by Kate Swain
“Hey, man,” he greeted me. He seemed somewhat shy. I frowned.
“What happened?” I asked, trying for a friendly tone. “Did you fight me?”
He frowned at me, then laughed hesitatingly. “No,” he said, “not that I remember.”
“You do remember, don’t you?”
He frowned at me again, more worried, and I realized how urgent my voice sounded. I was worried now. It had been a long time since I had been so drunk that I had no idea what I’d done. The fact that some unknown woman had also been in my house was another concern.
Adam said, “I remember everything. And we didn’t fight. So, you can relax there at least.” Adam shook my hand. I took his hand, grateful for learning a little something about last night.
“Adam,” I said lightly. “I don’t remember anything. Nothing at all.” I hoped that he couldn’t hear how worried I was. I saw his face change.
“Nothing?” he asked. He looked worried.
“Nothing,” I said. I cleared my throat, my voice somewhat tight. “After my first beer, I have no memories of anything until this morning’s terrible hangover. I really don’t have any recollection of anything.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Well you’ll probably be sad you forgot. I remember that the guys from the dealership joined us. They’re the ones who bought you several beers. And Addison joined us…” he said, giving me a knowing look.
“Addison…” I trailed off. I thought I realized what he meant. I stared at him. “Addison was there—so what happened with her?”
He grinned. “Tell me you don’t remember! You know what she did? You drove her home.”
“I didn’t, I couldn’t of,” I whispered.
I remembered something about driving, or not being able to drive. I couldn’t believe it. Had she driven me home? And then? Had she stayed with me? I had no idea. All I knew was that I woke up on the couch, and if I had gotten up to do anything, I had managed to do it there. And without being undressed.
I was positive I hadn’t done anything more than sleep.
“I don’t know, brother,” he said, giving me a playful shove. “I can’t believe it!”
“Can’t believe I don’t remember anything from last night?” I asked shyly.
“Yeah! Hell! Some guys would give ten years to be able to attract women like you do! And then you don’t even remember anything?” He looked at me like he could not believe what he was hearing.
I looked away. I didn’t know if I should tell him that I hadn’t done anything, that I had spent the night totally unconscious and dressed, leaving Addison completely untouched? But what would he think? And, if that was the case, what was up with those white undies?
“It’s a good day,” I said, carefully changing the subject. I looked through the window, focusing on the distant landscape. It was windy, but seemed like it would get warm. I wanted to think about something else—my own life was way too convoluted.
“Come on, man!” Adam laughed. “You really want to talk about the weather? Not about your evening adventure?”
“Adam, stop it,” I snapped.
“Okay, I will,” he said quickly. “We can talk about the weather if you want.” He looked genuinely disappointed.
“I do,” I grunted. I looked down at my coffee. “And maybe,” I added, feeling my stomach tighten sickeningly, “we can eat something.”
Adam nodded. “You feel pretty sick now?”
I gave him a look. “You have no idea.”
He laughed and I found myself laughing too. I felt better now that I knew what had happened. I wished he knew that I hadn’t done anything, because I really hadn’t. I was sure of it and I was sure that I didn’t want Addison last night.
We ate and I found the residue of my headache alleviated. I could more clearly focus now, and I looked out through the window, trying to decide what to do later. It was a nice day, and since I had the day off, I was thinking about taking a ride. I frowned at Adam.
“Should we go?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m okay,” he said. “What are you doing, today?”
“I don’t know,” I conceded. “Maybe I’ll go for a ride. Want to come?”
“You sure you should go?” he frowned at me. “I mean, you’re still a mess?”
I laughed. “I feel better now. Eating helped.”
Adam laughed and said, “Sure, I’d like to come along. I found a new route we could follow, up to the hills. It’s a nice ride with some mean straight sections.”
“Straight sections?” I stared at him. “What kind of crazy likes straights? I like turns and curves.”
“You would,” Adam grinned. “You like curvy things.”
I made a face. “Listen, I’m not like I was.” The fact that he still saw me as some kind of playboy bothered me. I had grown out of that mentality. I didn’t like using people and I found more fulfilment in life doing my job and helping people than stroking my ego.
“Sure,” Adam grinned. “That’s why you party hard.”
I made a face. “Okay, fine. I still party hard. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, but I could tell he did not hear me and how I was changed. My playboy days were over.
I stood and put on my coat, following him out into the day. It was cold out, and I found myself stepping back and forth on my boots to warm up while I waited for Adam to use the toilet. We planned to go to my place to get my things.
“Hey,” Adam said, frowning at me. “Was Maddy here?”
“What?” I asked. I stared at him. The diner wasn’t too far away from his place, but I had no idea if his sister would have been here. I felt sick.
What if she’d seen us? She would have gotten the wrong impression. I looked around.
“How do you know she was here?” I asked, feeling myself tense.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, gesturing with a nod at the building. “Leo, the guy who was helping out at the desk, just said he’d seen her pick-up.”
