Drew rose slowly, gently pulling out of his hug with Charlotte while leaving his palm against her neck.
“Baby, I’m gonna get a coffee. Did you want anything?” he asked as he ran his thumb along her chin.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Thank you.” Though she looked tired, her overall sense of relief was evident. Her shoulders had dropped away from her ears and her expression had significantly relaxed.
“I’m so glad your dad’s okay. I had a good feeling it would turn out all right.”
Charlotte turned to me and smiled. “Thanks, Lucie. I was so surprised you came today—I really appreciate it.”
Remorse smacked at me as I smiled at her, considering my motivation was to escape from myself.
“How are you doing?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, adjusting and everything.”
For whatever reason, I laughed lightly. Her discomfort at broaching the subject of my situation seemed asinine, considering I basically crashed her father’s surgery like a garden party.
“I’m good. I mean, I get derailed sometimes, but I am starting from scratch in a lot of ways, you know? At the same time, it’s kind of awesome to get a do-over.”
Her mouth dropped open a little while her eyebrows jumped, but the slack gape quickly stretched into a grin. “Wow. That may be the most amazing perspective on an unthinkable situation I’ve ever heard.”
When I searched her face, I found nothing but acceptance. “Thanks.”
“Well,” she continued, “I’m glad you don’t have to wait for memories to make more!”
My stomach dropped behind my responding smile, fluttering with warning of an oncoming train.
Shit, really? A preview? Now?
I was preemptively embarrassed to explain what was about to happen, so my knee-jerk reaction was to resist it. The result was not good. An invisible vise clamped down on my head as if in retaliation. The instant pressure behind my eyes pushed tears over my lower lids and they fell. I heard Charlotte gasp and ask after me, but I’d already jumped up and scurried away down the hall. I blindly crashed into the bathroom and shut myself in the far stall.
I breathed deeply and waited for the headache to abate and the psychic traffic jam to clear and drive on through. Bracing myself, I pressed on opposite walls for support, eventually sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. Finally, the dam broke.
“Lucie, I’m sure he doesn’t want to wait at the altar forever. Are you ready yet?”
I stand at the door of the bathroom, watching Charlotte fuss with her bra again. She hasn’t stopped complaining that her boobs are bigger since the last dress fitting. Baby Gibson garbles a coo, making sounds as if he’s stretching the sleep out of his bones.
She tries to tuck in her tits one last time before giving up and picking her son up from his car seat. The snicker is accidental. Maybe. She turns quickly to see I am ready, decked out, and ready to rock. Her jaw drops.
“So, my dear friend, how do I look?”
Granted, I could run out there naked and marry that man with the biggest smile physically possible, but to have confirmation I don’t look absurd is preferable. Charlotte nods continually as she rocks from foot to foot, her little man falling right back to sleep on her shoulder.
“Wow! Seriously, wow. It’s so perfect. So. Perfect. I can’t wait to see the look on—”
Vivi plows in the room, hurling insults like Mardi Gras beads.
“Are you bitches gonna squat in here all day? Quit primping and let’s do this so we can party.”
She closes the door and cracks a huge grin while planting her hands on her hips as she shifts gears. “So, I think I’m gonna ride Nash to the reception, because my man is lookin’ fi-i-i-ine in that tux.”
I snort, snaring the both of them into a momentary, collaborative giggle fit. Vivi recovers first, grabbing my arms in a painfully serious grip.
“And I don’t even want to tell you how edible G—”
“Lucie?” Charlotte’s concern cushioned the shock in her voice. My eyes popped open to scan the surrounding bathroom stall. I glanced under the door to see her purple Chuck Taylors. Standing suddenly, I hastily wiped my eyes and leaned against the side, dizzy. I did my best to reorient myself, regain my balance, and divert the disappointment.
Son of a bitch! I almost had his name!
“Oh, hey!” I said, opening the door and moving past her to the sink. I saw the black smudges under my eyes. Awesome, I did wear mascara today. “Sorry about that. I got a little, um, emotional. It happens suddenly from time to time.”
My stomach clenched at the lie. It was sort of true, any vision had an emotional effect, but that wasn’t what chased me from the waiting room.
Widening my scope, I realized Drew was also in here, standing by the door. He stared at me, saucer-eyed and openmouthed. The usual warmth and brightness in his eyes was gone, something raw in its place. As I stared at him, his honey-brown irises appeared rusty and dark, similar to a piece of jasper. Detoured by his presence, I was about to ask him why he was in the ladies’ room when I noticed the wall of urinals.
“Oh, God dammit,” I muttered.
Their restrained chuckles told me they were enjoying my comedy of errors.
“Need a cigarette?” Drew cracked.
“Huh?”
Charlotte groaned. “Smokin’ in The Boys Room,” she elaborated, matching Drew’s amused grin.
“I don’t get it.” I stared at her, confused.
“The song? You haven’t—? Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
I tried laughing off any mortification, but I was still embarrassed. Surprisingly less than I expected, though.
“I’m fine, Charlie,” I said, my eyes wide when I heard the nickname emerge. “I mean, Charlotte.”
With her hand over her mouth, she tittered. “My grandma used to call me Charlie!”
