by B. E. Baker
When I stand up, she breathes a relieved sigh and spreads out on the sofa, continuing to watch the show. I blow her a kiss when I’m far enough away it won’t distress her. “Thanks for a great Saturday, Mom.”
20
Trig
I stare out the window at the surf for so long I’m late.
But I don’t sit around and mope. That’s not who I am. If Geo wants to leave, she can leave. I’m not going to make her sign paperwork she doesn’t want to, and I’m not going to force her to love me back. I’m not that pathetic yet, thank goodness.
The stabilizing tech is as good as they promised. I catch some of the best waves of my life off the North Shore that day. Until I catch one that’s a little too big out past the reef.
I’m knocked under and roll over several times, trying to relax through it like I’ve been taught. My shin catches a rock or some coral and pain rips through me. I’m numb enough from this morning that it doesn’t phase me as much as it normally would, but when I head back for shore, blood trails behind me.
Derek, one of the developers, swears when he sees me. “Oh man, we’ve got to get you to the hospital, like stet.”
“I think it’s stat,” I say.
He presses a towel against my shin and helps me into his jeep. “Keep pushing on that, okay?”
The beach towel’s almost entirely soaked in red where I’ve been squeezing it by the time we reach the Wilcox Emergency Room. One of the early nurses peels back the towel and shudders. I look down at the six inch gash. I really tagged myself this time.
“We’ll get you right back.” She wraps my leg with gauze and compression bandages, ostensibly to slow the bleeding until I can get stitches. Derek’s boss drops off my bag with my phone right as they’re showing me into a room.
“I’m sorry you wiped out,” Cliff says. “But those were some epic waves this morning.”
I force a grin that I hope doesn’t look as horrifying as I feel. “They were. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from us soon, although I may send you this bill.”
Cliff addresses the doc before he leaves. “Cheapest care possible for this guy, you got it? Like Band-Aids and Kleenex should be fine. Apparently I’m paying.”
The ER doctor’s putting in stitches when Brekka calls.
I answer. “Hello?”
“How did it go? You didn’t call or text or anything. Did you get a ring? Does she like it?”
“Well,” I say. “Let’s review. I got her a ring. She gasped. ‘Oh, Trig,’ and then she gushed, ‘this is just gorgeous’.”
“I’m so glad she liked it.”
“And then,” I say, “she—ouch! Watch it down there.”
The ER doc shakes her head. “No phones allowed, Mr. Thornton, but you don’t see me complaining.”
“Wait, where are you?” Brekka asks.
I sigh. “I hit a rock and I’m in the ER.”
“Not again,” she says. “How bad is it?”
“How bad is it, doc?” I ask.
“Seventeen centimeter laceration, two centimeters deep. Two layers of stitches. Should be okay to walk on regularly within two days, fine to resume normal activities within a week. I’ll write you for Vicodin if you want some.”
“Why do you act so stupid?” Brekka asks. “I bet you didn’t take it easy at all. I’m sure Geo’s upset.”
“Geo’s not even here.” My voice sounds flat and hard, even to me.
“What? What’s going on, B?”
Oh you know. Mom and her stupid paperwork ruined everything, as usual. “Geo saw the prenup and completely freaking freaked out. I swear, I stood there and like spluttered. She called Ethan and bailed. Headed home on a commercial flight—” I glance at the clock. “About now.”
“Hold the phone,” she says.
“Uh, it’s in my hand.”
“Smart aleck. I mean, wait up. That can’t be the whole story. What did she say exactly?”
I close my eyes. “She might have asked me why I proposed and implied that I did it to like claim her or something. In that regard, nice suggestion on the huge ring. She called it a shackle, I think.”
Brekka sighs. “Did you tell her all the reasons you loved her?”
“No, I told her I only proposed to pee on her so the other dogs would leave her alone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind. This whole day has royally sucked. Look, she wouldn’t listen when I said I didn’t care about the prenup.”
“The timing was bad, but she would have had to sign it eventually,” Brekka says.
“I know! I told her I didn’t want it, but she had to at some point.”
