by Black, Lacey
“Fine. I’ll bring the food this time,” I reply. Last time we took the boat out, he remembered about every type of alcohol imaginable, yet forgot to bring substance for our stomachs. It made for a long, miserable day at sea.
“Drinks tomorrow night after class?” he asks, getting up off the floor.
“Sure. I’ll drive myself since you have a habit of ditching me for blondes in short skirts,” I answer, getting up off the floor myself.
“Why you gotta be like that?” he asks, fretting hurt. “It’s not just blondes, dude. I like brunettes, too. And redheads. I fucking love redheads. They’re wild as hell.” He barks out a laugh that leaves me shaking my head.
Oh yeah, I’m going to enjoy watching him fall hard.
Hopefully, sooner. You know, before he comes down with an STD.
Chapter Nine
Meghan
“Are you okay?” Cindy asks as soon as we break apart from the group to enjoy appetizers and drinks at Thursday night book club. Of course, I’m not quite up to drinking yet. My head hasn’t hurt much today, but still carries an ugly shade of purple.
I’ve decided it’s not a good color for me.
Plus, it’s my first time driving since Tuesday night’s incident.
“I’m fine, thank you. I’m feeling much better today. Yesterday, I kinda slept the day away, but I was feeling up to moving around a little more today. My grandma came over and sat on the back porch with me for a few hours this afternoon.”
“That’s nice,” Cindy says with a smile. “I’ve been worried about you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here tonight or not.”
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was coming until about five. Then I decided I needed out of the house for a bit.” The walls were starting to close in on me, as they often do when I’m there alone for long periods of time, but I leave out that part.
“Well, I’m glad to see you, and so happy you’re okay,” she adds, reaching over and rubbing my upper arm.
“Thank you. How did you hear? I mean, I know it’s a small town, so I’m sure it’s grocery store fodder.”
She seems to blush a bit and hesitates before answering. “Oh, uhhh… I ran into your dad. At the grocery store.” Cindy seems to blush even more.
Interesting.
“Oh.” I knew Dad and Cindy knew each other, but didn’t realize they were friends enough to share personal details like that.
“Anyway, I wanted to stop over last night, but figured you wouldn’t be up to visitors quite yet.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” I tell her honestly. I really do like Cindy and find value in our friendly chats.
“Can I get you anything? Wine?”
“I’m good, thank you. I’m not quite up to drinking yet, but my appetite is returning tenfold. I’ve been eyeing those stuffed mushrooms and crab dip like I haven’t eaten in days.” And maybe I haven’t. Grandma forced me to eat some soup today, but I was so tired yesterday that I don’t think I ate much of anything all day. Even with Lexi babysitting me.
“I’ll go grab you some,” she replies with another smile. It’s a nice smile. Friendly. Easy. Pretty.
A few other ladies come over and ask about my head, and I find myself sharing the story several times throughout the rest of the evening. Some had heard the story, but many hadn’t. Since I showed up right when book club was starting, no one had the chance to ask about my lovely purple bruise accessory I was sporting when I arrived. But now, everyone wants to know what happened.
By the time we dismiss, I’m starting to get very sleepy. It’s definitely time for me to head home. Saying goodnight to everyone, including receiving an extra hug from Cindy before I leave, I make my way outside in the late May night and toward my car. The air holds just the slightest chill to it, which may be of benefit to me as I make my way home. Rolling down the windows, I check my phone before I leave and find a message from Nick.
Nick: Just checking in. How are you feeling?
Me: I’m feeling better. Decided to go to book club tonight.
Nick: That’s good. I’m happy to hear.
Me: I could probably work tomorrow, you know.
Nick: No. You’ll be back Monday, unless you need more time.
Me: You’re so bossy. I don’t need more time. I’m fine to work now.
Nick: Sorry, you’re breaking up. I can’t hear you.
Me: Very funny, Mr. Miyagi. When did you develop a sense of humor?
Nick: Ouch. You wound me.
Me: You know I’m joking. Anyway, I’m heading home now.
