Before and Ever Since (9781101612286) (15 page)

Kevin watched her, looking defeated as he usually did regarding her. They were so close once. When she was little and didn't have her own brain yet.

“Well, that went well,” he said to the retreating taillights.

“Kevin, what did you expect?” I said, walking out and away from the heat at my back. “You know how she gets when she feels cornered.”

“And why am I always the bad guy?” he said. “Why does she always feel like I'm cornering her? Why can't we just talk?”

“Because you don't just talk, Kev, you lecture. You tell her what she's supposed to do, instead of asking her what she's going to do.”

Kevin frowned. “She's twenty-one. She doesn't know what she's going to do.”

I remembered being twenty-one and clueless. And pregnant. Unable to balance a checkbook. That wasn't Cassidy. “Yes, she does. In fact, she knows herself better than we did at her age.”

“We were having
her
at her age,” he said, and it was everything I could do not to turn back and see if Ben was still there. “Our options went away. She's
throwing
hers away.”

“We have to trust her,” I said. “She's smarter than you're giving her credit for.”

“I know,” he said, looking at the sidewalk, then behind me. “Can I help you? Are you ever not here?”

I turned around to see Ben coming out the front door, keys in his hand, clearly leaving for the night. He hesitated a step to give Kevin a look, then moved it to me as if to tell me I was a moron for ever loving such a dipshit.

“Good night, Em,” he said, handing me an envelope. I remembered the papers.

“Oh—thank you. Forgot about that.”

Ben didn't respond, just walked to his truck. Kevin's face showed disgust and the urge to say something, but I cut him off.

“Good night, Kevin.” I went in the house to turn out the light and lock the door and found him still standing there when I shut it behind me. “What?”

“If we wouldn't have gotten pregnant—”

I groaned. “Oh, come on, it's late.”

“Just—I'm serious,” he said. “If all that wouldn't have happened, would you still have come back to me? Would you still have married me?”

I blew out a breath and decided not to play the game anymore. “No,” I said, and the word seemed to bounce around. “I would have gotten my archaeology degree and moved to Africa or Egypt or—somewhere.”

Kevin blinked, looking stunned. “Huh.” He turned and walked toward his car, very slowly.

I felt a little bad. “What would you have done, Kevin?”

He stopped but didn't turn around. “I don't know. Gone to college somewhere, then come back and married you. But I guess you would have been in Africa.”

“And you would have gone and gotten laid.”

He chuckled and resumed the journey to his car. “Yeah, probably so.”

•   •   •

I
WASN'T GOING TO RIDE IN
B
IG
B
LUE.
A
UNT
B
ERNIE,
H
OLLY,
Cassidy, myself, and my mother were dressed to go out, looking good, feeling good, and I wasn't about to ruin that by piling in a giant trailer.

Aunt Bernie was the one who'd brought it up, pointing out that we all had smallish cars and five people would be crowded. Holly eyed the monstrosity warily.

“I think we'll be just fine,” I said. “It's just across town, we won't be in the car long.”

“Seriously?” Cassidy said, looking like she was ready to burn up Manhattan instead of Main Street. She had on a tight little red dress that fell off one shoulder and was made to bring men to their knees. “Come on, Mom, it'll be a hoot!”

I stared her up and down. “Dressed like that, you want to drive around in a Smurf-mobile?”

“Hey!” Aunt Bernie said, hands on royal blue hips. Royal blue everything. It was evidently the color of the day. “You know, we can just leave your little butt here on the curb,” she said loudly.

I held up my hands. “Sorry. I just pictured a little nicer evening.” I gestured at Mom in her black pantsuit and pearls she wore to any nice event, and Holly in her little green dress that was eerily similar to my requisite little black dress, but made her hair look gorgeous. “I was told to dress nice for Mom's birthday.”

“And we are,” Cassidy piped in, linking arms with Aunt Bernie. I wanted to know what day she sold out to the other side, because I'd missed it. “And I think that makes it even more fun to ride around and make it a party bus.”

My mom laughed and turned around before she could get targeted.

“A party bus?” Holly said. “Have you ever been on a party bus?”

“As a matter of fact I have,” she said, crossing her arms. “And I think with the right
attitude
,” she said, throwing a glare my way, “we can make this whatever we want it to be. For Nana.”

