by Scott, Lisa
Shawna looked down at her feet. “It’s true. I thought you’d think I was just after your money if I admitted I knew who you were. But that kiss, that kiss wasn’t a lie.”
Emily balled up her fists. “Yes it was! You didn’t kiss him at all.”
Shawna crossed her arms. “And how would you know that?”
Eric turned to Emily. “Yeah, how would you know? You said you didn’t see who I kissed.”
Emily’s throat felt tight as she tried to get out the words. “I…I know who you kissed—because it was me.”
Eric stared at her, then he laughed. “Emily, no it wasn’t.”
Emily reached out and touched his shoulder. “You really don’t remember?”
“You know I don’t remember,” he said.
Emily took Eric by the hand, and started walking to the back of the bar.
“Stop!” Shawna cried. “What are you doing?”
“Proving to Eric that you didn’t kiss him,” Emily said. She could feel a thin line of perspiration above her lip. Could she really do this?
“Em?” Eric followed her and slid into the booth behind Emily.
Her heart was pounding. “Close your eyes,” she said. “Think about all the details of the night.”
He closed his eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “It was just the two of us—me and the girl—and we knocked over a drink. She said, don’t worry it’s just soda.”
“A diet coke with lemon and lime,” Emily added.
“Could’ve been,” Eric said.
What else?” Emily asked.
He took a deep breath. “She was wearing perfume or body cream like yours. Fruity and flowery.”
“Good.” She knelt on the seat like she had been that night. “And then it went something like this.” She ran the back of her hand down his cheekbone, all the way to his chin, and tipped his lips to hers.
His eyes flew open. “Em? It really was you.”
“Close your eyes. Your eyes were closed.”
He closed his eyes, and she pressed her lips against his. And soon, he was taking over, just like he had that night, sliding one hand along her back, the other through her hair, his tongue finding hers. A whimper even worked its way up her throat again.
Tears slid down her cheeks and Eric pulled back. “It was you,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She whacked his arm. “How could you not know it was me?”
He ran his hand down his face. “I don’t know. Because a long time ago we said, we decided…you didn’t think of me like that.”
She hung her head. “I’ve always thought of you like that.”
“All this time? And you’ve never said anything?” He sounded angrier than she’d imagined.
“Eric, you know I couldn’t be with you. Not with your drinking.”
“What? That’s what this is about? You think I could be like your father?”
“I’ve read a few too many articles on women finding men just like their father in some subconscious effort to fix the hurts of their childhood.”
He made a fist and she expected him to slam it on the table, but he didn’t. He relaxed his grip and smoothed his hands on his thighs. “He was a brute, and I’d never be like him.”
“How was I supposed to know things wouldn’t get worse? My dad wasn’t always like that.”
Eric closed his eyes and shook his head. “So why tell me this? Why tell me now if you’ve already decided I’m not good enough for you?”
She pressed her hand against her chest. “I never said that. I said not right for me.”
“Why have you been with me all these years?”
“You’re my friend. And now that you’re not drinking…” she shrugged. “Maybe it could be more.”
He stood up. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Em. I think you’d always be suspicious of me, watching every drink. I didn’t say I was going to quit drinking, I said I’d cut back. Jesus.” He swore under his breath.
“Eric, I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Why did you kiss me that night, anyway?”
“Because it was the anniversary of junior prom, the first time we kissed. I wanted to see if the spark was still there.”
“Still there? Back then you told me that it felt like kissing your brother.”
She put a finger over his lips to quiet him. “The spark was there. But you were drunk that night, too. I thought once you got the partying out of your system I’d tell you. But you never did. There was always a reason to get drunk.”
“And now you don’t believe I can stop.”
She opened and closed her mouth.
“You don’t believe in me.”
“I want to.”
“The girl who kissed me that night sure as hell felt like she believed in me.”
“You were drunk. How would you know?”
He slid out of the booth and threw a twenty on the table. “That should cover our drinks. I only had one beer.”