“Oh?” I felt better. Maybe Leo, whoever he was, had made a mistake. After all, there are so many trucks like hers in Kansas.
“Well, I’ll text her, just to let her know we’re going out, and then we can go? Okay.”
“Sure,” I nodded.
I waited for him to text Maddy, feeling better as the breeze blew and I breathed deeply. I was glad to be going on a ride. Maybe if I got out of town and into new places, I could leave my hangover behind.
Maybe I could also forget about Maddy.
She was too good for me.
17
Maddy
I stood where I was in the entrance area in diner. I had no idea else what to do. Mark and Adam were sitting right around the corner from where I was. My heart almost stopped.
“Damn it,” I whispered. I could hear their conversation. They were talking about what happened at the bar.
I had hoped that Adam had lied, or maybe that he’d misunderstood what happened that night. Now, having overheard a few sentences, I knew the truth.
Mark had taken a woman home. Adam hadn’t been mistaken.
I knew for sure now that Mark was who he had always been.
I blinked, not knowing what to do. I felt like a complete mess. I had slept with Mark believing that he had changed and wanted to be with me. Instead, I was just another conquest and another way of feeding his big ego.
“And I am not going to give him that satisfaction.”
I felt anger replacing the pain, slowly. It felt good. I went to the cashier to pick up my order of pasta. I kept my head slightly turned so they could not get a good look at me. I paid, took my order, and walked home.
I focused on my choreography while I ate. I planned the dance in my head. It was going to be spectacular, and I would make sure that everybody involved was there to see it. Even the man who I had mistakenly invited to examine the safety of the studio. Asshole…
I called Becca.
“Hey, girl,” she answered. “Are y
ou in?”
“I’m at home,” I confirmed. “I have to discuss the opening event with you. Do you still have contacts from your friends at the culinary school?”
“Sure, I do,” she said intently. “Well, I know Matilda, who just graduated and started her own company,” she added.
“Great! That’s just what I need.” I made myself sound cheerful even though I really badly wanted to cry. “Do you want to come over today, maybe around four?” I asked. “I would love to chat with you.”
“I sure can,” she acknowledged. “Is anything up?”
“What do you mean?” I asked coolly. “Nothing is up.”
“Great,” she said. But she knew she some doubt in my voice. I sighed.
“I’ll talk later,” I said. “I’d better go now. I have to meet the designer guy.”
“Okay. See you later, bye!”
I leaned back in my chair. I wished I could think clearly. Everything in my brain seemed to be working at half-speed, as I still struggled to deal with the shock of Mark’s behavior. My emotions continued to run wild. I knew I had no reason to be shocked.
“Fact is, I knew.” I scolded myself.
I should have known, anyway.
I called Jeff who was helping with advertising and marketing. He said he had some designs ready to show me.
I drove over to his office and selected a design for the advertising posters, and added a sentence about the opening night event. I was completely inspired by the posters. My dream got another step closer.
“Thanks so much Jeff. I love the posters,” I said, paying him for his work. He smiled.
“Best of luck, Becca.”
I walked out, feeling better. I was pleased that things were moving forward on the studio. These little distractions were helpful.
I got home and before I could do anything else, Becca knocked.
“Hey!” she said, breezing into the kitchen. “I know I am a little early. I just got back from showing a house and I thought I would just come over to be with you.” She sat down, hands on the table, looking up.
I grinned. “Becca, it’s great you’re here. Would you like some tea or coffee?” I said sincerely.
“Some coffee would be great!” she said.
Now that she was here, I found it hard to keep my secret to myself. I told her everything.
“What?” she stared at me. “No way! What a player! What an asshole.”
I nodded. “I know. I was a fool. I really thought he…”
“No, you weren’t a fool,” Becca interjected. “You had every reason to expect better behavior. He’s Adam’s best friend. He’s a human being! If you expect him to behave like one, I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” She looked at me with the most supportive expression I’ve ever seen. She was the best friend I could ever ask for.
“I know…” I looked down. “But, wasn’t I the one who should have known better?”
“Known better than what?” she challenged. “Known better that he’s a jerk who doesn’t know how to be a decent human being? I don’t think so. You expected him to be better and he failed. It’s his fault that he is what he is.”
I nodded. “Maybe so.”
“Absolutely so,” Becca said firmly. “He’s the one who’s a fool. Nobody else. He could have had you, and now he lost you.”
“Oh, Becca.”
“You can remind him for the rest of his life what he lost. And you can start with your grand opening.”
“You mean…”
“Please wear red for the grand opening dance performance. It’s your best color. And I’ll make invitations, if you want. I’m good at that sort of thing. Give me a list of the people you want to invite and I will make it happen. We should even invite Mr. Playboy.”
“Becca…” I paused.
She grinned. “Well, why not? I think it would be very appropriate. A man should have to think about his actions.”
I laughed. I knew she wanted Mark to be there, and see how he’d lost out. And I actually thought it was a good idea, too. It made me feel better.
