Hedging His Bets

by Laura Carter

  Two days later, with a necklace made of flowers, in place of a ring, Danny took to his knee in the sand and proposed.

  He offered to show me more of the world. He offered to be my someone, and I knew in the way he looked at me, the way he touched me when there was no need, the way he spoke to me so warmly, that he meant every word of his proposal. He loved me. I felt his love. It made me swallow my fear and say “Yes” to him.

  The days that followed were a blur. Ruth and I spent hours making my wedding dress and the flower wreath for my hair, discussing what food to buy from the local market, and which beach to use for the ceremony.

  “Are you telling your family?” I asked Danny the night before our wedding, as we lay in a wood hut that Ruth and John had paid for.

  He stroked my bare arm as I rested on his chest. “I’ll tell them afterward,” he said. He didn’t offer more and I didn’t ask. It made me sad that his parents and siblings lived in the world and he didn’t care enough to see them or to tell them he was getting married. It concerned me that he perhaps chose not to tell them because they would try to talk him out of it—after all, it was crazy. But it never occurred to me that he didn’t tell them because he didn’t love me. I knew he did.

  He held me tight against his chest and drifted to sleep, his breathing so quiet all I could hear was the sound of waves on the beach where we would be married in a matter of hours. As I lay there, my chest started to tighten and I knew, no matter how much my mum’s voice came to me, this was one attack I wouldn’t be able to fight.

  I slipped from under Danny’s arm as my entire torso and throat felt like they were swelling, like it was impossible to expand them and take in air. But inside the swelling, my diaphragm was out of control.

  The fear that gripped me in those moments of panic is indescribable. I had learned to live with the attacks but for those moments, the moments when I was back in a hospital room watching my dad’s own body drown him, I was terrified.

  I staggered onto the sand and looked left and right as I held my hands over my chest, willing air to come. In the moon’s light, I could see I was alone, and I let myself break.

  I fell to my knees and I sobbed, dragging in ragged breaths as I braced my body on all fours. And I remember thinking, There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to have my parents back. To be part of their family. Part of something, something that never had to end because we were just too happy.

  See, the fundamental difference between Danny and me was that he thought I couldn’t be happy because I constantly aspired to achieve something that I would never reach. In his mind, life was a circle of birth, suffering, death and rebirth. I thought differently, and I still do.

  I heard him run toward me, calling my name, and I felt Danny’s arms as he slid his legs around me and held my back to his chest. In his arms, I found my breath and I found a calmer state.

  “What is it, Jess? Talk to me,” he said into my neck, as he stroked tears from my cheeks.

  I explained to him then, “My circle of life is different to yours, Danny. I don’t believe in rebirth. I believe I suffer but not because I am trying to achieve something intangible, the love my parents shared. I suffer because life’s circle can only contain so many elements. There’s a finite amount of each. There’s a finite amount of happiness and unhappiness in the circle. My parents used up their happiness and they had to suffer for it. I used up my happiness when I was a girl and now I can’t have any more.”

  “Jess, you’re not making sense. There is no cut off of happiness. It is what you want it to be. You can break the cycle of rebirth by being happy. Don’t you see that? Let yourself be happy, end the Dukkha, then you can live in that state.”

  I took a breath. “Oh, Danny, life doesn’t work that way. You forget that everyone has to move on. You have to leave the circle of life at some point and drift into the unknown, move beyond the circle and it isn’t rebirth. You go on as you were, just in another place, a place where you’re allowed to start your count of happiness again. There are flaws in your theories, Danny.”

  He kissed my hair over and over. “What are you saying, Jess? I love you.”

  “I know. I know you do, Danny, and I think I love you too. But I’m trying to tell you that I will never be truly happy. I will never be able to love the way my parents did and the way you deserve to be loved. Even if I could, don’t you see, something would happen. To you, or me, or both of us. Something would have to happen to balance our happiness. Whether it’s your theory or mine, Danny, can’t you see they both lead to the same conclusion?”

