by Lauren Layne
My dear Lady,
I realize our relationship, if I might call it that, is one that’s free of expectation, so I hope this won’t come across as overstepping, but are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to let you know I’m here.
Yours in concern,
Sir
Fifteen
The higher you fly, the harder you fall.
I never quite understood that phrase, but when you live it? You know.
I’ve run the numbers. I’ve done the math. I’ve repeated the process over and over, praying for a different result, and each time, the reality feels colder and more final.
Surely I’m doing something wrong. Missing something.
I call my brother-in-law.
It says everything about Alec’s character that even though things are tense between him and Lily, even though it’s 2 p.m. in the middle of the workday, he agrees to meet me at Starbucks to double-check my accounting.
I try hard not to look at his face while he studies my laptop and instead focus on enjoying my pumpkin spice Frappuccino. I have to budget my expenses pretty carefully, and Starbucks generally doesn’t fit into my day-to-day, or even weekly, expenditures. I reserve fancy beverages like this one for birthday splurges or celebrations. Today is neither, but when Alec offered to pay, I hadn’t been able to resist.
I need something good to come from this day, and if it’s limited to a sweet treat that tastes like fall, I’ll take it.
Alec is the quiet, serious type. He takes his time. Sips his tea. Adjusts his glasses.
Finally, he looks up.
And I know.
I know.
I’ve always known.
I push the drink forward, staring at the streak of condensation left on the wooden table. “Bubbles isn’t going to make it.”
“It could. You’re still technically profitable.” He says it calmly, quietly, and I’m grateful. I don’t want a pep talk any more than I want a lecture. “But the sort of improvement you, Lily, and Caleb were hoping for isn’t there.”
I close my eyes and exhale.
“You should be proud, Gracie,” he says, shutting the laptop. “When you took over after Howie died, I didn’t think the store had a shot in hell of staying open. Your dad was smart and passionate, but he didn’t pivot as soon as he should have to adjust for changing times. You turned it around.”
“I turned it,” I clarify. “Not around. Not enough.”
I set three fingertips against the center of my forehead and close my eyes. “What do I do, Alec?” I ask quietly, looking up into his brown eyes. As a teen, my brother-in-law had been quiet and even a little aloof, though incredibly kind once you got to know him. He grew out of the aloofness, but not the kindness. He’s the type of man you can count on.
He picks up his cup of tea and stares down at it a minute before sighing and reaching for my sugary pumpkin-flavored drink. He takes a sip then studies the drink. “I can’t decide if I like this or not.”
“It grows on you. A little too much,” I say as he slides it back toward me and lifts his own cup once more.
“You do what you want to do, Gracie.”
I make a little face at the vagueness of the answer.
He gives a slight shake of his head. “I’m not talking about what you want for the business. I’m talking what you want for your life.”
The question churns something deep inside me. To deflect, I reach across the table and give his forearm a sisterly poke. “Hey, look at you! Speaking from personal experience, or just been brushing up on your Oprah vibes?”
He smiles, but his eyes are shadowed as he looks down at his drink. “Let’s just say you’re not the only whose life didn’t play out quite like you planned it.”
Instantly, I feel like the worst sister on the planet, and this time my hand on his arm is less playful, more comforting. “I should have asked sooner. How are you?”
His brown gaze is so tormented when it lifts it hurts my heart. “You’ve talked to your sister?”
I raise a shoulder in confirmation. There’s a tricky line between help and interference, and I don’t want to betray Lily’s confidence.
Alec drags a hand over his face. “How am I? Hmm. I’m frustrated. I don’t know where her head’s at. I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know if I’m supposed to bring home adoption papers or the name of a different doctor…”
“What do you want?” I ask, repeating his question back to him.
He exhales. “I want to have a family. I want my wife to know she is my family, even if it’s only ever meant to be the two of us. I want to give her a million babies, if that’s what she wants, however I can…”
Alec looks at me helplessly.
I place my palms on either side of my cold, damp plastic cup and roll it between my palms, watching the green straw move back and forth as I imagine dancing toward the line of interference without actually crossing it.
“Have you told her any of this? Does she know how you feel?”
He blinks at me. “She knows I love her.”
Oh, men. So sweet. So clueless.
“I’m sure she does,” I say with a reassuring smile. “But does she know that she’s enough for you? You know how Lily is. She’s never failed at anything in her life. I wonder if she’s not feeling a little lost knowing that she might not be meant to bear children naturally. I wonder if she doesn’t just need to know that you’re there.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I should cut back on the travel is what you’re saying.”
I smile, and Alec nods. Point taken. He gestures toward my drink. “Can I have some more of that?”
I shove it toward him, and he takes a long sip, winces, studies the cup. Then takes another sip. “Yes. Yes, I do like this. Now, back to you. Do you want to run Bubbles for the rest of your life? Because if that’s what you want, I’ll help however I can. The numbers don’t tell a great story, but it’s possible this is just a bad chapter.”
I look down at my thumbnails, at the chipped pink polish I probably should have removed three days ago.
