by P. Dangelico
The kiss turns passionate, and a growing feeling of discomfort crawls over my skin. Jake’s right. This is wrong. Maybe spying, surveilling, whatever isn’t such a hot idea. I’m about to walk away when they pull apart, and Dad opens the back door to the family residence.
Oh my God, he’s having this woman sleep over for the night!
I’m seconds from calling Jackie and dropping this bombshell in her lap when another one explodes right in my face.
The mystery woman turns and the ground beneath my feet evaporates.
It’s Zelda.
All the blood leaves my face. I blink and blink, trying to make her disappear but it doesn’t happen. It doesn’t stop me from trying again, however. Vaguely, I can feel Jake’s strong, stoic presence next to me, but everything else is white noise at this point.
Automatically, I stand, back rod-straight. Whether they see me or not is no longer a factor because I march across the lawn after them.
“Carrie,” I hear tailing me.
Horrified, bewildered, disgusted, I watch my father, the man I’ve always counted on to give me the unvarnished truth, grin at the woman who abandoned us. Without thought, I make a beeline for them. I don’t know why, but I’m not really thinking right now. I’m pissed and I want answers.
“What are you doing here?” I snap when I reach the bottom of the porch stairs.
Startled, they spin around to face me. Dad blanches, his face going from surprise to guilt. But Zelda? She’s as nonchalant as ever. Not a care in the world. So typical.
She smiles softly. “Carrie, hi sweetie––”
“Save your pet names.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Yeah, I know,” I tell her. “That’s why I don’t answer my phone. Why is that hard for you to understand?”
I can’t be nice right now. I’m much too angry to be rational. Besides, when someone doesn’t call you back, isn’t it obvious that you’ve been canceled?
“Dad?” My accusing glare shifts between the two of them. My father looks like a kid caught with his hand in the human cookie jar.
He runs a hand through his gray hair and sighs. “What do you want me to say, Carrie?”
“I want you to remember that this woman left us.”
Dad winces and Zelda frowns. “Gene, don’t let her speak to you like that.”
“Why are you even here? Haven’t you wreaked enough destruction in his life? I mean, I know destroying people is your bloodsport but can’t you find someone else to torture?”
“Carrie…” Jake takes me by the bicep and I shake him off.
“No.”
Zelda steps forward and I take note of the changes. The muted hair, the absence of heavy makeup and Botox. The clothes…for shit’s sake the clothes are laughable. It’s like she’s trying to play the part of dutiful country wife.
“I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, but I still care very much about your father…” Pausing, she glances back at Dad. “I never stopped loving him.”
I’m about to lose my mind. For once, Zelda looks unsure, and it emboldens me. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Carrie! You know I hate that language,” Dad, the bastion of moral rectitude chimes in. The one who has been sneaking round for who knows how long.
“How long have you been seeing her?” Silence. A sneaking suspicion worms its way in. “You’ve been seeing each other for weeks, haven’t you? Maybe months. I’m pretty sure I saw you at the grocery store.”
No one says a word. But there’s plenty of awkward to pass around.
I glance over my shoulder, at Jake, whose expression turns somewhat sheepish. He scratches the back of his neck and breaks eye contact. “That’s why you picked me up that night at Regina’s bar. Don’t bother answering.”
I turn my ire back on my mother. “Remember when you were a lesbian?”
“Bisexual, honey. And I still am.”
“Dad!”
“You can’t help who you love, Carrie,” my father says, trying to justify Zelda’s betrayal while looking frustrated and upset. That’s no easy task and yet he manages it. I cannot believe how cavalier he’s being about this. About a woman who cheated on him repeatedly.
“Even if that person occasionally loves other women!” My face is on fire, my buns coming undone.
“I never loved Joan,” Zelda replies, inserting herself again. “But I did care for her. And will forever be grateful that she assisted in my self-actualization––”
“Gahhh! That’s even worse! You’re a sociopath,” I scream at the night sky. “I…I can’t with this steaming pile of garbage right now!”
Turning, I walk away, heading for the quiet refuge of the Austen. That woman’s mind was a treasure. She had the foresight to know we would all need to escape reality from time to time.
I’m about to take the porch steps two at a time when I pivot and head for the lake instead. I need to feel something other than burning rage.
Although it’s almost the end of May, it’s far from warm. In fact, I’m still wearing a winter jacket most of the time. The only one immune to the cold seems to be Jake.
Doesn’t matter. I’m red hot mad and no amount of cold can touch this. I reach the edge of the lake and don’t stop, some invisible force drawing me in. Kicking off my Golden Goose sneaks without breaking stride, I walk straight into the frigid lake.
“Carrie!” The sound reaches me and drowns as I dunk my head under water, my entire body convulsing from the near freezing temperature. The oxygen in my lungs turns solid. That’s what it feels like. I feel turned to stone.
A strong hand grips my arm and yanks me up, the motion jarring and painful. I break the surface and take a deep gasping breath. Under oath, I would swear both my lungs collapsed. That’s how painful it is to breathe.
