Goode Vibrations

by Jasinda Wilder

  It was the fact that I was meeting new people as someone else’s someone. I’d never been that, before.

  We weren’t putting ourselves in any kind of box, and I always loathed the boyfriend/girlfriend labels. They felt cheap and childish. This felt way more intense than merely being her boyfriend. I was her someone, and this was her family, and I had no clue how to behave, how to be, who I was in this context.

  I didn’t think she knew either.

  We’d have to figure it out one step at a time, like everything else.

  Poppy

  Turned out there wasn’t time for nerves. It was a whirlwind of doing, going, meeting. We met a good dozen people in the first few hours. Errol kept cool at all times, and seemed to be trying to find a balance between affectionate with me and not making a big deal of what we were or weren’t. There were plenty of questions, of course.

  The first person I saw was Torie, who was clearly hiding some kind of hurt, but set it aside out of joy to see me. And god, I had missed her.

  She was changed. Physically, emotionally, she was…more there. Torie always seemed to just sort of float through life, aloof, disinterested. And it always seemed to me like she’d never finished growing up, physically. Like Dad’s death had stunted her move through adolescence, both physically and emotionally.

  Now, something had shifted. She’d filled out, for one thing, her butt and boobs fuller, rounder, her face more angular and adult. But her presence, her mental here-ness, that was the most changed. And something told me it was all due to this guy Rhys with whom she’d made her own cross-country trip.

  God knows I knew a little something about that.

  Then there was a monster hulk brute with killer eyes named Zane, who referred to my buttoned-up, East Coast old money, “don’t swear, elbows off the table, yes ma'am no ma'am” mother as “Mama Livvie.”

  Then were was a tornado of humanity—massive, muscle-bound men all with the same brown eyes, each hotter and more chiseled and more impossibly macho alpha bro than the last…and all of them kind and welcoming and funny.

  Annoying.

  More annoying were their girlfriends and wives and fiancés. Listen, I’m not stuck on myself, okay? But I’m just not used to feeling like the ugly duckling. Any room I walk into, there’s a greater than average likelihood that I’ll be the objectively most beautiful woman in it.

  In this crowd?

  I didn’t even feel like I was in the top ten. Each woman was voluptuous, with perfect hair, flawless skin, makeup on point, great clothes…and not a one was stuck-up, annoying, or arrogant.

  Ugh.

  Mom, you had to land here? In this?

  The moment I started to get my bearings, I was yanked away from Errol and hauled off on a girls' trip to LA—on a private charter jet courtesy of Myles North, who was exactly as effortlessly rock star cool as you’d expect, and then some. There was champagne and five-star restaurants and shopping on Rodeo Drive with an unlimited credit card—and let me tell you, I was keeping track, and we racked up tens of thousands of dollars on that thing. Spa days with manicures and pedicures and massages and…

  And Mom flipping out about my nipple piercings, predictably. Unpredictably, she cooled off and let it go way faster than expected.

  On the plane ride back, I found myself sitting with Mom in the back of the jet, as alone as you could get.

  She had earbuds in and dark sunglasses on, and was dozing. Or so I thought—I was texting with Errol, with whom I’d finally exchanged phone numbers.

  “Tell me about him,” she said, out of the blue.

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “No, just old lady dozing.”

  “That was a joke, Mom, you’re not old.”

  She smirked. “Old enough that keeping up with you girls is exhausting.” She slid her sunglasses up onto her head. “Anyway. This guy, Errol. He’s from Australia?”

  “New Zealand.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  I sighed. “He’s a photographer for National Geographic, and he’s just…insanely talented.”

  She frowned. “Isn’t he kind of…young?”

  I nodded. “I guess his mom was friends with an editor, and strings were pulled. He deserves it, though. He’s that good.”

  “High praise coming from you. You’ve always been hard to impress, artistically.”

  “Well, he’s good enough that I’ve learned things from him.”

  She seemed to be mulling over what to say. “I’ve tried to let you girls have space to figure this stuff out for yourselves without going super Mom on you.”

  “But.”

  “You haven’t made the best choices where men are concerned, dear.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I’m not going argue with that. It’s not really been me choosing the men, per se, so much as letting myself be…”

  “Used?”

  I sighed. “I wish I could disagree with that, but I can’t.”

  “You have more to offer a man than your body, my love,” Mom said, her voice careful, gentle. “You need to see that, but just as important is that he sees it.”

  I gnawed on how much to tell her. “He sees it,” was all I said.

  “He does? How do you know? How is he showing you that, Poppy?”

  “How real do you want this talk to get, Mom?”

  “As real as it can get, Popsicle.”

  I snickered at that. “You haven’t called me that in years.” I eyed her. “You want it real?”

  “Yes.”

  “When we first met, honestly, it was just…”

  “Sex?”

  It was weird to talk about this with my mom. I wasn’t sure how much she really knew about that side of me. “Yeah.” I hesitated. “Mom, this is awkward.”

  She put her AirPods back in the case, and the case in her purse at her feet. “Poppy, I know I wasn’t always there for you when you were younger. I know there’s been a lot of stuff all of us have swept under the rug, not talked about. And I’m done. Give me the truth, and there’s no such thing as TMI. Not anymore.”

