I don’t follow home rules at school. Splashed the mirror? Pissed on the floor? So what? Why is that funny?
“You gonna ask her?” I say.
Sticking the comb in his back pocket, Hunter takes one more look and sighs.
“That’s all I can do with it. She’ll have to accept me as is. Uh, yeah. I’m gonna ask her at lunch.”
“You nervous?”
He just shrugs an answer. That’s a yes.
“Maybe I should pop this zit,” he says, coming close to the mirror and touching his face.
“No! You’ll make it bleed. Just leave it alone. She already knows you have acne. It’s not like it’s gonna be a big surprise.”
“But there’s a head on it. She’s gonna be looking at that when I’m asking her to meet me at the dance.”
“Forget about it. We all have zits! Look at this one on my neck! It looks like it might have eyes!”
He laughs and accepts my take on things. We exit the bathroom just as a line of guys come in.
“Hey! Hope you win the Battle of the Bands,” says the quarterback of our losing football team. “You’re the best that tried out.”
That’s hardly a compliment, but I appreciate the thought. We’re like the football team. Not everyone can play at this level, but it doesn’t mean we’re any good. More like the best of the worst. Mom always says we need to start somewhere.
“Thanks. We’ll find out soon enough.”
“You guys have gotten a lot better since Hunter started singing,” the guy behind him says, laughing.
Fuck off, asshole. I think it but decide not to say it out loud. As we pass, I hear a final comment.
“Your girlfriend sure likes it,” he says to his friend. “Did you see her staring at him when he was singing?”
I recognize the ninth-grader. We all do. He’s hard to miss. Standing six feet tall, he towers over the rest of us. It gives him a kind of weird power to say whatever he wants. Sometimes he goes too far for a laugh.
Leaving them behind, we take our places in line for lunch.
“What’s that weird smell?” Hunter asks.
“Desperation and hormones.”
My one-person audience never fails to laugh at my jokes. It always eggs me on.
“You’re so funny! I think you should consider becoming a comedian. Have you ever thought of that?”
“No.”
“You could be the youngest comic on TV, or no, you should go on YouTube or TikTok. I bet you’d have a big following.”
The ladies in hairnets dish out our portions of tuna casserole slop. We’re prisoners in Sing Sing, taking whatever we can get.
“Hey! There’s Beth. She’s looking over here.”
He looks in the direction I’m pointing to, and immediately his face flushes.
“Calm the fuck down. You’re turning red!”
“We’ve got to hurry. I need to get a table and save a place for her and her girlfriend.”
“Who is that with her? Is that the new student? The ninth-grader?”
We take our trays and move across the gymnasium to the tables.
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Hunter says, looking over his shoulder.
“Well, I do! She’s pretty.”
“Go for it. You’re about the only eighth-grader who would have the balls.”
“I do, and I will.”
We slide onto the bench of the closest table available. Hunter quickly spreads out his lunch, covering two extra spaces for the girls we hope to corral.
“Not like that!” I say. “Make the other girl sit next to me, not next to Beth.”
He switches the saved spaces as I run a hand through my hair, check my breath, and adjust my balls under the table. And then we watch. Every moment passes slowly as they get their food. Two boys ahead have turned and are talking to them.
“That pisses me off,” Hunter says, noticing his rivals.
“You should signal her over next time she looks.”
He watches like a hawk hovering over a mouse. Pretty soon, he waves, letting her know where we are sitting. As if she didn’t already see us. It’s just backup. Good thing we got here when we did; kids are starting to squeeze in beside us.
“Here she comes. Do I look all right?”
“Yeah, you look good,” I say, completely ignoring the hair and the zit.
Hunter doesn’t take his eyes off Beth as she approaches. I know he likes her hair and how it almost touches her butt. But mostly, I think he likes that she isn’t one of the mean girls. She’s not silly or giggly. And she knows about baseball. That’s pretty good, I think. I’d like a girl like that too.
“Hi,” he says as the girls join us at the table.
“Hi,” Beth says.
They’re forced to follow our brilliant plan. The girl smiles as she sits beside me.
“I’m Bing.”
“That’s a good name. I’ve never heard it before.”
