by Kristi Rose
He shakes his head and we both turn away from one another. The stadium looms in the horizon so I text Paisley our location.
It’s going to be terribly awkward trying to set him up with someone if he’s not talking to me. Rather, I suppose the whole thing is moot anyway. Silver lining to telling a guy he’s only wanted for his body? That his kid is the reason you want to avoid him? He’ll dodge you like the plague, rendering the problem solved.
I’ll miss their company over takeaway meals and Graham Norton. I’ll have to remember to give Cordie the how-to magazine I picked up for her about various braids and styles.
Without taking his eyes from the road he says, “So tell me about this Evie.”
I let out the slow breath, my hands still clutching my phone. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“I’m not doing it for you.” He says without so much as a glance. “I did the math and you’re right. The odds of finding a keeper are slim so I should take this chance. Find a good woman, make a good life, and raise a nice family. American dream and all that. Where are we meeting them?”
When he faces me, I expect to find a steely glint in his eyes, a checked anger, but I come up lacking. I show him the map on my phone all while trying to discern what this means and more importantly how I feel about it.
“Cordie, we’re here,” he yells and reaches back to wave his hand in front of her tablet.
“What?” she says.
“We’re here. Look, there’s Josie.” He points over my shoulder to a parking spot that’s currently being emptied of the lawn chairs our friends used to save the space for us. We’re quickly settled and out of the car, Stacy moving away from me.
“Great timing,” Paisley says, coming to stand next to me. “We just got situated and the grill is warming up.” She looks blissfully happy and I see Hank standing near the men. I nudge her with my elbow and she gives me a side hug.
“I’m starving. Are there hot dogs?” Cordie asks and flops into a lawn chair next to Josie, tablet still in hand.
“Put that up. Time to talk to real people,” Stacy tells her before moving to shake hands with the guys, Brinn and Hank.
I take a seat opposite of the person who can only be Evie, leaving the one next to her empty.
“Hallo, I’m Jayne.” I wave to the lovely creature with her ginger hair pulled into a large fat braid and large sparkling brown eyes. She’s exactly what I’d expect for Stacy, the kind of girl who’d look adorable driving a minivan, would never swear, always exercises, and knows not to give young children Sharpies.
“Hi, I’m Evie.”
“Stacy,” I call over my shoulder. “Come meet Evie.” A delicate little bird who’ll tuck nicely against his side and he can protect until the end of time.
I really have no right to be jealous. This was my idea, after all. Couldn’t she just be knock-kneed or walleyed or something? Does she have to be so bleeding perfect?
“Oh, let me introduce you,” Paisley says. “Evie and I went to high school together and occupational therapy schools as well, though she’s a couple years older than me.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Evie.” Stacy eases his long form into the lawn chair.
Does she notice how the jeans I bought him fit his bum so well? She can thank me later.
He continues, “We just moved here and it’s nice to meet new people, hopefully make some new friends.” He bestows that woman-killer smile on her and I turn away, desperate for a distraction, needing something for my hands. I catch Josie’s eye and signal for a drink, as she seems to be the one handing those out.
“Where did you move from? Your daughter seems to be adjusting well,” she says, looking at me.
“We’re not married and that’s not her daughter,” Stacy says, waving a hand dismissively in my direction. “She’s my neighbor. We carpooled here.”
I’ve been reduced to sharing petrol and a filling an empty seat. Well, I asked for it, didn’t I?
“Oh,” Evie says. Then, “Oh” again only this time facing him. “Where did you say you were from?”
I turn away, my job, for the most part, done. Now it’s in Stacy’s capable and talented hands. I force myself to focus my attention on the others and plaster a broad (at least I hope it’s large) smile on my face.
“Eight years I’ve lived in America and I’ve never cooked off the back of a tailgate nor have I eaten in a car park.” I sip the lukewarm lemonade Josie handed me from an orange Solo cup.
“You lie,” Josie says.
“Lie about what?” The oppressive fall heat leaves me wilty in my lawn chair, the netting sticking to the back of my legs.
