I BLINKED MY EYES OPEN and quickly squeezed them shut again. Knowing I’d been caught, I fluttered my eyelids as though I hadn’t been about to feign sleep. My husband stood over me, watching, but I focused on the nightstand to avoid his stare.
“It’s nine,” he said gently. “Better get a move on.”
I rolled over and faced the wall with a small sigh, unable to handle his soft expression. “I’m not going.”
“Liv,” he started.
“I have to work today.”
“Work?”
“Things are crazy at the office.”
“It’s the weekend, and I told you about this birthday party last week. Can’t it wait ‘til Monday?”
“No. I’m under deadline.”
“I’m sure you could spare a Saturday afternoon,” he said wryly.
“Call Serena if you don’t believe me.”
“Of course I believe you,” he said, taken aback. “But you’re working too much. You need to take some time off, babe. It’s been over three months of this.”
I gulped. Had it only been three months?
When he continued, his tone was tentative, hedging. “I know it’s been hard, but this isn’t what Davena would’ve wanted. She would want you to move on.”
I almost laughed out loud, but I didn’t. I never did. The mattress dipped when he sat. Hesitant fingertips touched my shoulder, and my skin pebbled. I couldn’t remember when he’d last touched me. When he’d stopped even trying. His caress was strange—unexpected but not unwanted. It triggered a wave of guilt that left my heart pounding. Because of what I knew. Because of what I’d done. Because, after three months, I still burned with desire. But it wasn’t for him.
I braced myself as David’s image appeared. I wished I wouldn’t think of him every morning and dream of him at night. I wished his memory would fade, the way he had from my life. Three months. Three months since I had stormed from his apartment, since that night. My insides flurried as I remembered, the details still fresh in my mind despite the time that had passed. Despite the fact that every time they surfaced, I dashed them away immediately.
“Well, I have to go to the party.” Bill’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You know how my sister can hold a grudge.”
“Of course you do, sweetie.” The endearment was forced, unnatural, but Bill wouldn’t notice. “I wrapped Jimmy’s video game last night; it’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks. I’ll bring you back a piece of birthday cake.” When I didn’t respond, he stood and left the room. Soon after, I heard the front door shut. I exhaled a long breath.
Hours were slow, stretched and elongated like a rubber band that never snapped. On the better days, I woke up numb. Today is not one of those days, I thought as I dragged myself from the bed.
Dressed in an outfit much too crisp and binding for the weekend, I meticulously applied my makeup. Every strand of my golden brown hair was combed into obedience. Inside, I had cracks, but I wouldn’t let them break the surface.
I was on the train within the hour. I found comfort in the way everything blurred together through the windows. A child’s squeal had me blinking from my trance. Across from me, a young man wrangled two toddlers as his wife cradled a baby on her lap. It was chaotic and messy, but she watched her husband with obvious love. The woman smiled goofily as he dodged apple juice spray. I looked away, fiddling with the clasp of my purse.
The morning after my night with David, I’d cried my eyes raw against the brick wall by his apartment. I hadn’t known up from down, left from right, love from despair. But I’d locked it up so tightly I could still feel the chains digging into me with every movement. When Bill returned from his trip that day, I mustered the biggest, most convincing welcome I could manage. But I couldn’t look him in the eye. And I couldn’t pretend to want his hands on me. And though Bill was never one to pick up on my subtle cues, I had made it impossible for him not to.
Somehow, the week passed. After a late night at work, I walked into an apartment filled with twenty of our closest friends and family. I gritted my teeth and let them wish me a happy twenty-eighth birthday, barely making it through the night. Not even Lucy or Gretchen, my closest friends in the world, could scratch the surface. I could only put my energy into acting normal. I’d scoffed to myself overhearing Gretchen and Bill in the kitchen toward the end of the party.
“How’s she doing?”
“I can’t tell, Gretchen, and it freaks me out. She won’t talk about Davena at all. She keeps to herself and pretends nothing is wrong.”
“Well, Davena was like a second mother to her,” Gretchen said. “There are times in her life when she was closer to her than to her actual mom.”
“I think that’s why she’s taking Davena’s death especially hard. She and her mom haven’t been getting along.”
“She doesn’t look well.”
“I haven’t seen her eat in days. I’d feel better if she at least cried, but she does nothing except smile and laugh in the weirdest way.”
“She was like this when her parents divorced. I tried to tell you. She’s hurting. She doesn’t deal well with loss.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you tried talking to her?” Gretchen asked.
There was a pause. “She leaves the room when I do.”
“It’s still fresh. Just give her time, Bill.”
After the last guest had left, we fought. I’d made some empty promise to come home early from work but unknowingly missed half of the surprise party. I asked him how he could have possibly thought a party was a good idea.
I started leaving for work early and coming home late every day. With my recent promotion, it wasn’t hard to find projects at the magazine. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. And not a day went by that I wasn’t reminded of him. Of that night. And of the irreversible thing I’d done.
As the train barreled along, I tried not to remember. After all, the separation from David had been longer than the time I’d known him. Surely that was enough time to move on?
But it was impossible to forget. I fought myself as I always did when the memory threatened, but in that moment, alone on the crowded train, I wasn’t strong enough to stop it. I remembered the pain in his hard brown eyes when he’d demanded that I speak up. That I tell him I wanted nothing more to do with him. I rewound through our final conversation, when he’d said he wanted me in his life. He wanted us to be together. I remembered how he felt pressed against me, and how I’d wished he would take me again.
His hands on my hips had held me steady as he’d mercilessly driven me to orgasm . . . twice. It was unforgettable. Haunting. Relentless. Under his affection, under his touch, I’d come alive. And since then, I was slowly drowning—hounded by the memory I tried to repel and weighed down by the guilt.
~
I was alone in the Chicago Metropolitan Magazine office. Maybe it wasn’t necessary for me to work on a Saturday, but the thought of sitting through a child’s birthday party with Bill’s family was daunting. I weaved through the empty cubicles until reaching the door to my office. Olivia Germaine, it read. Senior Editor.
I flopped into my big chair and rubbed my eyes tensely. On the days I wasn’t numb, everything seemed sharper, more excruciating—shame, grief, desire. It was a constant battle to swallow the emotions that rose up my throat one after the other.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, but my mind was occupied with other things. I owed Bill more than I gave him. He’d been patient, and I knew he was becoming concerned. Whenever things turned intimate between us, I pulled away without an explanation. He attributed my distance to Davena’s death, but that was only a small part of it.
When my cell buzzed, I glanced at the screen and ignored the call. Within moments, my office phone began to ring. I sighed with defeat, knowing Gretchen wouldn’t give up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked when I picked up the receiver.