“Well, it's really Bingham, but my dad started calling me Bing. I guess it stuck.”
“This is my cousin, Frankie,” Beth says. “She just moved here from Vermont. You haven’t seen her in any of our classes because she’s a ninth-grader.”
I think I’ve always liked older women, ever since sixth grade when I had a crush on Mrs. Petijon, my art teacher. It was the way she dressed. Those sweaters really interested me.
“I’ve never met a girl named Frankie.”
“Well, it’s Frances.”
She’s smiling like she’s having fun talking with me. Am I imagining that?
“Are you two going to the dance next Saturday?” Hunter finds the courage to ask.
“What dance?” Frankie asks.
“They’re having a welcome back to school dance for all the grades,” Hunter says.
“Bing’s band, The Other Side, might be playing,” Beth adds.
“You have a band? I love music.”
Across the table, I see Hunter reach for Beth’s hand under the table.
The sound of a cheap microphone pierces the great moment.
“Attention, students! Attention!”
Mr. Wilson, the Principal, already looks like it’s next June. His hair is a mess, and his eyes look tired. But he has the announcement we’re waiting for.
“The votes have been tallied, and The Other Side will be performing at our first dance of the school year. Thank you to all who tried out. It was a close count, but The Other Side had the most votes. Thank you.”
Well, he didn’t have to add that. We thought we’d win in a landslide.
I turn to Frankie, and she smiles. It’s good to be a rockstar.
It’s been one whole week since we started our weight-lifting routine. I may be fooling myself, but it looks like my pecs and biceps are a little bigger. We hung a mirror in Hunter’s garage so we can watch ourselves as we lift. Mom told me Dad used to do that. For some reason, it makes me happy to think about it.
“I’ve got a great idea,” I say to Hunter.
He’s getting used to my great ideas, and what I like about it most is that he joins in my plans.
“What is it?”
“I want to give Frankie some cool flowers for the dance. Make a grand gesture she won’t forget.”
I get a sneer for my effort.
“You know, like high schoolers do for proms.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, and she told me she loves flowers. Her mom works in a flower shop. I could make points with her too.”
Hunter makes a loud groan as he reaches the limit of his curls. “Awwwww!”
“I guess it would be something a girl would like.”
“So I googled it, and there’s a Tennessee flower called the Frances Fan. It’s this small red flower that looks like a Japanese fan. Don’t you think that’s awesome?”
“I guess. Where do you buy it?”
“That’s the thing. We have to go dig it up.”
“Where?”
“It’s in the entry
of the caves by the river. I know exactly where.”
“Are you crazy? That’s at least an hour and a half away. And we need to be at school at five-thirty.”
“That gives us plenty of time. It’s only ten in the morning. Come on! Help a brother.”
“We’re supposed to take care of the dogs today. Did you forget your mom and Maxen are going on a picnic?”
“We’ll take the dogs. It’ll be an adventure. Did you forget we’re the Explorers?”
Chapter Nineteen
Hunter
McFly didn’t last long on the mountain. He got put in Bing’s backpack an hour ago, where he sits like a King observing his subjects. Meanwhile, Cali is having a great day. She isn’t put off by the inclines or sounds of birds and critters.
Why did I agree to this? Remember to kick yourself in the ass, Hunter. It will have to wait because we haven’t even seen one cave yet. Bing’s history lessons are becoming annoying, the dogs are covered in mud and burrs, and I just slipped and fell.
Is this animal shit on my hand? It gets wiped on my pants. Besides that, our cell phones don’t work in this hellhole. I was planning on calling Beth to tell her about our day’s adventure. I thought she’d be impressed. Instead, I had to send a text that probably didn’t go through.
“So, I was reading about the caves. River pirates used them as hideouts.”
My eyes narrow. “Pirates on a river? I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true! They would rob people going down the river. They were easy pickings. And here’s another thing. During the Civil War, the caves were mined by both the Union and the Confederacy.”
“You’re making up this whole thing. They’re bat caves, idiot.”
“They are now. But there was saltpeter there before. They used it in their gunpowder.” He takes a few beats. “Idiot.”
I’d laugh if I weren’t so pissed. Bing’s brain is like a computer. There’s lots of information in there, and he’s happy to share.