The Duet

by D'Angelo, Jennifer

  “I flew in to Philly and drove right to your house. Miranda said you were here.”

  I nodded. He walked around and picked up my guitar, then sat on the arm of the couch. I backed up a step and sat on the other arm, needing the distance. He began to play, then raised an eyebrow and glanced my way. “Do you know this one?” he asked. I shook my head. But when he started singing, I instantly recognized the song. Poison and Wine, by the Civil Wars.

  Really?

  And just like that, I was heading straight down on that emotional roller coaster again. This time I wasn’t sure if I would crash and burn at the bottom or if I would smoothly dip and emerge up the other side.

  My voice overlaid his on my part, and he looked over and nodded once. I couldn’t look at him when we sang together. The words were too much. “I don’t love you, but I always will…” This was way too intense. I should just stop singing and ask him to leave. I needed to take a moment. Or maybe I should just run out the back door like a coward. I had never been good at these super emotionally charged moments. I felt like my air supply was being cut off.

  The song was over, the words still ringing in my head. I still couldn’t look at him. I was nervous. No one but Jay could ever make me feel so unsure of myself. Normally I was confident, outspoken; but not now.

  “Coffee?” I croaked, desperate to break this silent spell he had over me.

  “No.”

  I raised my eyes slowly, afraid of what I might see there. My face felt hot, my body was burning up. The flickering light from the candle played tricks on his face. His eyes were steady on mine. They weren’t sad, though, like I’d always remembered. He looked determined, hopeful, and I saw the truth there in that emerald green gaze.

  Jay loved me. He loved me and he was ready to share himself with me. Not just tonight, but forever. It was what I had been waiting for from him without even knowing it, all this time.

  I don’t know who reached for who first. One minute we were staring at each other from across the vast expanse of the couch, a wordless conversation that transcended years of heartbreak and misunderstandings; and the next we were standing toe to toe, clutching on to each other for dear life. I could finally breathe as his mouth met mine. My body relaxed and I leaned into him, letting him hold me steady. His hands were cradling my face, and mine were in his hair. Then I was running my fingertips across his cheeks as if I needed proof that he was really standing here.

  We made it as far as the stairs. I don’t know why we were in such a hurry. I had a feeling there would be plenty of time for us to get to know each other again, but for some reason it was urgent that we shed all of our clothes that second. So we did. And I opened up to him – body and soul – right there with the hard stairs digging into my back, the cold draft from the back door cooling my hot skin.

  After that initial animalistic mating ritual was out of the way, we made it up to the tiny apartment over the shop where we locked the door and spent the next hour or two exploring every inch of each other – multiple times.

  I was lying on top of Jay on the twin size bed, my head resting on his chest while he absently twirled my hair with his finger. I traced the words of the tattoo on his hip in lazy, slow strokes. It was a quote from Bob Dylan; All I can do is be me, whoever that is. Perfect. Everything about him was perfect. I felt the vibration of his laugh and I leaned up on my elbows to look at him.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, not able to wipe the smile from my own face.

  “I was just thinking it’s nice to finally do this with you in an actual bed.”

  I pinched him on his side and plopped my head back down. “Hmmm, I guess you’re right. A bed can be nice, but I’m kind of partial to the coat room. Something about doing it in a church gets me hot.”

  He didn’t laugh, and for a second I worried that maybe I shouldn’t have teased about that time. It wasn’t exactly our finest hour. I opened one eye, trying to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t smiling.

  “We should get married,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I sat up, covering myself with the sheet. He pulled it away and I was relieved to still see the amusement playing in his eyes.

  “Why, Jay, that’s the most romantic proposal I’ve ever heard. You’re such a poet.”

  It was his turn to pinch me, but he did it on my ass.

  “Ouch!”

  He yanked me back down on top of him. Then, pushing my hair off my face, his eyes got very serious. “I love you, Izzy Delaney. Say that you’ll marry me.”

  “I don’t know. Let me think about it,” I teased.

