by R. C. Martin
It takes me about two and a half hours to do the whole thing. While I work, I do what I always do and make conversation as I try and distract my client from the pain. Her boyfriend ends up being pretty funny and all four of us find something to contribute to the chatter. When I’m finished, I’m starving. Crystal and I leave as soon as I’m done cleaning up. Pete and Willow have the shop tonight, which works in my favor. When I ask Crystal where she’d like to go, her response is: “It’s your town. You tell me. I will say, I expect a good beer selection as this is the city of breweries.”
With that, I know exactly where to go.
The Tap Room is crowded, but not overwhelmingly so, and we manage to find two seats up at the bar.
“Do you feel a total high right now?” she asks as we wait for our first round of beer. “It must be insane doing what you do all the time.”
“It is. And I do. Sometimes the things people ask for are a bit cliche or a little outrageous. Then you get those people who come in with a unique request and an incredible story. Those are the ones I never forget. Those are the designs that I can really get behind. They come out better when there’s a story or a meaning or something, you know?”
“What is the best story and tattoo that you’ve gotten to be a part of? Yours excluded.”
A lazy smile pulls at my lips as I think of Daphne. Of course, her story is the first to pop into my head; she walked into the shop, told me her story, and changed my life.
“This outta be good,” says Crystal, interrupting my thoughts. “That smile gives you away. Let’s hear it.”
“It was a phoenix. A girl walked in, told me way too much, and I freehanded the bird in minutes. She was terrified,” I say with a chuckle. “But she was determined. I liked that about her. Still do.”
“Ahh. Are you finally telling me about Daphne?” she inquires as our beers arrive. I look at her, curious as to how she figured it out. She responds before I have to ask. “When I met her earlier, I saw the way she looked at you. Is she your girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it serious?”
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, as if she’s waiting for me to give her more. I don’t. I can’t explain it, exactly, but it just feels like too much—sharing what Daphne and I have with her. There’s a line in the sand and I’m not ready to cross it right now.
“Good for you. I’m glad that you’ve found someone to make you happy.”
“What about you?” I swallow a mouthful of beer. “Are you seeing anyone?” The words come out automatically, as if there’s nothing else in the world I can possibly say next.
Just like that, what felt easy between us is gone.
“There was a guy,” she says softly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “We dated for a couple years, but it didn’t pan out the way either of us thought it would. We broke up about six months ago.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. It’s like we’ve wandered into dangerous territory. Everything else—jobs, accomplishments, hobbies, and friends—they exist in the safe zone. We’ve always been able to share those things. But our sex lives? It’s not the same. She doesn’t know what I went through after our shit hit the fan and I don’t know what she’s gone through, either. I won’t ask for details, neither will she, and both of us will think of that one moment in time where we lost control and went too far—the moment that put us on the path we’re on now.
She’s an old friend, but we aren’t those people anymore and we can’t go back. Now that the nostalgia has worn off, I just want to know why she’s here.
“Crystal, why are you here? In Fort Collins?”
“Officially? It’s Labor Day weekend and a friend convinced me to take a couple days off and come down. There’s a wine and food festival going on that she wanted to attend. She has friends here as well, so we’re making a trip of it.”
I nod and then take another drink, wondering if I’m supposed to take her answer at face value. The bartender comes back to collect our food order and I’m afraid that my chance to hear anymore about why she came looking for me will have to wait. That’s exactly what happens.
We make more small talk until our dinner arrives and we sludge our way through conversation in an attempt to get back to that place where the words come easily. She starts a round of remember when’s and soon we’re reminiscing about days gone by over a decade ago. Once we get to laughing, the weight of regret lightens just enough for us to enjoy the moment.
When we finish eating, I start to ask for the bill, but she stops me. She reaches for my hand as I lift it to signal the bartender and I’m surprised by the contact. “Wait,” she pleads. “There’s something else I have to tell you; the reason why I came looking for you. Can we stay for little while longer? Let’s order another round.”
I reach for my phone and check the time. It’s getting late. “Fuck,” I mutter, noticing that I’ve got three text messages from Daphne. I forgot I was supposed to call. I had planned on calling after Crystal was gone, but this night has turned out differently than I anticipated. Since my phone is running low on battery, I opt not to call. Instead, I shoot her a quick text and then Crystal and I order another round.
I yawn as I scroll and then add another dress to my cart. So far, I’ve found two that could be appropriate. However, I’ll stop at no less than five. I can’t take the chance and order just one in case it doesn’t fit right. Two is not enough, in case I decide that I don’t like either of them when I go to choose one. There’s no guarantee that something I find perfect right now will still be perfect on Saturday. A girl has to have options.
I smile when my phone starts ringing and answer right away. “Hi!”
“Hey,” says Roman skeptically. “What are you doing up? It’s almost two in the morning.”
“Well, I was on my way to bed but I couldn’t go to sleep because I had this nagging feeling that I was forgetting something. I tossed and turned for about an hour and then it hit me—I don’t have anything to wear to this party! I sure as hell don’t have time to go shopping in the next day and a half, so I’ve had to resort to online browsing.”