“Good afternoon to you too, Liv.”
“Seriously, Gretchen. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said with feigned irritation. “I’m downstairs.”
“What? Why?”
“Bill texted me that you were coming in today, so I thought I’d surprise you for lunch.”
“You should have called first. I’m in the middle of something.”
“So take a break and pick it up later.”
“Later I have other things to do.”
“How? You work nonstop, and it’s Saturday for God’s sake. What could be so important? I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”
“My schedule has been full with this promotion. Beman has me under impossible deadlines. They need me.”
“I know they do, but I need you too. We need you. Come on—lunch is on me.”
“Fine,” I said, exhaling forcefully.
There was a brief pause on the line as I saved the document on my computer. “Fine?” she repeated after a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I made a special trip over here to take you to lunch.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No shit. I miss you,” she said, her voice softening.
“Look, I said I’d come. Just give me a minute.” I hung up before she could respond and locked up the office.
Downstairs, I felt mildly better after a deep breath of fresh air. She was waiting in a sleeveless tank top and denim cut-offs. Despite her casual outfit, her bright blonde hair was curled into perfect ringlets as usual. I tucked some hair behind my ear as I approached her.
“Aren’t you hot?” she asked.
I pulled my sweater closer. “I only have an hour.”
She rolled those big blue eyes of hers, pulled on my arm and started walking. “Then you’d better get talking.”
“Talking?”
“Yes. It’s time to have a conversation, and that’s why I’m buying you lunch.”
“What’s the topic of this conversation? And don’t say Davena, because that’s all anyone ever wants to talk about.”
“Because you won’t,” she whined. “You won’t talk to Bill about it, you won’t talk to us and you refuse to see a shrink. Forget about poor Mack.” She waved her hand. “He’s beside himself, and you can’t even pick up the phone.”
My heart stopped along with my feet. “Who told you that?”
“Bill.”
“Wow,” I said. She continued walking, so I ran to catch up to her. “No wonder you sound exactly like him. Do you guys get together and talk about me? Have little powwows about how to get me to spill my guts? Well here’s a tip: get a new hobby, because there’s nothing to spill. I loved Davena, but I’ve made my peace with her passing. Life goes on, Gretchen.”
She muttered something under her breath.
“What?” I challenged.
She sighed. “Liv, you can talk to me,” she said in an atypically delicate voice.
I glanced down at the pavement as we walked, willing myself to stay calm. “Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“I do, though. You never talk about her, and you haven’t seen Mack since the funeral. It’s not healthy and . . . it shows.” I pursed my lips and rewrapped the sweater as I crossed my arms. “Lucy needs you,” she continued. “With the wedding next weekend, she has to know she can count on us.”
“Of course she can,” I said defensively. “I’ve been there every step of the way—did I not host the wedding shower, and have I not done everything she’s asked?”
“Yes, you have, it’s just obvious that your heart isn’t in it. And it hurts her feelings.”
“She said that?”
“She doesn’t have to.”
I swallowed. “Okay, I get it.”
“Good. So let’s start with how you felt when you heard the news. Maybe you can explain why you hid it from us that night. It’s no wonder you got wasted and went home early. Nobody can keep something like that inside, not even you.”
“No—what I meant was that I get it. I’ll change. I’m not up for this random therapy session.”
“You can’t change without talking about it.”
“Again, there is nothing to talk about,” I intoned. “People grieve in different ways, so please just drop it. As far as the wedding, I get what you’re saying. I will try harder. For Lucy.”
Gretchen heaved a deep sigh and looked away as she bit her thumbnail. “You’re a stubborn bitch,” she muttered.
An unwilling smile found my face. “Where are you taking me anyway, Milwaukee?”
“Nope, we’re going to a place with the largest, juiciest burgers around. You need some nourishment,” she said, tugging at the hem of my sweater. I almost gagged at the thought of a hamburger, but I figured this was what choosing one’s battles meant. My heart dropped, however, when we rounded the corner. I was standing in front of the restaurant where David had taken me to lunch months before.
“Hello?” she urged, holding the door open.
I fumbled for an excuse. It was Saturday, though, and David wouldn’t be working nearby, so I followed her inside. I recognized the red-lipped hostess, despite the fact that she wasn’t nearly as cheery as she had been when I was with David. I wondered if she was trying to place me, since she gave me a curious, narrow-eyed look. I scanned the restaurant furtively as she led us to an open, conspicuous table.
I ordered a burger, or rather, Gretchen ordered one for me, but I found it hard to stomach. After making a show of the first two bites, I nibbled on the side salad while Gretchen caught me up on the goings-on at her public relations office.
“You’ve got to come with me next time,” she was saying. “California in the summertime is the shit. I even took a couple surf lessons.”
“Doesn’t sound like work,” I muttered.
“It’s all about schmoozing, Liv, and—”
I froze. Was that . . . ? No. It came again from behind me, and I stiffened instinctively.
“David, my man!” the voice boomed.
My heart whipped into a violent pounding, filling my ears as blood rushed to my head. Gretchen looked at me with her head cocked. Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing.
With slow precision, I turned my head over my left shoulder and glanced back. Two men I’d never seen before were pumping hands emphatically. Through my decelerating heartbeat, I heard one call the other ‘David.’ I shook my head quickly and returned my attention to Gretchen. She was still talking about California, though now she was looking at my plate. To preempt another argument, I forced myself to take another bite. I chewed the patty methodically until it was mush in my mouth and swallowed because I thought she might notice if I spit it out.
“Well, that’s an extra hour on the treadmill,” she groaned to her empty plate and covered her tummy with her hand.
“It’s nine,” he said gently. “Better get a move on.”
I rolled over and faced the wall with a small sigh, unable to handle his soft expression. “I’m not going.”
“Liv,” he started.
“I have to work today.”
“Work?”
“Things are crazy at the office.”
“It’s the weekend, and I told you about this birthday party last week. Can’t it wait ‘til Monday?”
“No. I’m under deadline.”
“I’m sure you could spare a Saturday afternoon,” he said wryly.
“Call Serena if you don’t believe me.”
“Of course I believe you,” he said, taken aback. “But you’re working too much. You need to take some time off, babe. It’s been over three months of this.”
I gulped. Had it only been three months?
When he continued, his tone was tentative, hedging. “I know it’s been hard, but this isn’t what Davena would’ve wanted. She would want you to move on.”