  He groaned and threw his head back. “Don’t break my heart. Say yes.”

  “No more breaking hearts for either of us, okay? Yes, I will marry you. And I love you too.” I kissed his eyelids, then his nose and his lips. He grabbed the back of my head and held me to him.

  “Say that again,” he said against my mouth.

  “What? Yes I will marry you?”

  He kissed me over and over; my lips my cheek, my chin and back to my lips. Then he shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “Say the other thing again.”

  “Oh,” I was breathless now, the need building up inside me again. “You mean the part where I said I love you?”

  “Mmmmm.” He flipped us over so that I was on my back and he was on top of me. I welcomed the feel of his weight pressing me down.

  “I love you, Jay. So much. Now can we stop talking already?”

  He chuckled and didn’t say another word. He didn’t have to.

  52

  If anyone had told me a year ago that I would be waiting backstage at Darden’s Club, getting ready to sing with Jay Archer, I would have told them they were crazy.

  But here I was.

  Darden’s didn’t even resemble the seedy hole in the wall it had been before it burned down seven and a half years ago. It was a much classier place now, with real tables covered in linens, a floor that your feet didn’t stick to, and a professional staff. Even Darden behaved like a legitimate business owner. With slightly less hair, and slightly more belly, Darden had mellowed in the last few years. And his new Club was a real upscale joint.

  I wasn’t nervous, but I was bouncing on my feet, bustling with energy. Jay came up behind me and slid his arms around my middle. I would never tire of the feeling I got every time he touched me. It was intoxicating, and so comfortable. It felt like home.

  “Do you need a shot of tequila and a drag of a cigarette to calm your nerves?” He asked, his mouth pressed against my ear.

  I chuckled and shook my head. “Do you?”

  He held his hand out to show me how steady it was. “Cool as a cucumber,” he said with a smile.

  I turned my head to kiss him, and then we were on.

  The crowd erupted when we walked out, hand in hand. I had colored my hair fire engine red for the occasion, and had dusted off an old lime green mini skirt which I paired with a t-shirt that said ‘make love, not war’, suspenders, fishnet stockings and black boots.

  I looked like a rock star, and for a minute it felt pretty good. But the truth was, this wasn’t who I really was. I was a mom with an amazing, miracle of a daughter; I was a woman who finally caught the guy who got away; I was a business owner, a daughter, a niece, a sister, a friend; I was a grownup. And there wasn’t really anything else I wanted.

  The audience fell silent with anticipation. The lights dimmed and a spotlight was on the two of us, sitting on our stools in the middle of the vast stage. Jay brought his guitar, I did not – though I sort of wished I had something to do with my hands.

  He started to play, and I closed my eyes for a minute. This time when we sang these words, it felt different; still an emotional song, but not so painful. It was about somebody else this time around. We had already jumped this huge hurdle in our relationship, and I never wanted to go back to that feeling of uncertainty that once plagued us both. I looked over at Jay when we started the chorus, and I knew that he felt the same way. I w
ould always cherish this song because I think it played a big part in where we were today, but I would also resent it for the trouble it caused. And the heartache.

  The crowd – and Darden – had wanted to hear “Don’t” again, so we performed it for them. But it would be the last time we would sing it. And that was okay by me.

  53

  I sat at my usual place at the O’Donnell table, which incidentally had not changed a bit. Earlier, we had gotten through the emotional reunion. There were tears everywhere; I even caught Shane Jr. wipe at his eyes. Sydney, of course, was the center of attention which she loved, and we were just about ready to dig in to one of Mrs. O’Donnell’s amazing meals.

  My mouth was watering at the smell of pork roast and sauerkraut, and I impatiently waited for everyone to take their seats. Sydney sat next to me, and right across the table was Jay.

  “Is that empty chair for Cooper?” Sydney whispered, loud enough for all conversation to stop.