“Oh, lord,” Holly mumbled, smoothing her dress and looking around as if people who knew her might be hiding in the trees.

“Mom, what do you want to do?” I asked.

She just grinned. “Anything that will get us going. I'm hungry.”

“Well, there you go,” Aunt Bernie said. “Let's get to The Grille.”

“The Grille?” Holly said quickly. “I thought we were going to Phillipe's?”

“Oh, hell no,” Cassidy said, laughing. “We'd never get reservations there, why'd you think that?”

“Be—cause of how you said to dress, I guess—” Holly said, trailing her words miserably as reality settled on her.

“Come on,” Cassidy urged. “Where's your sense of fun? We dress to the nines and make a splash, looking like movie stars going to eat burgers and nachos. Party it up with some beer and champagne on the bus, just like it was a limo.”

“Well, except that I'm driving it,” Aunt Bernie said.

“I can get Josh to come drive it, if you want,” Cassidy offered.

“Oh, good God, no,” Aunt Bernie said, patting her on the back. “Nobody drives Big Blue but me. He'd hit everything on the way.”

“And where will you park it?” Holly asked.

“I always find a way,” Aunt Bernie said, looking proud.

I looked at Holly, knowing it was inevitable. I was riding Big Blue.

“Okay,” I said, looping an arm around Cassidy's crazy head. “Let's do this.”

“Yay!” she squealed like a little girl.

We piled in one by one, and Aunt Bernie looked like a kid with a new puppy, showing us everything, pointing at the stereo and the TV and the microscopic kitchen. But I was a little distracted by the pink and purple shag carpet.

“Wow,” I said, sitting on an equally carpeted bench seat.

“Holy crap,” Mom said.

“Isn't it pretty?” Aunt Bernie said. “I just had it redone.”

I saw Holly's eyebrows raise and I felt mine go, too. “This is new?”

“Yeah, it was brown before, didn't you see it?” she said, and then waved a hand at my blank stare. “No matter. I got a great discount on the shag; it was a steal.”

“I'll bet,” Mom said, cutting her eyes at me on her way past. “I'm surprised they had so much of this color in stock.”

“Can you live in here?” I mumbled through my teeth so Aunt Bernie wouldn't hear. She was messing with things up front by then anyway.

“I'll need sunglasses,” Mom mumbled back.

“I think it's hysterical,” Cassidy said, spreading her arms out. “What a fun place to live.”

I looked at her. “You know I just told your dad how levelheaded you were, don't ruin it.”

“Don't worry, Mom,” she said with a wink. “I'd have blue carpet.”

“Joy.”

We settled in, felt the world tremble as Big Blue rumbled to life, and held on to whatever was next to us as Aunt Bernie lurched us away from the curb and away from sanity.

“Oh, Jesus,” Holly said, working her way up to a chair.

“So, do you know where The Grille is?” I called out.

“Not going there, yet,” Aunt Bernie called back. “Cass wants to make a pit stop first.”

“Pit stop?” Holly repeated, looking like we were going to throw her out. Or maybe she was hoping.

“Gonna get some beverages for the bus,” Cassidy said with a grin.

In looking at her, I realized I was officially old. I remembered being crazy and spontaneous and living for the fun, so I knew where she was. But she was trying to drag a couple of old farts and two more older farts along for the ride. Well, Holly was born old, so she was probably terrified. I think the rest of us at least had a memory of living it up.

“Why didn't you do that ahead of time?” I asked.

“More fun this way,” she said, looking out the window.

“Not for her to park this beast, it's not,” Mom said.

“Oh, it's fine,” Aunt Bernie said. “I'm used to squeezing in all kinds of places. Hold on, ladies, I'm turning in.”

She made a turn that included going over a curb and a parking divider, bouncing the whole lot of us a foot out of our seats before she came to a squeaky stop in front of a small convenience store.

Cassidy jumped up as the rest of us still held on to anything stable. “Okay, come on.”

“You go ahead,” Holly said, smiling.

“Let the clerk think you're a movie star,” I said.

She fluttered her eyes in a half roll and blew out frustration with all us old women as she yanked the door open and took her sparkly self in the store.

“That Cassidy is a firecracker, I'll tell you,” Aunt Bernie said, falling into her cackling laugh.

I scooped my hair back and let it fall. “Yeah—she's something, all right.”

