Come Back to Me

by Chris Paynter

  Pam stood up. “Not bad.” She gestured to her catch. “It’ll get a little better in a few weeks when the waters warm up some.”

  Angie said hello to the guys on Pam’s crew and to the sunburned tourists as they stepped off the boat.

  Pam walked over and brushed the bangs off Angie’s forehead. It was an intimate gesture that unearthed memories of another woman and another time, but Angie didn’t pull away. They’d been together for two years and parted as friends. Pam had wanted more from Angie than she could give. But Angie hadn’t been able to offer much of her heart to any woman since Meryl.

  “You need a haircut.”

  “I’ve been meaning to get over to Giorgio’s, but haven’t taken the time.”

  Pam stared at her. “I still miss you.”

  Angie looked out at the water—anywhere but at those sad brown eyes. Yes, they were friends, but it didn’t mean that she hadn’t caused Pam pain. “I know.”

  Pam touched Angie’s arm. “Ignore me. I had a long day out there. I worked my ass off for what we did catch, and I’m tired. When I’m tired, I get a little sentimental.” The corner of her mouth crooked up.

  “Don’t apologize. Please.”

  “Will I see you later at the CC? I know you like to go there Tuesday nights to watch Sage’s drag show.”

  The “CC” was the Cozy Conch. Angie had bought the bar six years ago on a whim two years after she’d moved to Key West. It was a hobby for her, something separate from her writing—and it was a source of income to explain how she could afford to live where she lived.

  “Yeah, I should be there around eight,” Angie said.

  “I’ll go home and shower to wash off this wonderful smell. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “I’ll buy you a drink.”

  Rather than go home, Angie called her best friend, Ev, to invite her to meet for coffee. Ev answered the phone on the second ring.

  “Hello?” Ev’s voice came across as breathy and exasperated.

  “Rough day?”

  “You have no idea. Being the only woman in a house full of boys isn’t all it’s cracked up to be sometimes. And I emphasize boys.”

  “I take it Harold’s causing you problems, too?”

  “He’s like a teenager. Right now, he’s trying to beat Gregory on some PlayStation game called Mountain of Doom or Doomsday or some crap like that. I was about to fix dinner. They’ll be lucky if they get peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

  “Give the guy a little break, Ev. He works long hours at the Naval Station.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that.” The sarcasm came through loud and clear. “This sounds horrible, but I’m so glad he’s working a twelve-hour shift tomorrow.”

  Angie chuckled. “It’s not horrible if you need the break from all the testosterone in the house.”

  “I hope you’re calling for our sometimes-regular Tuesday afternoon coffee chat.”

  “I am. Why don’t you swing by Joe Joe’s and pick me up a cappuccino and anything your heart desires. I’ll reimburse you.”

  “I hear seagulls screaming in the background. Are you at the docks?”

  “Yes. Not too far from Pam’s boat. You know where her slip is, right?”

  “I’ll pop a frozen pizza in the oven for these guys and be there in twenty minutes, tops.”

  Angie shut her phone and took a seat on a nearby bench. She stretched her arms across the back, tilted her head, and held her face to the late afternoon sun. She was nearly dozing off when Ev’s resonant voice jolted her more fully awake.

  “Must be tough being a rich author.”

  Angie sat up, smiling at Ev’s teasing tone. “Sure as hell is.”

  She did tell select others that she wrote novels, just not the complete truth about her pseudonym. Ev, Jan, and Sally were the only ones besides her publisher who knew she published under “Zach England.”

  Ev handed her the cappuccino. Angie reached into the side pocket of her cargo shorts for her wallet.

  “If you try to give me money, I’m taking my double mint latte back home to my boys. And you know how much it pains me to say that.”

  Angie snapped the pocket. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ev took a seat next to her. At five-two, Ev was two inches shorter than Angie. Her bronzed skin and high cheekbones spoke of her Cherokee ancestry. She had liquid black eyes that seemed to go right through a person, almost as if she could read every thought.

  Angie tested the cappuccino and decided to let it cool. She set it beside her on the bench.

  “I see you’ve been working on that dark tan of yours,” Ev said.

  “Guess so.”

  Ev frowned. “You sound like you’ve lost your best friend, but that’s impossible since that’s me. What’s got you so pensive?” Ev turned to face Angie and tucked one jean-clad leg under her.

  Angie pulled out the Banner review from her pocket and handed it to Ev.

  Ev set her coffee down between them on the bench and took the clipping from Angie. She read the piece and then returned it.

  “Hey, you can’t let this get you down. It’s only one review. Is there something more? Because you usually don’t let reviews bother you.”

  Angie squirmed under Ev’s direct gaze that prickled her skin.

  “Did I ever tell you about that girl in college?”

  “You might have. Remind me.”

  Angie recounted her relationship with Meryl and the heartbreak that followed. She held up the review. “This is her byline.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not.” Angie stuck the review back in her pocket, picked up her cappuccino, and took a sip. “Isn’t it a small world?” She snorted. “That always seemed like a stupid saying… until now.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong. Isn’t this what a writer calls irony?”

  “Very funny, Ev, but I guess you could say that.”

  “Wow.”