I almost laughed out loud, but I didn’t. I never did. The mattress dipped when he sat. Hesitant fingertips touched my shoulder, and my skin pebbled. I couldn’t remember when he’d last touched me. When he’d stopped even trying. His caress was strange—unexpected but not unwanted. It triggered a wave of guilt that left my heart pounding. Because of what I knew. Because of what I’d done. Because, after three months, I still burned with desire. But it wasn’t for him.
I braced myself as David’s image appeared. I wished I wouldn’t think of him every morning and dream of him at night. I wished his memory would fade, the way he had from my life. Three months. Three months since I had stormed from his apartment, since that night. My insides flurried as I remembered, the details still fresh in my mind despite the time that had passed. Despite the fact that every time they surfaced, I dashed them away immediately.
“Well, I have to go to the party.” Bill’s voice cut into my thoughts. “You know how my sister can hold a grudge.”
“Of course you do, sweetie.” The endearment was forced, unnatural, but Bill wouldn’t notice. “I wrapped Jimmy’s video game last night; it’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks. I’ll bring you back a piece of birthday cake.” When I didn’t respond, he stood and left the room. Soon after, I heard the front door shut. I exhaled a long breath.
Hours were slow, stretched and elongated like a rubber band that never snapped. On the better days, I woke up numb. Today is not one of those days, I thought as I dragged myself from the bed.
Dressed in an outfit much too crisp and binding for the weekend, I meticulously applied my makeup. Every strand of my golden brown hair was combed into obedience. Inside, I had cracks, but I wouldn’t let them break the surface.
I was on the train within the hour. I found comfort in the way everything blurred together through the windows. A child’s squeal had me blinking from my trance. Across from me, a young man wrangled two toddlers as his wife cradled a baby on her lap. It was chaotic and messy, but she watched her husband with obvious love. The woman smiled goofily as he dodged apple juice spray. I looked away, fiddling with the clasp of my purse.
The morning after my night with David, I’d cried my eyes raw against the brick wall by his apartment. I hadn’t known up from down, left from right, love from despair. But I’d locked it up so tightly I could still feel the chains digging into me with every movement. When Bill returned from his trip that day, I mustered the biggest, most convincing welcome I could manage. But I couldn’t look him in the eye. And I couldn’t pretend to want his hands on me. And though Bill was never one to pick up on my subtle cues, I had made it impossible for him not to.
Somehow, the week passed. After a late night at work, I walked into an apartment filled with twenty of our closest friends and family. I gritted my teeth and let them wish me a happy twenty-eighth birthday, barely making it through the night. Not even Lucy or Gretchen, my closest friends in the world, could scratch the surface. I could only put my energy into acting normal. I’d scoffed to myself overhearing Gretchen and Bill in the kitchen toward the end of the party.
“How’s she doing?”
“I can’t tell, Gretchen, and it freaks me out. She won’t talk about Davena at all. She keeps to herself and pretends nothing is wrong.”
“Well, Davena was like a second mother to her,” Gretchen said. “There are times in her life when she was closer to her than to her actual mom.”
“I think that’s why she’s taking Davena’s death especially hard. She and her mom haven’t been getting along.”
“She doesn’t look well.”
“I haven’t seen her eat in days. I’d feel better if she at least cried, but she does nothing except smile and laugh in the weirdest way.”
“She was like this when her parents divorced. I tried to tell you. She’s hurting. She doesn’t deal well with loss.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you tried talking to her?” Gretchen asked.
There was a pause. “She leaves the room when I do.”
“It’s still fresh. Just give her time, Bill.”
After the last guest had left, we fought. I’d made some empty promise to come home early from work but unknowingly missed half of the surprise party. I asked him how he could have possibly thought a party was a good idea.
I started leaving for work early and coming home late every day. With my recent promotion, it wasn’t hard to find projects at the magazine. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. And not a day went by that I wasn’t reminded of him. Of that night. And of the irreversible thing I’d done.
As the train barreled along, I tried not to remember. After all, the separation from David had been longer than the time I’d known him. Surely that was enough time to move on?
But it was impossible to forget. I fought myself as I always did when the memory threatened, but in that moment, alone on the crowded train, I wasn’t strong enough to stop it. I remembered the pain in his hard brown eyes when he’d demanded that I speak up. That I tell him I wanted nothing more to do with him. I rewound through our final conversation, when he’d said he wanted me in his life. He wanted us to be together. I remembered how he felt pressed against me, and how I’d wished he would take me again.
His hands on my hips had held me steady as he’d mercilessly driven me to orgasm . . . twice. It was unforgettable. Haunting. Relentless. Under his affection, under his touch, I’d come alive. And since then, I was slowly drowning—hounded by the memory I tried to repel and weighed down by the guilt.
~
I was alone in the Chicago Metropolitan Magazine office. Maybe it wasn’t necessary for me to work on a Saturday, but the thought of sitting through a child’s birthday party with Bill’s family was daunting. I weaved through the empty cubicles until reaching the door to my office. Olivia Germaine, it read. Senior Editor.
I flopped into my big chair and rubbed my eyes tensely. On the days I wasn’t numb, everything seemed sharper, more excruciating—shame, grief, desire. It was a constant battle to swallow the emotions that rose up my throat one after the other.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, but my mind was occupied with other things. I owed Bill more than I gave him. He’d been patient, and I knew he was becoming concerned. Whenever things turned intimate between us, I pulled away without an explanation. He attributed my distance to Davena’s death, but that was only a small part of it.
When my cell buzzed, I glanced at the screen and ignored the call. Within moments, my office phone began to ring. I sighed with defeat, knowing Gretchen wouldn’t give up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked when I picked up the receiver.
“Good afternoon to you too, Liv.”
“Seriously, Gretchen. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said with feigned irritation. “I’m downstairs.”
“What? Why?”
“Bill texted me that you were coming in today, so I thought I’d surprise you for lunch.”
“You should have called first. I’m in the middle of something.”
“So take a break and pick it up later.”
“Later I have other things to do.”
“How? You work nonstop, and it’s Saturday for God’s sake. What could be so important? I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”
“My schedule has been full with this promotion. Beman has me under impossible deadlines. They need me.”
“I know they do, but I need you too. We need you. Come on—lunch is on me.”
“Fine,” I said, exhaling forcefully.
There was a brief pause on the line as I saved the document on my computer. “Fine?” she repeated after a moment. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I made a special trip over here to take you to lunch.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No shit. I miss you,” she said, her voice softening.
“Look, I said I’d come. Just give me a minute.” I hung up before she could respond and locked up the office.
Downstairs, I felt mildly better after a deep breath of fresh air. She was waiting in a sleeveless tank top and denim cut-offs. Despite her casual outfit, her bright blonde hair was curled into perfect ringlets as usual. I tucked some hair behind my ear as I approached her.