  “Jess, stop it. You need to go to sleep. Tomorrow, I am marrying you. I want to spend my life with you, and I want to spend my life helping you find your happiness.”

  I cried again because I knew I wouldn’t be able to make him understand. He held me as I sobbed, knowing that I couldn’t say no to him because I did love him and he deserved to be happy, even if it was with me. But also hating myself for not being able to walk away, because if we got married, he would never be loved the way he loved me. Because if I allowed myself to fall, something would happen. We would get sick. I couldn’t stand the thought.

  The next morning when I woke, I saw Danny standing on the beach, looking serene, the tails of his open shirt blowing back from his body. I could spend my life with him; there was no question that I would be lucky to have his free spirit. I could have roots—they would have to be traveling roots, that’s all. But I hoped that he was standing on the beach because he understood what I had tried to explain.

  We were marrying early, to avoid the day’s heat. It was before nine in the morning when Ruth closed the final button of my dress and set my flower piece on my head over my French braid. We weren’t even sure the wedding would be legal anywhere else in the world, but Danny said he didn’t care. “It’s real enough to me,” he had said.

  “You look beautiful,” Ruth said, stepping back to take me in. I felt beautiful. “Your mum and dad would be proud of you.”

  I swallowed the lump that threatened to choke me when Ruth’s eyes clouded. She wasn’t the sentimental type, and it was even less common for her to mention my parents. It left a heavy air in the hut. Thankfully, John broke the almost sentimental moment by tapping on the door.

  “Jess?”

  I kissed Ruth on the cheek and moved to the door. As soon as I opened it, the look on John’s face told me I would not be getting married.

  Chapter 13

  Jake

  I wake with a dry, scratchy throat and the disgusting heaviness in my lungs that reminds me why I hardly ever smoke weed. But shoot it was a good night. Jess and I were the last two standing. I played the guitar as she sat next to me on the two-seat sofa, pointing out star constellations and telling me stories of all her years traveling, some new, some I had heard before. I carried her to bed around four, where she curled straight into my chest and slept. I listened to her breathing slow and remember nothing more until this moment.

  I slide out of her hold. She murmurs but doesn’t wake. I take a quick shower and head downstairs. There’s a certain bet I lost and I need to settle the score.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, it doesn’t seem like the others are up but the coffee machine has made a full jug. I happen to know that’s Drew’s timer. He has a thing for coffee machines. The more expensive the better. He’d have had the timer set on his faithful electronic friend before any of their boxes were unpacked. You know some guys are funny about people touching their hair? Well, with Drew, you do not touch the coffee machine.

  I pour myself a cup of strong coffee, and an orange juice. The juice wets my throat, soothing the grit from last night. Then I set about making pancake batter. As I beat eggs, flour and milk in a large bowl, I see Brooks and Izzy on the beach, putting each other through their paces. Brooks is pinning Izzy’s feet into the sand as she does sit ups; then she returns the favor. God, those two are
like machines. The last thing I feel like doing is working out. Well, that’s not entirely true, since my member has only just gone fully flaccid but I definitely don’t feel like doing a PT session on the beach.

  I root through the cupboards and fridge, finding sugar, lemon, maple syrup, bacon, jelly and finally, berries. My mouth stretches into a smile when I put my hand on a pack of fresh blueberries. I know exactly what I’m doing with those. Locating the apron I saw Edmond wearing on Sunday, I pull it over my head and tie the belt around my waist.

  I put mugs and cutlery in a pile on the table with the orange juice and jug of coffee. Then I set about grilling bacon and making pancakes, knowing the smells will draw the others soon enough. Usually, when I lose a bet, it’s only Jess and I who are affected by our childish rules…meh, and sometimes Alex, but since he’s half-dressed and half cut all of the time, he doesn’t seem to care too much.

  I hear Brooks and Izzy talking as they approach the kitchen. At the sliding doors, which I’ve opened onto the decking, Brooks says, “I thought I could smell— Holy fuck! What are you doing, man?”