Jake drags me out of the water none too gently. The weight of my clothes soaked straight through makes it impossible to take a single step. It’s like walking in quicksand. Seeing that he’s practically naked, he doesn’t have this problem.
Tired beyond measure, I collapse on the sand of the shoreline coughing and spitting up water while he stands over me with his hands on his hips. Looking up, I’m faced with his cold anger, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each labored breath he takes.
“Well that was fucking stupid. We need to get you inside before you go hypothermic.”
He offers me his hand and I offer mine back. He mutters something and squats, hooks his arms under my pits and lifts me. As soon as he does, I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding on for dear life. Seems like I’ve been doing a lot of that with Jake lately.
Teeth chattering, I bury my face in the slope of his shoulder and dig in, desperate to get warm. I’m so cold my lips are turning numb. Every attempt to speaks produces nothing other than gibberish.
“Don’t talk….we can talk later.” He pats my back and begins climbing the hill back up to the cottages.
An eternity passes before we cross the threshold of his cottage and head for the bathroom. He carries me inside and sets me on my feet. Then he turns on the shower at full blast.
“Jake…”
“Just…wait.”
Hot steam fills the room in minutes. It gets into my lungs and thaws them, soothes the burning pain. My body shaking violently, I lean on Jake. It’s become common practice anyway. His is the only solid, steady strength I can count on these days. Which probably doesn’t bode well for me in the long run. I tuck the thought away to examine later.
When the shower hits the right temperature, he takes my arm and drags me inside the shower with him. Three years ago my father upgraded all the bathrooms to have large standing showers with massage shower heads and wall jets. Thank God for small favors. Otherwise both of us couldn’t have fit in it now.
Jake sinks to the floor and I follow. He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back against his chest, cradled between his legs. Then he holds me until I stop sha
king. Until the cold in my bones and in my heart gives way to other feelings.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. C’mon, babe.”
Babe?
“…I didn’t mean to yell at you…you know I don’t mean it…” he murmurs in my ear, sneaking a kiss in here and there that makes me shiver for all the right reason. “I mean…it was stupid––running into the water like that. Don’t get me wrong. What I mean is…”
He really cannot handle feminine tears. I should tell him that I cry when I’m angry…and sad…and happy. But maybe I’ll let him hold me a little longer before I do.
“Get in,” he says, standing before me in a pair of black boxer briefs.
His body is a stunning work of art, a perfect balance of muscle and bone, now that I get to see it in its full glory. Too bad I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open to truly enjoy it.
After Jake washed my hair and rinsed it, he left the bathroom to fetch me a pair of his boxer and a t-shirt while I peeled the wet clothes off. If he’s not careful, there’s a very good chance I may fall in love with him.
“I’m sleeping here?” I ask, more than a little timidly because God forbid I misunderstood. I’m so twisted and tired I’m capable of all sorts of screw-ups right now.
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
That seems to end the debate. I slide beneath his cool sheets, and he goes to the kitchen to fetch me a bottle of water.
He turns the lamp off, and the room is plunged in darkness with only a dim light coming through the window. He slips into bed next to me, and without hesitation wraps me in his arms, pulling me against him. It’s all I can do not to sigh.
“Thank you for rescuing me again. That’s all you seem to be doing lately.” Shame makes my cheeks hot.
“Stop apologizing.” He takes my hand and places it on his chest. His skin is burning hot under my palm, the fine hair on his chest soft.
“What was all that about? She’s your mother, Carrie.”
“My mother left us when I was ten.”
“Whatever she did to Gene, it’s their business.”
The anger boils up again. “The summer I turned nine she got into the habit of taking me to see a movie a few times a week. I wasn’t in summer camp yet and Jackie was so she couldn’t babysit. I thought it was great. I got to sit in a dark theater and eat candy. Soon enough we ran out of movies locally, so we had to travel farther and farther to larger movie theaters. She would leave me there and come to pick me up at the end.
“One day I ate too much candy and started throwing up. The kid working there rushed to help me and when he realized I was there alone he called the cops. That’s how my father found out my mother was having an affair.”
“Jesus. It’s bad. I get it but…”
“But what?”
“But at least you have one.”
I didn’t think I could feel any worse tonight but here we are. “I’m sorry…how did she die?”
“Heart attack. Bad valve. It failed when she was at work at the diner. She was a waitress. We didn’t have any money for doctors so she never knew.”
“How did you find out?”
“She worked the night shift. There was a knock on our door one night around midnight. The cops found me home alone and called CPS.”
“And your dad?”
I hear him take a deep breath. “I met him once––when I was six. But all I remember about him is that he was big and scary. To a six year old he was scary. I think…I got the impression we were better off without him.”
My throat swells and my eyes get glassy. I take a shaky breath and reach for him, cupping his scratchy jaw. Guided by nothing but touch. It’s automatic and without design. He kisses my palm brings my hand down. Then he turns me and tucks me against the front of his body.
“Sleep,” he mutters tiredly. “We both need it.”
Chapter 15
“Heard you had quite the tussle last night,” Nan says the moment I step into the kitchen the next morning.
