Say Something

by Jennifer L. Allen

  “Why are you here, anyway?” I asked, bitterness coating the words. If she wasn’t going to join my pity party, she could leave.

  “You begged me to stay last night. You begged Bryan to stay, too. It was kind of adorable how excited you were over the prospect of a sibling slumber party.”

  A small smile graced my lips. I didn’t remember that part of the evening. “And you stayed.”

  “We all did. Well, Bry might be gone by now, but he was making his bed on the couch when Mike and I finally wrangled you in here.”

  I rolled over towards my sister, not letting my nausea from the movement deter me. When I bumped into her side, I blindly wrapped my arm around her. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Thanks for letting me be here,” she said, patting my arm. “But damn, your breath really does smell like vomit. Can you go brush your teeth?”

  I opened my eyes and glared at her, then blew out a quick breath right in her face and rolled quickly in the other direction. As suspected, I got hit in the back with another pillow as I sat up. At least it wasn’t my head this time. I was lightheaded when I stood up—still a little drunk, apparently—and I’m not talking about that little hangover buzz you sometimes have after a night of drinking, I’m talking drunk. How much alcohol did I consume last night?

  I balanced on the furniture and the walls to get myself to the bathroom, where I promptly relieved myself, washed my hands and my face, and brushed my teeth. I was thankful someone had the foresight to bring my toiletry bag into the bathroom. Maybe it was me. No, that was doubtful since it would have required some sense and I didn’t seem to have any of that left.

  On the way back to the bedroom, the smell of coffee resulted in me taking a sharp right turn down the hall towards the kitchen. Coffee had the potential to cure just about anything. Slowly making my way down the hall—hands on the wall still to keep from falling—I found Bryan sitting at Michael’s small kitchen table with the morning paper.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” he greeted, looking up at me with a smile. A smile that quickly turned into a frown. “You look rough. I knew I should have stopped you before the tequila.”

  “Tequila?” That explained it. I did not do tequila well.

  “Yep. Mike and Mel might as well have just bought the bottle. Or bottles.”

  I cringed, then groaned as I slipped into the seat beside him. “That’s why I woke up with a hairball in my mouth,” I muttered to myself.

  “What?” Bryan asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to shake my head. The movement made my brain rattle and I stopped just as soon as I’d started. “I need coffee.” I moved to get up, but Bryan put his hand on my arm.

  “I’ll get it,” he said.

  I smiled at him in thanks and watched as he stood and made his way around the kitchen, first grabbing a mug and filling it with the hot goodness, then opening another cabinet and grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen. A tinge of sadness rolled through me as I watched my older brother move through my little brother’s kitchen with such familiarity. I should have known Michael’s kitchen that well, too.

  I made a tiny, ridiculous little goal to know my way around my siblings’ homes. At least around their kitchens, I didn’t want to come off as a complete psycho rummaging through their closets and stuff. I just wanted to know them in that small, insignificant (yet so significant) way they all seemed to know each other. The fact that I was so unfamiliar with their lives now was no one’s fault but my own, but it was something I planned to fix.

  Bryan set the mug and a couple pills down in front of me and gestured to the sugar and creamer. “Thank you. I drink my coffee black, though.”

  “Me, too,” he said, and I smiled, pleased we had that in common, and even more pleased that I now knew how one of my siblings took their coffee. One down, two to go.

  ***

  “And he was just sitting there, stunned, covered in mud and river water. He had no idea what the hell happened.”

  I clutched my stomach as I laughed at Bryan’s story. He just finished telling me about when he and Michael went on a fishing trip for a mutual friend’s bachelor party. Apparently Michael and the boat trailer didn’t get along, and Michael ended up on his ass in the muddy bank of the river.

  “How are you even alive?” Melissa grunted at me as she walked into the kitchen. “I thought for sure I’d find you passed out in the bathroom.”

  “I smelled coffee,” I shrugged, holding up my cup. She nodded, as if that made all the sense in the world. It did, of course.

  “Y’all do realize it’s not even eight yet,” Michael said as he joined us a moment later, scratching his head and squinting his eyes at the small digital clock numbers on the microwave. “We went to bed like four hours ago.”

  “Someone’s grouchy in the morning,” Melissa taunted him in a goofy voice pausing in the preparation of her coffee to ruffle his hair. Cream and two sugars. I wasn’t surprised.

  Michael twisted away, glaring at her. “Someone is not used to having a houseful of people making a ruckus at seven forty-five in the morning.”

  “Sorry, Mikey,” I said in the sweetest voice I could muster given my state. I still sounded like an eighty-year-old smoker. “Did I sing last night? Or scream?” I wondered out loud.

  “No, but you were talking so loud, it was like you swallowed a megaphone,” Michael said.

  “Huh.” That was an interesting visual. I picked up a spoon off the table and looked at my reflection as I opened my mouth as wide as I could. I didn’t even think my fist could fit in there, let alone a megaphone. The side of Melissa’s lip lifted in disgust as she watched me attempt to put my hand in my mouth. I shrugged, I honestly didn’t know what the hell I was doing either. Blame it on the alcohol.

