by Jen Clarke
“You still like her, don’t you?” Denise says, her voice making it clear that she knows the answer.
“Yes,” I admit.
“Well, my advice still stands. Have some fucking pride,” she smirks. “Ask her out.”
“But what if I tell her I like her and she just doesn’t like me?”
“She must like you some,” Denise says. “Or she wouldn’t be staying with you. I mean, you do talk, right?”
“Oh yes,” I say. “I’ve been working a lot so we haven’t hung out much, but she made me breakfast.”
“Made. You. Breakfast.” says Denise. “Ellen!”
“She was just being nice.”
“She likes to cook?”
“No, she doesn’t. Not really.”
Denise raises her eyebrows.
I feel my face turning red again. “She makes things like sandwiches and stuff like that.”
“I’ve never had someone make me breakfast,” Denise says. “Not even my husband when we were married.”
“She’s nice!” I plead. “She’s just being friendly.”
“If you insist,” Denise shrugs.
“And anyway, she’s going to be going back soon.”
“And you’re not going to tell her,” Denise sighs. “You have to live a little, Ellen.”
“No it’s fine. She has her life, I have mine. We’re friends and I like being friends with her. And anyway, I’m looking forward to having my own space back.”
“Your place is tiny,” Denise notes, diplomatically. “Still,” she adds, “it must be nice to have someone around. Your street’s so quiet in the winter.”
“It is,” I agree. Quiet isn’t the word. Deserted is more like it. If you walk the right way down my street in February, you’ll walk past house after house with doors locked and blinds drawn. Quickly I add, “But I’ll be glad to have my space back. You have no idea how much of a mess she makes.”
“Practically moved in?” Denise asks.
“Oh God yes, her things are everywhere.”
“You see.” She gives me another smug look.
“That’s just the way she is,” I implore. “She’s very open and gets comfortable with people.” I wonder to myself as I’m saying it, if Bri would serve me breakfast in bed again. Maybe before she left. The thought fills me with anticipation and I try not think about how it would also mean her departure. “Anyway Denise, I’m glad you know.”
“I’m glad you’re glad,” Denise says, then smiles to let me know not to take her sarcastic tone seriously. “Now, I want to tell you something,” she says.
“What?”
“You can’t tell anyone. You can’t even hint.”
“Denise, you trying to say I can’t keep a secret?”
“Good point,” Denise looks in the bartender’s direction. He’s at the other end, talking to someone. She leans in close and whispers, “I’m thinking of moving,” she whispers. “Off Cape.”
I stare at her. Finally, I speak. “When? Why?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure,” she tells me, “but I looked up the town where my ex is moving to.”
“Is it nice?” I ask.
“Better schools. And for the rent I pay here, I can get a nicer place.”
“What about your Mom?”
Denise shrugs. “I’ll miss having her just down the street, but she keeps saying how much energy the kids have. She only has so much in her.”
“Well, good luck,” I say, not having a clue what else to say.
“Ellen, it’s not happening yet. I may not even do it. I really want to look around first.”
“No, it’s a great idea,” I encourage her. “Much better for your family.”
“I sure hope so,” she says. “Anyway, I need to get going. Catch you later.”
After she leaves, I finish my Irish coffee and send a text to Bri. I smile after hitting send. I can’t wait to tell her she was right. I’d finally come out to someone and it went well. Of course, now Denise is going to leave and I’ll be back where I’d started. Worse than when I started, since she was pretty much my only friend.
Just then my phone rings. I look down at the screen and swipe to answer. “Oh, hi Mom.” I’d forgotten to call her back. Fortunately, the restaurant provided an instant excuse and a distraction. “I am so sorry. Did I tell you what happened at work?”
My mother listens with interest while I tell her about the vandalism. She and Julie don’t speak much, but they’ve known each other a long time. The Cape is small and it’s even smaller if you grew up here.
“Well Ellen, that’s a shame, really it is. It’s not like the old days. Young people moving away and those that are left… this kind of thing happens.” My mother pauses. “So, are you coming to my party? I would like you to stop by and say hi to some people.”
“Well Mom, I’m planning to come, but…” It was the least I could do for my mother. I knew attending her party really would make her happy. But what about Bri?
“Are you working that day?”
“No, I have a friend staying with me, but I’m sure she can…”
“One of your old friends? It’s not Denise, is it? I don’t think she had a good time last time.” My mother has never liked Denise. I can tell just from the way she says her name.
“Oh, she had a great time,” I lie. “But she’s not free, no this is…”
“Is it Kaitlynn?” I haven’t seen her since high school, but because we grew up next to each other, my mother is convinced Kaitlynn and I are great friends.
“No. You don’t know her. She’s a friend from school. From college,” I add.
“Well, definitely bring her along, we’d all love to meet her!”
“She might have something to do at her parents. I’ll check with her.” I didn’t want to commit Bri to my mother’s party, at least not without asking.
“Are her parents on Cape?”
“Yes, Sandwich,” I say.
“Oh, Sandwich,” my mother says, sounding both dubious and impressed the way people get when someone’s from a different part of Cape. Even if it’s only a half hour away. “Well, bring her if she’s around, we’ll have plenty of food. So I’ll see you then? People are arriving at six, but of course you can show up before.”