  “You were struggling with Dad dying. We all were.”

  “Doesn’t excuse it.”

  I sighed. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “So, I’m sorry, Poppy. I should have been a better mom.”

  “I forgive you.”

  She rested her head on my shoulder. “So?”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time looking for attention in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong places.”

  “Men. And sex, at what I imagine was far too young an age.”

  “Honestly, yes. But it’s all I’ve had. Dad dying messed us all up. For me, it’s…not understanding what love is. How to…to love, and be loved.”

  “Sex was the only way you could conceive of it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Errol? Is he different?”

  “Totally. Completely, and in every way.” I laughed, a soft huff. “It didn’t start out that way, though. We’re very much alike in that, in how we use and approach sex. So that’s where it started, where it went for us, just naturally.”

  “So what changed?”

  “We got to a point very quickly where it was obvious to both of us that it wasn’t just physical. But neither of us knew how to open up. How to let anyone in.”

  “That’s hard to do.”

  “Very. So we went separate ways. In Dubuque, Wisconsin.”

  She covered her face. “I can’t believe I let you and Torie hitchhike across the entire continent. I’m a horrible mother.”

  “You’re not. We’re adults, Mom. What were you going to do? Ground us?”

  “Went and got you, that’s what I should’ve done.”

  “And you think I would’ve allowed it? You think Torie would’ve?”

  Mom laughed ruefully. “No, I suppose not.” She eyed me. “But you’re only eighteen, not even nineteen yet. Legally an adult, but…still so young. So much could have gone wrong.”

&nb
sp; “I survived New York City alone at sixteen, Mom.”

  Another head shake. “Don’t remind me. I feel like a bad mom as it is.”

  “Stop, for real. I’m here. I’m fine. Torie’s fine.”

  “No, she’s not. She misses Rhys.” A sigh. “I was hoping that would work out for her. He was a wonderful young man.”

  “It still may. And I think this is good for her, from what I’ve gathered in talking to her.”

  “True.” She laughed and patted my leg. “We’re off topic. Errol. And how is he different?”

  “We agreed to not have sex for a while. So we can figure out how to have a relationship that isn’t predicated on sex.”

  Mom nodded, making a surprised face. “Wow. Okay.” A long, meaningful look. “And? How’s it going?”

  I cackled. “Fucking hard as hell, that’s how. You said nothing is TMI, but I think all you really need to know is that we’re…definitely compatible in that department. A little too compatible, maybe. Which makes this that much harder. But it’s for the best. I’ve learned to be vulnerable. We’ve talked about Dad and how his dying affected me, and all of us. We’ve talked about everything, honestly, big and small and in between. It’s funny how much there is to talk about when sex is off the table.”

  “It can confuse things, that’s for sure.” She stared out the oval window at the dark clouds beneath, a thunderstorm below us crackling with bursts of lightning. “That was a very complicated thing, for Lucas and me.”

  My impulse was to gag and make jokes, but this was a side of Mom I’d never seen—Mom as a woman, not just Mom. “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “Oh yes, very. It was complicated enough for me as it was. Your father and I…um…things had been…difficult, even before his death.”

  “You said nothing under the rug, Mom.”

  She nodded. “I did.” A pause. “He wasn’t healthy, for one thing, and that made things difficult. But our relationship was…”

  “He may have been present, as in he didn’t move away, but he left us all the same, Mom.”

  She nodded. “Exactly. And that includes me, his wife. Romantically, sexually, he just…gave up. Which left me in a very confused place until I moved here. And that was when I met Lucas, and I felt so confused about being attracted to him.”

  “Like a betrayal of Dad, even though Dad had given up on you and had died?”

  A nod. “Yeah, exactly. Knowing something logically doesn’t make it any easier, emotionally. So, it took time to let myself…feel things.” She smiled at me. “This is where things might be TMI, but I made the rule, so…here goes. Lucas made me feel things I’d never felt, Poppy. Not with your father, not ever. And that was extra confusing, because I was with Darren my whole adult life. I thought I understood myself, sexually. Turns out, I didn’t. Lucas showed me things about myself that…well, that make me feel more myself and more alive than ever before.”

  “You do seem happier than I’ve ever known you.”

  “You know why?”

  “Um. Sex?”

  She laughed. “No, honey. Well, yes. But not the act of sex. I think you’ve discovered that you can do that with anyone, and generally speaking, it’s all pretty much the same, right? A little better this way or that way, with this one or that one, all factors being equal. But generally, sex is sex.”

  “Yeah, I’ll agree to that.”

  “The difference is in meaning, Poppy.” She held my gaze. “In letting it be love.”

  I choked on a lump in my throat. “We’re not there yet, Mom.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “I’ve known him, like, not even a month.”

  “Does it feel that way?”

  “No. It feels like I’ve always known him.”

  “Does he respect you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he take care of you?”

  “Yes.” It was becoming more and more difficult to get the words out.

  “He’s willing to shelve sex for you, for your relationship, and that says a lot. Has he shown you his heart, though?”