“Okay,” Brekka says. “Focus. What really upset her?”
“She felt like she wasn’t valuable, I think. Maybe.”
“She said that?”
“She got all worked up that she had to list her assets. She said all she has is a lot of credit card debt from her many, many manicures.”
“That’s funny,” Brekka says.
“Right?” I miss her scowls, her jokes, her sparkling eyes. “But then she also said she wants to have peach cobbler at our wedding—” I close my eyes. And I told her that her dad was worthless for dying penniless, leaving her holding the bag with her mom.
“Hello? Trig? I feel like I’m losing a lot in translation here.”
I groan. “I kind of insulted her family.”
“No you didn’t. That’s not like you. You’re never mean. How could you have even done that? Do you even know them?”
“I met her mom,” I admit. “In a nursing home.”
“How old is she?” Brekka asks. “Why’s her mom in a nursing home?”
“Her mom had her late, I gather, and she has early onset Alzheimer’s. And her dad died of cancer. Her mom’s like super nice, but Brekka. It was hard to see Geo in there. She obviously misses her, and she’s only twenty-six and caring for her mom alone.”
“You screwed up big time.”
I know. “I don’t think I can fix it.” A tear slips down my face, and it’s not from the pain of the stitches or the throbbing in my leg.
“You can’t make it worse, I don’t think,” Brekka says. “At least that’s something. Let’s review. She’s upset you want a prenup because it makes her feel worthless, and what else?”
“She’s mentioned that I want to take risks and she’s already gone splat,” I say. “I think she hates the skydiving and skiing and surfing and dirt bikes.”
“I get that.”
“What do you mean you get that?” I ask.
“I hate it too.”
I almost drop the phone. “Uh, you’re the reason I do all that stuff in the first place.”
“That makes no sense, B. What are you even talking about? I sit in this stupid chair biting my nails to the quick every time you’re on one of your dumb trips.”
“After the accident.” I clear my throat. “After I paralyzed you, I sat around with you, day in and day out, resolved not to do anything you couldn’t.”
“Right,” she says. “Because you stupidly blamed yourself for that semi-driver who had a heart attack. No one else faulted you, but you took the blame on yourself anyway.”
“The point is, you made me promise to do every single thing you couldn’t. To live life to the fullest. I can’t quit.” I pause. Brekka bites her nails to the quick? I’m not living for her, I’m causing her distress?
When she doesn’t reply, I ask, “I can’t quit living for you, doing the things you can’t, right?”
“I meant go ski or run marathons, or whatever athletic dreams you have. I didn’t mean you should fling yourself out of planes, you moron. Have you even seen what our corporate life insurance policy on you costs, thanks to your idiotic activities?”
“You always come watch when you’re close. You take photos, and when you aren’t around, you make me describe every second to you, in detail.”
She practically yells into the phone. “I’m trying to be s
upportive, dummy. I can barely get to the bathroom to pee by myself. I don’t want to be the person no one can talk to about the fun things they do, but you’re next level and I hate watching it. I’m constantly terrified you’ll die, or worse, end up paralyzed like me.”
She thinks being paralyzed is worse than dying? Then why not risk the surgery? Why not chance getting better? I almost press her on it, but then I remember what Geo said. It’s Brekka’s life to live. “Well, maybe telling her I won’t do stupid stuff anymore will help her feel better about not going splat.”
“Unless she’s worried about her heart going splat,” Brekka says quietly. “She may have meant it metaphorically.”
My sister’s a friggin’ genius.
“And there may be one more thing,” I say. “She said if we sign a prenup, I’ll basically be following Mom and Dad’s path to misery. Do you think that’s true?”
Brekka sighs. “I’m on your side with this one. I mean, what other choice do we have? All the family money is in there. It’s not like you’re asking her to sign it. And you’re not our father, so you should be fine.”
Brekka’s not precisely correct, and when that occurs to me, so does a solution. And the more I think about it, the more it feels like shackles have fallen away from me and I can spread my wings and take flight. For maybe the first time ever.
