by Emily Duvall
“Apparently.”
First the case, and now this. Another stab of envy goes straight to the gut. “Aren’t you concerned?”
“I am, but I’m also backing off. The reality is my sister has a lot going for her, I’m worried that I’ve stifled her style too much.”
“What if this guy isn’t nice?”
“Then she’ll have to deal with that.”
I don’t want some other guy in her life.
Maybe I should have let Maren know how sorry I was about attending the fundraiser with Sara. How did I expect her to react? Maybe I wanted Libby to come back from New York on a mission to tell her sister she’s not allowed to see Andy. I can’t stand the thought of Maren being with someone else, but I’m stuck. Thanks to her interview, whatever reasons holding us apart have grown deeper and more complicated. I’ve got even more work to do. The case will lead to living the life I want, I remind myself. Making partner. Bigger cases. The brightest future anyone could hope for. Forget about her.
But I can’t.
And I’ve got this feeling like everything’s about to blow up in my face.
Chapter 21
Maren
Andy and I are on my couch with our mouths all over each other. I enjoy kissing Andy 30% less than Caleb. Andy’s stubble scratches my lip and his tongue is like a jackhammer. There’s no order. There’s no beat. His lips make me think of this one episode on First & Last about the production of rubber bands. No warmth. No taste. Elasticity. Blah. A yawn slips from my mouth.
Andy sits up hard and watches me with offense. “Did you just yawn?”
“Yes.” Another yawn stretches over my mouth.
“Ouch.” He withdraws his hand.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’ve never had a complaint about this.” He makes a circle in front of his lips. “Am I putting you to sleep?”
“No, it’s just the case. There’s too much to think about.” I like Andy, but I would like this better with Caleb. His name alone sparks heat in my midsection and overshadows the drawn-out rhythm, at least it used to. Those fuzzy warm feelings turn cold at the thought of the interview with his team. The way they had looked at me and spoken to me. Dana said she had owed Caleb a favor and that I didn’t have to speak with his side, but I could if I wanted to. Now I just feel used and without Caleb as a friend. I don’t like him anymore.
Andy glances over to the kitchen with a grumble. “That’s fine. Makes this easier. Neither of us want long-term.” He hits my knee playfully.
My gaze shoots to his. I don’t think I could kiss him for more than a few more weeks. “What constitutes as long-term?”
“I don’t want forever.”
Forever with Andy? Way too long. “I agree with you there.”
“I don’t want to get married, hell, I’m not even divorced yet. I’m looking for someone to spend time with.” He pauses and gives me an odd look. “I want to have fun. What about you?”
I’m starting to think the word fun is thrown around way too much. “Let’s say we’re dating for thirty years.”
“Already not fun.” He scoots to the other end of the couch. “I’m kidding. Do you have your braid school on Friday night?”
“Yes, but you’re not invited.”
He laughs like a hooting owl. “Some buddies and I are having drinks Friday night. You and Charlotte should meet us out.” Star Wars theme music plays from his cell phone, interrupting us. “Hold your answer.”
This means wait, not literally take my thought out of my brain and cradle it like a baby in my palms. The other idioms I’ve learned come to mind and my interpretation of them.
Break a leg. Sounds painful.
Graveyard shift. Headstones moving an inch.
Fast as lightening. A split second.
For Pete’s sake. Who is Pete really?
Piece of cake. I still look to the nearest counter and see if there is cake.
Raining cats and dogs. I see Scotti dogs, Calico cats, and umbrellas falling from the sky.
“Sorry, got to run, sweetheart. Savannah’s throwing up.” Andy’s lips push against mine and he thrusts his tongue in my mouth. “I’ll see you Friday. I’ll text and let you know where to meet. Next time, I’ll make sure you’re not bored.”
There’s nothing worse than vomit. “Why is she throwing up?”
“I have no idea. She’s always coming home from school with some virus. I’ll call you later. You don’t have to walk me to the door.”
“I have to lock up.” I go over to the door with him.
He stops and rests his hand on the doorframe. “I hope I didn’t make tonight weird. I like you. I do want to see you again.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Andy’s goes, leaving me to face my empty apartment. When Libby had been closer, I didn’t have much space to myself. I used to sneak in Countess Coins. Tonight, I don’t want to play. Not even the allure of the multi-color prize wheel can keep my interest. The apartment is so quiet that I can hear my neighbor’s muffled voices. I want to talk…to someone, just not Andy.
I go over to the windows and stare out at the city. Lights stretch out to the distance and disappear. With Andy gone, my mind goes over the scene in the conference room. I am not sure if I did the right thing by talking to Caleb and his staff. The thing with Pierce was so much better locked inside my brain. Safer, somehow. I saw the way Caleb was worried. The way his lips had creased together in a way that straightens out his crooked mouth. A knot of tension spreads through my stomach. I flatten my hands over my middle and my thoughts revolve around one central conclusion. I think he hates me.
Spending the evening alone has me more willing to go to group and interact. Tuesday evening can’t come fast enough. The session has already started by the time I arrive. I take a seat next to Jenny, she’s telling us about a problem at her job as a robotics engineer for a private firm. There was an incident this week. “The sequence of numbers was out of order on a prototype. I kind of…I had a meltdown and broke thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment.”
