Hale Maree

by Misty Provencher

  “What do you mean? You said he was hot...oh, wait! Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Did you do it?”

  “No,” I laugh, peeking behind me to be sure I’m still alone. I huddle over the phone and whisper to Sher, “But he stripped all the way down to his boxers, you know? Sher, you wouldn’t believe his body!”

  “TELL ME!” she shrieks.

  “He’s got muscles like you wouldn’t even believe,” I tell her.

  “So, he stripped down,” Sher says slyly. “Does that mean you did too? Don’t lie now. You know I always know when you’re lying.”

  I giggle.

  “Like now. You’re going to try to lie,” Sher says flatly and, of course, she’s right. So, I don’t.

  “He looked at me.” I say, blushing, even though its just Sher I’m telling.

  “There? He looked there?” she breaks out in wild giggles. “Did he, you know, touch you? Oh Hale, tell me every single thing—did he go down on you? Was it sexy seeing him there? What am I talking about? Of course, it’s sexy! Oh man, that’s the best, sexiest thing ever! Did you absolutely melt?”

  “No, no, he just looked,” I say. “And I don’t know what he looked like, because he blindfolded me with his tie.”

  “Are you kidding? Holy shit, that’s nuclear!” she squeals. She pauses to yell at one of her siblings who is beating on the bathroom door, begging Sher to get out. “Go away!” she shouts and then, to me, “Seriously, Hale, I’m so freakin’ jealous. I want an Ocker with load of money and muscles and blindfolds. Holy shit is that hot!”

  “You know what’s really hot?” I whisper. “He told me it looked beautiful.”

  “Get out of here!” she shouts. “That’s so romantic! No wonder you’re marrying him. You hit the jackpot, Hale, you totally did. Tell me more about the ring!”

  “It’s gorgeous, Sher,” I say, moving my hand back and forth to admire the sparkle. “It’s got purple sapphires all around the outside and there’s a big diamond in the center, but it looks like it’s got this blue tint...”

  “It’s an infinity diamond,” Oscar says from the stairs. I whirl around to see him leaning there, and the blush that’s been hanging around my face all day explodes across my cheeks, until I’m sure that I look like the tip of a hot thermometer.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I ask, and Oscar smiles his handsome smile.

  “Long enough to know what’s hot,” he says.

  “Ugh,” I say, as Sher demands to know, from her end of the line, what’s going on.

  “I’ve gotta go Sher,” I tell her. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”

  “Tomorrow!” she shrieks at me. “Call me tomorrow!”

  “Okay, bye,” I say, turning off the phone. I hold it out to Oscar, instead of taking it to him, just so I can watch him walk to me across the room. He takes the phone from my hand, then grabs my wrist and pulls me into his arms.

  “Come downstairs,” he says. “It’s time to celebrate.”

  #

  “We’ve got some news,” Oscar says, when we hit the kitchen. Landon’s eating canned soup at the table and Amy is painting her toenails.

  “Oh yeah?” Amy twists around and holds up her foot, so we can admire her crimson toes. “What do you think?”

  “Gorgeous,” I say.

  “I asked Hale to marry me,” Oscar says. Amy drops her foot.

  “Are you kidding?” she asks. I shake my head and hold up my left hand.

  “Congratulations! You know, I had a little something to do with it, right? Do you like it, Hale?” Landon asks. But Amy cuts off my answer by whipping back around to face him.

  “You were buying that today? While we were shopping? And you didn’t tell me?”

  Landon shrugs. “Oscar wanted it to be a big surprise.”

  “I bet he did,” she says sourly. She turns back to us, but it’s Oscar that she pins with her glare. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon? You were still with Sophia last week. You were Mr. Loyalty, remember, OC?”

  “I do,” Oscar replies evenly. “I don’t know why I need to explain this to you, Amy, but I found the girl I want to marry and I’m not letting her get away.”

  “Yeah, hon, what are you getting so riled up about?” Landon asks.

  “You don’t think it’s a little rushed?”

  “It’s not my business,” Landon shrugs. I shift anxiously beside Oscar, and he drapes an arm around my shoulders.