For a moment I think she means Jake and then I remember.
“Did you hear about the hooker?” I ask while I pour fresh coffee grinds in the machine.
“She’s you mother. Watch your mouth,” she says, pointing two manicured fingers with an unlit cigarette in between. An eye roll worthy moment if ever there was one. “And yes.”
I turn on my heels to get a good look at my grandmother. Something doesn’t smell right, and my suspicion is confirmed when I see the blank look on her face.
“You knew. You knew and you didn’t tell me.”
“Not my business to tell.” She grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours herself a cup of coffee. Then she lights the cigarette.
“Nan…” I hate the smell.
“My house, my rules.”
“And you’re okay with this? Your son cavorting with a woman of loose morals?”
“Morning,” my father says stepping into the kitchen.
“Morning…” I mutter.
“We were just talking about you,” Nan announces.
Dad exhales tiredly. “Let’s have it out. But once it’s done, I will not discuss it anymore.”
“Dad…how can you possibly trust her? She’s an energy vampire. She will drain you until there’s nothing left and toss you aside.”
“Carrie…” He makes a pained face. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I don’t.”
He sighs tiredly and meets my pointed gaze. “We don’t get to pick the people we love.”
There’s a lot of truth to that. But it’s the look on his face that practically knocks me off my feet. He means it.
“I can’t explain it any other way. I have always loved your mother. And it’s a sure bet I always will.”
“I can’t believe these number.” Hal looks dazed as he stares at his computer screen. We moved our weekly meeting to late afternoon so it wouldn’t interfere with my work at the hotel.
My column has gone viral. Twitter has even given me a blue check. That means a lot in some circles. Not so much in others.
“You know what this means…” Gray says, his big brown eyes full of mischief and mayhem. “Syndication.”
“Slow your roll, Edward R. Murrow. A few more eyeballs don’t equate to squat.”
I’ve been having so much fun writing my lifestyle columns that I forgot to worry about everything else. Like Shares and Likes and reTweets. I stopped paying attention and it happened. And nobody is more surprised than me.
Every time I walk into the office, Hal is hollering about the sky-rocketing numbers like he hit the trifecta at Saratoga. I guess small town life is more entertaining than I thought. Then again, I tend to be wrong a lot.
“This is cause for a celebration. Want to grab a drink?” Gray suggests.
“Yeah, I know just the place. Hal?”
He shakes his head.
My mind immediately drifts to Jake and our late night talk. I can either continue to live on standby, or I can go for it. And since I don’t have his number, I figure one drink to shore up my spotty confidence, and then I knock on his door.
“What are you doing here?” Regina says to Gray the moment we reach the bar.
Her attention shifts back and forth between the two of us. “You two know each other?”
It’s so loud in here I can barely hear her, the bar packed three rows deep.
“G––we work together at The Gazette. How do you two know each other?”
Gina’s face goes blank. “He rents my guest house,” she screams back.
“Hey,” Gray says to my friend.
“Hello,” Gina answers more coldly than I’ve ever seen her.
Well this is interesting. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there are some serious vibes of the sexual variety swirling around here. Except I know better, and Gina likes them older––a lot older. Last guy she dated was forty-five.
We order and since it’s a Thursday night there’s no chance in hell we’re getting a
table. I’m slowly sipping my drink when someone bumps into me from behind. The guy apologizes and offers to buy me a drink. I show him I already have one and he moves on.
“I’ll be right back,” Gray yells in my ear. I nod and watch him take off, pushing through the crowd.
A few minutes later I’m standing alone when the guy who bumped into me earlier swings back around. “Hey, good timing, he says pointing to my empty glass. “Can I get you another?”
“No, dude. She’s with me.”
My attention jerks up…to find Jake standing behind the guy. He’s dressed in black and looking like the return of the Grim Reaper, his face arranged in a harsh expression. And yet my stomach flips and heart flutters. This is baaaad.
“Hi.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he says to me.
Just like that. Like he expects me to obey. “I’m with friends.”
“Yeah, she’s with me,” the guy who wants to buy me a drink says. It actually surprises me to see him still standing there.
“I’m not with him,” I say to Jake. Then turn to glare at the guy. “I don’t even know you.” My eyes skip right back to Jake. “I’m with Gray.”
“Who’s Gray?” both Jake and the guy say.
“I’m Gray,” Gray says, suddenly appearing behind me.
“Let’s go,” Jake says. And now I’m on the my way to getting a little angry. He leaves town without a word, but I have to jump through hoops like a trained seal the minute he snaps his fingers?
“No.”
“Carrie…”
“I’m here with friends, Jake. Stay or go, but I’m staying.”
“Man, you’re gonna let your girl talk to you like that?” the drink guy says.
“Shut up,” both Jake and I answer.
He stares at me for a beat, then his glare moves to Gray. Then he turns and walks out.
Two hours later I’m back at the Austen.
“Did you have fun with what’s-his-name?”
The question comes from the man sitting in the dark on the porch of his cottage, lawn chair tipped back and legs resting on the railing.