“Aren’t you hot?” she asked.
I pulled my sweater closer. “I only have an hour.”
She rolled those big blue eyes of hers, pulled on my arm and started walking. “Then you’d better get talking.”
“Talking?”
“Yes. It’s time to have a conversation, and that’s why I’m buying you lunch.”
“What’s the topic of this conversation? And don’t say Davena, because that’s all anyone ever wants to talk about.”
“Because you won’t,” she whined. “You won’t talk to Bill about it, you won’t talk to us and you refuse to see a shrink. Forget about poor Mack.” She waved her hand. “He’s beside himself, and you can’t even pick up the phone.”
My heart stopped along with my feet. “Who told you that?”
“Bill.”
“Wow,” I said. She continued walking, so I ran to catch up to her. “No wonder you sound exactly like him. Do you guys get together and talk about me? Have little powwows about how to get me to spill my guts? Well here’s a tip: get a new hobby, because there’s nothing to spill. I loved Davena, but I’ve made my peace with her passing. Life goes on, Gretchen.”
She muttered something under her breath.
“What?” I challenged.
She sighed. “Liv, you can talk to me,” she said in an atypically delicate voice.
I glanced down at the pavement as we walked, willing myself to stay calm. “Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“I do, though. You never talk about her, and you haven’t seen Mack since the funeral. It’s not healthy and . . . it shows.” I pursed my lips and rewrapped the sweater as I crossed my arms. “Lucy needs you,” she continued. “With the wedding next weekend, she has to know she can count on us.”
“Of course she can,” I said defensively. “I’ve been there every step of the way—did I not host the wedding shower, and have I not done everything she’s asked?”
“Yes, you have, it’s just obvious that your heart isn’t in it. And it hurts her feelings.”
“She said that?”
“She doesn’t have to.”
I swallowed. “Okay, I get it.”
“Good. So let’s start with how you felt when you heard the news. Maybe you can explain why you hid it from us that night. It’s no wonder you got wasted and went home early. Nobody can keep something like that inside, not even you.”
“No—what I meant was that I get it. I’ll change. I’m not up for this random therapy session.”
“You can’t change without talking about it.”
“Again, there is nothing to talk about,” I intoned. “People grieve in different ways, so please just drop it. As far as the wedding, I get what you’re saying. I will try harder. For Lucy.”
Gretchen heaved a deep sigh and looked away as she bit her thumbnail. “You’re a stubborn bitch,” she muttered.
An unwilling smile found my face. “Where are you taking me anyway, Milwaukee?”
“Nope, we’re going to a place with the largest, juiciest burgers around. You need some nourishment,” she said, tugging at the hem of my sweater. I almost gagged at the thought of a hamburger, but I figured this was what choosing one’s battles meant. My heart dropped, however, when we rounded the corner. I was standing in front of the restaurant where David had taken me to lunch months before.
“Hello?” she urged, holding the door open.
I fumbled for an excuse. It was Saturday, though, and David wouldn’t be working nearby, so I followed her inside. I recognized the red-lipped hostess, despite the fact that she wasn’t nearly as cheery as she had been when I was with David. I wondered if she was trying to place me, since she gave me a curious, narrow-eyed look. I scanned the restaurant furtively as she led us to an open, conspicuous table.
I ordered a burger, or rather, Gretchen ordered one for me, but I found it hard to stomach. After making a show of the first two bites, I nibbled on the side salad while Gretchen caught me up on the goings-on at her public relations office.
“You’ve got to come with me next time,” she was saying. “California in the summertime is the shit. I even took a couple surf lessons.”
“Doesn’t sound like work,” I muttered.
“It’s all about schmoozing, Liv, and—”
I froze. Was that . . . ? No. It came again from behind me, and I stiffened instinctively.
“David, my man!” the voice boomed.
My heart whipped into a violent pounding, filling my ears as blood rushed to my head. Gretchen looked at me with her head cocked. Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing.
With slow precision, I turned my head over my left shoulder and glanced back. Two men I’d never seen before were pumping hands emphatically. Through my decelerating heartbeat, I heard one call the other ‘David.’ I shook my head quickly and returned my attention to Gretchen. She was still talking about California, though now she was looking at my plate. To preempt another argument, I forced myself to take another bite. I chewed the patty methodically until it was mush in my mouth and swallowed because I thought she might notice if I spit it out.
“Well, that’s an extra hour on the treadmill,” she groaned to her empty plate and covered her tummy with her hand.
DAVENA’S FUNERAL HAD BEEN like every funeral before it. I’d sat in the pew, staring forward as Bill clasped my hand in his. At some point I had looked over to find him in tears, but my hands were lifeless in my lap, and I didn’t have the words, so I returned my eyes forward. My only moment of reality was when her husband, Mack, had hugged me. He’d squeezed the breath from my lungs, holding me too tightly. And when he’d let go, I felt nothing again.
She was predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life or in death. I wondered how she didn’t even look vulnerable from that position; I wouldn’t have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she’d invited me out for a cocktail at Sunda.
But she didn’t. And eventually they eased the coffin closed and took her away. Back at their place, Mack did his best to turn the reception into a celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes was searing. It was unavoidable, even when I looked away. We left early.
Although my belief in the afterlife was dubious, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything—that I was a sinner, an adulterer and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.
“Did you look at the article yet?” Lisa, also known as my toxic co-worker, glared at me from the doorway of my office, arms crossed, lips drawn.
Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back into reality. “Which one?”
She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”
“It’s on your desk already.”
“Oh.” She pivoted and stalked away, revealing Serena behind her.
“She’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a warm smile. “And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . You get the idea.”
“Where did your hair go?” I asked.
“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut. What do you think?”
“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.
“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”
I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me ‘boss’ since her recent promotion from intern to assistant editor.
“The wedding?” she prompted uncertainly.
“Yes. Lucy has been planning her wedding for as long as I’ve known her, so it should be impressive.”
“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just like, so happy to be there. And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean—”
“Serena, I’m really swamped here.”
“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.
“It’s about the ‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes’ issue—”
“What?” I froze mid-keystroke.
“Well, um—I think we should do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m sure the people we featured like, went on dates and stuff. Maybe some even found relationships because of the article. We could even do, like, a teeny-tiny article in the mag next month.”
I shook my head rapidly. “No, that won’t work. Let’s try and come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”
“Oh, okay, cool. I like that too.”
She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn’t meant to shut her down, but I couldn’t risk a run-in with David Dylan: Bachelor Number Three. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
I had gotten lucky at the launch party for the “Most Eligible” issue two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event, the best in the magazine’s history. Except for David Dylan. I’d overheard Lisa say that he accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though she’d begged him. Knowing he was out of town was no more painful than knowing he wasn’t right next to me. He was gone forever, and the physical distance wouldn’t change that.