We say our goodbyes as I wonder what I’ve done. If I’d been thinking, I wouldn’t have mentioned Bri to my mother. I can’t imagine what my parents will make of what Bri did for fun, or for that matter what Bri did for work. Vlogging? What’s that? You talk about what on the YouTube? Just then, my phone beeps.
I glance casually at my phone. Bri has uploaded a new vlog. Even though I don’t watch them, I always look at the titles. This one says, “Bri and A Friend Confess Their Old Crushes! On each other!” The teaser image is Bri and Emily looking very cozy, sitting next to each other on the bed. The sub-heading read, “Will they end up making out? Watch and see!”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I say to my phone.
Chapter Ten
“My parents’ place is up there, but it’s better to park down here,” I explain as I pull the emergency brake. People think of the beach when they think of Cape Cod, but my parents’ neighborhood is hilly and full of trees.
“Should we have taken my car? It’s better with hills,” Bri asks.
“Oh no, my car isn’t that bad. Getting up the driveway isn’t the problem,” I explain, flipping down the sun visor and checking my face in the mirror. “I just don’t want to get parked in.”
Things between Bri and I have been weird. I haven’t wanted to ask her about her latest vlog and what went on between her and Emily. Actually, she started to tell me, but I kept interrupting until she stopped. When I invited her to my mom’s party, I kept telling her she didn’t have to go, but she insisted. It doesn’t make any sense. Why does she want to go? I don’t want to go. Maybe she wants to talk about the celebratory rituals of the native Cape Codder on her vlog. I glance nervously at her.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Are you ready?”
“Is there a rush?” Bri asks.
“No, no rush.” I hastily get out of the car, hoping she’ll follow. The driveway up the hill isn’t long, but I’m sure we can manage to have a fight along the way. The quicker we get inside the house, the better. I take a deep breath and glance at Bri before ringing the doorbell.
“Ellen!” my mother says, reaching out to give me a quick hug. “Everyone is going to be so glad to see you. Just the other day, I was saying to Marge that I haven’t seen you in months…”
“Not months, Mom,” I plead. “Let me introduce you to Bri. Bri Waters.”
“This is your friend?” She looks Bri up and down. “That’s some hair.”
“Thanks,” Bri says. “I just dyed it.”
I’m sure my mother didn’t intend her words as a compliment and I wonder if Bri is oblivious or simply unwilling to acknowledge her. “Wow, something smells great Mom,” I say.
“Well, let me show you what we have,” she says. We follow her past the living room and into the kitchen. On the laminate counter, there’s two bowls of chips, the dip, which I know is French onion and several Chinet plates of my mother’s sandwiches in mini sub rolls. My mother makes an annoyed noise when she notices plastic wrap on the last plate and hastily begins taking it off.
“All of this looks great,” I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I am.
“It looks good to me too,” Bri agrees. The room seems too small for her. Even though she’s standing in the middle of the floor, I expect the folds of her coat to brush against the counter and knock something over. She turns her head. I notice the sun catchers hanging from the window are dusty.
“That plate’s tuna, this plate’s chicken,” my mother explains as the doorbell rings. “And that last plate has onions. If you’re avoiding onions, let me get that.”
My dad comes in carrying a stack of paper plates, piled with napkins and plasticware. “Hi Ellen, I thought I heard you.” My dad carefully sets down his pile on the counter. “Honey, is this your friend?” My dad solemnly shakes hands with Bri. “Ellen’s not getting you into any trouble is she?”
“Not at all,” answers Bri, looking very serious behind her glasses.
“I’m just kidding,” he says in a friendly tone. “Girls, do you want to take your coats off or keep them on?”
“I’ll keep mine on for now,” Bri says. The house is chilly. Despite the cool spring, my parents are big believers in turning the heat off as early as possible once April comes around.
“Ellen, Breena…”
“Bri,” Bri interrupts.
“Bri.” My mother shakes her head. “That’s a tough one. Ellen, I think you know everyone here, you remember Marge, Liz, Peggy…have I left anyone out?”
“Ellen, you’re so big! This can’t be Susan’s girl!”
I’m pretty sure she said the same thing word-for-word last year.
“I remember when she used to come in, do her homework in the back.”
“Oh Ellen, you’ve grown up to be so good-looking. Do you have a boyfriend?”
I smile and answer “yes” and “no” as appropriate. A part of me appreciates the fuss. I remember all of these women. They were part of my childhood. I can feel Bri’s eyes on me and try not to squirm.
“Ellen,” Marge, one of the oldest, says. She has to be over seventy. “I’m so glad to see you’re back. Too many young people move away.” Even back when I was little girl, I remember Marge talking wistfully of her grandchildren, who she only saw for brief visits in the summer. She’d draw me bird pictures when the office was quiet.
“I remember your bird pictures.”
“Oh do you?” She breaks into a huge smile and seeing her happy makes me glad I’ve come to the party, even if the evening was still full of pitfalls.
“Linda!” my mother is speaking to a newcomer in the other room. “Did you bring your cookies?”
