I very nearly retorted that Caro was the one who started it, but there was no sense in sounding like an eight-year-old. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. If she hounds me, I’m coming after you, of course.”
“Of course. I look forward to your knock-out punch, as long as you don’t do anything that interferes with Danita’s wedding.” Hmm, that was familiar. I wondered if Danita had gotten to him, too.
Honestly, who was I to be upset at him for learning from our painful mistakes? I just really, really hated that Caroline was the one who benefited. She’d been there after our split, helping him with his book, making that life he desired happen when I’d wanted to do that. Heck, I’d been entitled to it after supporting his fairy tales for seventeen years. Grudgingly, I understood why Samuel found a forceful woman attractive. Perhaps Samuel really did know who Caroline was, and liked her anyway. He had to know her better than I did, at least.
Samuel gave me a nudge. “You look like you’re ready to bolt. What are you thinking?”
“Sorry.”
I’d heard him say the same words to me a thousand times. Now I had an extra seven years of maturity to my name. So did he. Yet I danced around his head like a gossamer wing butterfly.
“Kaye, you’re doing it again.” He laughed, taking a bite of his sandwich. Mother cliff-hucker, he’s right.
“Sorry, just thinking.” I pulled myself up by my boot straps and took a swig of lemonade. “I was wondering. This new life of yours—celebrity, acclaim, travel—is it worth it?”
“Ah. Worth what?”
“I mean, is the success worth the life you left behind, here in Colorado?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead he wrapped tawny arms around his knees and squinted at the fading sun.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
I stuttered, not expecting that. How to answer? I’m content? I’m not happy, but I want to be? I settled for ambiguous. “Sure. As happy as the next person, I suppose.” What did my happiness have to do with his leaving? “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Samuel.”
“Two years ago, you told me I’d left you like a spoiled little boy.” He scrubbed his chin, the gears of his mind cranking. Finally, he turned to me with intense eyes. “You and I always had this weird sort of symbiosis. Ever notice that?”
I shook my head, not sure what he meant.
“We fed off of each other’s emotions, even as children. More often than not, you were the one with those overpowering moods—so much life, so happy. I couldn’t help but bask in it. But I remember some days I’d think about things, sad things, and I’d look at you and see it all reflected back at me—same furrowed brow, same pained eyes.”
“Okay, so we felt each other’s sorrows and joys. Isn’t that one of the points of marriage? Heck, of friendship?”
“Yes. But I think we influenced each other a lot more than most people. I didn’t realize it until I went to college, saw how other couples behaved.”
“Screw other couples. They weren’t us.” His cryptic language irritated the crap out of me. “So you’re saying we were too dependent on each other?”
“Kind of. Toward the end, I think our symbiotic relationship leaned toward the selfish, parasitic end of the spectrum, rather than mutualism. I wasn’t strong like you, Kaye. I needed you to stay above water, but instead I dragged you down.”
That was just so…Samuel. “You and your science analogies. Basically, you’re saying you would have eventually drowned me?”
“Something like that.”
“Great. It always comes back to water sirens with you.”
“Kaye, please be serious.” He packed our empty bottles and wrappers in his messenger bag, ready to hike back to the van. I hopped up from the ground and tossed my empty lemonade bottle with the other garbage.
“I’m sorry, Samuel, but it’s hard to take your ‘symbiosis’ theory seriously. Symbiosis happens to fish and coral reefs, dirt and plants, algae, bacteria, stuff like that. Not people.”
“It was just a metaphor.”
“So answer this: if we were so symbiotic, why was I happy when you were unhappy? In theory, shouldn’t both of us have been happy or unhappy?”
His pale blue eyes sought my hazel. “Are you sure you were happy? I remember it a bit differently. The last time we…you cried in the shower. I heard you.”
A memory gripped me…Doubled over beneath a stream of lukewarm water, sobbing after we’d had sex…he hadn’t been able to meet my eyes. I squeezed my eyelids shut and banished the images from my head.
“Of course. I think I’d know if I’d been unhappy, Sam.” My chin jutted out in defiance.
He nodded, not saying anything.
“Look, it boils down to this: I never felt burdened by you, emotionally drained, or damaged in any way. Not once. That is, until you left.”
He sighed, pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. This scene was rapidly becoming too much like my movie reel from many years ago. “I needed to leave, Kaye. I needed to leave alone.”
“But why? I mean, why did I make you unhappy? Was I too demanding, too hard to live with? Too busy? Did I talk you into a marriage you didn’t want?”