  I glanced around the table nervously, then cleared my throat and spoke in a voice that was much steadier than I felt. “It is. That’s where Cooper sat every single Sunday for supper. He would make funny faces at me when Mr. O’Donnell said grace, and try and make me laugh.” Everyone chuckled and the mood lightened. “Then, when we got older, and his legs were long enough, he would kick me under the table. One time he kicked me so hard, I choked on a boiled potato and Tommy had to give me the Heimlich.”

  “What’s a Hi Mick?”

  I squeezed Sydney’s cheek. “I’ll show you after dinner. Now make sure you try everything on the table. Mrs. O’Donnell is the best cook in the whole world.”

  “I though you said Miranda was the best cook,” Sydney said, her loyalty being slightly tested after taking a bite of mashed potatoes and rolling her eyes as she clearly reached nirvana.

  “Miranda is the best baker in the whole world. And of course she makes the best bowl of cereal on the planet, right?”

  “Right!” Her cheeks full of food, she gave me a lopsided grin. I didn’t hear her utter another word for the entire meal. I could relate; my first time at the O’Donnell’s was spent much in the same fashion. The food was that good.

  After three helpings, I leaned back in my chair and patted my overfull stomach. I looked up to see Jay grinning at me. I raised my eyebrows. I knew exactly what he was trying to say, though. This was a good moment. Yes, this house would always feel Cooper’s absence, but I had stayed away way too long. These people were a part of me, and I made a vow to visit as often as I could.

  “So I hear there’s a big wedding on the horizon,” Michelle said as she started to clear the dishes.

  I nodded. “Yep, can you believe it? Miranda and Fred, after all these years.”

  It turned out, the two had been together for about a decade without me ever suspecting. I have to admit, my ego and my confidence in my ability to read people, took a really big hit when this secret was revealed. But I tried to make up for my ignorance by planning the classiest wedding ever. It would be simple, but elegant, held at one of the prettiest waterfront restaurants in Avalon in April, just when everything began to bloom, and just before the summer people arrived in droves.

  “And… any other weddings coming up?” Michelle prodded.

  I looked at Jay and winked. “That one’s already taken care of.”

  There were shouts of protest from Michelle and Mrs. O’Donnell, mixed with hearty woo hoo’s from the men. I appeased Michelle a little by telling her we’d be back to visit in the spring, and she could throw a little party for us then, if she needed to. She started planning it right away.

  Jay and I had tied the knot just a few short weeks after that night in the café. It was indescribable how I felt when he told me that night how he’d left his life behind in California to be with Sydney and I. He said it wasn’t even a hard decision for him to make, but he sure was happy that I was on board.

  We’d been inseparable since then, settling into life as a real, complete family. We fixed up the whole second floor of the café. What was once three separate unused apartments, was now an open, airy, two bedroom loft. Someday we would look for a bigger house, but for now it was home.

  Jay helped around the café when he could – honestly he was an absolute disaster as a barista – but had been busy trying to find work in his field. This was another huge surprise for me, finding out how passionate he was about this career he had worked so hard for. He had three interviews lined up when we got back to New Jersey, and they all looked promising.

  When the dishes were done, and the guys were getting their collective asses handed to them by Sydney in a friendly game of Chutes and Ladders, I sipped coffee with Michelle and Mrs. O’Donnell in the kitchen. It felt like I hadn’t been gone for seven years. I honestly couldn’t think of all the reasons I’d stubbornly and selfishly stayed away.

  “This visit is truly a gift, Izzy,” Mrs. O’Donnell was saying. “Seeing you so happy with Jay, and meeting that remarkable daughter of yours is just…”

  Michelle handed her a tissue, then narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re letting her off easy, Mom. She sneaks off to New Jersey, never comes back to visit for years, has a baby without letting us know, and then gets married to our Jay and doesn’t even invite us!”

  “Michelle, I…”

  She held up a hand to stop me and pinched the bridge of her nose. Letting out a deep breath, she said, “Izzy.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she bit her bottom lip to hold them in. I felt like absolute crap.

  Mrs. O’Donnell put her hand on Michelle’s back. Unlike her daughter, she was crying openly, and I was dangerously close.