  I nodded. “He has. He was the first to open up, actually.” I ducked my head. “We went separate ways, but he went back and looked for me. Covered hundreds of miles over a whole day, looking for me. I guess it was fate that brought us together, because he’d given up. He was eating at a truck stop diner at midnight, one a.m., and the truck driver I’d hitched a ride with dropped me off at that diner. And that was when things really sort of…started.”

  “Wow,” Mom breathed. “That’s really cool, honey. That means something.”

  “I know.”

  “So what’s stopping it from being love?” She shook me, both hands on my bicep. “You can’t let it pass you by, Popsicle. It’s scary, it takes a lot of courage to take something from merely meaningful and emotional and let it be love.”

  “What does love even mean, Mom? Saying it? Reed told me he loved me. It meant nothing.”

  “If Errol said it, would it mean something?”

  “I’d probably freak out if he did.”

  “You’re right that merely saying it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Would you believe him? Did you believe Reed?”

  I chewed on that one. “I knew Reed was just saying it because he thought I wanted to hear it, that it would…get him something from me, I guess. What, I don’t know. But no, I didn’t believe him.”

  “And Errol?”

  “I don’t want him to say it.” I leaned forward and put my face in my hands. “I want him to show me. I need to feel it.”

  “In order to feel it, you have to be open to it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, are you?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed. “Love. Can you be in love with someone you’ve known less than a month?”

  “Love is not dependent on time. Love is about your heart recognizing something in the other person. Something that makes it impossible to live without them. You just…recognize it. Know it. Deep down, you know. The hard part is making that into a life together. That’s the hard part, Poppy. Just loving someone, being in love, doesn’t make it easy to live with them all the time. It doesn’t mean having a healthy relationship is easy. It’s not. It takes work. But you can love someone instantly. I think I was in love with Lucas from the moment I saw him. Before he lost weight, before he got all muscular and sexy as he is now. I loved the man I saw inside him, probably even before he knew that man was in there. My heart saw something in who he was, and wouldn’t let go. And that was instantaneous. What took longer was for my mind and my body and the messed-up chaos from Darren and our marriage and him dying and guilt and desire and all that…for all that, for him to fix his life and his bullshit so it was possible for us to even…match, I guess. For his life to fit into the shape of mine, you might say. Our lives don’t always fit right away. It takes adjustment.”

  I considered what she was saying. “So…I could love him, and he could love me, but that doesn’t mean we have to, like, be ready to get married, or know how our future will work.”

  She leaned closer to me. “Lucas and I aren’t married. I love the hell out of that man, and I’d walk through fire for him. Marriage is important, but it’s not everything. Marriage is just a ceremony and a legal contract if it doesn’t mean something to you both. We’ll get there, someday, Lucas and I. But that’s a journey specific to everyone. For you, right now? You just need to…be open to him. To letting him love you, and seeing it when he shows you, and then accepting it for what it is, and showing him in return.”

  Be open. I could do that.

  The rooftop wedding was so beautiful it hurt.

  Lexie was radiant, and I understood what Mom was talking about in seeing the way Lexie loved Myles…the way he loved her. It wasn’t in the way they touched, or not only; it was obvious their sexual chemistry was off the damn charts. You just had to see the way he looked at her to know they rocked the sheets until something caught on fire. It was…his
awareness of her. Her presence around him was different. She was at peace. And for Lex, that was fucking massive. She’d told me what happened to her, the molestation and all that, and it made their love all the more significant. He’d…I didn’t want to say he’d healed her—only she could do that, only she could allow herself to heal. But it had been…not his doing…god this was complicated. He was instrumental. He made her want to heal. Want to be different, so their lives would fit together.

  And I saw it in everyone around me. Charlie and Crow, Cassie and Ink. The Badd brothers, all fucking ridiculous eleven of them. Each pair’s love was different. Some were fiery and combustible, some were steady and cool. Each was unique, each was inspiring.

  Normally, I’d have been gagging over the amount of PDA and gushy love talk, the couples all but mating behind every corner. Maybe it was because I was in the process of figuring out what was going on with Errol and me, but I wasn’t as nauseated by it.

  Inspired, if anything.

  The issue was, the wedding was only a single day in a process of celebration that occurred over weeks. We’d gotten to Alaska the week before the wedding, and then I’d spent the weekend in LA with all the women, and then we came back and there was a wedding and Errol seemed all…bro-y with the other guys, as if they’d been best buds all along. Which was cool, and I was thrilled he was getting along with what was, now, apparently, my extended family.

  And then after the wedding, instead of going off on a honeymoon and life returning to whatever passed for normal in this crazy group, Lexie and Myles chose to continue partying. I guess it was fairly rare for every single member of the group to be in town all at once, so the group seemed to have mutually decided to make the most of it and use the wedding as an excuse to have a two-week-long summer barbecue, essentially.

  It was fun.

  I made friends with everyone, and there were jam sessions on the rooftop and wild late-night parties on Harlow Grace’s yacht—yes, the Harlow Grace. There were casual gaming parties where the dudes played FIFA and Madden and Call of Duty and shouted at each other and wrestled and drank clobbering amounts of whiskey, while the women sat and played cards and told dirty jokes and watched the men act like idiots.