His head shot up. “No. Never. Please understand, I had issues—things I never told you—that would have ruined us if I’d stayed. I just…I couldn’t be married to you anymore.” Even he winced at that horrible cliché.
“What issues?”
He lifted a shoulder, eyes downcast, fingers tracing the lines of his palm. Still Samuel, still as closed off as ever.
“That’s complete bull. Obviously I factored into your decision to leave somehow. I was the one asking for the real life fairy tale, and you played along. Maybe you got tired of the game.”
He held up his hands in futility. “Marriage wasn’t a game to me, Kaye. We weren’t kids anymore.”
Ugh. I couldn’t believe we were going down this exact same path. “Please, Samuel, you gotta give me something concrete here or I’ll go nuts. I refuse to end up alone because of you.”
He strode several steps ahead, his long legs widening the distance between us. I watched his aggravated hands run through his hair, then slip down to his face. I was weary of his clear-as-mud explanations. My arms folded over my chest, either holding my anger in or keeping it at bay. Why couldn’t he give me a straight answer, just once in his life? Let down that barrier he’d built around his mind when all I asked for was honesty. But he wouldn’t, would he? Still the same old, frustratingly careful Samuel.
The sun finally sank beneath the mountains, leaving the moon and the light from the lantern to illuminate the ground as we weaved our way back to the Campervan. Old pines towered over the edge of the lake, casting colossal, swaying shadows over us. Despite my anger, I instinctively moved closer to Samuel as the night swept chills through my limbs.
He was quiet the rest of the walk, loading up the VW, even pulling away from Button Rock Reservoir. His brow furrowed as he guided the van around the dark, curving highway. I flipped on my iPod, skimming The Twiggies, Tripping Marys, New Greeleys, until I found my stash of good ol’ southern rock. But even some Free Bird couldn’t lighten the mood.
“Kaye,” he blurted out, breaking the silence. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened in New York? I thought…I guessed…that’s what you wanted to do today.”
Bile burned my throat, a classic reaction whenever I thought about what I’d seen. New York was the last place I wanted to go.
“No.”
“I really think we should discuss this before I leave. If you want answers, real answers, it needs to happen.” He anxiously twisted the steering wheel beneath his hands.
“Did you know Audrey is going to propose to Dad?”
“Listen, that night—”
My voice broke. “But Dad doesn’t know, yet, so please don’t mention it to anyone. I’m really afraid he’s going to say no, break her heart. Just like Mom.”
His mouth c
lamped shut. I saw his jaw tighten, grind. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
“You’ve been saying sorry a lot the past week.”
“There’s a lot to apologize for.”
Almost too much, was my grim thought.
His hands froze on the steering wheel, almost as if he had heard my unspoken words in the stifling quiet of the van. The veil of distress was more tangible, now that the outside world was invisible inside the confines of the retro van, save for the stretch of road beneath the yellow beams. Samuel glared straight ahead. Headlights from the opposite lane bounced off the glass and swept over his face, briefly bathing him in cold blue light. But it was enough to show me that his eyes glistened. I felt a stirring in my chest, in spite of myself.
“Samuel…”
He shook his head. “No, Kaye. I deserve this. Let me feel it, please.”
“Hey. I’m sorry, too. I should have seen how sad you were back in college.”
“To your apartment, then? You don’t want me to take you to the farm?” So we were back to this again, our coils of barbed wire unfurled.
“Boulder, please. Molly is staying with me, and I shouldn’t bail on her.” I glanced at the time—nearly nine o’clock. If he took me to Boulder, he wouldn’t get back to Lyons until almost eleven. “Samuel, you’re welcome to crash on my couch. Heck, you’ve got the Campervan, you could just park it in the TrilbyJones lot. I’d hate for you to be on the roads with this thing.”
He stared into the windshield, thinking over my offer. “Kaye, that’s kind of you. But if any one of those photogs happened to see me coming or going from your place, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“I forgot about them. Probably a good idea. I’ll see you this weekend, though.”
“I won’t be at Friday lunch. I’m flying to LA for a couple of interviews. But Sunday, maybe?”
“Maybe.” The fight in me fizzled to flat acceptance. He was leaving soon. He had Caroline. He was happy now. And he’d given me my answer—there weren’t any concrete answers. Answers he was willing to share, anyway.
Before long, the lights of Boulder skimmed the hilltops. As the glowing globe grew, it reminded me that I still had one more item to check off my list. What the heck? It couldn’t get any worse.