“Geo hates Valentine’s Day and that’s a real shame,” I say. “Do you think there’s enough time to get this done before then?”
“Get what done?” Brekka asks me.
I tell her.
“I don’t know. Are you sure you want to do that? It’s drastic, and maybe irreversible.”
“I’ve never been more positive.” Now that I’ve had the idea, it’s like I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m doing this as much for me as for Geo. I can’t follow Mom and Dad’s blueprint to never-ending purgatory. I need to forge my own path, and this is the only way out of the Thornton maze.
“I hope this isn’t a mistake,” Brekka says. “Because I don’t think you can unwind it.”
“I don’t think I’d ever want to. I only wish I’d thought of this years ago.”
“Trig, if we’re wrong and she doesn’t really love you, or if Valentine’s is the wrong day to spring this on her…”
Brekka’s always right, but Geo mentioned the day herself. And my job from day one, even if I didn’t know it then, has always been to heal what Mark broke when he died. I may as well fix it on the same day it shattered.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell Brekka. “I have a lot of calls to make.”
21
Geo
I call Rob the second I reach my car.
“Geo?”
My throat closes off and I don’t know how to thank him. Rob offered to pay the Phineas Trial fee a hundred times, and I told him no every time. Pride’s a funny thing. I’ve never been so glad someone overrode my explicit commands in my life.
“I just left the Terrace.” I break down into sobs.
“Geode, are you there? Is everything okay? I’m walking to my car now.”
“No,” I choke out. “I’ll be okay, really. I promise.”
“Did you say you were at the Terrace?” he asks.
“Yeah. I had to call to say thank you. Thank you a million times over.”
“Umm, I hate to do this, but I need to ask why you’re thanking me.”
I inhale deeply. He doesn’t know why I’m thanking him, and he knows I’ve been to see my mom. “I got my money together too late. Mom got declined for the Phineas Trial.”
“I know. You told me.”
“But today I got a call. Someone got her in, and she had her first injection today.”
“What?” Rob asks. “How?”
Maybe he’s covering, afraid I’ll be mad. “I’m so grateful, Rob. You don’t have to pretend you had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m not trying to be modest here, or keep you from being mad. I wish I’d been confident enough to do it now, seeing how well it’s worked out, but it wasn’t me, G. I swear.”
I close my eyes and lean my head against the steering wheel. “It wasn’t?”
“Nuh uh. If I were you, I’d call my mega rich fiancé. Maybe he did it.”
“We broke up,” I whisper.
“Oh G. I’m sorry.”
His pity galvanizes me. “It couldn’t have been him, Rob. It must have been a mix-up or something. Which means when they come asking me for the money, I may need a loan. It was a hundred and fifty grand, and Luke and Mary prepaid the first hundred. I have a little over twenty saved, but I don’t get that bonus until the end.”
“I’ve always been happy to pay for all of it,” Rob says. “I told you months ago.”
I know, and I don’t deserve him. “I remember, but it’s not a gift. It’s a loan.”
“Understood. I’ll bring a check over later today. Name the amount.”
I can’t see him, not right now. I just can’t. “I’ll drop by the dealership next week. We need to go over the details of your Casino night anyway.”
“I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with that guy, but I’m glad you’re out there again. Even if it’s not with me.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up and lean back in my seat, completely emotionally drained. When I get home, I look over the paperwork I filled out and dial the number from my initial application. I get an answering machine, so I guess I’ll have to call back Monday.
I want to call Trig. I should call him and ask.
I pick up my phone but before I dial, I pull up our photo. His smile is so boyish, so kind. I want to get back to this again, but I don’t know whether I can. My heart contracts and I put the phone back down. I’ll call him tomorrow. I won’t feel so wrung out then.
Except on Sunday, Paisley comes over and insists on taking me shopping. “You need to get out of this condo,” she says. “And since you just got a manicure, we’re going shopping.”
She makes me go to a movie too, and Rob meets us. When he sits next to me, it feels surprisingly normal. He passes me a check when the movie ends. “I’m really glad your mom got enrolled, no matter how it came about.”