  “Why is it chicks get louder the more they drink?” Michael asked Bryan, who shrugged his shoulders in response.

  “Hey,” Melissa scolded. “We’re your sisters. Don’t refer to us as chicks. Show some respect.”

  Michael rolled his eyes as he lifted up the now empty coffee pot. “Really?”

  “I’ll brew another batch,” I told him, feeling guilty for completely taking over his house. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d be sleeping in with the place to himself.

  “Don’t worry about it, I got it.” I took note of the cabinet where he retrieved the filters and the coffee grounds and stored it in my memory bank, right next to the location of the cabinet with the pain pills. Never knew when I might be hungover at Michael’s house again. Hopefully not for a very, very long time.

  “So what’s on the agenda for today?” Melissa asked, directing the question at no one in particular.

  “The kids have a soccer game at ten, so I’ll need to head out soon.”

  “Can I come?” I asked immediately. I wanted to make up for all the lost time, and if that meant cheering at sporting events, volunteering for bake sales, and camping with the kids’ scout groups, I would do just that. Aunt of the Year right here, ladies and gentlemen. It was happening. I just wouldn’t say it aloud because then Melissa would fight me for the title. I’d rather her not know there was a competition.

  When Bryan turned to me with a smile on his face, I knew I’d said the right thing. “Of course. We’d love to have you. They play at the rec fields.”

  I grinned, excited to be making plans with my brother and his kids for the day. I couldn’t wait to really, truly be Auntie Jessica to Emma, Luke, and Evan.

  “Why don’t we all go?” Melissa suggested.

  “Sounds good to me,” Michael added. He sat down at the table with his coffee—sugar only—and swiped the paper from Bryan.

  We continued to chat about random things, and I found myself making plans for different events and activities with my brothers and sister. It warmed me from head to toe. It had been so long since I had that. Long before I stopped talking to my family even. That distance happened when I moved away to go to college and didn’t come home for more
than a quick visit here and there. I was just so busy, always so busy. It was nice to slow down for a minute—or ten.

  Being able to get a pedicure with Melissa, hit the flea market just outside of town with Michael, or sit on the sidelines of a soccer game with Bryan were things I’d never take for granted again.

  - 11 -

  “I take it the four of you had fun last night?” Mom asked, glancing over at me, Melissa, and Michael.

  Sitting on the bleachers alongside field three of the rec fields—a large recreational sports complex at the edge of town between Oak River and the university—we were a sight to see, all decked out in sunglasses and comfy clothes. Melissa and I were in yoga pants and sweatshirts to ward off the morning chill, and Michael was in jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. Bryan was down on the field next to Karla with Emma and Evan. He looked perfectly fine, though; probably because he drank nothing last night. I supposed that having three kids aged three to seven meant you didn’t have time to be hungover. To be perfectly honest, I envied him that, but in a good way. My brother had a wonderful family and I loved every bit of the happiness reflected on his face.

  Maybe someday I’d get to experience that same kind of joy.

  “So much fun,” Melissa said, trying to sound chipper, but falling flat.

  “If you were home I could have fixed you a Bloody Mary for breakfast. Nothing cures a hangover like a little hair of the dog that bit ya.”

  The three of us turned our heads to gape at her. “Mom,” I teased with a smile.

  She shrugged her shoulders, hiding her grin. “I was young once, too.” We shook our heads and returned our eyes to the field. It didn’t matter how old we were or how human we knew our parents to be, learning certain things about them—like the fact that they had a hangover cure—was still weird.

  ***

  Have you ever watched five-year olds play soccer? Chaos, plain and simple. There were eleven players from each team on the field at a time, so over twenty kids at once. All of them were charging for the ball at the same time, kicking their little legs like tiny Rockettes in shin guards. The goalie didn’t stay in the goal, either. Oh no, he or she ran after the ball like the rest of them, not wanting to be left out. You couldn’t see the ball from the bleachers, but you knew where it was because of the cluster of twenty-two kids that moved around the field like a herd of small cattle. They scored on their own nets and played the ball right off the field—sometimes onto other fields—all the while being as adorable as ever in their little uniforms and pads. I couldn’t be more proud of Luke. I was, however, interested in seeing if the seven-year olds were any better; Emma’s game was next.

  I was about to get up and get another coffee from the concession stand when activity on one of the larger fields beyond the soccer game caught my attention. It wasn’t children’s soccer being played on that field, but larger humans in way more padding. They were playing…football, or at least preparing to play. And I would have recognized the green and gold team colors on the practice jerseys any day. Those were Oak River High School players, which meant…

  My eyes sought him out before my brain could command it not to. Danny was standing on the sidelines in black track pants and a white t-shirt with a green and gold Oak River ball cap on his head and a whistle around his neck. He looked like a coach. A sudden and overwhelming sense of pride filled my chest for him. It was his dream come true. He was doing it. And he was doing it at a school he loved.

  I decided to skip the second coffee—for now—and stare at him unabashedly. I couldn’t see the expressions on his face, but I could almost picture them from his body language. I knew him well enough to pick up on certain cues, like when he ran one hand through his hair, he was frustrated. If he ran both hands through his hair, all bets were off and you’d better just get the hell out of his way. He did that a lot at the end of our marriage…I made him do that a lot was more like it.