“I watched you scarf down a chili dog in the parking lot during Bike Week last March.” Josie tucks a sucker in her cheek, letting it protrude outward, and turns to Paisley. “Do you remember?”
Paisley, decked out in orange and blue sans face paint, though her ginger hair is the perfect complement, plops in the chair next to me. “It was two hot dogs. And she chugged a beer afterward.”
“Give over.” I turn to the group. “It was hot, I’d been working at my parents’ pub serving fish and chips all day, and that was the first chance I had to eat.”
Some blooming friends I have.
“A chili dog sounds good right now,” Paisley mumbles.
Her now-it’s-official-boyfriend, Hank, a hot guy in his own right if one likes the military sort, is working the grill and laughs. “All food sounds good to you.” He delivers her a hot dog wrapped in a bun and follows it with a kiss.
“Can I get one?” Cordie looks up at Hank with the same crooked smile of cuteness her father has.
“After you’re done eating, you want to paint your face?” Paisley waves some tubes in the air.
“Yeah, can I, Dad?” She bats those big eyes at Stacy, who is heavily engrossed in a conversation with Evie.
“Sure, honey.”
Evie looks like she’s about to melt out of her seat at the sweetness of it all.
“It must be hard being a single parent, a dad with a girl. I raised my sister for a few years and had the advantage of being the same sex to help me figure her out. But it was exhausting. I admire you,” Evie gushes.
“I’d like my face painted,” I say to Paisley. The agony of heavy makeup and a sweaty and itchy face is the distraction this moment calls for.
Paisley turns to me surprised. “Okay,” she says before dropping her voice to the lowest whisper. “You all right?”
“Absolutely.” Deep down I know this is the right thing to do. Deep down my girly parts weep. I hold my Solo cup up and give it a shake. “Josie, love. Got anything adult for this?”
Chapter 22
The night couldn’t be better had Mother Nature herself planned it. The air is cool but not so that we need wraps and the moon large and full shining down enough light to guide us. And by us, I mean me, because to this day I still have to watch Pippa to understand the yoga moves.
A yoga pants wearer does not a yoga master make.
We’ve been careful to select a beach spot that won’t interfere with the sea turtles that are hoping to make their grand adventure into the ocean. We’ve a cooler with some water and trail mix, I brought a large sack of rose petals for her to throw out into the ocean, and Pip is smoothing out a spot for us to get our yoga on. She spreads out the mats so they face the moon and the water.
With hopes of showing Pippa how she belongs with us, I invited Josie on the down-low and sent her a Find Friend alert to our location.
Even though it’s almost midnight, the traffic along the road is loud and busy, a distraction I always have a hard time blocking out.
“Okay, ready?” Pippa looks up at the moon.
“Er, don’t be upset, but I invited Josie and she’s three minutes out.” I twist my earring and wait for her reaction.
She slowly looks from the moon to me. “She’s going to come?”
It’s hard for Pipp
a to see her value but she needs to know how much she is loved. “Of course, she didn’t hesitate.”
“I thought about asking but I wasn’t sure if anyone would be interested in this. It’s good karma to have such positive energy here when we do this. Thanks.” She hugs me.
“Yeah, Josie will cancel out all my negative shite.” I hug her back.
With a short shrill whistle, Josie alerts us to her presence. I look toward the pier, over the dune, and can barely make her out, waving an arm in the air. Thankfully she’s dressed in light clothes like Pip and I have. Behind her are others in light clothes. I count five heads; one is shorter than the rest.
“Well,” I say.
“The others have come too,” says Pippa, clasping her hands together gleefully.
“Hi, hi,” says Paisley. Her arms are loaded with towels. Each of them has a yoga mat slung over their shoulders.
“I hope you don’t mind that I asked the others.” Josie drops a larger cooler next to ours. Cordie by her side.
“No, no. I—” Pippa breaks off and covers her mouth.
“She’s happy you all came. She would have invited you herself but she wasn’t sure anyone would be interested,” I interpret. “Aren’t you up late?” I point to Cordie.