Someone applauds. Several of us nod. There’s a few of us with impulse control disorders mixed in with our group.
Doctor K continues, “What strategies did you use to overcome the situation?”
Jenny’s mouth twitches. “I wrote a check to my boss.”
“How did that go?” Doctor K shifts in her chair. She does this more the longer she’s pregnant.
“Horrible. It’s my personal money and I’m on administrative leave for two weeks.”
I look at Doctor’s K belly. I want to have a baby someday, a family of my own. Where this thought comes from I have no idea. The randomness catches me off guard and it’s all I can think about. Cute little babies wrapped in pink or blue blankets.
“Maren?” Doctor K says. “Maren?”
I snap out of my haze. “Yes?”
“Do you have anything you want to share about your week?”
They know I’m taking the class for braiding. “I mastered the Dutch Braid and I went on a fifth date with Andy.”
“Is there anything about dating you want to share?” Doctor K’s voice is loud tonight.
“There comes a point during the evening where I don’t have more to say. What am I supposed to do?”
“Not all silence must be filled.”
Some of the group members nod in agreement, like they are the experts.
“What if I can’t think of anything to talk about?”
Doctor K nods encouragingly. “That’s the part you and Andy have to figure out. There are no formulas for relationships.”
This garners a few interested looks. I keep talking, determined to get my turn. “It would be so much easier if I knew how long he wants to keep doing this. Do I pick a random date on the calendar and when we reach that point, end things?”
“Remember not to get hung up on dates or timelines. A relationship takes one step at a time.”
“He wants me to meet his daug
hter. This is a big deal.”
“Do you want to meet his daughter?”
“I don’t care one way or the other.”
“Is his daughter important to him?”
I squirm in my chair because everyone is watching me. Attention is a major negative. They’re waiting for me to speak and I answer, “Yes, she is.”
“When you’re ready to meet her, it must be because you want to show him that’s important to you also. Doing things together, like sharing a meal or going for a hike or spending time with another’s family is making an intentional step towards the relationship. That’s when you know you’re beyond casual conversation. What the other person wants is important to you.”
I always thought what I wanted was most important. Darcy comes to mind. Caleb’s job. Libby’s move. I thought they were about me. *Maybe I got that part wrong.
“Alright, let’s move on, Claire? What’s new with you?”
The rest of the stories I tune out. I want to think more about things I didn’t see about Caleb. When group is over, I don’t linger to socialize. I go home, and I take out my favorite cookbook and start flipping through the pages to distract myself from thinking on what I should have done differently.
True to her promise, Patrice sets up an appointment before the hair class and she colors my hair. The shades of brown are darker at my scalp and gradually fade to orange with the color intensifying at the tips. “This looks amazing,” I say, admiring my hair from every angle.
Charlotte takes a photo. “This is so cool. Good for you, Maren. You look great.”
I look forward to my braiding class with Patrice. She’s a good person. I know this because she smiles in a way that her lips reach her eyes and her voice is calming.
We’re sitting in the back room at the salon with the mannequin heads in front of us. I’ve named mine I-95 after the largest interstate that runs through Virginia. Charlotte went with the name Bea and we sit side-by-side working on our technique. Patrice brings us diet sodas.
A lace braid is what I’m working on and Charlotte’s busy with the knot braid. There’s a system to doing this I’ve discovered. The head is a quadrant and I section it off in equal parts. Step one is choosing how far back to start the braid and I calculate the space needed to maximize the most hair. Charlotte’s is a bit all over the place, but she’s laughing and telling us about this guy she’s seeing.
“You’re taking too much hair,” Patrice complains, leaning over my shoulder like a teacher. “Move your hands for a second.”
One second.
I look at her.
“A minute.” She laughs easy.
“Sorry.”
“Bless your heart. There’s nothing to apologize about.” She proceeds to show me how she does it. “If you use all the strands up early on, there’s nothing left for the late part of the style except these thin strands. See?”
I do see. If only life was this easy to figure out.
Charlotte’s phone chimes and she’s distracted, answering and writing to whoever is messaging her. She puts it down and taps my elbow. “Looks like I can’t meet you and Andy out.”
“Why not?” I say without looking at her.
“I started seeing someone new,” she says, gushing. Pink splotches creep up her cheeks.
“What’s his name?”
“I’m not telling anyone yet. I don’t want to jinx it. We’re getting together later tonight, and my apartment is a disaster. I’m sorry to do this, but would you mind if I bail? I need to go home and get my place ready.”
“I don’t mind.” At least I’ll be with Andy and not alone.
“I promise we’ll do it again.”
Patrice is more interested than ever. “Who’s Andy?”
Charlotte laughs. “Maren’s boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Patrice grabs for one of the combs and gives Charlotte some help. “Do you like him?”
“I don’t dislike him. The problem is I used to like someone more.”
“Honey, you aren’t supposed to say that out loud.”
“Why not?”
“Andy’s feelings might be hurt.”
“I don’t want that.” Truthfully, I don’t.
