by Portia Moore
I only have three suits. A grey one that makes me feel like I’m going to a funeral, a blue one Jenna bought me that makes me feel like a car salesman, and a black one that makes me feel like I’m in the mob. If I had to choose between them, the mob seems more exciting, but I grab the one Jenna bought. I shower and throw on the suit with a white shirt and black tie. I look at myself in the mirror and feel like I’m playing dress up in someone else’s clothes. I don’t know anything about fashion or what’s in and I can’t help but feel like something is off about my look. Jenna will have to give me a break on this one. I head towards my mom’s room and see her already sleeping. I was going to ask her to help me out but she’s had a long day. She was up even earlier than she usually is to prepare for Caylen’s arrival. I head downstairs in the dark except for the light shining under the door of Caylen’s new room. I can hear music playing. I walk towards the door to knock, but I don’t. Lauren has been pretty quiet since the talk with Jenna. Not that I blame her. She didn’t say much at dinner and looked a little dazed. I don’t know what they said to each other but whatever it was has caused her to be standoffish with me. I guess that’s a good thing. I know there’s a certain distance we should keep. I turn from the door and head across the kitchen to go out the back door.
“Chris,” she calls quietly. I turn around and see her standing in an oversized t-shirt that swallows her tiny frame over grey sweat pants. She has black reading glasses on but she still looks amazing. I shake the thought from my head.
“Hey,” I answer. She looks at me curiously, her eyes scanning me, and I realize that I’m dressed like a cross between a penguin and a valet parker.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” I say, taking the spotlight off me. She takes them off as soon as I say it. She looks embarrassed.
“Just to read,” she replies, closing the door behind her. “A little thirsty,” she says, gesturing towards the refrigerator.
“Oh sure,” I say, as she walks past me towards the refrigerator. I watch her as she opens it and grabs the container of orange juice. I don’t know why my feet feel stuck, why I’m so fascinated with what she’s doing, and why I haven’t left yet. I’m about ten minutes late already. After she pours her drink, she closes the refrigerator and starts to head back to her room.
“Have a nice time, Chris,” she says. That’s it. She doesn’t even glance at me. I don’t know why I care so much, but I do.
“Lauren,” I call out more urgently than I intended to. She turns around, a little surprised. Her eyes glance over me and she smiles.
“I don’t know what Jenna said to you earlier, but I know—on her behalf, I apologize.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything else. We both stand there a little uncomfortably. Not because there’s nothing to be said. I guess there’s too much to be said. I wish she’d say something, anything. I wish we could talk like we did that night. But at least she’s still standing here. She hasn’t gone in her room and shut the door in my face. Our eyes meet and my heartbeat speeds up.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says after a few minutes, her finger running over the glass in her hand.
“How did you meet her?” she asks, her eyes following her finger. I walk over to the small table and sit down. I’m supposed to be leaving. I’m already late but how can I not answer her question. Maybe it’ll show Jenna in a better light than she put herself in earlier.
“When my mom got sick,” I start and let out a sigh. It’s still hard to talk about. She walks over to me and takes a seat beside me. “It was like life had crapped on me. After everything with me and my condition, the medical bills, the stress of it all. And then my mom got sick.”
She nods as if she understands. I guess she’d have some idea.
“Our house was like a funeral. My mom’s the one that held our family together. The thought of not having her killed me and my dad,” I say honestly.
“He was stronger than I was, but I could tell it hurt him and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I couldn’t cry because I felt empty and lost, completely lost. No one could bring me out of what I can only describe as barely living.”
“The only time I left the house was to go see my mom at the University Hospital. Jenna goes to school near there,” I explain hesitantly. She nods, encouraging me to go on. I sigh.
“We went to high school together but we didn’t really know each other then, you know? She saw me and spoke to me but I didn’t answer. I guess I was in a daze or something and she thought I was being rude so she started yelling at me,” I explain. Lauren looks at me, a little confused.
“Before that, I stopped seeing people. I was in a fog that I couldn’t shake and I started laughing at her. At that point I hadn’t laughed in months.”
Lauren nods, a small smile on her face.
“I’m glad you had someone there for you,” she says softly.
“We were friends for a whole year. I couldn’t be with anyone while my mom was sick.” I shrug.
“When did you start dating?” she asks curiously.
“About five months ago, once the doctors said my mom was in remission,” I say, still hating to even say the word ‘cancer’ aloud.
“Jenna pushed me to not sit around being miserable. I went back to school, finished my degree and started working again. If it weren’t for her not letting me feel sorry for myself, believing the world was ending, I don’t know what would have happened,” I say honestly. Lauren’s gaze returns to her glass.
“Jenna can come off different than how she really is. I don’t know what she said out there but... she just feels… threatened” I say with a sigh.
She picks up her glass and finishes half of it. “Are you excited about tonight?” she says, changing the subject.
“No. I hate these things,” I admit.
“Your tie,” she says quietly, gesturing to it.
I laugh. “I feel like a valet parker,”
There’s a grin, a small one, but it’s there. I’ll take it.
“It’s too dark for your suit. Do you have any other colors?” she asks.