  “‘Wow’ pretty much sums it up.”

  “What does your agent say about the review?”

  “There were a lot of ‘fucks’ mixed in with ‘it’s okay’ and ‘don’t worry, Angie.’”

  “Leave it up to Sally to make it all better.”

  “She of course has no idea who this reviewer is, and I sure as hell won’t tell her.”

  “I wouldn’t think you would. All right. I’ll be your shrink for the day. How does this make you feel?”

  “It brings back a lot of stuff for me.”

  Ev watched Angie with an expectant look.

  Angie turned away from her and stared out at the blue-green water that surrounded Key West. The color would match Meryl’s eyes perfectly.

  “You’re somewhere far away,” Ev said.

  Angie stood up and carried her cup to a nearby trash can. The coffee had lost its flavor. She tossed it in the bin and stood with her back to Ev.

  “Have you kept up with her at all?” Ev asked.

  “Not too much. I did at first, but then it was too painful. She got married the summer after graduation.” A vision of Meryl in her wedding dress passed through Angie’s mind, but she pushed it out. “I found out later the marriage ended after only two years. The last I heard, she was still teaching at Columbia’s School of Journalism, but her Banner bio said she was a book reviewer at a New York magazine before moving on to the Banner.” She returned to the bench. “And now this review.”

  Ev patted the bench, and Angie took a seat.

  “I’ve never asked too much about your love life, Angie. I watched as you and Pam grew apart. I should say I watched as you pulled away from her.”

  Angie snapped her head around.

  Ev smiled sadly. “You know it’s true.”

  Angie’s eyes welled with tears. “I tried, Ev. I’d dated other women, but with Pam, I really tried. I couldn’t let Meryl go. Hell, I still can’t.”

  “Quit beating yourself up. Pam’s a big girl, and so are you. And from what I’ve seen, at
least you parted as friends.”

  “You’re right. We’re friends, but I’ve hurt her and I hate myself for that.” Angie swiped at the tears that overflowed down her cheeks.

  “I’ve never told you this, mainly because Pam told it to me in confidence. But I’m going to tell you because I think you need to hear it. Pam said she didn’t fault you in the breakup. She said she thought you were still in love with someone else, someone she couldn’t compete with, and she felt she was living with a shell of a lover. She asked me to keep watch over you because she loved you and cared about what you were going through.”

  Angie cried harder.

  “She told me she only hoped that whoever had broken your heart would somehow make it right. She said she wasn’t trying to be a martyr. But she cared enough about you to want to see you happy because she knew you wished her the same. Have you thought about contacting Meryl after reading this review? I mean, now you know exactly where she is.”

  Angie dried her tears with her fingers. “Like I told you, I knew where she was before at Columbia. It hurt too damn much.”

  “And now?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Call her up and say, ‘Hey, you really nailed me in your review?’” Angie stopped herself. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  Weariness descended on Angie, thinking about Sunday’s shock. “I think I’ll take off for home.” She rose from the bench. “Lying in my hammock sounds like a wonderful idea right about now.”

  Ev stood and threw her cup in the trash can. She gave Angie a long hug. “Call me if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks, Ev.”

  Angie watched Ev walk away and started for home on foot, glad she’d left her old VW Beetle parked in her driveway. She did a lot of walking and jogging since the island was so small. Today was no different.

  She opened the gate of the white picket fence in front of her renovated cottage. “Restored” was a better word. The previous owner had tried to adhere to the home styles of the 1930s and had sanded and varnished the pine floors. It was a two-bedroom with an airy living room, vaulted ceilings, and crown molding, all painted in white. One of the selling points for Angie had been a fireplace with an ornate mantle. It reminded her a little of home. Thank goodness the previous owner had put in an updated kitchen with granite counters and stainless steel appliances. The Jacuzzi in the patio area in the backyard added a modern touch to the home.

  She’d lived in the apartment over the bar for five years, before she decided it was time to make her Key West residency permanent by purchasing a home. One of her friends was a real estate agent who knew this cottage was on the market. She tried to prepare Angie for the high price, but half-a-million dollars still shocked her. Unpretentious. Yeah. And a yacht, too.

  Angie picked up her mail from the box and unlocked the front door. She turned on the overhead fan in the living room, which sat to the left of the front door. Skimming through the assortment in her hand, she spotted a postcard from her sister.

  Jan, her husband, Rick, and their two kids had traveled to the Cantinnini family home in San Mango d’Aquino, Italy, a gorgeous town located in the hills overlooking the Mediterranean. Angie had visited once while she was in high school and hadn’t been back since. She wasn’t sure whether she’d be accepted there following her parents’ rejection, and she didn’t want to risk any further heartbreak from her family—even from her distant relatives in Italy.

  Angie read Jan’s last line on the postcard and laughed: “I would say ‘wish you were here,’ but it wouldn’t annoy you as much as it would others, and what fun is there in that?”

  On her way to the backyard patio, she considered forgoing the hammock, stripping, and sinking down into the Jacuzzi. But the hammock between the two palm trees beckoned to her. She slid into the netting and folded her hands behind her head. She took in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax her mind, watching the palm fronds above her sway with each soft ocean breeze. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the emotional exhaustion pressing down on her.

