Forgetting Chuck Taylor

by Bailey Peters

  Eva loaded up her good arm with gift bags and watched Taylor struggle to pick up a gift box nearly as large as she was. Eva wished she’d brought a dolly to help maneuver the heavier items.

  “What the hell is this, even?” Taylor muttered under her breath, fumbling to make it out of the building and to the trunk without dropping the present.

  “A mini wine fridge, I think,” Eva said. Thinking back to Amanda’s registry, she’d hoped that some of the other things that were sure to be cumbersome had been delivered to the couple’s home instead of hand delivered to the wedding. No such luck.

  “I’m so sorry you’re getting stuck doing the heavy lifting. It’s usually a friend or family member that does this—not the person providing the wedding planning services.” Designating a person for this had been on the checklist of things to do that she gave brides, knowing how easy it was for small details like this to get lost in the last minute chaos and excitement of planning a wedding. Knowing about Amanda’s family, though, it was equally possible that she had designated someone and they simply hadn’t wanted to do it.

  “If it makes your life a little easier today, I’m happy to do it,” Taylor said, stopping to touch her arm and give her a look that meant she wanted to do much more than that. “You stay with the car and I’ll get the rest of the boxes.”

  The next trip was fast. Taylor was in and out.

  Five minutes after, Eva looked down at her watch and worried. Maybe Taylor had been waylaid by another needy relative. Worse, maybe she’d accidentally dropped something delicate. When another five minutes passed with no sight of Taylor, she hit the lock button on the Lexus twice to be on the safe side and then made her way back into the reception hall.

  Taylor stood with her back against the wall near the gift table, looking cornered by Amanda’s mother and the aunt with the permanently pinched facial expression from too much plastic surgery—Joan. The aunt that had changed her RSVP at the last minute, a disappointment to Amanda who had been thrilled to hear initially that she wasn’t going to come.

  As she got closer, she realized that Taylor’s eyes were shiny with tears that had yet to make it to her cheeks.

  “What’s going on here?” Eva asked, breaking up their circle and moving to stand beside Taylor.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t look good.

  “For the exorbitant amount I paid you to assist with my daughter’s wedding, you’d think you could afford to background check your employees,” Amanda’s mother said, her voice no longer the saccharine purr it had been earlier in the night. “When my sister here saw your help trying to leave the building with my daughter’s gifts, she had to stop her.”

  “I was only loading the car like you asked,” Taylor said, the hint of a tremor in her voice.

  Amanda’s mother ignored her, keeping her eyes on Eva. “Perhaps that’s what she was doing. Or maybe she was going to make away with some of them like she made away with money at the homes she used to clean. Were you aware of her felony conviction?”

  Shit, shit, shit , she thought.

  There had to be a way to salvage her rapport with her client without making the situation worse for Taylor. She just didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was.

  “I was supervising the transport of the gifts into the vehicle,” she faltered. She knew if she didn’t handle this in just the right way, there were prospective clients with padded wallets that would slip into thin air like ghosts. Amanda’s family ran with the old money set at the local country club where quite a few of the daughters were of marrying age, several of which were sporting shiny new rings.

  “You were outside. It would have been nothing for her to slip an envelope or a trinket box into her pocket on her way out the door to you,” Joan said.

  “It’s more than that,” Amanda’s mother added. “All night, people were leaving their purses unattended to dance and to refresh their drinks. You couldn’t possibly have been watching her while you were busy taking care of everything that needed to be done tonight.”

  “Your daughter and Jamison have been so kind to me. I would never do anything to ruin their—”

  Joan cut Taylor off. “Are you saying my friend Shelly that employed you wasn’t kind? Letting some teen clean her home out of pity?”

  When Taylor shook her head no, it caused the tears that had been brimming to finally spill over, causing Eva’s chest to tighten. She wanted to reach over and wipe them away with the kerchief she always kept on hand for brides but she knew that would only increase her clients’ ire.

  “I assure you that I know my employee and that you have no cause for concern,” Eva said. “Amanda knows about her past and was happy to have her assistance.”

  Taylor shot Eva a look then. It wasn’t a good one. What she’d told Eva, she’d told her in confidence. It was just that Eva needed to discuss it with someone. It had been huge that she had fallen for a woman; it only complicated things more that the person she’d eventually introduce to her family and friends had such a tricky background. Could she be blamed for needing external validation before jumping in with two feet, eyes wide open?

  “My daughter isn’t always the best judge of character,” Amanda’s mother said, nodding in the direction of the couple out on the dance floor. “Exhibit A. Her new husband.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Eva looked at her watch pointedly. “You wanted to stay on schedule. It’s time to get out those sparklers.”

  She just wanted the moment to be over.

  “You tell the DJ to make the announcement. The send-off will be in five. I don’t want to miss it,” Joan said. “In the meantime, your friend is coming with me to the ladies’ room where she can turn out her purse and her pockets to show she’s got nothing to hide without us making a scene in front of everyone.”

  “I am doing no such thing.” It was clear now that something had shifted in Taylor. She wasn’t upset anymore. She was angry. Defiant.