“She really wanted to come and Stacy said it was all right.” Josie slings an arm over the child’s shoulders.
“My mom’s not dead, but she’s gone and I’d like to...”
Pippa rushes to her and folds her into a hug. “Of course, darling. You deserve to be here. Let me explain the purpose. It’s not so much a tribute to my mum as it is a way for me to let go of the hurt and anger I feel. Of not letting all that hold me back. It’s my way of cleansing my soul and purging out all the extra junk I’m holding in there that’s unhealthy.”
“I’m really mad at her, my mom,” Cordie whispers. “And my Mimi too. If she didn’t want to travel, then we wouldn’t have moved here.” Her voice breaks at the end and the fracture matches the one in my heart.
Bless this child and her broken heart.
Josie squats before Cordie and says, “You all were moving here regardless of your Mimi traveling or not. It’s because the job was here. But I know for a fact that your Mimi emails you every day and you all get to Skype once a week, right?”
Cordie nods.
“That means that even though you aren’t together, she is always thinking of you. She misses you just as much,” Josie says.
“It sucks here.”
Pippa kneels next to Josie and takes Cordie’s hand. “I know the feeling. I came here when I was a teenager. I felt like I was from a different world. That I didn’t fit in. But it got easier with time and the same will happen for you. You will find the people you click with. You will find things you love and one day when you’re older and you move away you’ll realize that you miss it.”
Heather swarms her as well, cooing and rubbing her back.
Because the child’s near tears, I go for distraction. “After we leave here we go eat. You ever had a sundae after midnight?” I appeal to her stomach because in that way she is like me.
“And French fries?” She looks at me.
“Of course.”
“That sounds awesome.”
“Don’t forget to thank your dad,” Pippa reminds her. “All right, spread your mats next to ours or behind ours. Cord, you’re next to me.” Pippa directs us with the tone of an infantry officer. “Get in place.”
Once we’ve all lined up, Pippa raises her arms up toward the moon. We follow suit and she lulls us with instructions. Why we’re here, what we want to let go of, how to find the calm within ourselves, and though I’ve always come with an open mind, I’ve never had an open heart. But today, I try. Today I let go of my fears of failing Mum and Dad. Of not opening a second shop or making my monetary goal before thirty. I let go of what I thought my business expansion would look like and open myself up to other visions.
I follow Pippa’s lead, bend in ways my long form finds awkward, but I’m thankful I’m not top heavy like Josie, who manages to make yoga look easy nonetheless. At the end, Pippa has us lying on our backs looking up and breathing. The tide is coming in, which means we’ll be done soon. Something about the exercise and quiet is peaceful and in this moment everything is dandy. Soon we’ll all go home to bed and in a few hours rise ready to face the day’s challenges. All the questions and uncertainty that come with tomorrow are currently not present, and now I understand why Pippa is so keen about yoga.
Maybe I should give this more than a cursory attempt. Add it to my lifestyle. Quieting the brain is a lovely experience, to be sure.
“Who’s hungry?” Heather asks.
“First we throw rose petals and then we have food,” Pippa says, rising from her mat and stopping to offer Cordie a hand.
I roll to the side, push up, and then quickly walk to the two silk shoe bags I’m using to store the rose petals. With them in hand, I walk back to the group and hand one bag to Pippa and the other to Cordie.
“Each of us will get to toss some petals into the ocean. I like to make it a wish when I do,” Pippa tells Cordie, shrugging slightly. “But that’s up to you.”
Without having to be told, we line up behind either Cordie or Pippa and wait our turn. Each of us in our private moment making a wish or a prayer.
When I step up where the water thins against the shore, my toes sinking into the sand, I scoop the last of the petals and, while holding my breath, set them free. I wish for clear guidance. The others wait for me by the coolers, mats rolled and ready to go.
Excited, I say, “Let’s eat.”
The vibe is different, less melancholy. Having the others here has reminded me that we all struggle; we’ve all had loss that has shaped us into the people we are. It has reminded me that I’m not alone, not the oddball I might sometimes think I am.