  I was hoping for too much. I hoped that Amy would gush and shriek and want to inspect the ring, like Sher would if she were here, and that Landon would clap Oscar on the back, and they’d shake hands and break out something to toast with. But I didn’t think we’d get totally slammed for rushing, or that it’d be followed up with an ‘it’s not my business’ chaser.

  “If you thought Sophia was flipping before, just wait.” Amy says. “Are you gonna make me be the one to break it to her? Because I’m sorry, OC, but I’ll have to totally make you sound like an ass.”

  Oscar frowns. I’m sure he didn’t expect it to go this way either.

  “No, I’ll tell her,” he says. “But thanks for celebrating with us and making the night so special.”

  “Whoa now,” Landon says, rising from the table. “You’re absolutely right, OC. My best buddy is only getting married once—God willing—and this is the night to celebrate it! This isn’t about Sophia; it’s about Oscar and Hale. Congrats, Hale! Come here and give me a hug! Let’s have a drink and hope it stays in me! What’ve we got to drink?”

  “I have a bottle of champagne and then it’s beer from there on out,” Oscar laughs.

  “It’s all champagne tonight!” Landon says. “Alright, buddy, bring on the toast!”

  Landon catches me up in a big bear hug, and Oscar pulls the champagne from the fridge. Amy, however, just screws the cap on her nail polish. When Landon releases me, and we’re almost left face-to-face, she pushes a smile across her face and says, “Congrats, Hale. I guess the best girl won.”

  It’s like she’s stomping on all the warmth and budding friendship we had going at the mall. Her glare makes me feel like I should apologize, but all I want to do is punch her in her big, sour face.

  “I wasn’t trying to steal him,” I say. “I’m sorry about Sophia, but it wasn’t like I did anything on purpose. This just—happened. I was surprised too.”

  “Lighten up, babe,” Landon tells Amy from across the room. “Let it go. This is supposed to be a party! Sophia’ll be fine. You don’t have to fight her battles.”

  Amy seems to snap out of it. She lifts her chin and gives Landon a smile. “I’m not,” she says. She lifts my hand in hers to take a look at the ring. She flashes me an attempt at an apologetic smile. “This isn’t earning me a place in the bridal party, is it? I am happy for you. I just wish things had happened differently.”

  I don’t say me too this time. I don’t really want to let her off the hook, but I’m not good at holding a grudge either. And this is Oscar’s best friend’s girlfriend. We’re probably going to be seeing a lot of each other, and it’d be nice if things could get back to the way they were at the mall.

  She looks at the ring and gives me a feather-light embrace.

  “Congratulations,” she says, then walks away to get the cup that Landon holds out for her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A COUPLE HOURS LATER, LANDON is smashed. So smashed that he spends ten minutes trying to get out one sentence, but he keeps cracking up in the middle and then he starts over at the beginning and tries again. When Oscar turns his phone back on, it starts ringing almost non-stop, and Landon starts parroting after every single ring, “You gonna get that?” until Oscar switches it off again.

  “Who is it?” I ask, and he frowns like he doesn’t want to tell me, but he does.

  “Sophia,” he says.

  I haven’t drunk anything but a couple sips of the champagne. I still feel a little sick about what happened with Amy and Landon, and I thin
k Oscar might feel the same, because he hasn’t gone back for more to drink either. But Landon is taking care of most of it, and Amy is right behind him. Twice, she’s ambled over, sloshed her beer on me, and told me how she wants to be happy for us, she really does. All I want to do is sneak away and call Sher, so I can feel happy again.

  “I know,” Amy announces. “I want to go swimming! Who wants to see my new bikini? It’s red—red—like my toes.”

  She stumbles over to the shopping bags strewn across the Inflato-mattress and stuffs her arm into one of the bigger bags.

  “I’ll wear this!” she says, pulling what looks like a lot of red string, with a couple red knee patches attached, from the bag.

  “I’ll watch,” Landon says, stumbling over, as Amy grabs her shirt and peels it off. She’s not wearing a bra.

  “I’m almost naked!” she laughs, as Landon shouts at her that everyone’s looking. Oscar shields his eyes with a hand on his brow, peeking at me from underneath with a wow, I can’t believe she’s that drunk grin. But then Amy peels off her shorts too and she twirls them, like helicopter blades, over her head.