“Becca, I will consider inviting him, but let’s wait until I am certain,” I requested.
“Sure thing,” she said as she checked some text messages. One was from the client who had just looked at the house and they wanted to make an offer this week. Becca was such a great realtor. And friend.
“Well,” I said, after a moment, “I think I am ready with the flyers.”
“You said you’d handed some out?” she asked. “Have you had any response, so far?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But that was two days ago. I am still expecting something.”
“Sure. You’ll get plenty of interest, girlfriend.”
I swallowed hard. “I hope so.”
We discussed the catering, and plans for the opening event. Becca confidently asserted that we should restrict entry to about fifty people and plan catering accordingly. I wasn’t sure we’d have half that many, but she assured me we would.
“I know you’ll get an amazing start,” she said firmly.
“I hope so.”
“Believe in yourself,” she said, fixing me with a firm gaze.
I chuckled, feeling better. If she believed in me, it was silly to doubt myself really. Besides, I knew I could do this: I had been planning for years and the plan was now coming together. “Okay,” I said.
“You’d better,” she said firmly. “And I want to preview the dance, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure, that’s good,” I said. I liked running through something at least once with an audience. It gave me practice and some feedback. I knew roughly what it would be, but I would refine it once I knew how it looked from the back of the room. “Once I have it done, we can go to the studio together and I will perform it.”
“Great. Well, as soon as you’re ready, let me know. And I want to see the dress, please.”
“I can show you,” I nodded. “I already have it.”
“A red one?” she asked with open eyes.
“Yeah.”
I took her up to my room to show her my dance dress. I put it on and did a twirl. It was tight, flowing skirt, one that followed my motion and revealed a lot of skin. I loved it. So did Becca. My first performance in college had been done in that dress.
When Becca left, I ran over the plans in my head, feeling a flutter of excitement in my body. I had set the date for the opening in a week. It was soon enough to make me feel a bit of pressure, and right now I needed it.
“Come on,” I told myself firmly, as I cleaned up the kitchen. “You need to practice.”
I dressed in my usual workout clothes, then drove down to the studio. I already loved the space. I did stretches, imagined where the audience would be, and then started to dance.
Dance had always been a way of expressing myself. I was moving through a graceful part, to sweet violin music, when I realized my cheeks were wet.
“Damn you,” I whispered, imagining I was addressing Mark in person. I sniffed, not sure how I felt about the fact that I was crying. I didn’t want him to make me cry.
I could not help it. I sat down and covered my face with my hands as tears poured down my face. Clearly, I would feel better if I cried. I wept, really letting myself go for the first time, and expressed the hurt I felt.
I cried until I felt calmer, and then I stood and started dancing again.
I was going to forget Mark. And I was going to start living the dream I’d planned for years.
18
Mark
I went into work on Monday, hoping that my brothers had a good weekend. I didn’t want to talk about my own. I had spent most of it working out, doing everything I could to recover and forget what a mess I made.
“And here we have plenty of work to distract myself,” I reminded myself absently, as I fastened my coveralls and walked down the hallway to the shop. We had a lot of jobs out there with people wanting to get their bikes fixed and built before the holiday season.
“What’s that?” Matt called through the door.
“I said, we have a lot of work.”
“Yeah.” Matt grinned. “You could say that again.”
I said, “we have a lot of work…”
“Don’t start.” Adam grinned at me from where he mixed something in a bucket. “I know the two of you—you’ll start repeating things and then my head will burst.”
“Will it?” Matt teased. “If that’s true, we’ll keep on. I never saw that happen and I’m curious.”
I laughed. “Matt, if we can make his head burst by repeating things, I suggest we go work for the government. That could be useful.”
“Yeah. But it’s more fun just to do him.”
We were still laughing as we moved on to our work.
I felt better, being with my brothers and Adam. They were distracting and easy, the sort of company I needed when I felt off. “Matt?” I called, as I poured paint into a bucket. “What color are we doing?”
“Black,” Matt called. “With blue.”
“Great,” I said, searching for the right tint. “I’ll mix, you paint.”
“Is that fair?”
I laughed. “I’ll do the next one. I promise.”
He chuckled and went to fetch his things. I was trying hard to be jovial, but every so often a thought of Maddy and the fact that I’d messed everything up came to mind. I carried on mixing, glad to be back at work. Carter came in and I ignored him, knowing he had plenty of stuff to do in the office. We needed a monster list of parts and paint this week and that was going to keep him busy.
I was surprised when, a few moments later, Carter beckoned me to him.
“Mark? Can we talk?” He sounded tense.
“Sure,” I straightened up, frowning at him. “What’s the problem?”
“Not a problem,” he said, and ground his teeth in a way that made it clear he didn’t want to talk with an audience. Puzzled, I followed him out.
“Listen,” he said as he drew me into the store-room. “There’s a problem.”
“What is it?” I frowned.