  He was doing a lot of the single hand hair swipes as he paced the side of the field. I loved seeing him in his element…seeing him so complete. Growing up, he knew he hadn’t wanted to play football professionally. He played well enough in high school and got a scholarship to college, where he played all four years. He’d always planned to coach though. Coach and teach. He received his bachelor’s degree in education, and even continued on for a master’s degree in physical education at night while I was in law school. We didn’t see a lot of each other those days, but things were still mostly good. Coaching football was always Danny’s goal though. And he’d achieved it. I never got to see him coach. He taught high school English when we were married; he hadn’t landed a coaching job when we were still together. Deep down, I think he was holding out for this opportunity. At our old high school. I was so happy for him, and I wished things weren’t so…damaged, so I could celebrate that accomplishment with him.

  But I lost that right when I lost my husband…when I let him go.

  ***

  I spent most of Emma’s game, which luckily for my lazy butt and wandering eyes was on the same field as Luke’s, watching Danny and the football team practice. It brought back memories of when Danny played and I was a cheerleader. Our practices would run simultaneously, so the drills I witnessed were vaguely familiar. It didn’t surprise me that Danny had his boys using some of the same playbook he had, especially considering his team had made it to the state championship our junior and senior years.

  When the game ended, I said goodbye to my family, deciding to walk home. I told them I needed the fresh air, which was the absolute truth. I did need fresh air, only it wasn’t due to the hangover as they’d assumed. It was because of Danny.

  Seeing him after so long, three days in a row, in an element that was so familiar, made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the sadness, it was the good things, too. I remembered the wonderful times we’d shared. There were so many to choose from. Moments where Danny made me feel like I was the most special girl in the world. He tried to make me feel that way straight through the end, but my body’s refusal to do what it was meant to do killed any positive image I’d ever held of myself. I couldn’t possibly be special if I was damaged…worse than that…if I was broken. Danny never implied that, though. It was my own twisted cognitions. I realized that now, and I probably knew it then, too, but there was no going back.

  One end of Main Street to the other was about four miles, stretching the length of Oak River. I only had about a mile of the road to walk before I’d make the turn onto the side road that would take me back to my parents’ house. As I approached that side road, I decided to go straight and head to the park about another half mile down. It was a small children’s park, mostly abandoned for the larger and more colorful plastic playground structures at the elementary school, but it held a lot of fond memories of me and Danny.

  The soft sound of my footsteps on the old wood chips echoed between the trees. It was so quiet, I could hear my heartbeat if I listened close enough. I paused at the edge of the park and looked around. The paint had faded over time and the jungle gym was no longer the vibrant colors of my teen years. The wood was nearly black from years of wear and tear. Some spots were rotted. Paint had chipped off the metal monkey bars and scattered ladders. I absently wondered why no one had ever torn it down, surely it was a hazard. Nevertheless, I was grateful it was still there. The old, metal swing set looked sturdy enough, and that’s where I was headed.

  I sat on the cold, rusted metal seat and kicked off, gathering my rhythm pretty quickly, and bending and swaying accordingly. I leaned my head back and looked up at the sky, picturing moments in the past, just like this one. Only in my memories, Danny was behind me, his hands caressing my waist or shoulders on each backwards swing. He was always sneaking in a touch, innocent and...less than innocent.

  Oh, how I missed his touch. I’d stopped letting him touch me at the end of our relationship, even going to far as to flinch away from him. How I must have hurt him...

  The s
ky and the trees became blurry, and it was only then that I realized I was crying. I stopped pumping my legs and the swing slowed. Damn those memories. Damn me for screwing everything up. Damn me for being broken and—

  Something touched my back as the swing stilled near the bottom…a hand.

  And not just any hand…his hand.

  - 12 -

  I laughed giddily as he pushed me on the swing, my legs straight out in front of me.

  Instead of partying at the lake with our friends to celebrate the end of our final year of high school, we were at the old park. It was one of our most favorite places, since it was mostly abandoned. Just me and Danny against the world.

  “We’re getting ready to start chapter two,” Danny said as I swung. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready for anything with you,” I told him truthfully.

  I was a little apprehensive about the future, about finally leaving our small town and heading off into the real world—or at least to a college campus—but I was ready for it anyway. It didn’t matter what life threw at us, as long as we were together.

  He took hold of the chains as I swung back and slowed the swing. I leaned back to look up at him. His piercing brown eyes gazed at me adoringly, and I smiled back. I loved him so much.

  “I love you, Jessica Lynn Price.”

  “I love you, Daniel Andrew Thompson.”

  He leaned forward and took me in an upside-down kiss. It was a weird sensation, a backwards feeling, but just as amazing and tingle-inducing as every other kiss we’d shared. When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine for a moment.

  “I’m going to marry you one day,” he whispered, before righting himself and giving me another push.

  My answering grin was brighter than the sun as the warm spring air brushed my flushed cheeks.

  “Shh,” he said as I let out a sob. His presence and the memory...it was too much. He stepped around the front of the swing and wrapped me in his arms. “Just let it out, Jessie,” he urged me.