I couldn’t ignore his presence at the party, though. Despite his non-attendance, his smiling photo, which far outshone the other attendees’ pictures, was everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over David’s segment for me, and the way she’d styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear designer. He was all teeth and hard muscles in the three-piece suit Lucy had sold him. Clutching his jacket casually at his side, he was the definition of roguish businessman.
I’d given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing David’s spread. The wounds were too fresh. Even now, I still hadn’t had the heart, or the guts, to read about David Dylan: wealthy, charming and handsome Chicago bachelor. Every girl’s dream catch.
I got up and locked my office door, allowing myself a minute to lie down on the couch. I was thankful for my weighty sweater to block the blasting A/C unit above.
I’d told David I was black inside, but I was wrong. I hadn’t known it, but I was empty. And for one stolen moment, he had filled me with himself, physically and emotionally. Now I was black. Now I was poisoned. I was so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should have felt, it only came in fleeting waves.
I recalled his hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between my breasts . . . Just fucking stop, I pleaded with myself. I have to forget, please, I can’t do this anymore.
The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. The guilt was already a steady drip through my system, seeping into the cracks of my interior.
The ringing of the office phone shredded through my thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that never let me down, never judged or condemned me. I returned to my desk and hit the speakerphone button.
“What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s voice filled the office.
“Seven o’clock,” I said, wiggling my mouse to wake up the computer. “When is Andrew’s?”
“Same. Think you can get off a little early? I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.
“Yeah, can you?”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of backed up here.” I rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen.
“Please? I’m really excited.”
“All right,” I relented. “I can work through lunch.”
“I’ll pick you up downstairs at four, k? Love you.”
~
I waited downstairs for Bill on a street-facing concrete bench, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. When the car arrived at the curb, I could hear Bon Jovi on full volume: that was a good sign.
“Hey,” he said when I climbed in. “Ready for your surprise?”
“Yes.” Because I had promised myself to try harder, I took his hand.
He squeezed it. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit back and relax.”
As we discussed our impending parties, it became evident that we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It was when we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.
“Don’t get any grand ideas,” he warned.
Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause after Davena’s death. Now we were on the block of the last house we’d seen over three months before. I recalled the afternoon with our realtor Jeanine—the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery and the ensuing argument where he’d tried to convince me that we were ready for children. That house had sold though, he’d told me bitterly back in June. Unless it had fallen through, and . . . Oh, no. Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?
He pulled up to the same spot we had parked with Jeanine months before.
“Bill—”
“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with Jeanine for a while.” He wasn’t looking at the house we’d visited last time, though. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Gray stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw. The same endearing character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it.
“The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told her they’d be willing to sell it for a good price because of the poor shape. Since they rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”
I looked from Bill to the house. He had remembered my comments that day. To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is so thoughtful.”
“It would be a lot of effort, and we’d probably have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can’t stand to see you this way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes, then we’ll do it.” His voice was laced with sadness. I’d been punishing both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he was hurting.
I loved what he’d done for me, so I took his hand. “Let’s go see the inside.”
The interior was almost empty with the exception of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as Bill. The main room’s greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive, central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall separating the backyard.
The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step, and it was cold inside, but I could tell it must have been very warm once. Dust caked the surfaces and dead insects were scattered on the floor. I stepped into a decent-sized backyard that was overrun with weeds and in dire need of some attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rose bushes, a trickling fountain . . .
When I reentered the house, Bill was standing with his hands in his pockets. I watched as he inspected the stairway railing and kicked at a loose floorboard. The corners of his mouth tugged, suggesting a frown. I scanned the room around him. Honey-colored flooring would complement the warm light that flooded from antique lamps. Heavy, earthy furniture made of oak and aged leather would fill the open floor plan.
And, yet . . . something felt off, though I wasn’t sure what. The house had potential, and I was already wondering what it looked like in the early morning when the light was just starting to filter in. Still, I struggled to complete the picture.
“What do you think?” he asked.
I froze, and seconds passed; I could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe once we’d overhauled it and made it into the beautiful place I knew it could be, things would be different. They had to be. Bill had been right all along. It wasn’t going to be perfect right away or maybe ever. It would take time for it to feel like home. I took a step backward and pointed to the second floor. “Upstairs?”
I followed as he carefully climbed the noisy steps. The master bedroom, located at one end of the hall, was spacious—bigger than any others we had seen, which I knew would appeal to Bill. It had a large, unobstructed view of the backyard and a corner window on the opposite wall that faced the street.
He reported that there were two more rooms down the hall. I nodded, taking his words in but still studying him. “Can we afford it, really?”
“No,” he said honestly. “The house, yes. But I have no idea about the remodel. It’s outside our budget, I’m sure. It would mean cutting back on some things for a while.”
“Is this what you want?”
He squinted his eyes while his tongue ran over his front teeth. “I don’t know how I feel about taking on a project like this when we’re both so busy. But I really want to get out of the city, and I want you to love your new home.”
It was undoubtedly the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. I shifted, and a floorboard groaned beneath me. The bedroom was growing dark, and I blinked at his disappearing silhouette. “Okay,” I said. “Yes. Let’s do it.” I crossed the room and hugged him close for an overdue moment of intimacy. We walked to the stairs arm in arm before separating to descend.
~
“Open mine next.”
Lucy squealed with delight as she accepted the overstuffed party bag from Bethany, who had a playful gleam in her eye.
“Oh, my,” she groaned as she pulled out a pink, feathered tiara with the word Bachelorette branded across the front. We were ten girls at a noisy restaurant downtown, egging Lucy on as she unwrapped gifts between sips of her pink Cosmo.
“You’re wearing that now, and you’re wearing this too,” Dani said, placing a necklace with mini phallic-shaped candies around Lucy’s neck.
“Dani! It’s definitely inappropriate for my little sister to be draping me in penises.”
“It is perfectly appropriate,” Dani retorted, clearing a mass of brown, glossy ringlets from her shoulder.
I picked up a green gummy penis and popped it in my mouth before scrunching up my nose. “Sour apple,” I lamented. “Yuck.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Olivia Germaine. You will swallow that penis,” Gretchen scolded, waving a finger at me.
I laughed and gulped the candy down exaggeratedly before chasing it with my Cosmo.