“Babe, I’m willing to bet that you have plenty of things to wear in your closet.”
“Roman Cornelius!” I scoff. “I cannot wear a repeat dress to the grand re-opening party of my first solo project. You’re crazy if you think otherwise.” I’m interrupted by a yawn. “Or maybe just tired from a long day,” I add as I exhale.
“I am tired—too tired to argue with you about you referring to me by my middle name. By the way, I plan on wearing a repeat suit to this event. Fair warning.”
“I won’t notice. I’ve never seen you in a suit, so—” I pause, turning my ear toward the hallway when I think I hear a noise.
“So—?”
“Shh,” I insist, scrambling to my feet. “I heard something,” I whisper.
“What do you mean you heard something? Are you okay? Is someone there?”
“Shh!” I sneak my way down the hallway in the dark, listening closely as I go.
“Did you just shush me? Don’t shush me! What’s going on? Do I need to come over? I’m going to come over.”
“Roman Cornelius!” I hiss. “Shut up for a second, would you?” When I hear a set of keys jingle, I turn on the light in the living room. I relax when Daphne opens the door. “Rome, it’s just Daphne.”
“Daphne? At two in the morning?”
My peace of mind is shoved aside when I see the look on her face. “She’s upset. Gotta go. Bye.” I end the call without further prompting and rush toward her as she locks us in. “What are you doing here? What happened? What’s wrong?”
She’s wearing her Chucks, a pair of sweatpants, and one of Trevor’s shirts. Her hair is a tangled mess, like she just got out of bed after a night of restless sleep. Then again, her eyes are all puffy and red, making me think that even restless sleep is the last thing she’s managed to obta
in tonight.
She swallows twice before she finally answers me. “I waited for him. I fell in love with him when I was nineteen and I’ve waited for him. And he’s waited for me. Sure, he’s wet his dick a bit, but he’s never dated anyone. Not in over nine years. And I haven’t dated anyone. Not since before Mack, which, honestly, does Mack even count? The douche slept with me, got caught by his girlfriend, and never spoke to me again.
“The point is—we waited. We waited until it was right. We waited until it was about us and not all that we had lost. It took us forever to be ready. In fact, I don’t even think we thought we’d ever be ready. And yet, here we are. Finally together. Finally so fucking happy that it doesn’t seem real! Then…she just shows up. The girl he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with. They go to coffee and I go home to a house that belongs to him. And I wait. And I wait. And I fucking wait. And he says he’ll call, but he doesn’t. And then it’s one o’clock in the morning and I’m still waiting!
“I want to believe I’m overreacting. I want to believe that I’m just so tired and my emotions are a byproduct of my worry and my restlessness. I want to believe that if I call him just one more time he’ll answer. But I called him five times on my way here. He’s not picking up.”
“Okay,” I mutter, trying to wrap my head around everything she just said. I run my hands up and down her arms in an attempt to comfort her while I think. “There has to be some explanation. When’s the last time you heard from him? What if it’s not what you think?” She pulls out her phone and shows me his last text, sent a couple hours ago. I can’t conceal my grimace.
“LG, we haven’t spent a night apart in weeks. We promised we wouldn’t let anything come between us and he told me—he told me—separate beds was one of those things. So what the hell is he doing?”
“I don’t know,” I reply with a feeble shrug. “But it can’t be as bad as you think. He would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Yeah. I know!” she grumbles, pulling away from my touch. “Not on purpose.” I watch as she begins to pace back and forth across the living room. “But you didn’t see his face when he saw Crystal. She’s the reason why I had to wait all these years for him in the first place! I don’t know why she’s here and I don’t know why he hasn’t called and I’m freaking out. I can’t wait anymore. I won’t stand by and twiddle my thumbs. I’ll go crazy!”
“Alright. So…what are you going to do?”
“You tell me. That’s why I’m here. I’m evoking my best friend privileges,” she declares, looking at me expectantly.
“Right.” I plop down into the armchair and fight a yawn.
I should be sleeping. She should be sleeping. We both should be sleeping. Instead, this night seems to be filled with emergencies. I guess that’s the trend this week. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I can hardly wait for this party to be over. I hate to admit it, but it’s stressing me out so much I’m not sure I’ll even enjoy it. It’s Labor Day weekend and obviously we could all use a little fun around here.
“I know what you need,” I begin with a lazy grin. “You need live music and good booze and your favorite dance buddy.”
“A distraction,” she says, contemplatively. “You’re right. I need a bigger distraction!” She sighs as she stops pacing and comes to squeeze in beside me. I wrap my arms around her and she rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s hurts, Logan…” she mumbles. “Why didn’t he come home?”
“He will.”
“I’m mad at him,” she whispers. “I’m worried—of course, I’m worried—but I’m mad at him.”
“That’s allowed.”
She inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “So…about that live music.”
“Oh,” I groan. “Skank, I’d love to spend the weekend helping to distract you, but I’m not your best pick right now. I’ve got work, remember?”