“Poor guy in there probably thought he was being invaded,” Holly said, peeking through a window.

“How you doing back there, birthday girl?” Aunt Bernie yelled, looking through the rearview mirror instead of turning around.

Mom gave a thumbs-up and a cheesy smile. “I'm good.”

I laughed, and even Holly snickered.

“Got it!” Cassidy sung as she stepped back up into Big Blue. “Wine coolers for Aunt Bernie and Nana, champagne for Aunt Holly, and light beer for me and Mom.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, reaching for one.

“Drink up, ladies,” Cassidy said. “Let's get a little fun juice in us before we go eat.”

“Holy shit, doodlebug, you're gonna get your nana drunk, girl,” Mom said. “I haven't eaten all day.”

“Oh, here, I got some snacks, too.”

She pulled a bag of pretzels out of the bag. I had the feeling it was going to be a long night of twenty-one-year-old energy. God help us all.

CHAPTER

13

T
HE BEER HELPED.
T
HE WINE COOLERS THAT
I
ASSISTED
A
UNT
Bernie in drinking helped, too. Holly even stooped from drinking champagne to wine coolers and was kicked back with her bare feet up on a table, looking more relaxed than I'd seen her—ever. I almost hated that her husband was missing it, but then again he might not have recognized her.

We kind of stopped worrying where Aunt Bernie was driving to, because it just seemed to not stop, and it was easier if we didn't look. Mom sat cross-legged on the bed, surrounded in wall-to-wall pink and purple, and grinning like a fool. She really needed more than pretzels. Cassidy looked the most normal, but then she was young and most likely just getting started.

I imagine that we looked like some sort of mutant aging girl band, filing out of the giant powder blue Winnebago that Aunt Bernie took up half The Grille parking lot to fit in.

“We should make a bathroom run first,” I said, feeling pretty sure that my makeup at that point was probably as blurry as my brain.

“Good idea,” Holly said, following me.

Cassidy stayed behind with Mom and Aunt Bernie, who either didn't care or firmly believed they still looked spiffy. Cassidy still did. I sighed as I envied her that. Holly and I were old enough to know we were faded and young enough to be vain about it.

We weaved a little as we hit the bathroom, and I laughed as I saw Holly's smile.

“You're so smiley,” I said. “Look at you.”

She stared at herself in the mirror like she was studying a painting. “I am. Huh.”

“You look good like that,” I said, cleaning up my eyeliner that had bled down a bit. “Should do it more often.”

“I would need wine coolers for that,” she said, chuckling. “And they're too fattening.”

I gave her a look that I realized took my eyes a smidge too long to do. “I think you have the room.”

I fixed everything else while I was there. Hair, powder, blush, lip gloss for a bit of sparkle. Holly repainted her lips like it was for a grade. And then we walked out like Charlie's Angels, minus the blonde and the guns and the bell-bottoms.

Cassidy already had a tall table snagged, and Mom and Aunt Bernie were settled in with a basket of chips and some salsa.

“Didn't know your drink orders,” Cass said. “We got beer.”

“Beer's good,” Holly said, making me raise my eyebrows at her. “What?” she said, looking defensive. “I'm not anti-beer.”

“Since when?” Mom chimed in.

“I just—prefer other things,” she said. “But I can drink a beer.”

“Whoo-hoo!” I hollered—maybe a bit too loud. “Holly has converted. She's one of us.”

“Oh, whatever,” she said, but the glow and smile on her face were evident.

Probably just hearing those words sobered her up enough to make that smile authentic. I'd never thought about it before, but the buzz clarified some simple things. Like the fact that Holly had rarely fit in with anyone. She always kept herself so perfect that no one could qualify.

We ate, we drank, we ate some more, the beers slowed down. Aunt Bernie sweet-talked the elderly manager about leaving her home on wheels in the parking lot overnight so she didn't have to drive and we could all just walk the few feet to crash. I was surprised that he went for it, but I think she threw in some of my mother's catering ability for free. And there was the strong possibility that he liked the bright blue fingernails and eye shadow, as he kept looking at them with fascination.

There was an eighties theme going on at the jukebox or sound system or whatever the heck they had there. Cassidy dragged me and my mother out for a three-generation dance combo.

“I have pictures,” Holly whispered in my ear when we got back to the table, giggling like fools.

“Your ass should have been out there,” I whispered back.

