by Megan Hart
I knew that already. It wasn’t exactly what I’d meant to ask. “What do Mom and Dad say?”
“Mom says whatever Dad says, and he won’t talk to me about it.”
I smiled. “Figures.”
She shrugged. “Patricia said I can stay as long as I have to, even after the baby’s born.”
“Saying it’s easy,” I said. “How are you getting along?”
She grinned. “Fine. Since she kicked Sean out, she’s actually been way less uptight. That money from Alex really eased the way.”
I could tell she was baiting the hook, but I chose not to take it. “Good.”
“And I have the job with Alterna. They have on-site childcare. I’m only three credits from finishing my degree, and they’ll do tuition reimbursement so long as I’m with them for at least a year.”
“A year’s a long time, Claire. Can you make that sort of commitment?” I teased.
She laughed and gave me the finger. “I’m not marrying the job, Anne.”
I worked a while longer, until my back and knees ached. My fingers ached, too, from gripping the tools. I groaned and stretched until my joints popped and cracked. I stood, surveying the work I’d done.
“It looks good.” Claire gave me two thumbs-up. “It’ll be really pretty in the spring.”
It was hard to see beauty in the patches of bare earth. I had difficulty envisioning how the dry, papery bulbs I’d planted would bloom into clusters like the pictures on the mesh bags that had contained them. I was glad I had my sister there to show me.
We both looked up at the crunch of tires on the gravel. I was expecting James, but the blue car pulling into the drive didn’t look familiar. At least not to me.
“It’s Dean!”
I’d seen Claire show enthusiasm for movies or rock stars or television programs. I’d never seen her look the way she did about the young man stepping out of the car in my driveway. Her entire face lit. I noticed something else, too, how she put her hands on her belly, almost by reflex.
She turned to me. “Umm…do you mind if I don’t stay for dinner? I didn’t think he’d be off work this early.”
I gave her a raised eyebrow. “Dean?”
She actually blushed, something I’d never seen her do. Ever. “He’s a friend.”
“Uh-huh.”
He strode toward us, hands in his pockets. Tall and lean, with sandy hair and a spray of freckles I could see across his nose as he got closer, Dean was not the sort of emo goth boy Claire usually favored. Then again, I supposed the principal of a local school wouldn’t have fit her profile, either.
“Claire,” Dean said, a tinge of the South in his voice. “I finished early. Thought I’d see if you wanted to come to dinner with me, after all.”
He looked at me, then held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Dean.”
He had a firm, warm handshake I returned. “Anne. Claire’s sister.”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh, Anne, like I didn’t tell him that already when I told him where I’d be and how to get here.”
Dean had a nice smile, the sort that crinkled up his eyes at the corners. He was looking at my sister like she was something precious. I liked him right away.
“Claire was going to stay for dinner here,” I said, making mischief. “You’re welcome to join us.”
They answered at the same time, him with a “Sure,” and her with a “No, thanks.” They stopped and looked at each other, spoke again with the response the other had given. We all laughed.
“Relax,” I told her. “I won’t embarrass you. I promise. And I’ll keep James in line, too.”
The truth was, I didn’t want to eat dinner alone with my husband. Having a buffer made it easier to deal with the strain between us. Left to ourselves, we’d been tending to long stretches of quiet that weren’t angry…just sad. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to us. We didn’t feel over. The problem was, we didn’t feel much of anything else, either.
Claire looked hesitant. I’d met some of her previous dates, even a boyfriend or two, but though she’d often bragged or overshared about her extravagant love life, she’d kept most of it hidden. We had teased her a lot about being embarrassed by us, her sisters, when we knew it was probably half-true.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Dean said.
I wondered how long she’d been seeing him, and what sort of man would begin dating a pregnant woman. “It’s lasagna, Claire. And garlic bread.”
She groaned, a hand on her stomach. “That’s right. Bribe me. My sister makes the best damn lasagna, Dean. And garlic bread to die for.”
“It’s my one talent,” I told him.
He smiled at us both. “Sounds like it’s a plan, then, doesn’t it?”
Claire chewed her lower lip for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. Okay. But no asking Anne about stories from when I was a kid and no sharing old photo albums, you got it?”
Neither of us looked threatened, even though she’d put on a tough face. Dean made an X with his fingers on his chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Anne?” She stabbed a finger at me.
“Don’t look at me,” I said, innocent. “I don’t even have any embarrassing stories about you. Well, if you don’t count the time you—”
“Anne!”
“Relax, l’il sissy,” I said. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
She started to give me the finger, but with a glance at Dean turned it into the shaking of her fist. Interesting, that.
I dusted off my hands. “I’m going to grab a quick shower. You guys can help yourselves to something to drink and the TV, if you want.”
I made the shower longer than quick. Standing under the hot water felt so good I didn’t want to get out. It pounded away at the knots in my shoulders and back and covered up the sounds from outside until all I could hear was the pounding of water all around me. By the time I’d finished, steam had turned the bathroom into a cloud-bank.
“Hey.”