“Yeah, not a lot but I just picked one that matched,” I say honestly. She laughs, and my heart skips a beat.
“I can help you, if you want,” she says hesitantly.
“Please!” I beg.
She lets out a light laugh. “Okay,” she giggles. I head up the stairs and she follows me. Once we make it to my room, I flip the light on and walk over to my drawer where I have about seven or eight ties my mom bought. I sense her behind me and I move out of the way so she can look through them.
“Sorry, you don’t have much to work with,” I say and she smiles up at me.
“Do you have any other suits?” she asks. She must really not like this one. I nod and walk to the closet, showing her the other choices.
“I think the black,” she says with a shrug.
She goes back to my tie drawer and picks up a red one. My mom bought it for me for Christmas last year.
“You’re sure?” I ask skeptically.
“Trust me,” she says with a grin.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” I say. I head to the bathroom, change into the black suit and reappear. She’s sitting on my bed leaning on a pillow. She looks so comfortable, like she belongs in it.
“Actually, do you have another shirt? The collar on this one looks a little weird,” she says with a grin. I laugh, walk over to my closet where my collared shirts are and she stands beside me. She shuffles through them, pulls one out and inspects it. “Can I see the tie again?”
I hand it to her. She puts it near the shirt and gives a nod of approval.
“Okay,” I say skeptically. I start to unbutton my shirt and there’s a moment where I wonder if I should turn around or if she’ll leave the room.
She doesn’t. She actually folds her arms as if waiting for me to change.
So I do.
She glances around the room so as not to stare. I quickly remove the other shirt and throw
on the one she chose. She’s staring at her feet but I catch her glancing up at me before she quickly looks away.
That makes me smile and I have to bite my tongue to stop. I don’t know how successful I am. After I button my shirt, I throw the tie around the collar and knot it.
“How about now?” I say, doing my best GQ pose, and she bursts into laughter.
“You tied it all wrong,” she says, stepping toward me. The closer she gets, the more difficult it is to breathe, I think my temperature has suddenly gone up. She keeps her eyes on my tie. I want her to look up at me but I’m praying she doesn’t.
That line between us, the one that’s supposed to be thick and wide, is getting just a little thinner. She’s probably done this for him a thousand times but that doesn’t explain why her cheeks are flushed. Each time her fingers brush against my chest I feel anxious, calm, nervous and excited all at once.
It’s taking every ounce of self control to keep my arms at my sides. I draw on every ounce of determination to stamp out the urge to wrap my arms around the small of her back, pull her against me and kiss her lips that are barely open, but begging me to taste them.
This isn’t good…
When she finishes, she steps away from me, and I let out a breath, hopefully not an obvious one. She grabs my jacket and hands it to me.
“For the full effect,” she says lightly. I laugh to release some of my nervousness. She’s shifting her weight back and forth. When I look in the mirror, I have to say I look much more put together, more comfortable, and for a minute, I wonder if I look like him.
“Much better,” she says as she looks at my reflection in the mirror.
“Thank you,” I say, and she nods as she heads out.
“Lauren.”
She turns back towards me.
“Did you do this for me a lot?”
She pauses and a reminiscent smile spreads across her face. “He wouldn’t let me anywhere near his ties.” She snickers before leaving the room. I can’t help but smile to myself. That means that’s a first.
My first with Lauren that Cal didn’t have.
The fund raiser is exactly what I thought it would be. Boring, long speeches, bad food, dull conversation, and stale jokes. I want to crawl out of my suit and hang myself with my tie. At least the suit was a hit; Jenna even complimented me on it. My stomach’s growling, my mom didn’t let me have seconds of her meatloaf since I was coming here. And tonight’s main course is Salmon. Fish is the one thing I don’t like, especially when it looks undercooked.
“You can try to look a little interested,” Jenna whispers in my ear. I give her a guilty smile. This is the second, maybe third, long-winded speech that’s been given in the last twenty minutes, and I’m doing my best not to fall asleep.
“Go get some air,” she says, giving me a squeeze on the shoulder before pecking me on the cheek. I avoid looking at her dad’s best friend. He’s been giving me dirty looks all night. Her dad probably gave him the task of making sure I feel unwelcome since he couldn’t be here to do it himself. I get up and make my way across the midsized ball room they’ve rented. I glance at my phone to check the time.
9:20 p.m.
I’ve only been here forty minutes, but it feels like hours. This thing is probably going to last until at least 11:00 p.m. I’m almost at the door when one of the servers nearly bumps into me.
“Excuse me,” she says quickly before dodging me with a tray full of champagne glasses. Suddenly, my vision is blurry and there’s a ringing in my ears.
When things come into focus I’m no longer in the same midsized ballroom at a medical fundraiser. There are still people everywhere, but there’s a live band on stage and a huge banner that says “Crestfield Cares” with silver and black balloons everywhere. It’s happening again. I’m remembering and I see him. He makes his way inside a private room. It’s a large office looking out over the downstairs ballroom. Dexter’s there, drink in hand.
“What’d you want to talk about, Dex?” he asks, amused. He’s walked over to the window where you can see down over the entire floor.