“Yes-a, I brought-a, the cookies Italian-o.” I recognize the voice as Linda, even with the fake accent guaranteed to win the notice and disapproval of the Italian-American Anti-Defamation League. I try not to look in Bri’s direction, afraid to think about what she makes of all this.
“I brought my bourbon balls,” Liz says.
My mother bends over and sniffs. “Whew! Strike a match and burn off some of that alcohol!” She laughs. “Better yet, give them to me. Okay everyone, plates on the counter, there’s plenty of sandwiches, and there’s beer and soda in the cooler.”
More people come. The counter is full and the kitchen table begins filling up. In the general crush, Bri and I each take a chicken sandwich. Despite the tension between us, a thought occurs to me and I ask, trying not to giggle, “Shouldn’t we have taken the tuna?”
She rewards me with a smile and I feel a bit of the tension break. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” I say, between bites. “How about you? My mother and her friends can be a little overwhelming.”
“They seem nice,” Bri says. “I notice your father has retreated,” she adds.
“Yeah, he’ll be in the other room. It’s meant to be the dining room, but we use it as a den. That’s where the husbands always end up. There’s also usually some other people from Town Hall, but they’ll probably come later.” I had no idea why I was telling her all this and hoped Bri didn’t think I was babbling.
“So there’s going to be more people?”
I nod while I chew the sandwich. I know on some level that it’s not very good, but the taste is familiar and comforting. “This is her big bash for the season. After town meeting and before Memorial Day. It’s their way of letting off steam.”
“It’s interesting,” Bri notes, looking around.
What did “interesting” mean? I’d never been to Bri’s house, but I know her parents have money. I had also gotten the impression the home she grew up in was more, well, a little more aware of life over the bridge. I have no idea how people like that entertained, but I have a feeling it didn’t look like this.
“Now where do I put this?” asks a woman holding a large plate. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her.
“Here. I’ll make a space,” I offer, trying to be helpful. There’s nowhere else so I unplug the toaster oven and pick it up to clear a space for the dish, then peer around, frantic for a place to put the little appliance before I spread crumbs all over the place.
“Let me, I can reach,” Bri offers. To my awe, she easily places the toaster oven on top of the refrigerator without knocking over any of the grocery bags or supplement bottles already living up there. It must be nice to be tall.
“Are you Susan’s daughter?” the woman asks, pulling off plastic wrap from her plate.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“I’m Joyce, from the DPW.”
“You looked familiar, but I couldn’t place you,” I say. “Are those what I think they are?” I point to her plate. “They have peanut butter in them, right?”
She laughs. “They do, Ritz crackers, peanut butter, and then I dip them in chocolate.”
“I’ve never had one before,” Bri says, looking vaguely alarmed.
“They’re good. I remember eating half a plate of them when I was a kid,” I add.
“You must have been sick as a dog,” the woman says good-naturedly. I’ve already forgotten her name again. “Well, go ahead, take some, take some!”
Under Bri’s wide-eyed gaze I grab two and place them on a napkin, balanced in my hand. I feel a little self-conscious, eating my trashy dessert. They are good though.
“This is delicious,” I tell her.
“Well thank you. Ellen, you’re so like your mother, I can’t get over it. The boys must all be after you.”
I manage a polite laugh. “Well, not really, I’ve mostly been working this winter.”
“That’s not what I heard from your mother,” the woman replies.
&nbs
p; “Well, that’s news to me,” I reply, managing another laugh, and glance at Bri. “Hope springs eternal,” I add. I hadn’t known my mother was gossiping about my love life. I wondered what she could find to talk about. The bar hopping I did with Denise? She couldn’t possibly know about me being in the closet. Could she?
“Well, maybe I’ll talk to you later,” the woman says before going off to talk to my mother.
“Good to see you again,” I mumble, still not able to remember her name. “Let’s get out of the kitchen,” I add to Bri.
We make our way back to the living room, which doesn’t have the same press of people. As I’d predicted, most the men were already ensconced in the den area and the TV was on.
“Ellen,” my mother says. “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to you. So how’s things?”
I’d already told her about the vandalized window, but I tell her again. It’s a safe topic. I talk about how Denise is doing. My mother pretends to be interested. I finish up by talking about Bri and her visit.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you,” my mother says to Bri. “So you’re from Cape?” For the moment, I believe Bri has been deemed acceptable.
“Yes, my parents live in Sandwich,” Bri answers.
“Sandwich is a nice town. Long drive though.”
“Probably a whole half hour Mom,” I note.
My mother shakes her head. “Well sure, now, but wait until Memorial Day. You’ll spend half the day sitting in traffic. So you’re living on Cape now?”
“No, I’m just visiting,” Bri answers. “I’m living out in western Mass.”
“Oh, you’ll be back! Once the sand gets in your shoes, you always come back.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Bri says. “I really like the other part of the state though.”
“Well, you’re young,” my mother says as I cringe at the dismissive tone in her voice “But Ellen, I think you’re keeping something from me aren’t you?”
“What?” I ask. She’s guessed something about me. Or she’s guessed something about me and Bri. I glance at Bri nervously. Not that there was anything to guess. Either way, it would be a relief to have it out in the open.