  “Taylor, please,” Eva said, her voice soft.

  Taylor nodded and turned on her heel to make her way to the bathroom, but not without glaring daggers at Eva for her request.

  17

  Taylor

  For the first time she could remember, Taylor was grateful not to have cash on her. If by some miracle she had money on her, there wouldn’t have been a way to prove it wasn’t pinched out of some unsuspecting woman’s purse. She thanked the heavens she’d turned down the tip the forgetful bridesmaid had offered her for running her last-minute errands.

  Some thanks she was getting for all of the work she’d done. Her plan for accruing good karma clearly wasn’t working. She was generally fairly resolute about not wanting to throw herself pity parties, but it was beginning to feel like her life was a string of perpetual damned if you do, damned if you don’t kind of situations.

  When Joan finished patting her down and found nothing but a mint, her car key, license, and a cell phone in her pockets, Taylor was half surprised she wasn’t asked to strip. That’s how intent Joan seemed that she had something to prove.

  “Where’s your purse?”

  “I don’t carry one. You can ask Eva if you don’t believe me.”

  Joan pursed her lips and scanned Taylor’s face as though she were searching for some hint of a lie.

  “Where’s your wallet, then?”

  “In my car’s center console. You’re welcome to search my car, but you’re going to have to go all the way to the parking deck for Eva’s apartment complex where I left it this morning.”

  A woman entered the room and stopped in front of the sink so that she could touch up her makeup, whipping a loud lipstick out of her clutch. If she sensed any of the tension in the room, she didn’t show it.

  “Are you satisfied now?” Taylor asked quietly, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. Lord knows, the last thing she needed was to come across as hostile or aggressive. Regardless, she knew she couldn’t win. There was no doubt that the night’s events would be embellished on and snig
gered about into the foreseeable future. Women like Joan had good memories and a constant need to share their opinions, however unsolicited they may be.

  “I will be when you leave,” Joan said.

  That was just fine by Taylor. As far as she was concerned, she couldn’t get out of that building fast enough.

  Without her wallet, she had no money to call a taxi. What she did have on her wasn’t much help. Her cell was an archaic flip phone without data, which meant she couldn’t access a Lyft or Uber. Worse, there was no one she could call for a ride after eleven at night without it being a dire emergency.

  Most importantly, there was no way in hell she was going to wait around where she was unwelcome for Eva to get off work so that she could go home with someone who didn’t care about her enough to defend her. Who referred to her as her employee instead of her girlfriend . Taylor had thought she’d made it crystal clear to Eva the day before exactly what she was willing to be and what she wasn’t.

  Taylor’s only option was to walk. Or, if she wanted to beat Eva to her apartment so that they wouldn’t cross paths when she picked up her car, run.

  For the second time that night, she was grateful for wearing flats.

  18

  Eva

  Miraculously, none of the drama touched Amanda. When it was time for her to make her grand exit to the limousine waiting out front, she was radiant, if not a bit disheveled. Unlike many brides Eva had worked for, Amanda actually seemed to enjoy her reception. The DJ had played music so that she and her friends from dance class could show off their skills with bachata, mambo, and salsa. It was clear that the more standard wedding fair— top forty and classic love songs—was for the benefit of her guests. When Jamison dipped, twirled, or circled Amanda to the rhythm of a Latin melody, it was clear they were in their element. It was no surprise that dance was how they’d met. By the time she was running through the sparklers to head to her hotel, her hair was no longer contained in the tightly styled updo from the hair salon and her makeup glistened with sweat. That way, she looked more beautiful. More like herself.

  She mouthed thank you in Eva’s direction before disappearing into the limo, ending the night by blowing the guests still in attendance a goodbye kiss.

  At least something had gone right.

  When she went to find Taylor, she was nowhere to be found. Not in the bathroom, in the catering kitchen, hiding behind the reception hall or already staked out in Eva’s car. When she dialed Taylor’s number, it went straight to voicemail.

  When she’d asked Taylor to consent to being searched, she’d crossed a line. When she’d said, “Please,” what she meant was:

  If you do this, it will be over, and they’ll see they were wrong.

  If you do this, fewer people will be involved. I know you already feel degraded enough.

  If you do this, you’ll be able to see Amanda leave for her happily-ever-after and know just how meaningful it was that you helped me pull everything off.

  As soon as you do this, the night will be over, and I can take you home and find a way to distract you from all that’s wrong.

  Eva perched on the front steps and waited ten, twenty, thirty minutes. She was freezing without her cardigan but didn’t want to risk going inside in case she missed Taylor leaving somehow.

  When the campus security guard strolled past her a second time with his flashlight, she was finally ready to give up. Still, she took two pieces of leftover cake with her, just in case Taylor managed to show up at her apartment. She’d be able to apologize with chocolate.

  If she wasn’t granted a chance to apologize, she was sure she’d feel miserable enough to justify eating both pieces herself.

  She’d experienced so many firsts in rapid succession. Her first date. Her first kiss. First time coming out as a woman that was interested in other women. First brush with passion. She wasn’t ready to add the first time getting her heart broken to the list.

