by A. K. Rose
FIVE
Laura Brighton sat alone in the dark, sobbing.
She’d been alone for holidays before, plenty of times. But, this was not a normal holiday. Once again, when she needed Mel most, she was alone.
The day started like any other, except this particular day was one that society said was “important.” A day to spend overeating and overdrinking, and for some, binge-watching football. A day for friends and family and awkward conversations with people you barely knew. At least, that’d always been her impression of Thanksgiving.
After a quick call to her mother to say hello, Laura spent most of the day working on her new book, a story of love—though not a love story—centered on the idea of redemption. The idea that everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone falters. But, there are some people that come into our lives that, even with their faults and fissures, even with their missteps along the way, we absolutely need because they make us better. Some of it was based on her relationship with her mother; some on Mel; some on her own mistakes and attempts at redemption; some on people she’d known through the years. She cranked out ten thousand words by five o’clock, not a lot by her standards, but plenty considering it was a holiday.
She hadn’t actually dressed for the day, so there she stood, barefoot in her sweats and T-shirt, surveying the contents of the fridge to see what she could put together for a dinner for one. The options weren’t great because she’d forgotten to go to the market, so she ended up with frozen fish sticks and toast. Not exactly a Thanksgiving feast, but it would do. When Laura got into her work, she often forgot to eat, and was sorely overdue for something—anything—right about then. Just as the timer on the oven buzzed to let her know the fish was ready, her phone rang.
It was her Aunt Margaret. They’d stayed in touch since she’d visited her mother in the hospital, so it wasn’t odd to hear from her these days. Laura figured she was just saying hello, being cordial with the niece she knew was alone on a holiday, and that’s exactly how the conversation started. Until. Until Margaret dropped the news like a ten pound hammer.
Laura’s mother had another heart attack. This time, she wasn’t so lucky. This time, she’d succumbed to the cardiac arrest. She’d taken a nap in the afternoon before Thanksgiving dinner at Margaret’s house, but didn’t wake up. She would never wake up.
It wasn’t uncommon to have a second heart attack within months of a first. It wasn’t outside the realm of probability, even, especially for heavy smokers and drinkers, both of which her mother was. But, it was still a shock.
Mary Brighton was dead.
And Mel was in London.
Laura was alone, the choke hold of grief suffocating her, the reality of the situation unfathomable. She’d always seen her mom as an obligation, but took for granted that she’d continue to have the obligation. Took for granted that she had a few more years left to make up for an entire lifetime of estrangement. There had to be time.
Certainly, this was a dream. She’d just talked to her mother earlier that day—she had just talked to her. Surely, she would wake up and realize she’d imagined it. The thing was, she couldn’t seem to wake up. So, she tucked her knees in tight to her chin and sobbed liked she’d done so many times as a little girl, when she wanted her father back. When she longed for normalcy but couldn’t have it because her life wasn’t normal.
She was rocketed back into her past, to the heartbreak of being alone, to Mel disappearing without a trace all those years before. Certain triggers can cause intense memories, Laura knew that. Years of therapy taught her that. And now, in that moment, she was having a serious case of Déjà vu. All of the people that had left her in her life seemed to be leaving her right then, again. Her dad, when she was four. Mel, in her early adulthood, and now, her mom, when she was just starting to make things right with her.
Well, isn’t this just perfect?
Sudden, unexpected death brings out emotions like fireworks, impossible to contain, fiery explosions the only possible outcome once the charge is lit. And for one Laura Brighton, the overriding emotion was anger. Rage like she hadn’t experienced in years settled deep in her core. Sadness muffled it, yes. Sadness brought it down a notch or two, but she was angry, no doubt. Her mind worked on overdrive, thoughts building up behind a dam on the verge of breaking, its breech all but certain.
Laura had no real reason to be angry at Mel for this, and yet, she was. Not because her mother had passed. That part was inevitable, it was the circle of life. But, because in her moment of need, once again, she was alone. And, she’d willingly agreed to be alone, so she wasn’t going to call and interrupt Lolly’s reunion with her dad, at least not yet.
She’d sat with the news—mulling it over, replaying the conversation with her aunt; the last conversation with her mother—for hours. She’d talked to her mom that morning for no more than five minutes, just to say hello, just to see how she was doing, and had thought nothing of it. If she’d only known it would be the last time she’d ever speak with her . . . well. She would’ve kept her on the phone all day. She would’ve told her she was sorry for disengaging after college. Would’ve said was sorry she wasn’t more attentive, more present. That she was sorry for hiding her personal life from her all those years, for not going to her when she was heartbroken, for not being there when her mother needed her as well. She would have told her that she loved her for God’s sake. But no. She did none of that. She would have to live with the regret of a missed opportunity, and there was nothing she could do about it now.
It was the middle of the night in London. Laura could have called Mel earlier when she got the news, but, the shock of the matter had let time evaporate and it was too late. She wouldn’t burden her small circle of friends with the news and ruin their holidays. She wasn’t close with any of her cousins, so there was really only one way to face the immediate aftermath of receiving this news: alone.