  Chapter 7

  Lehigh University, Fall 1997

  “I’ll meet you at our booth in the back.” Angie struggled to pull on her socks while balancing the telephone receiver on her shoulder.

  “I can be there in about fifteen minutes,” Meryl said on the other end of the line. “Is that okay for you?”

  “Yup. See you there.”

  Angie hung up the phone and then stared at it.

  “Does it do tricks?” Jacqueline, one of her two roommates at the house they rented together, wandered past with a bowl of popcorn. Marissa, the other roommate, was working at the movie theater that night. Jacqueline put a video in the VCR and threw herself on the couch in front of the TV.

  “Huh?”

  “The phone. If you stare at it long enough, does it turn somersaults or something?”

  “Funny.”

  Jacqueline became engrossed in Men in Black for what had to be at least the fifth time in the past couple of weeks.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of Will Smith?”

  “He’s so fine. Do you think I’d ever get tired of him?” Jacqueline never looked away from the TV.

  Angie put on her sneakers, grabbed her jacket, and left for the pizza parlor.

  * * *

  A giddy feeling bubbled up inside Angie when she saw Meryl in the back booth. Meryl had her head buried in a book and was chewing on the end of a ballpoint pen, oblivious to Angie drawing nearer. Angie observed her in that unguarded moment, and Meryl raised her head and smiled at her.

  Angie felt like the sun had burst through a dark cloud on the stormiest day of the year. She wanted Meryl to look at her that way forever.

  “What took you so long?” Meryl asked in a teasing tone.

  “Remember, you live a lot closer to this place than I do.” Angie took off her jacket and sat down opposite her in the booth.

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. I took the liberty to order our usual. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  They gazed at each other until Meryl began fiddling with her straw wrapper.

  “Can I ask you something, Ange?”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “The short story last semester in Ms. Evers’s class. I was wondering, was that about you and your family?” Meryl’s face flushed. “You can tell me to mind my own business,” she said in a rush.

  Angie searched Meryl’s eyes and saw only genuine interest with no hint of judgment.

  “Yeah. That was about me and my family.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “When did you realize you were gay? And how… well…”

  “How’d I know?”

  Meryl nodded, staring at the balled-up straw wrapper in front of her.

  “I knew my sophomore year in high school. I fell for this girl on the basketball team. As to how I knew, I just did. Guys never meant anything to me other than someone to talk sports or shoot hoops with, or play tackle football. How’d you know you were straight?”

  Meryl tore the twisted-up wrapper in half and raised her head. Her face had reddened, and Angie could see the pulse in her throat beating rapidly.

  “I… I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure of—”

  “One medium pan pizza, sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese?”

  The pimply faced server stood beside the table awaiting their reply.

  “Yes.” Angie barely kept from snapping at him for the interruption. “Could you please bring me a Coke and a refill on hers?”

  She looked at Meryl. “You’re not sure how you know you’re straight?”

  “No,” Meryl answered, her voice almost a whisper. “I’m not sure anymore if I’m straight.”

  “What?” Angie tried to slow her breathing.

  “I mean, I’m not sure I was ever straight.” Meryl paused while the server brought their Cokes. “I think about how I never fe
lt anything for the boys I dated. I realize now I only did what was expected of me by dating them.”

  “Was there anyone steady in high school?” Angie fought to sound calm despite the knot that had formed in her stomach.

  “There was. You have to remember my father’s preoccupation with everything I did. We had to maintain appearances. He insisted his daughter date the best boy in school.”

  “Is your dad that controlling?”

  “Yes. He learned it from his mother.” Meryl’s expression grew troubled.

  “Like mother, like son?”

  “Sometimes I think she’s even worse than he is. She still lives with us. Thank God the house is big enough that I can avoid her as much as possible. It probably sounds unkind talking about my grandmother like that, but…” Meryl bit her lower lip, enough that Angie thought it might start bleeding.

  Angie grabbed Meryl’s hand.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’re here with me now.”

  Her words seemed to bring Meryl back to the present.

  “You asked about my father. My father’s controlled everything about me since I was a little girl, from my preschool on up to the prep school he chose for me when I wanted to attend public school. I wanted to be normal, like other kids, but he wouldn’t hear of it.” She paused, as if to recall everything else she didn’t like about her father. “He picked the dresses I wore to school, who I dated, when I dated. He insisted I date the quarterback, even though I detested him. I knew what he was like, but my dad wouldn’t listen. He finally believed me when I came home one night with my blouse torn and bruises on my wrists.”

  “Jesus, Meryl, he didn’t…”

  “No, he didn’t rape me. But it wasn’t from lack of trying. I was able to knee him in the groin and get out of the car fast. A carload of my friends happened to be driving by, and I caught a ride back home with them.”

  Angie’s blood boiled thinking about what had happened to Meryl, but especially that her dad insisted she date this brute. “What did your dad do?”

  “He did what he always does. He took care of it. Farley Preston was out of that prep school so fast, I’m sure his head’s still spinning. He had a scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh, but my dad took care of that, too. The last I heard, he was quarterback at a small college in upstate New York.”