“Then, when you’re with Andy. Be with Andy.” Patrice looks me in the eye. “If you don’t want to be with him, tell him. Don’t string him along. In the meantime, you go right ahead and fill me in on this other guy. Who is he?”
Charlotte grins with a flutter to her eyes. “One fine looking lawyer.”
“Oooh,” Patrice tisks. “I want to hear everything about this. From the beginning.”
I tell her the details. I include the jogging and the kissing. She doesn’t interrupt me. Charlotte hangs around, though she checks her phone and chimes in occasionally. We run out of time to talk more, and as instructed by Dana, I do not discuss the case.
Patrice gives me a hug before I go. “Remember what I said. If you like Andy, you hang out with him. If you don’t? You let someone else.”
“I’ve got it.” I do understand, but it doesn’t seem as easy as they make this out to be.
Patrice walks us out. “Have fun tonight, ladies. Stay safe.”
Charlotte and I talk until she reaches the Metro and we part. She gives me a hug and goes on with her night. The bar where I’m meeting Andy is across the street. I make my way over and check my phone. Two messages from the parents. Zero from Caleb. He won’t call or text, but that doesn’t stop my heart from fluttering just in case his name appears on my screen.
“There you are,” Andy says, walking towards me. The pants he wears are different from Caleb’s. Andy wears cargo pants. They’re the ones with the pockets on the side and no real purpose. “You’re hair. Orange. Wow. Um—”
“Hi, Andy.” A brief kiss on the cheek and I put my phone away. “I love my hair.”
“Yeah, sure.” He takes my hand. “My friends are already inside. I’ve known them since grade school.”
“That was a long time ago.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Not that long.”
“Over a decade is a long time.”
He opens the door to Downtown, a sports bar I’ve been to before with Libby. There are thirty-one televisions of all different sizes. The music is loud, and it takes over my brain and the rhythm thumps in line with my heart. People are everywhere. Drinks on tables. Loud, loud laughter booms everywhere. There’s a row of numbers on the wall I can’t stop looking at, sequenced one-through-ten and the seven isn’t lit. Why? Is it broken? Doesn’t anyone notice?
“Is everything okay?” he shouts.
“The number seven,” I say, pointing, “isn’t lit.”
His gaze travels to the numbers. “Who cares?”
I guess he doesn’t. My motherboard is overloading. I take deep breaths wanting—so much—to be like Andy and process everything. I focus on what I can control. The television screens. The O’s game. My father’s favorite team. Good times. My strongest reaction is to reduce the noise first. I cover my ears with my hands and I stop. Andy taps my hands. “Are you okay?”
“It’s just a little loud,” I shout.
He takes his hands and pushes mine away from my ears. “It looks weird when you do that.”
Association with the word weird isn’t good in any language. I’ve been called it at least over a hundred times and despite the urge to do it again. I DO NOT want to be weird.
“There they are,” he says, nodding at a table in the corner.
We get to the high table and there are two guys. Andy introduces me, and I look at each one of them. Their names are Ian and Preston. I take a seat next to Andy and he orders me a glass of white wine. The friends talk to each other in low voices. I can’t hear them over the music and television and people. They joke with Andy.
I finish my drink and make eye contact with Preston. He’s been looking at me since I sat down, but when I ask him questions about his job (Doctor K says that’s a grea
t conversation starter), he doesn’t answer.
Ian taps his fingers on his glass. He’s married, judging by the ring on his finger. Andy drinks the most out of our group with six beers and with each one, gets touchy with me, sliding his arm around my waist. “I was telling these guys about your cool apartment,” he whispers with his stinky breath. “You should invite us over afterwards. We can party there after we close down the bar here.”
“No,” I say firmly. My apartment is my safe place and I don’t like the idea of Andy’s friends’ invading my space. I’m supposed to welcome social opportunities, but I’ve never had more than one friend over and it doesn’t feel right.
Andy bumps my arm. “Have another drink. Let’s leave our options open. It’s early, sweetheart.”
Chapter 22
Caleb
I don’t like what I see. The situation has me staring at the guy seated next to Maren, who blows every woman out of the competition with her hair. The effect softens her eyes. The guy next to her must be Andy. The constant elbow touching, the way he scoots his barstool closer. He’s annoying as a gnat. My gaze shifts to the other men at her table. They have this look about them, slick and untrustworthy. I deal with creeps and losers every day. I should know. I do know. My hands clench around the glass and I pause.
I have all night to keep an eye on her. Another gulp of my beer and I’m proven wrong. They get up and Maren grabs her bag. Andy takes her hand and puts the other around her waist. A waist my hands know well. I don’t care if she’s okay with this, I’m not.
Sara and Jane are at the bar getting drinks. They’re taking forever. They’re taking time I don’t have. Once Maren leaves, I can’t do anything. I’m all for her living like any other twenty-something, but not tonight. Not outnumbered and defenseless if Andy isn’t a good guy. None of this is my business. Staying away is what I should do. Maren and I are not allowed in each other’s worlds. Not to mention that I had appeared weak in front of my colleagues and had pretended she was just another witness to get on the stand.
So what the hell is she doing here on this night of all nights?
“This place is crazy,” Jane says, coming towards me with another beer.