I sat between Lucy and Gretchen as Dani, maid of honor and official party planner, stood to raise her glass. “There will be no toast tonight because between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, I’m running out of material. Lucy is too good, and there aren’t enough naughty stories to go around. There’s only one decent one from high school, involving her bedroom window and a football jock named Jack, but I’m saving that for the big night.”
“Dani, no! You wouldn’t!” Lucy cried, her face a veritable bright red.
“I’m teasing, sis. That one isn’t nearly good enough for a wedding toast. Anyway, please raise your glasses for my non-toast, and let’s get this party underway.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married in two days,” Gretchen said to Lucy, leaning into my lap.
“Me neither. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll be glad when it’s over. It’s been so much work.”
“Yes, it has, but you’ve done an amazing job,” I reassured her. “Sunday is going to be beautiful.”
“It had better be,” she said. “What are you doing about a date, Gretch? You RSVP’d plus one, so you must bring a plus one.”
“Actually, I’m just going to bring John. Is that cool?”
“Of course! I love your brother.”
“Why don’t you have a date?” I asked skeptically.
“No reason,” she responded with a shrug.
“Hey, whatever happened with Brian?” I was embarrassed that I’d never asked about the date they’d gone on months ago.
“Who?”
“Brian Ayers. I introduced you at the magazine’s Meet & Greet.”
“Oh, that guy? No. Yuck.”
“Yuck? He’s hot. He’s like freaking Hemsworth hot, if you’re into blonds, which you are.”
“Agreed, but he’s a pretentious prick.”
“Oh,” I said with surprise. “I don’t think so at all.”
She shrugged. “Then you fuck him.”
Her roommates, Ava and Bethany, giggled from across the table, but I gave Gretchen a reproachful look.
“Who are you bringing, Dani?” Ava asked.
“This guy I’ve just started seeing,” she replied with a half-smile.
“He’s coming from Milwaukee?” Bethany asked.
“He lives here,” Lucy interjected. “You guys know him from my engagement party. David Dylan.” For the first time, our end of the table was silent, and I was sure they could all hear my heart drop. “It’s still new, which is why I didn’t mention it.”
Ava looked confused, but Bethany reminded her that he was ‘that tall, gorgeous hunk from that one restaurant’s soft opening’ before declaring that she was supremely jealous.
I fielded a sidelong glance from Gretchen. She and I hadn’t discussed David beyond the night I’d confessed my feelings to her. I hadn’t let our conversations go that way again. She didn’t know about what I’d done, but I hated that she knew anything at all.
“You . . . You lucky bitch,” Gretchen joked awkwardly. “I’ve had my eye on him for a while. How did that happen?”
Dani’s eyes brightened. “Well, I was in town last month for some wedding planning, and Lucy set us up. He took all of us on his sailboat, no big deal,” she said with a giddy grin.
“Can you imagine having David Dylan as a brother-in-law?” Lucy asked. “I’d never stop staring!”
“Hands off,” Dani kidded.
“I’m trying to convince Dani to move to Chicago, and this is part of my plan,” Lucy said proudly.
Dani rolled her eyes. “She acts like Milwaukee is another country.”
“You’re here all the time anyway,” Lucy pointed out.
I was spinning my wedding ring at the same pace that my mind was whirring. I glared at the girl across from me. She was Danielle officially, but insisted on being called Dani. She had Lucy’s dark brown hair and green eyes like mine. I had always been worried about Gretchen catching David’s attention with her blonde curls and Windex-colored eyes, but now David’s words from a few months back rang through my head: ‘I prefer brunettes with big, green eyes . . .’
“I’ll be honest, I thought David was something of a womanizer, but they’ve been out twice, and he hasn’t made any moves,” Lucy revealed.
“He’s such a gentleman,” Dani boasted.
Gentleman. My insides tightened at the term, and I gripped my thighs. He was no gentleman. He was rough and harsh and callous but tender and sweet and considerate. The adjectives flowed through me, and I bit my lip. He deserved someone like Dani, who was cute and spunky and most importantly—available.
“He’s flying back just to take her,” Lucy said, and everyone twittered.
“Where is he?” I asked hoarsely before I could stop myself.
“New York,” Dani answered as though the information was nothing. “He’s an architect, and he’s working on a project there. Originally he said he couldn’t make it because of work, which I thought was weird because it is Labor Day weekend, but he changed his mind all of a—”
“Excuse me,” I said, standing.
“Do you want company?” Gretchen asked, moving to get up.
I sighed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to run away and cry, but my self-preservation instincts kicked in. “No. I’m fine.” I gave them a big smile. “I’m going to call Bill and tell him I miss him.”
The table cooed harmoniously. Lucy nearly melted in her chair.
“What can I say, all this wedding talk has me feeling romantic.”
I made a show of retrieving my phone and went to stand outside in the warm night. Warm, yes, but I was cold. I was always cold to the bone lately. I didn’t call Bill as I had said but took a moment to collect myself. Dani. And David. Me. And Bill. It made perfect sense. I wondered if he had even considered how it might hurt me to hear that. Surely, after all this time, he didn’t consider my feelings anymore. Why should he?
And would it matter if he did? In the end, things were as they were supposed to be. Who was he to me? A mistake. A mark that could never be erased for the entirety of my marriage. Long after I will have forgotten him, he will remain a part of my past.
Long after I’ve forgotten him . . . When will that be? How much longer until I forget?
It felt like a lifetime had passed already since that night. But though I worked hard not to think of him, the way he’d made me feel persisted. When I was near him. When I watched him watch me. Kisses, whispers, sensations in the dark.
I looked up at the night sky for a long time. In moments like these, I longed to be back in the suburbs of Dallas, where I could lie in the backyard and blanket myself with millions of stars. Tonight there were few. So this is how it goes.
When a prick of light shot across the sky, leaving a faint silver streak in its path, I didn’t bother making a wish. I just turned and went back inside.
She was predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life or in death. I wondered how she didn’t even look vulnerable from that position; I wouldn’t have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she’d invited me out for a cocktail at Sunda.
But she didn’t. And eventually they eased the coffin closed and took her away. Back at their place, Mack did his best to turn the reception into a celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes was searing. It was unavoidable, even when I looked away. We left early.
Although my belief in the afterlife was dubious, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything—that I was a sinner, an adulterer and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.
“Did you look at the article yet?” Lisa, also known as my toxic co-worker, glared at me from the doorway of my office, arms crossed, lips drawn.
Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back into reality. “Which one?”
She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”
“It’s on your desk already.”
“Oh.” She pivoted and stalked away, revealing Serena behind her.
“She’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a warm smile. “And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . You get the idea.”
“Where did your hair go?” I asked.
“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut. What do you think?”
“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.