The ride to the diner is less weepy than it’s been in the past, more laughing. When we pull into the car park, Brinn and Stacy are waiting for us.
“Aw, the womenfolk,” Brinn says, arms wide, waiting to collect his wife. “Did you bay at the moon? Become one with yourself?”
“Hush.” Josie elbows him in the stomach.
“It was awesome, Dad. Amazing,” Cordie says, bounding around Stacy like an excited dog.
“So you had a good time?” He catches her by the elbow and slowly pulls her to his side. Pushing hair out of her face, he says, “I think you’ve gone over the threshold past being too tired.”
“No, it’s that I feel good. I’m not as sad as I was. I set it free into the ocean with the rose petals.” She tugs free.
“Throwing flowers into the ocean made you less sad?” he asks.
“No, it helped me let it go.” She stares up at him. But his blank expression tells her, and us, he doesn’t get it. Cordie turns to us, arms up in question, shoulders in a shrug.
“Don’t bother, hon,” says Josie. “They’ll never get it. But that’s okay. On some things they need to be left in the dark.”
“Who wants French fries?” Stacy asks as he falls in behind us.
Once inside we settle at a large table and order all my favorites, anything fried or dipped in cheese. Even Pippa breaks her strict diet rules and has a large three-scoop sundae covered with copious amounts of whipped cream. That much dairy will not agree with her tomorrow.
Cordie and I select smaller versions.
“So, Stacy,” Paisley starts as she dips fries into a bowl of ketchup. “My friend Evie thought you were nice. Did you two switch numbers or anything?”
I glance at him and just as quickly away. I hadn’t told Paisley that Stacy was in on the matchmaking. An oversight I hadn’t recognized until right this moment.
“No. Was I supposed to?” He uses a spare spoon to scoop a bit of Cordie’s ice cream.
“Ah, I suppose not if you didn’t want it.” Paisley looks at me and I shake my head slightly.
<
br /> A peek at my watch shows I’m past my threshold too. It’s going to be difficult enough getting up. “I’m afraid I need to go. Pip, you want a lift?” I ask while looking for quid in my handbag.
“Aye-ya, need to be at the pub early tomorrow.” She looks at her watch and giggles. “Well, today that is.”
I throw notes on the table and rise. Stacy stands up as well.
“Can you give us a ride home, too?” he asks.
“Right. Sure, I can.” I look at Cordie, whose face is split in half by a wide yawn.
Brinn leans across the table and hands me the notes I threw down moments earlier. “I’ve got this. You all know my mom passed when I was a kid. It’s because of that I’m the man I am today. Consider this my part in tonight’s event.”
Josie wraps her arms around him and says, “For that I will forever be thankful to your mom.” Then plants a loaded kiss on his lips.
“Well, time to go,” Paisley says, jumping up. “I’m so glad I insisted on driving, because we would be stuck here forever now that this has started up.”
And she’s not kidding. Josie and Brinn are whispering who knows what to each other, paying no mind to the rest of us.
“It’s exhausting, really.” Heather pushes away from the table. “I’ll meet you at your car, Paisley.”
“It’s gross,” Cordie says and yawns again. “Dad and Jill used to do that all the time.”
Stacy springs into action. “C’mon, kiddo, time for bed.” He lifts her out of her chair then flips her across his shoulders like a wet towel.
“Dad, I’m too big for this,” she cries as he begins to walk out of the diner.
“You’re never too big for your dad,” he says and spins back toward me. Only I was right behind him and his sudden change causes me to slam into him. The shock of impact fires up every nerve ending with tingly loveliness.
“Maybe I should drive. You’re dead on your feet.”
“If you insist.” I hand him my keys.
Both Pippa and Cordie climb into the back and when Stacy slides into my seat, he cuts his eyes to me and sighs before making a production of sliding the seat back a few notches. As if his knees were behind his ears or something. But it’s bloody adorable and I’d laugh if I weren’t thinking of him and this Jill snogging all the time.