James’s low greeting startled me so much as I came out of the bathroom that I jumped and whacked my elbow on the doorframe. I clutched my towel around me. He must have just arrived home, because he hadn’t yet even changed his clothes.
“Hi,” I said.
We stared at each other for a moment before I broke my gaze to search in my drawer for some underwear. James stripped out of his clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket. I watched him as I stepped into my panties and pulled them up, then hooked my bra.
The summer hadn’t changed him much. He was leaner, harder, a little more bronzed on his arms from his work on the construction sites. He was still the same man I’d made love to with such passion only a few months ago. He moved the same, and smelled the same, and spoke the same. We were both the same, yet different. Once, I’d stared at him sleeping as my heart tumbled in my chest with wonder at how lucky I was to have him. Now I watched him stripping and felt the same twisting sensation, the rolling dip of the first hill on the roller coaster.
He caught me looking. “Anne?”
I shook myself a little and turned to find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “Are you going to take a shower? Dinner’ll be ready in about five minutes.”
“Yeah, I need one.”
I felt his eyes on me as I tugged the jeans over my hips and buttoned them. “Did you see Claire and her friend?”
“Yeah. Dean. He seems nice.”
“Yes.” I found a T-shirt, soft and faded, that wasn’t mine. My fingers passed it by and found another.
“Is he her boyfriend?”
I pulled on the T-shirt and looked at James, still so comfortable in his nudity. “I don’t know.”
He smiled. “Are you going to ask her?”
“Not with him around, no. I promised not to embarrass her. And that you wouldn’t, either.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands as he backed into the bathroom. “I’ll behave.”
“Good. Or else you’ll be in trouble.”
He paused, eyes
gleaming. “Ooh. What’ll you do, give me a spanking?”
“You wish.” I smiled and tossed my damp towel at him. “Hang this up.”
He bowed. “Your wish is my command.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I said before I realized how it would sound.
James straightened, towel shielding him. “Anne…”
“The oven’s pinging.” I flashed him a smile meant to ease his mind but which probably didn’t, and ducked out of the room.
I’d put the lasagna on warm and now only needed to finish toasting the bread and tossing the salad, two tasks with which Claire and Dean were willing to help. I set the table and poured iced tea. By the time James had come out of the shower, dinner was ready.
It was a nice meal. Dean proved to be well-spoken and funny. He and Claire had an interesting dynamic. She was softer around him, but not like she was trying to change her personality. More like he brought out another side of it. He and James hit it off, talking about sports and tools and things about which Claire and I had no opinions. I was content not to talk much, anyway.
Although I’d convinced her to stay for dinner, I couldn’t manage to get my sister to agree to stay to watch a movie. Her response to my offer was a typical rolling of the eyes. She plunked the lasagna pan into the hot soapy water and dried her hands before stepping away.
“As if,” she said. “Dean’s taking me to the movies.”
“Oh, a real date?” I looked into the den, where James was showing Dean some sort of sports memorabilia. “Look at that. James. Dean. James Dean.”
And I was thinking of Alex again.
“Good one, Anne.” Claire patted my shoulder. “Very clever.”
I nodded and turned my attention to the sink full of dirty dishes. “What can I say? I’m a pundit.”
The patting of my shoulder turned into a one-armed hug. “You okay?”
“Sure. Fine.” I smiled at her. “Always am, aren’t I?”
She blew a raspberry at me. “You’re a shitty liar.”
“How long have you known him? Dean?”
She chewed her lower lip again, a mannerism that reminded me of Mary. “A couple years.”
I was so surprised I could only stare at her. “What?”
She looked guilty, another unusual expression for her. “You heard me.”
“But…you didn’t…”
“Date him? No.” Her smile turned a little secretive as she looked at him. “It never worked out until now.”
“Is it working out now?” I had to ask. She wasn’t just my younger sister, she was my baby sister.
“I think so. Yeah.” She looked over at him again, and her gaze softened. “Yeah.”
“Good for you. And he doesn’t care about the baby?”
“Actually, he does care about the baby, Anne,” Claire said wryly. “Which is a pretty important thing to care about, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Smartass.”
“I’m not marrying him or anything. Don’t get your hopes up just yet.”
“It’s just nice to see you with someone who makes you happy, that’s all, Claire.” I’d have hugged her, but soap-suds covered my hands.
Claire looked toward the den, at the two men so deep in conversation. She looked back at me. “I wish I could say the same about you.”
I nodded after a moment. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. It’s just a rough patch, that’s all.”
She leaned in. “Might it have something to do with a certain someone?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think,” she said seriously, “you’re going to have to find a way to let him go. Or else you’ll both stay miserable.”
I reached for a dishtowel and dried my hands. “I know. Believe me, I do. And it would be easy to blame this all on him, Claire, but it’s not all about him.”
“You know Alex told Pats he wouldn’t charge her interest and she only has to pay him back a hundred bucks a month until she can do more.”
“Did he? That was generous. Is that supposed to help me?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just saying…that day I came over and you two were in the kitchen?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about that day. “Yes?”