Nick: I’ll let you go. Night.
Me: Good night, Nicholas James Adams, D.D.S.
Nick: *inserts man shaking head GIF*
I set my phone down in my cup holder, laughing. He hates it when I pull out his full name for some reason, which is why I use it. Much like him calling me Meggy Pie. One time Grandma used it in his presence and he hasn’t let it go since.
It’s a short drive home, the cool air tussling my hair and chilling my cheeks. I’m expecting to come home to a still house and the kitchen light on above the sink. What I’m not expecting is to see Nick’s car in the street. Pulling into my driveway, he gets out and meets me at my car, his right hand holding a familiar cup.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a smile, even though I can already see the answer in his hand.
“The kids at the burger joint made an extra strawberry milkshake. I thought I could find someone to drink it. You know, so it didn’t go to waste.” His smile does something weird to my heart and makes my breathing hitch in my throat.
“Again? They’re going to have to do something about that employee. That can’t be good for business if he keeps making extra milkshakes,” I tease as I climb out of my car.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck.
Nick follows me up my stairs and watches as I unlock the door, but he doesn’t follow me in as I cross the threshold. For several seconds, we just stand there, staring at each other. The desire to invite him in, to come in (and not as my friend, Nick) and stay for a while, is strong. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I don’t say them.
“Here,” he says, extending his hand with the milkshake.
“Do you want to come in?” The words are small, my heart hammering in my chest. I can’t stop the yawn, and immediately bring the hand with the shake to my mouth to cover it.
He shakes his head. “Not tonight. You’ve had a long few days and you’re tired.”
Nodding, we continue to watch each other. I can tell he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Well, thank you for this,” I finally say, bringing the straw to my lips and taking my first drink.
“You’re very welcome, Meghan. I’ll talk to you soon. Sleep tight.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and heads down the stairs.
I watch as he climbs into his car and starts it. He doesn’t pull away, though. His eyes are locked on mine in a way that’s both familiar and scary. There’s a different look to him tonight, and if I’m being completely honest, I’ve noticed it before tonight. He’s still my friend Nick, but there’s more there. Longing, maybe? That thought leaves me both excited and fearful. Not because I’m afraid of him, but more of the fact I’m afraid of the feelings.
Because I’ve done everything to avoid feeling anything for more than two years.
Feelings lead to pain.
Excruciating, miserable, all-consuming pain.
As I close and lock the door to the sound of Nick’s car driving away, I’m instantly surrounded in the silence, the pain. It’s familiar. Much more familiar than any other pesky feeling that I may or may not be having toward Nick, or anyone else.
Taking a hearty pull from the straw, I can’t help but smile as the creamy strawberry shake hits my tongue. He thought of me enough to bring me my favorite treat. Again. He really is a sweet and caring man. Someday, someone (not Collette) will be lucky enough
to win his heart and love.
Climbing into bed, I settle in for the familiar uneasy sleep. The tossing and turning. The dream that’s sure to come.
* * *
“Did you hear Clayton and Christine are engaged? I did that! I set them up!” Lexi hollers across the table with a wide smile on her face.
“Really? Good for them. I really like them together. She’s so much better for him than his ex,” Abby says from her seat. We’re at the café having Sunday brunch. Our family is big enough now that the biggest table doesn’t fit our crew. We have to add another table to accommodate our group.
“Aren’t they the ones you practically forced to go to lunch together after their hair appointments?” AJ asks next to Sawyer.
“Well, duh. I knew she was into him. Had been in school, too. So I just arranged his hair appointment at the same time as hers. The rest, as they say, is history,” our baby sister boasts proudly, clapping her hands together victoriously before setting them on top of her big belly.
Jaime sits at the end of the table beside Dad looking as miserable as ever. She’s getting closer to her due date with only three and a half weeks to go. “How ya feeling, Jaime?” I ask, watching as she continues to squirm in her chair.