“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”
I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me ‘boss’ since her recent promotion from intern to assistant editor.
“The wedding?” she prompted uncertainly.
“Yes. Lucy has been planning her wedding for as long as I’ve known her, so it should be impressive.”
“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just like, so happy to be there. And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean—”
“Serena, I’m really swamped here.”
“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.
“It’s about the ‘Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes’ issue—”
“What?” I froze mid-keystroke.
“Well, um—I think we should do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m sure the people we featured like, went on dates and stuff. Maybe some even found relationships because of the article. We could even do, like, a teeny-tiny article in the mag next month.”
I shook my head rapidly. “No, that won’t work. Let’s try and come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”
“Oh, okay, cool. I like that too.”
She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn’t meant to shut her down, but I couldn’t risk a run-in with David Dylan: Bachelor Number Three. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
I had gotten lucky at the launch party for the “Most Eligible” issue two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event, the best in the magazine’s history. Except for David Dylan. I’d overheard Lisa say that he accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though she’d begged him. Knowing he was out of town was no more painful than knowing he wasn’t right next to me. He was gone forever, and the physical distance wouldn’t change that.
I couldn’t ignore his presence at the party, though. Despite his non-attendance, his smiling photo, which far outshone the other attendees’ pictures, was everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over David’s segment for me, and the way she’d styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear designer. He was all teeth and hard muscles in the three-piece suit Lucy had sold him. Clutching his jacket casually at his side, he was the definition of roguish businessman.
I’d given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing David’s spread. The wounds were too fresh. Even now, I still hadn’t had the heart, or the guts, to read about David Dylan: wealthy, charming and handsome Chicago bachelor. Every girl’s dream catch.
I got up and locked my office door, allowing myself a minute to lie down on the couch. I was thankful for my weighty sweater to block the blasting A/C unit above.
I’d told David I was black inside, but I was wrong. I hadn’t known it, but I was empty. And for one stolen moment, he had filled me with himself, physically and emotionally. Now I was black. Now I was poisoned. I was so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should have felt, it only came in fleeting waves.
I recalled his hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between my breasts . . . Just fucking stop, I pleaded with myself. I have to forget, please, I can’t do this anymore.
The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. The guilt was already a steady drip through my system, seeping into the cracks of my interior.
The ringing of the office phone shredded through my thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that never let me down, never judged or condemned me. I returned to my desk and hit the speakerphone button.
“What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s voice filled the office.
“Seven o’clock,” I said, wiggling my mouse to wake up the computer. “When is Andrew’s?”
“Same. Think you can get off a little early? I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.
“Yeah, can you?”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of backed up here.” I rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen.
“Please? I’m really excited.”
“All right,” I relented. “I can work through lunch.”
“I’ll pick you up downstairs at four, k? Love you.”
~
I waited downstairs for Bill on a street-facing concrete bench, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. When the car arrived at the curb, I could hear Bon Jovi on full volume: that was a good sign.
“Hey,” he said when I climbed in. “Ready for your surprise?”
“Yes.” Because I had promised myself to try harder, I took his hand.
He squeezed it. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit back and relax.”
As we discussed our impending parties, it became evident that we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It was when we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.
“Don’t get any grand ideas,” he warned.
Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause after Davena’s death. Now we were on the block of the last house we’d seen over three months before. I recalled the afternoon with our realtor Jeanine—the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery and the ensuing argument where he’d tried to convince me that we were ready for children. That house had sold though, he’d told me bitterly back in June. Unless it had fallen through, and . . . Oh, no. Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?
He pulled up to the same spot we had parked with Jeanine months before.
“Bill—”
“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with Jeanine for a while.” He wasn’t looking at the house we’d visited last time, though. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Gray stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw. The same endearing character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it.
“The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told her they’d be willing to sell it for a good price because of the poor shape. Since they rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”
I looked from Bill to the house. He had remembered my comments that day. To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is so thoughtful.”
“It would be a lot of effort, and we’d probably have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can’t stand to see you this way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes, then we’ll do it.” His voice was laced with sadness. I’d been punishing both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he was hurting.
I loved what he’d done for me, so I took his hand. “Let’s go see the inside.”
The interior was almost empty with the exception of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as Bill. The main room’s greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive, central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall separating the backyard.
The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step, and it was cold inside, but I could tell it must have been very warm once. Dust caked the surfaces and dead insects were scattered on the floor. I stepped into a decent-sized backyard that was overrun with weeds and in dire need of some attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rose bushes, a trickling fountain . . .
When I reentered the house, Bill was standing with his hands in his pockets. I watched as he inspected the stairway railing and kicked at a loose floorboard. The corners of his mouth tugged, suggesting a frown. I scanned the room around him. Honey-colored flooring would complement the warm light that flooded from antique lamps. Heavy, earthy furniture made of oak and aged leather would fill the open floor plan.
And, yet . . . something felt off, though I wasn’t sure what. The house had potential, and I was already wondering what it looked like in the early morning when the light was just starting to filter in. Still, I struggled to complete the picture.
“What do you think?” he asked.
I froze, and seconds passed; I could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe once we’d overhauled it and made it into the beautiful place I knew it could be, things would be different. They had to be. Bill had been right all along. It wasn’t going to be perfect right away or maybe ever. It would take time for it to feel like home. I took a step backward and pointed to the second floor. “Upstairs?”
I followed as he carefully climbed the noisy steps. The master bedroom, located at one end of the hall, was spacious—bigger than any others we had seen, which I knew would appeal to Bill. It had a large, unobstructed view of the backyard and a corner window on the opposite wall that faced the street.
He reported that there were two more rooms down the hall. I nodded, taking his words in but still studying him. “Can we afford it, really?”
“No,” he said honestly. “The house, yes. But I have no idea about the remodel. It’s outside our budget, I’m sure. It would mean cutting back on some things for a while.”
“Is this what you want?”
He squinted his eyes while his tongue ran over his front teeth. “I don’t know how I feel about taking on a project like this when we’re both so busy. But I really want to get out of the city, and I want you to love your new home.”
It was undoubtedly the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. I shifted, and a floorboard groaned beneath me. The bedroom was growing dark, and I blinked at his disappearing silhouette. “Okay,” I said. “Yes. Let’s do it.” I crossed the room and hugged him close for an overdue moment of intimacy. We walked to the stairs arm in arm before separating to descend.
~
“Open mine next.”
Lucy squealed with delight as she accepted the overstuffed party bag from Bethany, who had a playful gleam in her eye.
“Oh, my,” she groaned as she pulled out a pink, feathered tiara with the word Bachelorette branded across the front. We were ten girls at a noisy restaurant downtown, egging Lucy on as she unwrapped gifts between sips of her pink Cosmo.