Laura decided the thing to do, what she should do, was go for a walk. When she was sad, she walked. When she was angry, the same. Walking would clear her mind and let her calm down before she flew off the handle at the one person on the planet who loved her. Somehow she mustered the strength to get dressed and made her way outside into the world for the first time that day.
The sky was dark, the air was crisp, and Laura walked. Smoke billowed up through the vent covers in the street; she walked. The familiar movement expected this time of day was absent as the people of New York City celebrated Thanksgiving with their friends and families. That’s what you did on this day, you spent time with your loved ones, because after all, life goes on.
Life goes on, she thought, trying to reconcile her emotions, trying to sort it all out into tidy packages of data that she could file away for later use. She realized she had no reason to go to Cleveland again, not after the funeral anyway. After she buried her mother, she would have no connection to her roots whatsoever.
She was finally free, but what did that mean? Her identity was in New York. Her life was in New York. Cleveland was just a dot on a map; the location printed on her birth certificate. Deep down, in places she didn’t like to visit, she knew this was coming. She hadn’t prepared for it properly. She’d avoided thinking about it, planning for it, because it was easier not to. Now, she had no choice. Now, her mother had forced the issue for the last time.
It was approaching midnight when she tucked into the gay bar around the corner from their apartment. She’d been walking for several hours, her brain a battlefield of emotions, and figured the only way she stood a chance for sleep that night was if she had a stiff drink or three.
Laura didn’t go to bars, it wasn’t her thing. And, she didn’t drink hard liquor, not usually. This occasion, however, was anything but usual.
“Johnny Walker Black, please, and make it a double,” she requested, like she knew what she was doing. She didn’t. She knew how to order red wine and martinis, not straight whisky. Never mind that; it wasn’t the time to car
e.
The bartender placed a shot in front of her.
“Compliments of the lady,” he said, motioning towards a blonde in tight jeans sitting a few stools down from her. “I’ll get your Johnny, too, just give me a second.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving a half wave to the woman, who took the gesture as her cue to move closer.
“Hi,” the mystery woman said, throwing her long hair over her shoulder.
“Hi. Thanks for the drink,” Laura acknowledged, tilting the shot glass before draining it, and adding after the fact, “I’ve had a hell of a day.”
“Yeah, you look like it. You kind of look like your dog died.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense. My mom died.” Laura didn’t want to get into it. Not here, not now, and especially not with a stranger, but it seemed rude to not chat at least a little, considering she had accepted the drink.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I was just making small talk.”
“It’s okay, really. There’s no way you could’ve known. I’m Laura, by the way.”
“Autumn.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Autumn. So, what brings you to a bar at midnight on Thanksgiving? Are you lucky enough to have no family obligations like me?” The booze was going to Laura’s head already. She was a lightweight.
“I guess you could say that. I finished up with my family hours ago, but I was restless, so I thought I’d go out and see what kind of trouble I could stir up.” Autumn placed a hand on Laura’s, and continued. “I am so sorry about your mom. Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”
Yes, of course I do. I need Mel’s shoulder to cry on.
“Oh, it’s okay, but thank you. I don’t want to burden you with my troubles, really. Besides, I’m engaged.” Laura flashed the diamond ring that had resided on her left hand since the last day she saw her mother alive, wiggling her fingers for effect.
“Oh, right. Understood. But listen, where’s your fiancée? If your mom died, why are you alone if you don’t have to be?” The blonde with brown roots and tight jeans was pushing it.
“She’s . . . it’s a long story. She’s in London with her daughter and . . . oh, it doesn’t matter.” Laura was already halfway through her original drink order—a double, as requested—the whisky coursing through her veins in an attempt to dull the pain, to erase the insanity taking place in her brain. It was technically a new day, based on the clock on the wall, so that was something.
“You know, it’s no burden,” Autumn offered, “if you want to talk about it. I don’t have anywhere else to be—and we’re the only ones here. It might help to talk about it.”
SIX
Laura sat up with a start, bright sunshine pouring through the window of . . . where was she? Her senses were overwhelmed. There was nothing at all familiar about her present location, or . . . the mop of bleached blonde hair on the pillow next to hers.
Where the hell am I? What the hell did I do?
She was in uncharted territory; she felt sick to her stomach and her head was throbbing. It was probably the booze, but the fact that she was most definitely in a stranger’s bed wasn’t helping the matter. Not at all.
As she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, it started coming back to her. Her mother. The walk. The bar.
Autumn.
Certainly she hadn’t. She couldn’t have.
Except, she was pretty sure she did. She remembered a little. She remembered Autumn’s voice in her ear, something about a free pass. She remembered new hands on her body, the touch of a stranger. Running her hands through long hair, over smooth, muscular skin. The way her back arched when . . . oh no. This was not good. This was very, very bad.