“Right,” she mutters defeatedly. “The party. The party that Trevor and I are supposed to come to…”
“Ugh. Where’s your concert buddy when you need her?” I gripe, irritated by Avery’s absence. Last summer, the two of them were practically joined at the hip at every music event they could manage to attend within a fifty mile radius of our town. If anything can distract Daphne long enough for her to get her wits about her again, it’s live music. And not just any live music, but the kind that reminds you of your best day and your first love as it permeates your soul.
“Chicago,” she gasps as she pulls away from me.
“What?”
“My concert buddy. She’s in Chicago. I should go to Chicago this weekend.”
“Um—Daph, running away—”
“No. Listen. I’m not running away. I’d just be creating some space. I don’t know what Trevor’s deal is, he’s not talking to me. Whatever’s going on, I’m too mad and hurt to be the girlfriend who is full of compassion and understanding when he looses his shit and breaks his promises. Believe me when I say he’s lost his shit. No way the Trevor I know and love would text me instead of call me. It’s Crystal. He needs to figure this shit out, once and for all, and I need to let him. Whatever the consequences might be.”
“So, what, you’re just going to show up on the O’Conner’s doorstep?”
She huffs out a sigh and then pulls out her phone. “If he answers, if he’s at home, I’ll get back in my car and go talk to him. If he doesn’t, yeah—I’m just going to show up on the O’Conner’s doorstep.” I stare at her for a moment, speechless. Our girl can be incredibly fun and spontaneous, but this? This is different. This is panic…
This is the beginning of their first couples fight.
I can’t stop her, though. If there is one thing I know about Trevor and Daphne, it’s that they’re complicated. Their love is epic; but their big, fat, bitchy issues can’t be fixed from the outside. She knows him better than anyone. If she says it’s the end of the world because he didn’t call and he didn’t come home—then it’s the end of the world. And he knows her better than anyone—so he’ll get it, why she ran. The last time she did, he chased after her.
That was before he tasted the Kool-Aid.
I nod, signaling for her to give Trevor one more try. She presses the phone to my ear when it goes straight to voicemail.
“Okay then. Grab your laptop,” I command, pointing to her bag, discarded at the door. “You shop for plane tickets and I’ll shop for cocktail dresses while you tell me more about this Crystal girl. Then we both go to bed. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“So, is someone going to tell me why I had to get a sub for my yoga class today? And why I had to get out of bed so early?” I ask when Logan opens the door.
“Because you have to take your sister to the airport,” she insists, pulling me inside.
I’ve only been to this house a couple times. Trevor doesn’t really host things here. Since Daphne moved in, I haven’t been here at all. They didn’t really need a whole lot of help transporting her stuff, as all of it could fit in boxes that they moved over the course of a couple weeks. Daphne keeps saying that they plan on having Logan and me over for dinner some time, but we haven’t gotten around to it yet.
“Yeah. I know that I’m taking Daph to the airport—but why?”
“She’s going to visit Avery and Grayson.”
“Since when?”
“Since this morning. Look—” She stops, taking both of my hands in hers as she faces me. “Don’t ask questions, okay? I’ll fill you in later. Right now, she’s tired and emotional and it’s not good. I’m tired and stressed out and it’s not good! I’m sorry for springing this on you last minute. I would take her if I could, but I can’t because I have—”
“Hey.” I bring her hands up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “I know. It’s fine. It just seems very abrupt. Where’s Trevor?”
“I’m ready,” announces Daphne as she emerges from the bedroom. “And my guess? He’s at the shop. I made a detour on the way here. His truck is there. Or maybe he’s w
ith Crystal. Maybe they got trashed and he stayed at her place—or—wherever. Fuck if I know! He’s still not answering his fucking phone. What I do know is that it’s seven o’clock in the morning and he’s not home. I don’t want to be here when he finally decides to show up. Can we go?”
Before either of us can answer, she’s out the front door. Logan sighs as she rests her forehead against my chest. Her obvious concern has me even more curious as to what’s going on with my sister, but I’ve been given strict instructions not to ask questions. Considering what I do know, I feel inclined to listen.
“I have to let you go,” she says, pushing away from me abruptly. She grabs her purse from off of the kitchen counter and we both head for the door. “At this rate, she’ll barely make her flight as it is. Call me when you get back, okay? Drive safely but fast and don’t get pulled over.”
“Who’s the bossy one now?” I tease as we make our way off of the porch.
“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur, hooking my arm around her waist as I pull her against me. We both inadvertently let the moment linger too long and Daphne honks my horn obnoxiously. Pulling apart, we look in her direction and find her scowling. “Yikes,” I mumble.
“Yeah. Say hello to Daphne, the pissed-off-girlfriend model. Good luck.”
“Great. Thanks.”
As I climb into my Jeep, Logan makes her way to the passenger side. She opens the door and wraps her arms around my sister. “I love you. I know you’re mad, but don’t forget that he loves you, too. Go, see your friends, give him the space to deal with his shit. In the mean time, don’t let your shit fester and grow, turning this whole situation into a bigger bitch than it already is, okay? And when he calls you—”
“LG—”
“Skank! He’s going to call. If he knows what’s good for him, he’s going to freak the hell out when he finds out you’re gone. So, when he calls—answer. Got it?”