  “Making breakfast.” I turn to him, and dip my head to Izzy. “Morning! There’s coffee on the table.”

  One by one, Edmond, Amelie, Kit, Madge and Marty come downstairs. “Jesus!” Marty says. “What the hell is wrong with you? My stomach is already tender.”

  Rolling my eyes, I turn my back on him. “You want breakfast or not?”

  “Jesus, I don’t know. I… Yeah, I want fucking breakfast.”

  Kit puts his hands over Madge’s eyes and they laugh as he walks her out to the deck.

  I hear Jess talking to Becky and Drew as they near the kitchen. I smile at the last pancake in my pan. Hers.

  The three of them come into the kitchen and Becky gasps as Drew shouts out, “Want to tell me why you have no goddamn clothes on in my kitchen, kid?”

  Jess squeals, startling them, and comes hurtling toward me. “Oh my God! You lost the bet!”

  I scoop her up, her legs wrapping around my waist and locking across my naked behind. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “That’s fantastic news! I take it I can’t…”

  “No. You absolutely can’t.” We both understand we’re saying the secret isn’t out of the bag yet. Only Brooks and I know that Drew is going to propose this week. Well, us and now Jess, since she knows I lost the bet. Come on, it’s not like I can hide anything from her; she can read me like a basic traffic sign—quickly and easily.

  She pecks my cheek before I lower her to the ground and hand her a plate of bacon to carry outside. She slaps my bare ass cheek as she makes her way to the table.

  I stack the pancakes I’ve made onto a large plate, then set the two pancakes I have made for Jess on her own plate and carry them outside.

  Setting the large plate in the middle of the table, I say, “Dig in, guys.” Then I place Jess’s plate down in front of her, making sure the smile of the blueberry face I have cooked into her pancake is the right way up. Her smile disappears as she stares at the plate and I panic. Shit, I called this wrong. Very, very wrong.

  I see her jaw tighten and her cheeks dip in as she bites down on the inside of her lip the way she does when she’s trying not to cry. Shit and bigger shit. I take the empty seat beside her and tuck her wet hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I’ll change them. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She turns to me, her eyes full of unshed tears. “I don’t even remember telling you about this. How would you remember such a small detail as how my dad used to make my pancakes?”

  “There’s a very big part of me that’s designated solely for Jess, babe.”

  She looks at the pancakes again and lets out a big exhale. “You’re incredible, Jake Harrington.” I press my lips to her temple.

  “Eat up. They’ll go cold.”

  She gives me a gentle smile that doesn’t fully dry her eyes. “Okay, for being amazing you can put some clothes on, bet or no bet.”

  I twist on my chair and pour myself a coffee, finding Marty’s eyes watching Jess too closely through his light glass shades. “Nah, I think Marty kind of likes it,” I say, blowing him a kiss across the table. If he thinks I’m over the way he keeps trying to get close to her, he’s got another think coming.

  “He might, but my soft furnishings don’t,” Becky says, shaking her head around a mouthful of pancake. Ah, already bickering with my sister-to-be… We’re a real family.

  “Don’t worry about it, Becky, I was checked a few weeks back. I’m clean.”

  “Oh my gosh! Enough.” She balls the linen napkin from her lap and throws it across the table at me.

  “Putting Jake’s nakedness aside,” Sarah says, leaning forward on her elbows and taking her coffee cup in two hands, a sign her one pancake was enough for her. “Since the boy-men are going on a fishing trip today, I took the liberty of arranging a little surprise for us ladies. I have booked us a luxurious pamper day. And the best part is, we don’t even have to leave the sofa.”

  “Oh, I love a pamper day,” Izzy says. “It’s been an age. My feet are ruined from dance shoes and the skin on the tips of my fingers is like granite from playing the guitar.”

  Sarah purses her lips. “Honey, that’s disgusting. We’ll get that fixed. We have three masseurs coming to the house. They’ll do manis, pedis, whatever you like. Aaaaand…I’ve got bubbles!” She sings the last words as all the females around the table start up an excited conversation.