“Sorry?”
“No, I don’t mind at all, it’s just she was the only one who would use it. My dad thought it was funny, but always called me Charlotte, and my mom hated it. She was still mad they didn’t name me Gloria after her mother who died before I was born. Anyway,” she said, waving a hand as if to usher the subject back to the present.
“So, what’s the deal?”
At that moment, another man came through the door with the intent to actually use the facilities. He stopped cold, his eyes growing wide in shock and performed a rapid about-face. Drew looked at us and stifled a laugh.
“How about heading back to the waiting room?” he suggested, his face a bit flushed as he pulled open the door.
I looked him in the eyes. They were shining again, warm and amber.
“Come on,” he insisted, gesturing us out. We quickly darted out, heads down, and walked down the hallway until we stood just outside the waiting room. I could feel Sofia and Fred staring at me through the glass, and I purposefully ignored Sofia’s multiple signs of the cross. Charlotte stood next to me and leaned in closely, waiting.
“I get … premonitions sometimes. I call them ‘previews.’”
Silence met my hushed admission. I watched her face as she mulled it over. Drew stood behind her, his skepticism blatant.
“I know how it sounds,” I whispered. I had grown comfortable with the idea that what I’d been seeing would happen, but I could never guarantee that anyone else would buy it. Why sugarcoat it?
“A premonition?” she asked, carefully.
Drew sipped his coffee loudly. I shifted, a little embarrassed, and perhaps more self-conscious than I wanted to be.
“Of what?” Her voice dropped in volume to match mine.
“If you can believe it,” I began, “you’ll be one of the two matrons of honor in my wedding.”
Drew snorted and walked around us and into the waiting room. His entertainment was obvious though he shook his head. “Maybe your previous life was in a carnival,” he mumbled.
“Drew, don’t be
a dick,” Charlotte hissed, but Sofia snapped something at her in Spanish. Charlotte turned back to me, considering my claim for a moment. “Count me in, lady. Sounds fantastic.”
I grinned, huge and goofy. I nodded and shrugged my appreciation, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed.
Have I mentioned my future husband’s name starts with a G?
~
Charlotte and Drew insisted on treating me to their favorite Italian place for dinner as if she needed to make up for cancelling lunch. It wasn’t hard to agree, though I fully planned to steal the check and treat them.
The restaurant was an utterly cozy place, very quaint, with exposed brick walls and dark wood tables. The staff treated us as if we were joining their family dinner, which I enjoyed more than they knew. Wine was set in front of me, but my mind kept swirling like the ruby liquid around my glass.
Greg? No, doesn’t fit his face. Gary? Ugh, that’s not it. Gideon? Stupid. It wouldn’t be the same as my last name. Garrett? Not quite. Gabriel! Crap. This isn’t working.
“Lucie?” Charlotte asked with a smile, extracting me from my brainstorming session. “Where are you?”
I was caught. “Uh, daydreaming?”
“Okay,” she said carefully, her eyes sparkling, before diving headfirst into her curiosity. “So, are you ever going to elaborate on these previews you have?”
I stared at her, unsure how to respond. Honestly, I was surprised she was interested.
“Do you really want to know?”
Her head was already nodding before I even completed the question. Eyeing Drew, I noted he was silent, calm and pretending not to care. By the way his eyes surreptitiously cut to my face every few seconds, however, I could tell he was as curious as his wife.
Vacillating as to how to begin, I thought for a moment and finally tasted my wine. The zing zipped down my throat and heated up my spine. I licked my lips.
“Well,” I said, still cautious, “it’s disorienting. I can’t always gauge what I see, because I have no reference for a lot of places. I don’t know why, or what they mean, but generally they are an encouragement, I guess. Not just for me, really, because it’s never just me.”
Charlotte sat back and downed the last of the sangiovese in her glass. “I was in the one you had at the hospital, right?”
I nodded.
“Tell me.”
I hesitated, but slowly stirred up the courage and did just that. I omitted the baby’s name so as not to influence, but also to check the validity of my ability, despite the probability of waiting for years to find out.
Drew choked on his wine. Charlotte rolled her eyes and heavily patted his back as he recovered.
“I should learn and keep my mouth shut. Like, always.” I settled my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes.
“Pfft.” Charlotte clearly disagreed. “Drew has been asking almost daily when we’re having a kid.”
“I have not!” He cleared his throat a few more times and still, his voice was scratchy. “You are just as impatient.”
She laughed outright. “That is pure crap, love. I mean, I’m okay with whenever. I just don’t want to live in our cramped one-bedroom apartment with a baby. So I wish this preview came with an address,” she joked, winking at me. “Besides, practice is half the fun.”
Drew’s eyes crinkled with his smile, but his embarrassment overpowered with a surprising display of red cheeks. He rallied with a quip. “I do like to practice. As often as possible.”
Charlotte rewarded him with a kiss, her fingers lingering on his cheek longer than her lips on his. They shared a look and were instantly alone in the world.
Turning back to face me, Charlotte zeroed in on me. “Boy or girl?” The question was delivered like a bullet.
“I don’t know!” I lied.