  “Listen,” Michelle said softly. “I only want to say this one time, and then we can never talk about it again. Okay?”

  I nodded, not sure I’d be able to speak if I had to.

  “I get why you stayed away, why you felt you had to break from us. Hell, it took me a year to get Jay to come back for a Sunday dinner, and he wasn’t very good company when he did. But I told him, Izzy, and I’ll tell you. I speak for this whole family when I say that nobody blames either of you for what happened with Cooper. Do you believe me when I tell you that?”

  I nodded again, staring with wide eyes right at Michelle. There was a knot in my throat that was making it hard to breathe.

  “I want to hear you say it out loud.”

  I swallowed painfully. “I believe you,” I whispered.

  And then Michelle pulled me close and hugged me very tight. I sobbed against her shoulder, so relieved to have my west coast family back. I hadn’t let myself feel how much I missed them, but now I knew I was so wrong to cut them off. It hurt so bad, because I felt like I was actually grieving for Cooper completely for the first time. I had needed his family around me like this for closure. All I had done for seven years was bury the tragedy deep inside, hoping it would never see the light of day.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” Michelle said, holding me at arm’s length. “I’m not kidding. I know you have a business to run over there and all, but I expect at least two lengthy visits a year, plus weekly phone calls, and several invites for me to stay on your couch during the summer months. I like to work on my tan early in the season, so beginning of May would be great.”

  I laughed and wiped away my tears. “I promise, Michelle. You’re always welcome to sleep on our couch. Any time of the year.”

  “You’ll be very sorry you made that offer,” Mrs. O’Donnell said, giving me a hug of her own. We smiled at each other, and then just like that, the three of us were gossiping and complaining about men just like we did in the old days. It was a fine moment.

  54

  Sydney sat at the table with a couple of loud mouth kids her mother had insisted she would enjoy meeting. She rolled her eyes when one of the girls about her age sidled up to her and asked if she had any One Direction on her Ipod. Sydney just shook her head and slid down the bench as far away as she could get. She was just about to turn seven and even
she knew that music like that was a flash in the pan. It would never be a classic. People wouldn’t still play it at parties like the Rolling Stones, which was on right now. She sighed. No one appreciated good music anymore.

  The wedding had been okay. Other than the excitement she felt over revealing her flower girl dress (a purple tie-died sun dress with sunflowers embroidered along the hem, which she had picked out, of course) it was kind of boring. She didn’t understand what all the fuss was about anyway. Miranda and Uncle Fred had been kissing each other since she could remember. Why they had to have a party so everyone could watch them kissing, was a mystery to her.

  Speaking of kissing all the time… She rolled her eyes as she watched Izzy and Jay dancing on the sand. Izzy told her if she didn’t stop rolling her eyes, they were gonna stick at the back of her head, and she would only be able to see what was behind her. Sydney thought that sounded a little suspicious, but she made a gallant effort to stop the habit. It wasn’t easy though. With so many grownups around, there was plenty to roll her eyes at.

  Anyway, the party itself wasn’t too bad. Sydney had never been to a wedding before, so she had nothing to compare it to. Her parents had just taken her, Miranda and Uncle Fred out to dinner when they got married. This wasn’t as fancy. The picnic tables were covered in brown paper and set up along the covered porch of Josie’s Restaurant, overlooking the ocean. In a few minutes, all the tables would be covered in lobsters, and all the chins would be happily dripping with butter. Sydney’s mouth watered as she thought about the pasta salad, baked beans with lots of bacon that Josie herself had made, and the bottomless bowls of waffle fries. She planned on eating at least a hundred, maybe more.

  The day was warm for April; a little on the windy side, but they had lucked out. If Josie had to fit all these people inside, it could have been a disaster.

  It was finally time for the food, and Sydney scrambled out of her seat to be first in line for the buffet of side dishes. After two helpings of fries, she was already full. Izzy got her to taste a little piece of lobster, but she didn’t understand why everyone went all gaga about it. It tasted just like chicken. Chicken with butter.