She gathered her clothes as quietly as possible and snuck out without a goodbye, without last names exchanged, and without a leg to stand on when Mel got home. She walked home as fast as possible, repeating one word to herself over, and over, and over. Shit.
· · ·
Two days later, Laura still wasn’t totally sure how what happened with Autumn actually happened, but the evidence was fairly damning. She’d woken up naked in someone else’s apartment. She had flashes of lucidity, slight remembrances of walking into the apartment, of awkward fumbling and the newness of someone she didn’t know, but her memory failed her after that. She beat herself up repeatedly, angry she made such a stupid and selfish misstep. She loved Mel. She wanted to be with Mel. Autumn was just convenient. She happened to be there in Laura’s moment of need, and she clearly took advantage of the situation. How she was going to explain this, she had no idea.
“Hon, we’re home,” the familiar gravelly voice bellowed, but Laura didn’t respond. Mel found her sitting in bed, her hair an unkempt bird’s nest, her eyes bloodshot from nonstop crying. “Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you in bed in the middle of the afternoon?”
“I had a rough few days.”
“It looks like it. What the hell happened to you? I was concerned when you didn’t return my calls, but I figured you were working on your book.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you know what it feels like now.” Laura grabbed onto some of the anger she still harbored, some of the resentment she thought she’d evicted but still took up residence in the corner of her mind.
“Woah. Where did that come from? What’s going on?” Mel’s eyebrows furrowed as she took in the venom that had been spewed at her. They were past this, weren’t they? Had her trip to London dredged up memories Laura couldn’t reconcile? It seemed unlikely. Things had been great with them—too perfect, almost.
“Oh, Mel, I’m sorry . . . I am a mess right now. I . . . my mom died on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh my God . . . I’m sorry. Why didn’t you call me?” Mel asked, wrapping her lover in her arms, holding on as tightly as she could.
“Because . . . because I found out late in the day and you were in London with Clark, and I was confused and depressed and wasn’t prepared to handle the situation. So, I didn’t call you. And I didn’t call you back because I have just been a train wreck. I shouldn’t be. We weren’t close, not really. But, we were working on it, you know? I had hope that we would get there. I had just talked to her that morning.”
“Well, this is all very understandable. Do you want to talk about it?” Mel was good at this, she understood grief. She’d lost both of her parents while she lived in London, she knew about dealing with the emotions of death.
Laura started to cry again. The tears just wouldn’t stop. No matter what she did, she couldn’t make them stop. It wasn’t her mother that was on her mind right now, though. It was Autumn. She still couldn’t believe she’d been unfaithful. She knew how much she was hurt when Mel disappeared without a trace—when she had gotten pregnant and vanished. And now, she’d made a mistake under similar circumstances. She’d always thought copping out to being drunk was just that—a cop out. But, she sat there, knowing the truth. Knowing she had lost control in a weak moment. It was almost too ridiculous to be true.
“There’s one other thing . . .”
“Okay?”
“I don’t even know where to start.” Laura vacillated. How was she supposed to share this news? Should she share this news? It felt selfish to share, but it also felt selfish to hide. If she could only go back in time and not go into that bar.
“Just start at the start. It’ll be okay. What is it?”
There was no point in sugar coating it. She had to just come clean. It was the only option.
“I slept with someone.”
Those four words were a total blindside. Mel couldn’t have seen it coming—she didn’t even expect it.
“I’m sorry . . . what?”
“I was depressed. I was lost. I went for a walk—for hours and hours—and ended up at the bar around the corner. Someone bought me a drink, and I’m assuming several more, because I don’t really remember everything that happened. But, I woke up in her apartment the next day. And I haven’t left this apartment since . . . like I said, I’m a train wreck.
”
“Wow . . . I don’t know how to respond to that.” Mel was on her feet now, running her hands through her hair as she exhaled, as she tried to make sense of the news she didn’t see coming.
“I know. I’ll understand if you want me to leave. I will be heartbroken—again—but I’ll understand.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Mel started, grasping for the right words to fix this very broken moment. She didn’t have a lot of credibility when it came to infidelity, but still. This was unexpected. This was hurtful. This must be what Laura felt like for fifteen years. “Listen to me. You were vulnerable, okay? You had a weak moment that sounds like it was drowned in way too much alcohol. You messed up. It’s going to be okay.”
“Why are you being so calm about this? You should be yelling and telling me to fuck off, you know? You should be casting me out of your life.” Laura’s voice was weak. She was exhausted.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, here’s the thing,” Mel said, taking the battered blonde’s chin in her hand, looking straight into the steel blue eyes that had cried too much, “I love you, too. You’re human. Your mother died and you had an emotional reaction. You made a mistake, and I know what that’s like. It doesn’t mean I’m not hurt. It doesn’t mean I’m not angry. It just means we’re going to get through it—all of it—together. Okay?”
It took strength Mel didn’t know she had to put on a brave face, to take the high road in a situation she didn’t expect to encounter. After all, she’d been forgiven of her missteps. It was her chance to repay the grace.