  “Put on clothes!” Landon bellows at her.

  “Alright, alright,” she snaps, but it takes her twice as long as it should to figure out how to get the bikini on. When Landon sees that we’re not looking at his naked girlfriend, he sidles over to her and gets tangled in her bikini strings, laughing and mumbling things that are uncomfortably loud enough to hear.

  “Let’s go outside,” Oscar says. “We can sit on the beach and make sure they don’t drown themselves.”

  We go out to the beach, but even though Oscar switches on the floodlights at the back door and at the top of the house, they don’t quite reach the part of the beach where the dock extends out. It’s not pitch black tonight, though, and the moonlight sparkles on the water.

  We sit on the sand, and Oscar says, “This isn’t the engagement party I wanted us to have.”

  “Amy’s really mad. And I don’t think Landon agrees with how fast it’s all happening.”

  “Landon is worried that we’ll jump into this and jump right back out. He knows something is strange about how I met you, but he can’t figure it all out, and he’s frustrated that I’m not telling him everything. But I don’t think we should include anyone else. Secrets still have a way of leaking out. Even with the strongest friendship, you never know if it’ll still be intact a year from now. And if, a year from now, a friend might think your secret isn’t that big of a deal anymore, so why keep it. That’s how things come to the surface.”

  “I’m not telling anyone else. Not even Sher,” I say. I don’t mention that it makes me feel sick inside to keep anything from her, especially when I could use her help to figure out what to do.

  “Good,” Oscar says. He looks over his shoulder toward the beach house. “I wonder if they’re even going to come out here.”

  Just then, I hear the back door slam and Landon’s insane laughter, with Amy barking at him to stop pulling on her bikini strings. They stumble their way down the path to us.

  “We’re gonna go skinny dippin’” Amy says. Her bikini is totally messed up, but at least it’s covering all the necessary parts.

  “In our clothes,” Landon adds.

  “No, you’re gonna go chunky dunkin’ in your clothes.” Amy corrects him. Landon looks down at himself and nods in agreement.

  “Nobody’s going swimming tonight,” Oscar says. Both friends stare at him, confused, and I think they’re both trying to compute. Oscar adds, “There’s a shark warning up.”

  “Sharks?” Amy asks, peering out across the dark water. “I don’t see any sharks.”

  “Sharks!” Landon howls. “This is tap water! Not an ocean!”

  “And you’re 10 bananas drunk, buddy,” Oscar says, holding up both hands with his fingers outstretched.

  “I’m not 10 bananas,” Landon says. “Not yet.”

  “Oh, you’re at least 10 bananas,” Oscar says.

  “What’s 10 bananas?” I ask.

  “When you hold up your hands to try and count your fingers, but all you see are bananas and all you can think of is how hungry you are.”

  “Really? Ten?” Landon asks and then he breaks out in such a fit of laughter that he falls over, rolling on the sand at Amy’s feet. She kicks sand on him.

  “Is there sharks or isn’t there?” she snaps.

  “Sharks, yes,” Oscar tells her, but she narrows her eyes at him.

  “You’re lying,” she says.

  “No swimming tonight,” Oscar repeats. A sly smile spreads across Amy’s face, as she plays with one of the bikini strings dangling at her hip.

  “What are you going to do about it?” she says.

  “I don’t know,” Oscar tells her. “Hope you don’t drown?”

  Amy starts off for the beach, calling over her shoulder, “Are you gonna save me? Gimme a shark bite of your own?”

  Oscar stays seated, even as Amy nears the water’s edge. She peeks over her shoulder to see if he’s coming. She slows down, and the excitement drains out of her. She walks in, only ankle deep, and kicks up the water.

  Landon jumps up and heads for her, his thumbs in his waistband.

  “We can dip at the edge!” he calls to her.

  “Please don’t!” Oscar shouts after him. Landon reaches the edge, but he doesn’t make a move to strip. Oscar and I just laugh. With his eye still on his drunk friends, he says to me, “I was thinking we’d get married when we get back. We can have a chapel wedding. You could tell Sher to buy her dress and we’ll get yours when we go home.”