“Fine,” she says with a fake smile. Ryan gives her a sympathetic look and then kisses her on the cheek. “I’m just ready. Our little one doesn’t like me to be comfortable for more than thirty seconds.” She rubs her very round belly and gives me a small smile.
“She’s not sleeping,” Ryan adds, pulling her into his arms and letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
“I can’t get comfortable,” she adds with a shoulder shrug.
“I hear ya. But the good thing is I don’t sleep anyway. Not when these two seem to think sleepy-time is when the crib party starts,” Lexi chimes in, a tired but adoring smile on her face as she stares down at Hemi in the highchair beside her.
“I didn’t party nearly this much in my early twenties as I do now between one and three a.m.,” Linkin adds, picking up a dropped toy that Hudson keeps throwing over the tray of his chair. I’m pretty sure it’s just a game to the little guy now.
“It gets better,” Dean chimes in, his daughter, Brielle, sitting next to him and coloring with Payton.
“I hope so,” Lexi whispers.
“I have an idea, why don’t you bring the boys over to my house on Friday night,” Dad says from his end of the table. “You guys can go have dinner and enjoy your evening.”
“Or just have the sex,” Grandma says way too loudly from the opposite end of the table.
“Grandma,” Abby chastises, her cheeks instantly turning pink.
“What? It’s a part of life, Abbers. Everyone has the sex.”
“Yes, but we don’t necessarily need to discuss it over eggs and bacon,” AJ says.
Grandma waves her hand dismissively. “Pfff. Orvie will have to help you for a bit. I’m signed up to take the women’s self-defense class uptown. In fact, I’ll go ahead and call that sexy karate instructor and tell him I’m bringing my granddaughters.”
Wait. Sexy karate instructor? Is she talking about Nick?
“Jaime isn’t doing a karate class,” Ryan says firmly.
“Neither is Lexi,” Linkin adds.
“Fine, not those two since they drank the Preggers Kool-Aid. They’ll both be busy with the sex that night anyway. But Abbers, Payters, Alison Jane, and Meggy Pie will all be there.” It’s like she’s already decided for all of us.
“Why do I have to take it?” Abby asks.
“Because any one of us could get jumped. It would be good for all of us to learn some basic self-defense,” Grandma says decisively with a firm look my way. I start to blush when everyone else glances at me.
“I’m in,” I tell her before I can second-guess my decision.
“Great! Now the rest of you will join us,” Grandma says before glancing down at her menu. “I think I’ll get the biscuits and gravy today. I love a good, firm biscuit.”
“Me too, my love,” Grandpa whispers loudly beside her. He reaches over and takes her hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.
TMI alert.
“You ready to go back to work Tuesday, Meghan?” Dean asks from across the table.
“Wait. Tuesday? I’m going back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Memorial Day,” Levi says.
“Oh. I forgot,” I mumble, surprised that something as big as a paid holiday off completely slipped my mind, and apparently, Nick’s too, since he keeps talking about coming back Monday. Although, it’s not like I’ve been at work, staring at my calendar as a reminder. “Anyway, I guess I go back Tuesday and I’m so ready. I hate sitting at home doing nothing.”
“You haven’t been sitting at home,” Payton says, giving me a look. It says ‘I’m about to bust you out and tell everyone you came up to the flower shop and worked until I sent you home to rest yesterday.’
Sisters are horrible. Don’t have them.
“I’m fine,” I insist, anxious to order food and get on with my day so I don’t feel like I’m being watched under a magnifying glass.
“You are fine, Meg, but it never hurts anyone to take it easy for a few days. We just care about you and want to make sure you’re on your way to being one hundred percent soon,” Dad says with a smile.
One hundred percent? I’m not sure when the last time I felt that was.
Actually, I do.
But I’m not going there right now.
“We’re heading up to the shop for a bit after brunch,” Lexi says to me. “Abby’s roots make me want to cry.”
“This is why I hate dyeing my hair. It’s too much maintenance,” Abby groans.
“They’re highlights and lowlights, sister dear. Plus, I have a new shade of purple I want to try,” Lexi says as she gives the boys little pieces of baby cereal. They absorb water (or drool) super fast, which is why they have remnants of the food already smeared all over their adorable little faces.