  * * * *

  Jess was quiet through breakfast. Not obviously to other people. She smiled and joined in conversation. But I know her better than that and I’m wondering if I pushed her too far with the reminder of her childhood. That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t think beyond doing something nice for her.

  Since we’re going to be apart for the day, I want to make sure she’s okay before we leave the girls to their pamper day and head out on the water. I tap on the bathroom door and poke my head inside. I risk a glance at Jess, watching water run down the arch of her back as she rinses shampoo from her hair in the shower. It’s a test. I don’t know whether I believe in God but I raise my eyes to the ceiling and ask him what the hell game he is trying to play with my self-restraint.

  “Jess, I’m going to help pack up the truck. Come and find me when you’re ready, yeah?”

  “Yes. Okay. I’ll be down in a few.”

  As I pass Sarah’s bedroom—the one she is being forced to share with Marty for the week, God help her—I see her fluffing the pillows on the bed, then folding the sheets from the sofa in the room. Huh, Marty took the sofa? That’s surprisingly decent of him. I’d have thought any chance to get his arms around Sarah and he’d jump. Maybe he’s not such a tool after all. Nah, of course he is. More likely he’s just conscious Sarah is Drew’s legal secretary at the firm.

  “Sarah, can I come in?”

  “‘Course. What’s up?”

  “I want to give you this.” I hand her a roll of twenty-dollar bills. “Please don’t mention it to Jess. It’s for her share of the spa thing today. If you need more just let me know.”

  Sarah takes the roll of notes I hold out to her and smiles, looking from them to me. “It’s all on Drew, sweet cheeks. I can’t accept this, much as I’d love a new purse.” She tucks the roll into the pocket of my jeans, then brings her hands to hold my face. “Your momma did such a good job of raising you and Drew, you know that? I mean, you both suck when it comes to reading women. Seriously, it’s like babysitting a bunch of rookies with the two of you and Brooks. But you’re a true sweetheart.”

  It’s not often it happens, but I feel my skin heating. Instead of responding to the compliment, I tell her, “I know women, Sarah.”

  “Yeah, you all do. That’s why you all mess it up so badly.” She taps my face with her fingertips. “Lucky for you, I’m Cupid.” As she often does, Sarah tur
ns and struts from the room, her kaftan flowing out behind her. “Look out for my arrows, Jakey.”

  The woman is a whirlwind, but one that’s great to have around.

  I follow her downstairs and find the voices of Drew and Edmond in the garage. The garage door is up and through it I see Kit and Brooks loading fishing gear into the back of Brooks’s truck. Marty is standing at the end of the driveway on his cell phone. Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder whether there’s anyone on the other end. Seems he’s always on a call when there’s work to be done.

  “What can I do?” I ask Drew, adjusting my cap on my head.

  “Put that tackle box there in Brooks’s truck. We’re going in the truck and Kit’s daddy mobile.”

  “I heard that, man,” Kit calls from the driveway.

  “Here are your sandwiches,” Becky says, coming into the garage. She hands the food to Edmond, who opens one cool box to find it full of beers, then opens another identical box to put the sandwiches on top of the chips and junk already in there.

  “Pop will be pissed he missed a fishing trip,” I tell Drew, heading toward the truck.

  When we were kids we used to go fishing with Pop a couple times a year. Millie and Mom would have a girls’ day and Pop, Drew and me would take off with a tent and a camp stove. It was far from extravagant, yet those were some of my best childhood memories, sitting in a small wooden boat with my old man and my big brother, rocking to the gentle lolling water.

  I was only a kid, whereas Drew was a teenager, but I remember every detail. The dark green of the trees, the way my stomach would be rumbling by the time we got the stove burning and eventually managed to heat the stew Mom made for us to take.

  We’d lie in sleeping bags, watching the stars in the night sky, so much clearer than in the city. And we’d talk for hours, about nothing, everything.