“You’re wearing that now, and you’re wearing this too,” Dani said, placing a necklace with mini phallic-shaped candies around Lucy’s neck.
“Dani! It’s definitely inappropriate for my little sister to be draping me in penises.”
“It is perfectly appropriate,” Dani retorted, clearing a mass of brown, glossy ringlets from her shoulder.
I picked up a green gummy penis and popped it in my mouth before scrunching up my nose. “Sour apple,” I lamented. “Yuck.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Olivia Germaine. You will swallow that penis,” Gretchen scolded, waving a finger at me.
I laughed and gulped the candy down exaggeratedly before chasing it with my Cosmo.
I sat between Lucy and Gretchen as Dani, maid of honor and official party planner, stood to raise her glass. “There will be no toast tonight because between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, I’m running out of material. Lucy is too good, and there aren’t enough naughty stories to go around. There’s only one decent one from high school, involving her bedroom window and a football jock named Jack, but I’m saving that for the big night.”
“Dani, no! You wouldn’t!” Lucy cried, her face a veritable bright red.
“I’m teasing, sis. That one isn’t nearly good enough for a wedding toast. Anyway, please raise your glasses for my non-toast, and let’s get this party underway.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married in two days,” Gretchen said to Lucy, leaning into my lap.
“Me neither. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll be glad when it’s over. It’s been so much work.”
“Yes, it has, but you’ve done an amazing job,” I reassured her. “Sunday is going to be beautiful.”
“It had better be,” she said. “What are you doing about a date, Gretch? You RSVP’d plus one, so you must bring a plus one.”
“Actually, I’m just going to bring John. Is that cool?”
“Of course! I love your brother.”
“Why don’t you have a date?” I asked skeptically.
“No reason,” she responded with a shrug.
“Hey, whatever happened with Brian?” I was embarrassed that I’d never asked about the date they’d gone on months ago.
“Who?”
“Brian Ayers. I introduced you at the magazine’s Meet & Greet.”
“Oh, that guy? No. Yuck.”
“Yuck? He’s hot. He’s like freaking Hemsworth hot, if you’re into blonds, which you are.”
“Agreed, but he’s a pretentious prick.”
“Oh,” I said with surprise. “I don’t think so at all.”
She shrugged. “Then you fuck him.”
Her roommates, Ava and Bethany, giggled from across the table, but I gave Gretchen a reproachful look.
“Who are you bringing, Dani?” Ava asked.
“This guy I’ve just started seeing,” she replied with a half-smile.
“He’s coming from Milwaukee?” Bethany asked.
“He lives here,” Lucy interjected. “You guys know him from my engagement party. David Dylan.” For the first time, our end of the table was silent, and I was sure they could all hear my heart drop. “It’s still new, which is why I didn’t mention it.”
Ava looked confused, but Bethany reminded her that he was ‘that tall, gorgeous hunk from that one restaurant’s soft opening’ before declaring that she was supremely jealous.
I fielded a sidelong glance from Gretchen. She and I hadn’t discussed David beyond the night I’d confessed my feelings to her. I hadn’t let our conversations go that way again. She didn’t know about what I’d done, but I hated that she knew anything at all.
“You . . . You lucky bitch,” Gretchen joked awkwardly. “I’ve had my eye on him for a while. How did that happen?”
Dani’s eyes brightened. “Well, I was in town last month for some wedding planning, and Lucy set us up. He took all of us on his sailboat, no big deal,” she said with a giddy grin.
“Can you imagine having David Dylan as a brother-in-law?” Lucy asked. “I’d never stop staring!”
“Hands off,” Dani kidded.
“I’m trying to convince Dani to move to Chicago, and this is part of my plan,” Lucy said proudly.
Dani rolled her eyes. “She acts like Milwaukee is another country.”
“You’re here all the time anyway,” Lucy pointed out.
I was spinning my wedding ring at the same pace that my mind was whirring. I glared at the girl across from me. She was Danielle officially, but insisted on being called Dani. She had Lucy’s dark brown hair and green eyes like mine. I had always been worried about Gretchen catching David’s attention with her blonde curls and Windex-colored eyes, but now David’s words from a few months back rang through my head: ‘I prefer brunettes with big, green eyes . . .’
“I’ll be honest, I thought David was something of a womanizer, but they’ve been out twice, and he hasn’t made any moves,” Lucy revealed.
“He’s such a gentleman,” Dani boasted.
Gentleman. My insides tightened at the term, and I gripped my thighs. He was no gentleman. He was rough and harsh and callous but tender and sweet and considerate. The adjectives flowed through me, and I bit my lip. He deserved someone like Dani, who was cute and spunky and most importantly—available.
“He’s flying back just to take her,” Lucy said, and everyone twittered.
“Where is he?” I asked hoarsely before I could stop myself.
“New York,” Dani answered as though the information was nothing. “He’s an architect, and he’s working on a project there. Originally he said he couldn’t make it because of work, which I thought was weird because it is Labor Day weekend, but he changed his mind all of a—”
“Excuse me,” I said, standing.
“Do you want company?” Gretchen asked, moving to get up.
I sighed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to run away and cry, but my self-preservation instincts kicked in. “No. I’m fine.” I gave them a big smile. “I’m going to call Bill and tell him I miss him.”
The table cooed harmoniously. Lucy nearly melted in her chair.
“What can I say, all this wedding talk has me feeling romantic.”
I made a show of retrieving my phone and went to stand outside in the warm night. Warm, yes, but I was cold. I was always cold to the bone lately. I didn’t call Bill as I had said but took a moment to collect myself. Dani. And David. Me. And Bill. It made perfect sense. I wondered if he had even considered how it might hurt me to hear that. Surely, after all this time, he didn’t consider my feelings anymore. Why should he?
And would it matter if he did? In the end, things were as they were supposed to be. Who was he to me? A mistake. A mark that could never be erased for the entirety of my marriage. Long after I will have forgotten him, he will remain a part of my past.
Long after I’ve forgotten him . . . When will that be? How much longer until I forget?
It felt like a lifetime had passed already since that night. But though I worked hard not to think of him, the way he’d made me feel persisted. When I was near him. When I watched him watch me. Kisses, whispers, sensations in the dark.
I looked up at the night sky for a long time. In moments like these, I longed to be back in the suburbs of Dallas, where I could lie in the backyard and blanket myself with millions of stars. Tonight there were few. So this is how it goes.
When a prick of light shot across the sky, leaving a faint silver streak in its path, I didn’t bother making a wish. I just turned and went back inside.