“I'm not that drunk,” she said, laughing.

My mom was having a great time, I noticed, and I winked at Cassidy when she caught my eye. She'd done good, planning this for her. And it was perfect—the crazy combo of dressing up and partying down. We'd just had to relax to realize it. My baby actually knew what she was doing, and I made a mental note to stop making her prove it.

Then the air changed. I was laughing hysterically about something, grazing on cake the manager had brought to my mom with great fanfare, when I saw Ben stroll up to the table.

The cake went solid in my stomach like concrete, and Holly nudged me.

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

“Happy birthday,” he said, going straight to my mother and giving her a big hug.

“Aw, thank you, Ben,” she said, instantly glowing. My lord, he could light up anything female.

He thumbed behind him. “I saw the—party machine—out there, figured there couldn't be two of them.”

Cassidy beamed and wiggled a little in her seat. “Told you—party bus!”

He laughed, looking at her, and patted her shoulder as he stood just to her left. “You did good, Cass.”

My chest started to feel heavy with anxiety over that scene, so I gripped my not-so-cold-anymore mug for grounding.

“So, how's the party, ladies?” he said, looking around at each one of us, landing on me last. I felt it all the way to my toes.

“Fantastic,” Aunt Bernie said, her voice beginning to sound normal. I wondered about that. Was it normal or had I just heard it for too long? “You should join us.”

“Oh,” I choked and then coughed on it as Cassidy gave me a funny look. “I'm sure Ben doesn't want to hang with a bunch of drunk women.”

Even as I said it, I caught the amusement in his eyes as I realized that's exactly what most men want. Granted, one was too young and two were too old, so it probably lessened the likelihood.

He chuckled at my discomfort and held up one hand as he rested the other one on Cassidy's shoulder. “That's all right, I'm just picking up some dinner and going back home. Y'all have fun.”

“Look at you two,” Aunt Bernie said, leaning toward Mom for a better angle. “You could come from the same gene pool with those eyes.”

Everything ignited from my chest up to my scalp. The worst observation that could possibly be made was coming out in front of everyone. Ben. Cassidy. The whole freaking world. Holly grabbed my leg under the table and I felt her nails dig in. I welcomed it. It reminded me that I hadn't stopped breathing yet.

Cassidy giggled and leaned into him, batting her eyes and making me want to erupt from my chair.

She twisted to look up at him. “Are you my long-lost, crazy Uncle Ben?” she said, laughing and including the table with it.

He shook his head as if we were all nuts, and laughed. “I doubt it. Y'all behave.”

He walked to the bar and placed his order as the bass from some random song vibrated through my bones. I felt like I'd been made. I couldn't even look at Cassidy, it was as if my gaze was glued to the napkin holder in front of me. It was chrome and shiny with smears and scratches in the surface, and I could see my reflection. It fit, I thought. The smears and scratches.

“Honey, you okay?” I heard my mother say next to me.

“Uh-huh,” I said, on autopilot. I stabbed at a piece of cake with my fork, noticing the tremble, and shoved it in my mouth for movement.

“That man is so good-looking,” Aunt Bernie said, shaking her head slowly. “Whew. How he's still single is beyond me.”

“Oh, he's hot,” Cassidy said, laughing at the look her comment brought from me, which I guess was the magic that spurred life back into my nerves. “What?”

“Please—don't say that,” I said, trying to act casual without giving even more of my fraudulent self away.

“Why?” she said, snatching cake off Mom's plate. “He's a hot older guy, I can notice that.” She licked her fingers and winked at me. “As far as that goes, I wouldn't be against an older guy if they looked like Ben.”

I could feel the nachos roll around in my stomach and turn to something like battery acid. I had to keep it cool. I had to keep it cool.

“Well,” I began, on some crazy kind of screeching note. I cleared my throat. “Twice your age is a little more than
older
so let's take it down a decade, shall we?”

Cassidy laughed. I laughed. Holly and Mom and Aunt Bernie laughed. And I fantasized about pouring ice cubes down my dress.

“Oh, I don't think there is any question who our little Ben has an interest in, anyway,” Aunt Bernie said, sitting back in her chair like the cat who chowed on the canary.

“Little Ben?” I said, feeling a tiny bit of relief seep into my veins now that he'd left the table. “Really?”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Cassidy said.