“I know I won’t let you pay for the whole thing.”
“I don’t care, Emily. I don’t care anymore.” And he left the bar, with Shawna running after him.
“I believe in you, Eric!”
He waved her off, but Shawna chased him out of the bar.
Emily took the twenty and got drunk on two glasses of wine.
***
After telling Shawna never to call him again, Eric went home and went straight the cupboard over the fridge for his stash of liquor. Which would taste better right now, whiskey? Scotch?
He grabbed the first bottle he found—vodka—and sat on his couch. Unscrewing the bottle, he brought it to his lips. Then he set it down on the coffee table and stared at it. No, he didn’t want to feel the burn of the liquor on his lips; he wanted to feel Emily’s soft touch again.
His throat was tight as he fought back the tears. She was right. How could she have ever been in a relationship with him when he drank so much? How could he have been so cruel to her all those years, getting wasted, leaving her to worry? He was lucky she’d kept him as a friend.
And to find out she’d always had feelings for him and he’d wasted all that time? Doing what—drinking? He stood up and grabbed the bottle of vodka. He marched to the bathroom and dumped it down the toilet. Then he grabbed the dozen or so other bottles scattered around his apartment and dumped them, too.
He had to make this up to her; he had to show her he’d changed. That he was the same little boy she rode bikes with and had snowball fights with. He flopped on the couch and stared at the ceiling. What could he do to show her he wanted her, too?
***
Emily was not going to call Eric, because she had nothing to apologize for. But when a week had passed and she hadn’t heard from him, she figured their friendship was over. Which was why she was surprised when his sister, Kyla, called.
“I need to talk to you about Eric,” she told Emily.
“He told you what happened?”
“Yes,” Kyla said.
“I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about.”
“Maybe not, but there is something to show you. Can I pick you up?”
Emily gave Kyla her address and hoped to God she wasn’t taking her over to Eric’s place to find him passed out and covered in vomit. But maybe that’s what she needed to see to remind herself that Eric wasn’t the right guy for her.
Kyla wouldn’t tell Emily where they were going as they drove out of the city down route twenty-four. Emily gripped the armrest. “You’re brothers aren’t waiting for me in the woods, are they? This isn’t like that episode of the Soprano’s where they drive Christopher’s girlfriend out into the wilderness to whack her?”
Kyla rolled her eyes. “My brothers are all talk. They’ve never hurt anyone. They just look like they might.”
Emily let out her breath and relaxed. “Then where are we going?”
“I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“By Eric?”
&nbs
p; “Yes.”
Emily’s heart quickened. “Is he okay?”
“No.”
Tears dripped down Emily’s cheeks, and then she realized where they were—back in Taunton, where they’d grown up.
Kyla made a few more turns and pulled into a driveway.
“Why are we at your parents’ place?” Emily asked as the two of them got out of the car. “Who lives here, now?”
“No one. We still own it. We didn’t have the heart to sell it.”
“Is Eric here?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” She handed Emily a rolled up piece of paper. “This is where I leave you. He asked me to give you this.” Kyla rolled her eyes. “Oh, and he demanded I do this.” She held up her hand in a high-five gesture and wiggled her fingers. “You two are so weird.”
Emily laughed through her tears. “We’ve had a long time to be weird together.”
“Good luck,” Kyla said, before driving away.
Emily unrolled the paper with shaking hands. “Meet me at the creek.” Emily blinked at his handwriting. The creek? She walked behind his house, past the shed and into the woods. The path they used to traipse down nearly everyday looked like it had been freshly cleared. And it was wider, with tire tracks left in the mud. She followed it deep into the woods past the tree they’d climb and hide from his brothers in. She got to the creek but she didn’t see him. “Eric?”
“Right here.”
She turned around and around. “Where are you?”
“Look up.”
She looked up, and there was Eric, twenty feet in the air leaning against the railing of an incredible tree house. “Come on up.” He ducked out of sight, and a rope ladder dropped from the tree.