“I never saw you look that way at anyone before, that’s all.”
I’d thought I’d been careful not to look at him at all. “And?”
She shrugged, looked again toward James, then back to me. “It was nice to see you with someone who made you happy, that’s all.”
I managed a small, slightly bitter smile. “Déjà vu.”
“Yeah,” she said with a laugh. “I’m fucking with the matrix.”
“He’s gone,” I answered in a low voice. “It’s better this way. It’s just going to take time, that’s all. Things happen sometimes that don’t turn out the way you intend them to.”
Claire patted her belly. “Tell me about it.”
The men looked like they were finishing their fascinating discussion about baseball or whatever. I lifted my chin and took a deep breath. “Have a good time at the movies.”
“We will.” She looked at James and Dean, who were still talking as they turned toward the kitchen. “Think about what I said, Anne.”
“Find a way to let him go. Yeah, I know. It shouldn’t be so hard, Claire, since he’s already gone.”
“Anne,” my sister said with another pat on my shoulder, “you assumed when I said him I meant Alex.”
I was quiet after my sister left with her new beau. James put on some soft music and began to clear the table. I concentrated on washing the lasagna pan, which didn’t need to be returned to a gleaming state of near-newness in order to be clean, but which I scrubbed fiercely anyway.
Let him go. Let one of them go. Knowing it and doing it, two separate accomplishments. Let one man go. The question had to be, which one?
James brought the baking sheet from the garlic bread to the sink and slid it into the water. He put his arms around me. His breath caressed my neck, and a moment later his mouth brushed my skin. I leaned back against him, my eyes closed.
We stayed that way for a minute, saying nothing. The songs playing through the stereo weren’t favorites, but they were slow and gentle. We swayed a little. James put his hands on my hips and turned me, soapy hands and all. We danced there in the kitchen, saying nothing. Perhaps having nothing to say.
The phone rang. We both looked at it, but neither of us moved to answer it. The machine picked up after two rings.
And he spoke.
“Hey…it’s me. I just wanted to tell you that I’m finished here in Sandusky. The folks from Cleveland came through with the deal. I’m going to be overseeing their corporate offices in Tokyo. So I’m heading back out of the country. Just thought I’d let you know. Both of you. And I wanted to say…”
There was a long, long moment of silence in which James and I stayed frozen in place, listening.
“I wanted to say thanks for the summer,” Alex said.
I thought there would be more. My mind insisted there must be more than that, the casual dismissal of our summer together. Something more important in his farewell than the one he left, but the call clicked off with nothing further.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words lodged in my throat like barbs. All that came out was a small hiss of air. I looked up at James, who was looking at the phone.
He let go of me and went to the counter where the answering machine sat, its blinking light refusing to allow us to pretend we hadn’t received a message. I knew he was going to pick up the phone and return Alex’s call. I knew it in my gut, the way I knew the color of my eyes or how it felt to stub my toe against the dresser on my way to the bathroom in the dark. I knew it without a doubt.
James pushed the button on the machine. Alex’s voice started speaking again. James pushed another button.
He deleted the message.
He turned to me. “Let�
��s go to bed,” he said, and so we did.
I’d never been to the Hotel Breakers before. I’d never needed to stay in the Point’s oldest hotel, though I’d often passed by its white-painted grandeur while walking along the beach.
It had an old-style elegance about it, with a beautiful open rotunda and access to the beach. It was a hotel with history. The park was still open on weekends, and outside the roar and screams of the riders on coasters filtered through air crisp with autumn, but inside the hotel it was very quiet. Serene.
Alex opened the door after my first knock. He couldn’t have been expecting me, but he didn’t look startled to find me. He didn’t step aside at first to let me in. When he did, it was with a begrudging sigh that might have been meant to make me feel guilty but failed.
The sound of the door closing behind me was very loud, and very final. If there was a chance of my walking away, it ended with the click of the lock. I had to close my eyes for only one moment, took only one deep breath. When I opened them, he was still there. I’d been half-afraid I was dreaming.
“Does Jamie know you’re here?”
“Yes.”
“He does?” He mustn’t have been expecting a positive answer.
Alex ran a hand over his hair then down to cup the back of his neck. He wore a pink shirt, unbuttoned, and familiar jeans. Bare feet. I wanted to get on my knees and kiss each of his toes. I didn’t move.
“Fuck,” he muttered, without looking at me.
“Exactly.”
This made him look up, sharp and fast, with eyes like a fox. His hand came away from his neck and fell open at his side like he wanted to grab something but wasn’t certain what. His mouth parted, but he said nothing. He just looked at me with those gray eyes.
“I have to know something, Alex.” My fingers went to the buttons at my throat and eased them open, one by one. “Do you want to fuck me?”
He said nothing, not even when I shrugged out of my shirt and tossed it to the floor. Not when I put my fingers to the zipper and button of my long denim skirt and eased it over my hips. I stood before him in my bra and panties, not the sexy lingerie one might expect of a woman about to seduce a man but simple, soft cotton.