  Eva hoped it could simply be their first fight, instead.

  * * *

  The first time Eva had truly experienced heartbreak was her first year out of college when she’d had to put down Ebony, the gorgeous mare she’d grown up with in the fields behind her parents’ house on the outskirts of the city. Ebony had been her constant companion for as far back as she could remember, never mistaking her quiet confidence for snobbery the way that girls at school did.

  Even though Ebony’s old stall was empty, the barn was what Eva gravitated toward when she wanted a listening ear. She went there the next afternoon, stopping only to drop an envelope off at the post office that was addressed to Taylor at her library. Inside was a check. Eva had agreed not to give Taylor money out of her own pocket but felt perfectly justified in giving her the tip money from Amanda’s family. Taylor had earned it—both with her excellent customer service and her ability to maintain composure in the midst of their nastiness toward her.

  Eva’s mother’s horse Wynona didn’t have the same love for Eva that Ebony had, but that was to be expected. When well loved and cared for, a horse is most loyal to its caretaker. All that aside, affection could still be coaxed out of Wynona with a thorough brushing and an offering of carrots or a sugar cube. Eva had come prepared for her visit and extended her edible peace offering to the mare. Wynona whinnied in satisfaction.

  From there, she got down to business, pulling the horse grooming tools off the shelf. There were different brushes for different things. The first brush was to remove dirt, mud, or other general grime off the horse’s coat. Wynona was clean enough that she barely needed the first brushing, but the more thorough Eva was, the more it would take her mind off of the fact that Taylor hadn’t responded to any of her texts.

  The first had been a straight-forward apology and a request that Taylor call her back. She didn’t.

  Then, Eva had reverted to their old game— the one where she texted a line from a novel or short story and Taylor had to guess the author. They were all either about apologies, mistakes, or longing. She made sure not to use that other l word. The one with four letters. Love.

  A full forty-five minutes later, Wynona’s coat was the glossiest Eva could manage to get it, Wynona’s hooves had been carefully attended to with a pick, and both her mane and tail had been detangled and brushed out to their full glory.

  “You look race-ready,” Eva said, giving Wynona a kiss. “All dressed up and nowhere to go.”

  Eva looked around for other things that needed to be done. In a barn, there’s always something.

  “Should I change your hay or braid your hair?” she asked the horse, half hoping Wynona would answer.

  Both she and Wynona startled when her mother walked through the front door, sugar cubes in her hand. No doubt an apology for being away from her horse for most of the weekend.

  “I didn’t think you’d be back until later tonight?” Eva said, leaning forward to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. She wanted a hug, to be comforted, but she didn’t want to get her mother dirty.

  “A tropical storm is rolling into the coast tonight. Your father thought it would be safer to hit the road early.”

  Eva’s mother flipped two buckets over, transforming them into stools. “How ‘bout you pop a squat and tell me why you’re here talking to my horse instead of out gallivanting with this young woman your father told me about?”

  Eva went through twenty feelings in the span of seconds. Relief that her mother wasn’t making a big deal of the fact that her first relationship was with a woman. Gratitude that her mother could read her well enough to know something was wrong. Frustration that she was only weeks into a relationship and was cringing over what she’d done wrong instead of celebrating what was to come.

  She brought her mother up to speed, sparing her mother only the details about how they’d made love.

  Her mother was still for a long time, thinking.

  “You work in the business of creating fairy tale endings. When you just see the beginning of other people’s happ
ily ever afters, you don’t know how messy and haphazard beginnings can be.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Your father and I have taught you to work hard to get what you want. Your scholarships, your business—getting those things didn’t come easy, but you pushed through the roadblocks. If Taylor is truly someone you want to be with, you need to be willing to fight to get her back.”

  “Any suggestions on how to do that?”

  Eva’s mother shook her head. “You’re going to have to figure out that part yourself.”

  “Did you and Dad ever have rough times?”

  Her mother snorted, her laugh half coming out of her nose, half coming out of her mouth. “God yes. The first time we ever went to this wedding retreat, it was because we had problems I didn’t think we could work out. I saw the flier for the weekend on the church’s bulletin board and thought it was God sending me a sign. Now we go because we realize being proactive about building our relationship is just as important as troubleshooting the problems when they come up.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Trust me when I say there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. The people around you and the characters in those movies you like to watch may fool you, but everyone’s got crap they’ve gotta work out.” Eva’s mother stood up. “Speaking of crap, I think there’s some of Wynona’s that needs to be shoveled up.”

  Eva groaned. That was the one chore she wasn’t planning to do while she was at the barn.

  “The way I see it, you’ve got two options. Get my spare shovel and help your mother or go figure your own crap out.”

  She chose the latter option.

  * * *

  Her mother was right. Watching romantic comedies as though they could be trusted for understanding actual relationships wasn’t helpful at all.

  She’d never been to Taylor’s apartment, so she couldn’t exactly stand under her window with a boom box like John Cusack in Say Anything . If she could somehow manage to find Taylor’s address, she didn’t think showing up unannounced for the first time while Taylor was angry would exactly go over well.