It looked like a small cabin nestled in the canopy of leaves. She had to catch her breath before she could even try reaching him. She was too choked up to say anything, so she simply grabbed one of the rungs and started climbing. When she finally poked her head through the floor of the house, she saw Eric sitting on a couch, grinning. He walked over and pulled up the rope. “So the bears won’t get us.”
She ran into his arms, crying.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
“When did you have this made?”
“Last week,” he said.
She blinked at him. “How did you manage that?”
He pounded a fist against his chest. “I’m a Carter brother.”
She hip checked him. “I knew you before you were a Carter brother.”
“I know. And I should have built you this a long time ago.”
She looked down. “I didn’t really think we should live in a tree house in the woods.”
“I know. You wanted a way out. And I realize a twelve-year-old kid couldn’t have given you a way out, but I kept you trapped all these years in that same world of worry with my drinking. God, I was such a shit. How could I not have seen what I was doing to you?”
Emily chewed on her lip, not sure what to say.
He raised her chin so she could look in his eyes. “I’m done drinking, Emily. I’m not going to say I’ll never have another, but that life is over. I want a new life—with you. The girl who kissed me in the bar and brought me here—who brought me home. Can you forgive me?”
Smiling, she nodded. “On one condition?”
“You name it.”
“Get this thing wired for electricity so we can watch the Stooges up here.”
He grabbed a thin remote from his pocket. “I’ve got a battery powered DVD player, milady.”
And she raised her hand for a fancy-five, but he linked his fingers in hers instead and pulled her in for another kiss that rivaled the one at the bar.
The Girl In The Pink Hat
By Lisa Scott
Zoe sighed as she read the precious handwriting on the crumpled sheet of paper again. Like she hadn’t already memorized it. “Learn to play the accordion,” she said with a groan. That was a tough one. But, she wasn’t going to argue with the list; it wasn’t her list to argue with. If she was going to learn to play the accordion, she’d better get started. Her therapist, Diana, had thought it was a good idea for Zoe to complete whatever tasks she could. Scanning the fifty items on the list again, Zoe had the urge to call Diana back and ask her if that really was a good idea, after all. Unfortunately, Diana had quit the business.
Zoe switched her attention to her computer, and searched Craigslist for used accordions. No luck. Apparently, they were hard to find. Either no one played them, or no one stopped playing them. Maybe that was a good thing. She didn’t really want to play the accordion. Perhaps she should skip to the next thing on the list.
She was about to log off the site, when she hovered her mouse over the missed connections link. Before clicking on it, she hesitated a moment. It’d become a bit of an obsession since she’d started cruising Craigslist to find the crazy stuff on Jenny’s list. Reading over the messages felt like being a voyeur, but she was enchanted with the near misses. How often did people brush past the love of their life without even knowing it? Were we all just a highway lane from finding true love? She wished there was some kind of follow up forum, so she could find out if the guy in the F-10 pickup truck ever connected with the redhead in the silver Miata on the 95 interstate.
She clicked on the tab. As usual, grocery stores were a popular place to catch someone’s eye. And the subway of course. One man was looking for the woman who’d given him the crossword puzzle when she’d finished the paper at a coffee shop. Another was looking for a woman who shared a smile near the swan boats in the park.
Then, goose bumps tickled her skin. “The girl in the pink hat on the T.” Zoe wore a pink hat—all the time. It was her thing. Jenny had given it to her two years earlier: a hot pink sunhat with a flower on the side. Zoe’s heart thundered. With a shaky hand, she clicked on the message and her voice wavered as she read it aloud, as if Jenny were in the room with her. “To the brunette wearing the pink hat on the green line, Tuesday around 6pm. You got off at the Back Bay exit. Couldn’t stop looking at you. We locked eyes for a moment. If you’re interested, email me.”