“I’m not putting purple in my hair,” Abby disputes.
“I want purple!” our niece, Brielle, exclaims.
“Maybe a strip,” Payton replies to her adopted daughter, to which Dean gives her a look. “It’ll wash out,” she assures her husband. “Plus, it’ll be fun to have Bri come along while I get my hair done.”
“Whatever you think, love,” Dean croons at his wife, leaning over and kissing the tip of her nose.
“Stop it. I’m trying to eat,” AJ grumbles. Sawyer laughs, pulls her into his arms, and kisses her senseless. “I mean, do whatever you want,” AJ adds, her eyes dazed with lust.
“You should come up and hang with us,” Lexi says, pulling my attention away from the mini-make-out sessions happening around me.
“Oh, umm…I have plans afterward. Maybe I’ll stop by later,” I reply with a shrug. Lexi’s face transforms into one of sympathy as realization sets in. She knows where I’m going, but doesn’t call me out on it. I go every Sunday.
The rest of brunch is pleasant, with very little talk about sex, which I chalk up on the plus category. Dad pays the bill, and before I know it, we’re all heading outside. It’s a beautiful Sunday, the sun shining high in the sky and the smell of salt wafting from the Bay. We all say our goodbyes, and hugs are passed around like candy at Halloween.
“Want me to join you?” my dad asks quietly as he gives me a hug.
“No, I think I’m good today. Thanks for the offer,” I reply, fighting the tears that threaten to spill.
“The offer stands if you change your mind,” he adds before placing a kiss in the middle of my forehead. “Love you, Meggy.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I make my way to my car, keeping my head down. I tell myself it’s to keep the sun out of my eyes, but let’s be real: it’s to keep the others from seeing the tears swimming in my eyes. As soon as I’m inside my car, I grab my sunglasses and slide them onto my face. Automatically, I place my keys into the ignit
ion and pull away. A few of my family members are still gathered on the sidewalk as I drive past, probably talking about me.
They’re always talking about me.
Pushing all thoughts of the sadness they poorly hide in their eyes, I make my way to the one place I feel both joy and ultimate sorrow. The narrow roadway winds through the land as I head toward the single plot. I park on the lane, my car as familiar to this place as the markers surrounding it.
The breeze has picked up slightly out here. Trees are everywhere, extending as far as the eye can see. It’s another two miles before you get to houses, to happy families and the lives they lead.
My life is here.
The cemetery.
I get out of the car and make my way to his final resting place. Even now, after more than two years, the sight of his name on that piece of granite steals my breath. It makes it real. I crouch down on the grass, reaching out and tracing my fingers along his name.
Joshua David Harrison.
Beloved Son, Brother, Fiancé
“Hi, Josh, it’s me.” He knows who I am, yet I always feel the need to start my conversation off with an introduction. Old habits die hard, I guess. “I’m sure you’ve heard what happened this past week. I’m fine, though I was a bit shaken up at the time. It could have been a lot worse,” I state, sitting and crisscrossing my legs, while reaching for a blade of grass. I pick a piece from the ground and start tearing it into little pieces. “Nick was there at the right time. He came out of work and found that man hurting me. I’m okay, though, really I am.
“I know what you’re thinking: I should have never went out by myself. It was stupid of me. Well, Nick usually walks me out, but he had something else to handle. I feel horrible because the poor guy blames himself, even though it’s not his fault. He’s a good friend to me, Josh. Besides my family, he’s one of my only friends,” I confess.
I sit there and stare at his name, the two dates below jumping out at me like a beacon in the night. The name starts to blur as the tears start to come. Lying down beside his headstone, I cry for everything I’ve lost, everything I’ll never have. Every dream we shared that was crushed alongside his body. The breeze picks up, the air wrapping around me like a warm hug. “I miss you so much,” I cry, giving in to the gut-wrenching sobs that steal my breath. “I wish you were here. I don’t want to do this alone.”