“What?” I said, looking back and forth at them.

Cass scoffed. “Mom, it's obvious you and Ben have sparks.”

“Sparks?” I said on a laugh, fanning myself with a paper menu.

“Please, they have lightning bolts,” Mom said, and I focused a please-shut-up smile at her. “You do!” she continued. “You should see the two of you in the same room together.”

“I think y'all had something way back when,” Cassidy said, her voice all mysterious and her face taking on an expression like something was about to get juicy.

Holly ordered another round of beers, probably to change the subject, but it didn't work. Regardless, I was immensely grateful.

“No, no,” I said, trying to make light. “Ben and I were just—best friends.”

“Mm-hmm,” Cassidy said, widening her eyes. “Josh is my best friend, too.”

I opened my mouth to once again play the whole thing down, when I heard the beginning simple piano notes. And my skin lit on fire.

•   •   •

I
CLOSED MY EYES AS THE CHORDS SUNK INTO MY SKIN.

“No, no, no,” I said, “he didn't.”

I felt Holly twist around to look. “He didn't,” she agreed, leaning into me. “He's at the bar looking as beat up as you do—but he's coming. This song mean something?”

“Oh—probably—”
You picked me up from off the floor . . .

I felt his hand on my shoulder at the same time his mouth was next to my opposite ear. “I think I owe you a dance.”

Just the vibration against my ear was enough to render my knees useless. “It's—you don't have to—”

“Please don't shoot me down in front of everyone,” he whispered again.

I let out a little nervous laugh that allowed me to take a few breaths and slid from my stool without making eye contact with any of my table mates. Least of all, Cassidy. I don't think I could have made it to the dance floor if I'd looked at her.

I was doing good just to walk with my hand in his, as he led me out there. I stared at it all the way till he picked a spot in the very center and turned to pull me to him, at which point I made it to his face. And that was my downfall.

The lights were knocked down to nearly nothing, and his face was inches from mine as he decided on the make-this-count route and zeroed out the space between us. I was so close that I could feel his breathing get faster, and his eyes even in the dark let down every wall. In that instant, there was no unexplained anger, no arrogance, no distance. No words spoken, even. I thought we'd try to ease the awkwardness with dumb conversation, but suddenly there was nothing necessary to say. At that moment, we were who we used to be. As he pressed my hand against his chest and moved his other hand up to the base of my neck, we moved together as one and there was no bad history or tension or sadness.

The music, the words talking about meeting your soul mate, that person that becomes your best friend, your lover, the one you want and need and love—it sank into me like lead. I felt the weight of it as his eyes wouldn't blink. As he held me tighter and his face got closer, until finally both arms were around me, one up in my hair, and I buried my face in his neck and hugged him to me as tightly as I could. It was the music and the dark, I decided. It was like being outside at night, where we knew how to be. We knew that world. The need I felt for him was overwhelming, and I was aware of the trembling that I assumed was from me but we were so intertwined it was hard to tell. I knew the song was coming to an end, and somewhere in the back recesses of my mind I knew reality was about to descend and other people that I couldn't recall names of at that moment were about to reenter my life. But right then, I would have given just about anything for that song to go on long loop and play over and over again.

If ever a man had it all, it would have to be me. Because ooooh . . . I love you . . .

It was over. Another song started to play, and it was another slow song, but it was as if we both knew we only had the one. Or was it just me? Had I imagined his response, his reactions? Had it been just a dance for him? I kept my eyes closed as I loosened my hold, and I felt his hands move slowly from my back up to cradle my face. That's when I realized he was shaking, too. It wasn't just me.
It wasn't just me.
His lips were warm and soft on my forehead for one lingering second, and then I opened my eyes and looked up into his—and my chest felt like a bear sat on it.

His face looked so torn between sad and happy, frustrated and content. In the dark, I could still see the emotion in his eyes that looked like I felt.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said, his voice hoarse.

I couldn't say anything. He backed away and then turned to head to the bar, where a steaming bag of something awaited him. I felt a familiar ache as I watched him pick it up and walk away, nodding to the women at my table on his way out. I felt numb, like he'd taken everything I had with him. Again.

That's what it was, I realized. It was the same empty, sick, horrible feeling I had after we'd made love all night and then he'd left me. Something I never wanted to feel again. My God, I was twenty-one all over again.