She sucked in a breath. “That’s me.” Brown hair. Pink hat. She’d been on the green line Tuesday, and got off at 6:05. “I’m a missed connection,” she whispered. Who’d been watching her? There was that guy in the suit who’d glanced her way while he was talking on the phone. Or maybe the guy reading the newspaper. He was cute, and they’d shared a look. Then she frowned. Hopefully it wasn’t the guy in the dirty t-shirt who’d been itching his belly. Nah, he hadn’t looked like he had internet access. He certainly didn’t have access to a shower.
This guy could be anyone. Her courage was waning, but then she thought of Jenny. Jenny would never have a chance to be a missed connection. Too bad it wasn’t on the list; it’d be nice to cross off a few things.
With Jenny on her mind, Zoe twisted her fingers in her lap and finally sucked up the courage to email him. What did she have to lose? If it was a bust, it was a bust. They’d meet in public, and maybe—just maybe—this would go somewhere. “Hi! It’s the girl in the pink hat. I was on the green line Tuesday. You’re the guy with the newspaper, right? I saw your message and I’d love to meet you. Zoe.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I hope this is the right thing to do, Jenny.” Then she crossed her fingers and hit send.
***
Zoe had a hard time sleeping, wondering if the man on the T would get back to her, if he had a prison record, and if she’d ever get the courage to go skydiving and cross that off the list. Deathbed promises were iron clad weren’t they? Besides, she was one hundred percent certain Jenny would come back as a ghost to haunt her if she didn’t fulfill all the demands on the list.
Luckily, the next morning was Saturday, so she could sleep in. She made a cup of coffee and then hurried to her computer. It was unlikely, but maybe her mystery man had gotten back to her. She logged onto her email account and almost spit out her coffee. He’d
emailed her back already.
Taking a deep breath, she clicked on the message. “Hi, Zoe! I’m so glad you saw my ad on Craigslist. I hope you don’t think I’m crazy. I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Can you meet for coffee today? I know it’s last minute, maybe today around two at The Jumping Bean? I look forward to meeting you. Nick.”
Zoe jumped up and spun around. Today! He wanted to meet her today. Please be the cute one in the suit and not the bellyscratcher. “Nick, that sounds great. I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one in the pink hat.”
She hit send. He quickly replied, “And I’ll have a pink rose waiting for you.”
***
Zoe took a bath. One of the long luxurious soaks she used to enjoy before her world had turned gray, before each day became just another one to get through. She had never loved her job as a customer service rep at the insurance company. Growing up, she and Jenny talked about their dream jobs—working on cruise ships, going to Hollywood to become actresses. Working in a phone bank had never been on her wish list. But it paid the bills—usually. That’s where a communication degree gets you, she thought to herself. After Jenny’s death, it had become nearly impossible to fake the kindness needed when dealing with callers complaining about their copays. ‘At least you’re alive!’ she always wanted to shout.
Her therapist told her she had to move forward, instead of looking back all the time. “You’re missing the gift of the present,” Diana would tell her. “Jenny wouldn’t want you to miss that.” So, Zoe sank back in the bubbles, trying to focus on the present, and her meeting with Nick. Quick showers were the name of the game these days. But this time, she had lit a candle and put on classical music. It was nice, she had to admit.
After drying off and getting ready, she put on her hat and did a last minute outfit check in the mirror. Zoe walked four blocks to the café, forcing herself to breathe deeply. She’d never met a stranger for a date before. And no one had ever gone to such trouble to meet her. She adjusted her hat and straightened her shoulders before walking into the coffee shop. She was glad to see it wasn’t too busy at this hour. That had been a good call by Nick. Smart and handsome, she thought. It didn’t take long to find him, sitting at a table pushed up against the wall; a perfect pink rose lying on the table. She let out the breath she’d been holding—he was gorgeous. He wasn’t the bellyscratcher, that was for sure. He must’ve been the hottie who’d been wearing the suit and reading the newspaper. She’d been distracted that day, going over the list, wondering how she was going to fulfill all of Jenny’s wishes.