“I never thought I’d see you like this, Cal. So enamored,” Dexter says, a smug grin on his face.
“I’m not really an ‘enamored’ type of guy,” Cal jokes as he looks downstairs over the party. His gaze immediately finds Lauren. She’s in a short grey dress that fits her like a glove, her long hair is pulled over her shoulder.
“Like the dress? I picked it out,” he replies, his eyes roving over her as she makes small talk with a group of women. She glances up at him and he winks at her, she blows him a kiss.
“I’ve never argued that fact.” He laughs. “You have excellent taste,” Dexter adds.
“However, I’m starting to worry that she’s not just an infatuation anymore,” he says tightly.
“That’s because she’s not. I told you that, Dex,” he says, his irritation apparent.
“I didn’t think you meant it,” Dexter chuckles.
“You’ve run through more women than red lights.” Dexter’s tone is playful, but his expression is stern. Cal turns away from the window and leans against it, his arms folded across his chest.
“I’m asking her to marry me,” he states bluntly. Dexter’s face is blank. He’s quiet as he walks over to the large desk and sits behind it. He folds his hands and lets out a deep breath.
“I can’t allow you to do that, Cal,” he says quietly, and I begin to laugh.
Cal’s reply is sharp. “I think you need to remind yourself who you’re talking to before saying bullshit like that to me.”
“Cal, marriage is an entirely different animal. It’s not something you’ll be able to hide or take back,” he says, looking me in the eye.
“I’m not stupid. I know how marriage works. I’m doing it. I love her,” he says simply. Dexter shakes his head and takes a long sip of his drink. “I’m going to need you to back me up on this. I want it to be legitimate,” he says seriously and Dexter laughs. He walks closer to him, looking him directly in the eye.
“I’m serious, Dexter” he says pointedly.
“So you’re planning on telling her the truth?” Dexter counters. Cal scowls at him.
“Of course you’re not.” He laughs mockingly.
“I’m quite impressed that you’ve been able to pull off some version of a serious relationship. I must give you that. But a marriage, to be able to pull that off with your condition, and without telling her the truth, you would have to be Houdini,” he spits bitterly, rising from his desk and pouring himself another drink. Cal walks towards him.
“You’re right,” he says and patting Dexter on the back.
“She’s just my plaything. I’m going to go play with her now,” he says sarcastically.
“Let’s not worry about any of this now. It’s a party. Eat, drink, and be merry!” He says boisterously. Dexter frowns.
“Maybe I won’t marry her. You know me, always kidding around, since my life is a big fucking joke!”
“Cal, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to keep things fair,” Dexter says tightly.
“Why don’t you stop playing fucking referee for a minute and know that I need this!” he shouts at him. “I need her,” and I can hardly believe it, but Dexter’s expression shows a hint of sympathy. Cal turns away and heads out of the office. He starts to open the door but turns around before he does.
“Let’s not forget, between the two of us, I’m the one keeping secrets for you. Not him. Don’t get on my bad side, Dex. It’s not a good place to be,” he warns before slamming the door. He heads down a long corridor where people are drinking and dancing. It seems like forever before he gets to Lauren, who’s walking around the party trying to look interested, an almost empty champagne glass in her hand. He slips his arms around her waist. She looks up at him, and smiles seductively.
“Let’s go,” he says. She snakes her arms around his neck, giggling. “How many glasses of champagne did you have?”
he asks her and she looks up as if she’s thinking.
“Guess,” she says, pouting her lips at him.
“I’m going to have fun with you tonight,” he says, leading her towards the exit.
“You have fun with me every night,” she teases back, her hands running up his back.
They exit the party where a dozen other people are waiting for their cars to be pulled around.
“We’ll have your car in just a moment, Mr. Scott,” one of the valets says with a glance their way. A moment later a black Porsche pulls around and he leads Lauren towards it.
Lauren thanks the valet as he opens the door for her. They drive for about 15 minutes with Lauren singing along to the radio.
“Babe, I’m going to have to pay for voice lessons or something. This singing off key thing isn’t sexy,” he jokes, and she swats him on the chest. A few minutes later, they’ve pulled up in front of a huge body of water. He gets out of the car, walks around to Lauren’s side and opens the door for her. He takes her hand and helps her out.
“The lakefront. Look at you being all romantic,” she kids, and he laughs. The car music is playing just loud enough for them to hear. He lets out a deep breath and I feel my heart speeding up.
“Have you ever wanted a different life?” he asks her solemnly.
“Sometimes. Doesn’t everyone?” she says, snuggling closer to him.
“If you could have the exact life that you always wanted, what would you do to get it?” he asks her, and she looks puzzled.
“You mean like rob a bank or something?” she jokes.
“No, not like that.” He laughs. “What if other people didn’t like the life you chose,” he asks.
“Since when do you care what other people think?” she asks, looking up at him curiously.
“It’s not about me. It’s about you,” he says quietly.
“It’s hard to answer that question. I like my life. I’m not rich or famous or anything, but I’m happy,” she says seriously. She stares off over the lake and his gaze follow hers.
“You make me happy,” she says quietly taking his hand. I feel a smile spread across my face.