“Me too.” I hug him and it’s like coming home. I hope Rob can forgive me for not loving him the way he loves me, because I need him in my life.
“Ice cream?” The smile Paisley turns on me looks glued on.
“I don’t think I can handle any more forced happiness today,” I say.
“Forced? Pah. I’m an absolute delight,” Paisley says. “Don’t take my word for it. Lots of people have told me that.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t use my own words against me.”
“I absolutely can, and I will,” Pais says. “Best friend prerogative.”
“Fine,” I say. “Ice cream in January. Why not?”
At least we have the place to ourselves.
“I heard from Ethan today,” Paisley says. “You guys remember him?”
Rob grunts. He never liked Ethan or the rest of our college friends much. “What did he want?”
“He says he bumped into the fair Geo a few days ago.”
“In Hawaii.” I lick my mint ice cream. “He actually picked me up from the beach house right after I dumped Trig.”
“Was his hair perfectly coiffed into an effortless surfer do?” Rob asks. “And his shirt unbuttoned about three buttons too far?”
As someone with a very solid, very defined chest that’s always covered under a layer of fabric unless he’s actively swimming, it annoys Rob when other guys flaunt their muscles.
“His hair looked exactly the same as it always has. Maybe a tiny bit blonder from all the Hawaiian sun. And he didn’t ask me a single question or make things worse in any way. He was utterly professional at work, and entirely gentlemanly the rest of the time. He even offered me an amazing deal for Mary and Luke’s wedding.”
“Fine, maybe he’s not so bad,” Rob says. “Sometimes people improve w
ith age.”
“I was kind of excited when he texted,” Paisley says. “I always liked him, you know.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know that. Seriously? Ethan?”
“He only ever had eyes for you, though. I love you, G, but sometimes it sucks being Watson.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Sherlock Holmes’ best friend.”
“Oh please,” I say. “You’re exaggerating.”
Rob shakes his head. “Not really.”
I throw a balled up napkin at him.
“You guys are making me feel better, and I appreciate it, but Ethan was just being nice. He felt sorry for the bird with the broken wing. That’s all.”
Paisley whips out her phone. “You think so, huh?” She turns her phone around so we can read the screen.
The text chain looks like this:
Ethan: I SAW GEODE YESTERDAY. SHE’S AS GORGEOUS AS EVER. THEN SHE CALLS AND NEEDS A RIDE ON A COMMERCIAL FLIGHT HOME. ALONE. ALL TRAGIC LOOKING. NOW I’M TRYING TO CONVINCE MYSELF I SHOULDN’T GO BEAT THE %&*# OUT OF THAT TRIG. WHAT HAPPENED?
Paisley: I DON’T KNOW EXACTLY. SHE SAYS IT’S HER FAULT THOUGH, SO MAYBE DON’T KNOCK HIM OUT YET.
Ethan: I’M COUNTING ON YOU TO TELL ME WHEN SHE’S OVER IT. I’LL BE ON THE NEXT PLANE TO ATLANTA. THAT GUY’S AN IDIOT. BUT HIS LOSS…
Paisley flips her phone back around. “So, Sherlock, what were you saying exactly?”
But I don’t love Ethan. And I ruined everything with the guy I do love. I burst into tears, and embarrassingly, I can’t stop for several minutes.
Rob offers to take me home, but I think he’s relieved when Paisley insists on driving me.
I appreciate my friends’ efforts, but it’s time for me to face the firing squad.
I try to call, but my fingers shake so hard when I try to call that I can’t press the button. I text Trig instead.
DID YOU ENROLL MY MOM IN THE PHINEAS TRIAL?
When he doesn’t reply right away, I want to curl up in a fetal ball and die. What if he’s on a date? What if he thinks he dodged a bullet?
I force myself up off the floor. It’s only six p.m. I will not sit around staring at my phone. I put on my workout leggings and the jacket I haven’t worn in ten days and plug my phone into the wall. I probably shouldn’t go on a run in the early evening without my phone, but I have to get away from it. Leaving it feels safer than running with it.