“I know what I don’t want,” I say, still not looking up.
“That’s a start. Let’s hear it.”
“I don’t want to break my promise to Dad. I don’t want to disappoint Lily and Caleb.”
“And that’s enough for you?”
He asks it gently, curiously, but I can’t bring myself to answer, not out loud. I don’t want to answer.
But somewhere deep inside me, the answer whispers anyway. No. That’s not good enough. I want to be brave enough to go after what my heart wants.
I want to be bold. Daring.
Happy.
I take a deep breath, both exhilarated and terrified when I realize what I have to do.
To Sir, out on a shaky limb,
I apologize for the radio silence. I’ve been sorting through some of the messier bits of being human as of late. Do you ever ask yourself the big questions and realize you don’t have a clear answer? What sort of person do I want to be? What sort of life do I want to have? With whom do I want to live that life?
I know I’m a kind person, or at least I try to be, but I’m also realizing I’m bit of a chicken in a lot of ways. More obsessed with the dream than doing the work to make the dream a reality.
I live a good life—I do. But I’m learning it’s a life lived largely for the people around me, to support their expectations, to never rock the boat, to never let anyone down. I feel trapped, but how does one find that balance—to be true to oneself without being selfish?
The one area I’ve always thought I was in control of, the one area lived for me, by my standards, is my personal, romantic life. And I know I’m overstepping our usual topics of conversation, but I feel I’ve misstepped here as well. I’m alone, and on some level, I’ve always known that’s of my own making, but now I can’t help but wonder if there are opportunities missed, chances lost, connections I never let happen.
I’m rambling now. This is the longest message I’ve ever sent, by far, and I apologize if I’m destroying what we have, moving us from pithy quips to something altogether a bit more maudlin. Especially since I haven’t shared this with anyone in my “real” life, which I guess leads me to this:
Life feels most real when I’m writing to you, when I see your screen name in my in-box. I don’t know your name. Your face. Your age. But I have the sense I know you. And that you know me too, in a way perhaps nobody else does.
So if nothing else, even if I’ve scared you away, I want you to know that when I’m old and withered, saggy and gray, I will look back on these days, and you, my friend, will be a bright spot.
Lady
* * *
My dear Lady,
I’m not quite sure where to begin. I suppose, most obviously, you haven’t scared me away. You haven’t ruined things. I’m here. And perhaps now it’s me who’s making things weird, but I have a hard time imagining a version of my life where I won’t be here for you, however you need me.
You’re real to me too. You’re important to me.
I’m honored to be your confidant. Everything you’re saying is valuable, and I mean this when I say: relatable.
I mentioned recently that I ended a relationship. The truth is that relationship had run its course long ago, but I’d stayed in it for the sake of someone else. In that way, I suppose leaving the relationship was selfish, and I know I left disappointment in the wake of that breakup. But I also know that we get only so many trips around the sun. Having “met” you, I know that on as many of those days as possible, I want to feel the way I feel when I see your screen name in my in-box.
Yours in have I ruined this?
Sir
* * *
To Sir, with an aching throat,
You’ve ruined nothing. Indeed, you’ve only made whatever we have a bit more lovely. And it’s here that I take the biggest risk of all:
Would you like to meet?
Lady
Sixteen
He doesn’t write back. Not that day. Not the next.
Three days later, I still haven’t heard from Sir.
I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. I tell myself over and over that a person I don’t even know shouldn’t have that much power over my happiness.
But I meant what I said in my last message. I do know him. It’s silly, it’s romantic, it’s maybe straight-up nuts, but I know in the depths of my heart that I’ve shared parts of myself with him that I’ve never shared with anyone. And I thought it had been the same for him.
I thought there was something special, but maybe…
Maybe what made it feel so special was the illusion of it all. To Robyn’s point at girls’ night, maybe I really am just clinging to the fantasy of him so I won’t have to deal with the fact that life is disappointing more often than not.
But none of this makes his rejection easier to take.
A little after eight, a week after my Starbucks meeting with Alec, he opens the front door to his and Lily’s apartment to let me in. “Hey,” he says, pecking my cheek. “Come on in. Lil’s just putting some snacks together.”
“Hey, Gracie!” she calls from the kitchen.
“Where’s May?” I ask, shrugging out of my coat and handing it over to Alec.
“She had to bail,” Lily replies. “Has a stomach bug that she described in way more detail than I needed, but insists we record the entire family chat and send it to her after so she doesn’t miss the deets. Her word.”
“Something to drink, G?” Alec asks, going to the fridge.
“Water—bubbly if you’ve got it.”
“Lemon or plain?”
“Lemon.”
“Lily?” Alec asks, not looking at his wife as he pulls out a can of sparkling water for me.
“I’ll have some of that merlot from last night, thanks.”
They don’t look at each other during the exchange, and I stifle a sigh. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m about to have a lot of time on my hands—helping these two fix their marriage could be a full-time job.
I help myself to a slice of baguette and some sort of garlicky mushroomy concoction that I recognize from girls’ night—Lily had asked Keva for the recipe.