“Oh my God!” Drew burst, a bit spectacularly. “All that and you’re going to hold out on us?”
Charlotte didn’t even turn to look at him, sitting tall and smiling triumphantly at me. “See?” she mouthed.
“I have to piss,” he announced and stalked to the rear of the restaurant.
She hadn’t moved, just waiting.
I played along, staring back at her, but I caved. “Boy.” The single word was barely a breath, so if she heard it, I didn’t know.
Either way, she understood and her eyes confirmed it, smiling before her mouth could follow suit. “I knew it.”
While they did ask a couple of other questions about my ability, the majority of the evening was rather lighthearted. It was comforting to find we all got along really well even without the buffer of Vivi and Nash. They were funny and sweet people and I was glad to have met them. They seemed to genuinely like me for me, and I knew I would never in my life deserve the friends I’d made. They believed in me before I believed in myself. They cared for me while barely knowing me. And though my frame of reference was blocked, I imagined this must’ve been what real family was.
Chapter Eight
Grey
Erupt
Normally, I would be precisely on time for any meet. However, at 7:13, I sat in a cab debating what in the hell I was doing. I gave the driver a twenty to shut the fuck up and let me sit for two seconds, staring at the looming Hancock Center. Horns blared outside, other cabs whizzing by.
You owe him nothing. Leave.
Before I could stop myself, I pushed the door open and closed it behind me. As I made my way into the restaurant, my ears seemed to shut down—I couldn’t hear a thing except my labored breathing.
I sat on the sidelines of the wrestling match between my body and my fucked up logic. Rooted to the ground in the bustling waiting area, I swept my gaze left to right in anticipation of Nash and Vivien. I forced my way to the edge and stood against the wall as I anticipated every question he would have. Where the hell have you been? What about your dad? Why didn’t you answer my fucking letters?
You are not who he remembers.
Abruptly, a welcome clarity seared through the center of my head. A buzzing electricity ricocheted through my chest and my limbs. Just as the deafening chatter of patrons, the clanging of glasses and general rumble of the restaurant once again registered, my body reached a bargain with my mind. I had just shoved off the wall in preparation to run when an iron grip took my shoulder.
“Grey!”
Fuck.
Our table was a booth, thankfully, but in the center of the action. My eyes darted all over the restaurant, checking for exits. I was so engrossed in this struggle between pain and protocol that Nash had to clap his hands directly in front of my face to snap me out of it.
“Earth to Grey,” he said with a laugh. “You’re here, but you’re still not here.”
You have no idea.
I forced my attention back to the couple across from me. I could do this. I coerced my expression into a genial smile, apparently giving Nash the cue to start in on me.
“So?” He lobbed the word at me, expectantly.
My chest felt hollow. “So what?” I hedged.
You chose to be here, I reminded myself as I braced for torture. That damn memory of the keg party stirred up enough of something to coerce me into this terrible decision.
“So what!”
I thought he was going to jump out of the booth. This level of volume was not unusual for Nash, however. Vivien laughed lightly and tipped her ice water to her perfectly painted ruby red lips.
“I can’t believe you’d say that to me! Come on! I mean, dude. The last time you returned a call, you were being shipped out for some assignment you couldn’t say anything about. I guessed Africa, but you wouldn’t say.”
Philippines.
“There isn’t much about my time in the army I care to talk about,” I said evenly, though my expression barely maintained neutrality. “It wasn’t as if I wanted to be there, exactly.”
I heard a modest Louisiana cadence taint my words. I calmed the rush of dread with a deep breath.
“Whatever.” He b
lew it off. “You’re out now, right?”
He tried to continue the interrogation, but the waitress interrupted. While Vivien and Nash pored over the menu, I methodically scanned the restaurant again. A baby was crying on the far side of the dining room. A young couple three tables to my right quietly argued over her supposed location the previous night. A tall, rough-looking tourist with one hell of a beer belly stood blocking the nearest exit.
I brought my attention back to the waitress just in time to avoid more clapping in my face. I ordered a New York strip, medium rare, with a baked potato, and handed her the menu.
“So what about you, Nash? How long have you two been married?”
His face brightened with his signature thousand-watt grin.
“Four years! That is, four years in October,” he said, taking the opportunity to put his arm around his wife.
Nash smiled at her, squeezing her shoulders with one arm. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. Her eyes floated slowly from the ceiling to a spot in her lap while her mouth curved into a devious smirk. A throaty chuckle escaped her lips. Nash’s lips moved along her earlobe. They might not have noticed if I just left.
When Vivien got up to visit the ladies’ room, I stood along with Nash. My body continued to betray me. Regardless of what I was now, the concept of being a gentleman remained hardwired.
“So, I always wanted to ask, but I never, uh … you never seemed to want to talk about it.”
I didn’t have to wonder to know exactly what he was referring to. And I was not open to discussing the topic.
“No,” I said firmly.
“Grey, you never wanted to go into the army,” he argued. “Your dad—”
“He wasn’t my dad,” I corrected sharply, before I could stop myself.
He sighed, only slightly defeated. “I know you guys never got along too well, and in the end, I guess it makes sense, but—”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
You Are Here Page 6