  Home. When we go home. He’s obviously not talking about my, and my dad’s, apartment. I run my thumb over the back of my ring band and get overwhelmed again, thinking of how everything is going to change. Even though living with my father has never been perfect, he’s still the only one I’ve ever lived with. I don’t know if we’ll live near my dad and Sher; if I’ll ever be able to go to college; what a life with Oscar really means. We’ve never talked about that, beyond cooking, cleaning, being good in bed, and now it doesn’t feel like a good trade at all.

  “Why do we have to rush? Don’t you know I’m trustworthy by now? I’m not going to tell anybody anything, Oscar.”

  “I know you won’t,” he says. I watch him struggle to say the next part. “But we don’t know if your father would, Hale. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but with your dad’s drinking problem...”

  “You think a marriage certificate is going to shut him up when he’s on a bender?” I ask. I’m less offended than I am embarrassed. My father’s drinking has corroded so much of our lives that it’s gotten to be a dark spot I just try to keep hidden. When it is brought out into the light, it is so much worse, and less easily explained than: ‘he just drinks a little too much sometimes’. It’s a whole storm that rips through our lives, dumping our money, and chipping away at our family name every single time he goes to the bar.

  “I don’t think it will prevent everything that could happen,” Oscar says. “But I think it might help him think twice about it, if we’re all on the same page. He’s talked to my father about entering rehab. My father’s offered him full treatment, and your dad accepted the help. He’s trying, Hale. He’s trying hard. He doesn’t want to mess this up for himself or for us. It’s obvious what you mean to him, and I still think that will outride his love of alcohol.”

  “Fat chance of that,” I snort. “He threw me out to marry a stranger. If you’re putting all your hopes on my dad’s love for me, I think you’re asking for a lot.”

  There’s a whoop from the water’s edge that draws our eyes up. Landon’s staggered a ways down the dock, past the red post. He clunks into the railing, and the whole dock quivers. Grabbing hold of the post he shouts, “Whoa!”

  “I better go get him,” Oscar says. “One wrong step and he’s either going over, or dropping through, the bottom of that hand rail.”

  Oscar hops up and
jogs down the dock toward Landon. Amy, still at the water’s edge, calls to me.

  “Come ‘ere, Haley! Come ‘ere and put your feet in with me! The water’s sooo warm!” She slips and falls on her butt. When she stands back up, her boob plops right out of her bikini top.

  “Amy, your top!” I shout, motioning to her wardrobe malfunction. All she does is cup her ear with one hand.

  “What?” she shouts.

  “Your top! Your boob!” I shout again, but it’s no use. The wind is coming off the water so even though it sounds like she’s standing next to me when she talks, she still can’t hear a thing I’m screaming at her. She shrugs, oblivious, boob flapping as she kicks along the water. I get up to dust the sand off my butt, and catch sight of Amy as she whirls around at the sharp sound of a splash.

  I search the dock, trying to put together what I hear with what I see. The handrail is intact, but Landon is bobbing in the water. A frightened howl comes out of him, as Oscar pulls off his shoes and vaults the rail into the water.

  “Holy shit!” Amy shrieks. “Landon’s drowning! Hale! Landon’s drowning!”

  I get to the water’s edge and Amy grabs my hand as we watch Oscar surface by himself, catch a breath, and dive under again. Amy drags me with her to the edge of the dock, but I dig in my heels.

  “I can’t!” I shout as she tugs my hand.

  “Come on!” she screams. “We got to help them!”

  “I can’t swim!”

  But Amy’s got a vice grip on my wrist, and she yanks me out onto the planks of the dock. She drags me along with her, as I shriek for her to stop and let go. She doesn’t.

  “Help me,” she roars.

  “I can’t swim!” I scream at her. I sit and Amy gives me such a hard tug that I fall forward on my face. She drags me along, the water sloshing just under the planks, and my blood freezing in my veins. I try to get to my feet, to hang on as we pass one of the yellow-marked posts.

  Oscar drags Landon up to the surface. Landon sputters and chokes. Oscar shouts, “I got him!” He side-strokes toward the shore, hanging onto Landon.