Alec hands Lily a glass of wine and me a tall glass with sparkling water and a lemon spiral twist draped artfully over the side. “Fancy!”
“Only the best at Chez Wyndman,” he says, giving a formal butler bow before helping himself to the appetizers.
Lily’s focused on wrestling open the plastic wrapping on cocktail napkins she picked up at Bubbles when she’d stopped by on Sunday after brunch with a friend. The napkins are cute. Two girls walking arm in arm through Central Park surrounded by fall foliage. I’m glad I ordered some for the store, but the artist in me couldn’t help but think about what I would have done differently had it been my design. Added a cute scarf for one of the girls, boots for the other. Maybe a leashed puppy pouncing on a leaf…
Alec glances at his wife a moment, then lifts his crostini and nods toward the other room. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Tell Caleb I say hey.”
Lily’s head snaps up, and she seems to see—really see—her husband for the first time since I’ve been here. “You’re not staying for the call?”
Alec’s got the crostini halfway to his mouth, but he pauses in the doorway and looks back at her. “I thought it was a family call.”
Her head snaps back just slightly. “You’re family.” Unless you don’t want to be.
“Not Cooper family,” he replies quietly. Unless you want me to be.
I chew my mushrooms and refrain from rolling my eyes. If this were a cartoon, I’d smile pleasantly and bonk their heads together just hard enough to knock some sense into their stubborn married asses.
“Get over here,” I say to Alec as I lean forward and open Lily’s laptop. “You’re a huge part of Bubbles and this family. You should be here for this discussion.”
I’m sitting in the middle of the sofa, but when I see them walking toward either side of me, I quickly scoot to my left so they have to sit next to each other. Lily narrows her eyes slightly, as though trying to figure out if I’m manipulating the situation, but I feign preoccupation with getting the call set up.
Lily sits in the middle, Alec joining her on the other side just as the video chat connects and Caleb’s smiling face appears.
“Oh, thank God,” Caleb says when he sees Alec. “Another male presence.”
“Um, I believe the thank God should be reserved for the fact that you got rid of that facial hair,” Lily says.
He rubs his bare chin. “You think? I’m sort of missing it.”
“It looked like a weed,” I say, backing up my sister. “Or pubes.”
“And they wonder why I moved out of state,” Caleb mutters before looking back at Alec. “How are you, man? It’s been a while.”
“Good, good,” Alec replies. “You?”
“Same. Got a new client who’s sort of a pain in the ass, but the pay’s good. Got a new girlfriend too.”
“What?” Lily and I say at the same time.
“How did I not know about this?” I demand. “She better be a brand-new girlfriend, because I just talked to you two days ago, and you made no mention of this development.”
He scratches his ear. “It’s been a few weeks. I didn’t mention it because you’d start doing that thing.”
“What thing?” I scowl.
“You know. The thing where you start asking if I’ve met her parents, when she’s coming to New York to meet you guys, whether she wants a small intimate ceremony or if you should start looking for availabilities at St. Patrick’s…”
Lily nods and looks my way. “You do that. Alec and I started dating when you were nine, and the second time he came over, you showed him a picture you’d colored. Of my wedding dress.”
Alec leans forward and looks at me. “
Really good drawing though.” He gives me a thumbs-up.
“And my actual wedding dress did end up looking startlingly like that picture,” Lily admits. “But the point is, you tend to get a little…”
“I’d call it aggressive fairy godmother,” Caleb says.
“Okay, but was I wrong?” I say. I waggle a finger between Alec and Lily. “They did end up getting married. And,” I say to Caleb, “I wasn’t pushy when you were dating Missy, because I knew she wasn’t the one. And Lily, just before you met Alec, that weird Dan asked you out, and did I not tell you not to bother?”
“You did.”
“And did you listen?”
“Again, you were nine.”
I lift my eyebrows, and she sighs. “No. I didn’t listen.”
“And what happened?”
“He took me to a party, then spent the night making out with his ex.”
I lift my palms. “I rest my case.”
Alec glances back at the laptop screen to Caleb. “So I’m guessing that’s a no on the new girl meeting your sisters?”
“Yeeeaaah, I’m going to go ahead and not freak her out by having Lily ask her credit score and Gracie mailing her pictures of wedding cakes.”
Lily looks at me. “Our sisterly qualities are so underappreciated.”
“Totally.” I look back at Caleb. “Can I at least see a picture of her? Is she pretty? Does she make you laugh? Can I call her sis? What color does she want her Christmas stocking to be?”
“Uh-oh,” Caleb says, “I hope my Wi-Fi doesn’t cut out on me. I just hate when my nightmares play all the way through to the end…”
“But—”
“Maybe we give poor Caleb a break and let Gracie explain why she’s called the family meeting?” Alec says.
Lily and Caleb both turn their attention toward me, expectant and a little curious. I don’t blame them. One of the painful self-realizations of the past few weeks is just how little of my own life I’ve initiated. I’m the Cooper sibling who sorts through and soothes others’ announcements and choices. That’s about to change.
I take a deep breath. “I think we should close the store.”