“Look, Sam, I need to come clean about something before we get back to Boulder.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Um, how to put this?” I took a deep, shaky breath and forced out the words. “I changed my last name. It really is Trilby, not Cabral. I should have changed it sooner, but…” I studied my fingernails, grimy from our walk. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.” I waited for him to wince, or exhale, or even run his hand through his hair. Nothing.
“Kaye, it’s all right. I already know.”
“Wait. What do you mean?”
“The name change—I already know about it. I’ve known for a while.”
My narrowed eyes studied him, so calm and collected.
“How long have you known?”
He shrugged. “Just after the book signing in Boulder. You didn’t think my sister would keep it from me, did you? Really, it’s no big deal.”
“But you’ve been calling me ‘Cabral’ since you’ve been home. Why on earth didn’t you say anything? To laugh at me?”
“Kaye, come on.” His eyes darted to my nail-bitten fingers. “What was I supposed to do, congratulate you?”
“No, but you could have at least clued me in…” I hesitated over my words, horribly hypocritical once I said them aloud. Neither one of us had been forthright.
“Besides, it was kind of fun to watch you jump out of your skin every time your name came up.”
I smirked. “Jerk.”
We rolled up to TrilbyJones mansion around ten. Samuel jogged around to my door and helped me down from the van. He wavered, then sighed and pulled me into a hug.
“Goodnight, Kaye Trilby,” he murmured. I gave him a half-hearted hug back.
“Night.”
He pecked the top of my head and let me go, watching until I unlocked my door.
When I slumped up the stairs and into my home, I found Molly perched on the edge of my couch, intently watching the Lifetime Network. Ha. Even I could have a sense of humor.
“How’d it go?” She peeled her eyes from the television.
“Eh. I learned that Samuel’s a lot better at moving on than I am. Of course, I already knew that, it’s what started this whole thing. I learned he calls our childhood friendship a ‘weird symbiosis.’ Oh, and apparently I shelter him, hide stuff from him, and I’m the dirt to his emotive-drowning nacken plant.”
“That good, huh?”
I sprawled on the couch next to her. “I’m sure once I have time to process it all, I’ll feel better. But right now, I’m just…done. No more pranks, no more messing with Caroline, no more answers.”
Her horrified face was a study in German Expressionism. “No! You can’t bail, Kaye, or I swear I’ll drag you there by your hair. We have to do prank night, please? I…I have everything bought!”
“No, Molly.”
“And I even talked Danita into slipping a Benadryl in Samuel’s tea tomorrow night. I tried for a Lunesta, but she flat-out refused. But she said he takes Benadryl to sleep, sometimes, so she’ll swipe one of those. He’ll be out for sure.” Molly gave me a weepy, pleading look.
I frowned. “You brought Danita into this?”
“Well, how else were we going to accomplish any of this stuff and not wake him up? Kaye, don’t be rash. Let’s just do this and then you can be done with Samuel. You need this, trust me.”
“No. That’s final. Leave him be. Leave me be.” I stood and headed to my room for my nighttime rituals: wash up, PJs, alarm clock, lamp off.
I’d call Jaime in the morning and break up with her. Give her the old “it’s not you, it’s me.”
The Dream visited that night…Not the one in our Boulder studio apartment as he left me. This dream was different. It hadn’t made a nighttime appearance in years, not since the aftermath of my divorce. I’d channeled my pain into other avenues, and it went away…
A dingy, sparsely-furnished New York City apartment that flickered orange.
A thin blanket of frost, or snow, or something stuck to the walls and floors.
In the corner, a rickety metal bed, twisted sheets heaped in the middle of the mattress.
Samuel hunched over, his naked back glistening with sweat in the dim light.
And beneath him…a cascade of brunette hair, spilling over his pillow.
I clung to the doorframe, that well-known despair already clenching in my gut.
I couldn’t close my eyes. Why didn’t I just close my eyes?
But, for the first time, the brunette wasn’t brunette.
Her hair was straight and sleek, almost black…
“Shhhh. Is she asleep?”
“Yes, I think so. Do you want to wake her up?”
“No way.”
“Okay, you hold her legs, I’ll get her arms.”
“Lemme open the front door, hold on.”
What the heck? Was I dreaming?
“On three. One…”
I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. Where was I? My bedroom. It was still Wednesday night, I thought.
“Two…”
My eyes fluttered open. Two shadowed shapes hovered over me.
“Three!”
I sat straight up in bed, my hands flying out to protect myself from the shapes. “Argh! What the frick?”
Four strong, female hands grasped my ankles and wrists and dragged me from my bed. I kicked out, but they held me firm.
“Sorry, hermanita, but you need this,” came a commanding, oh so recognizable voice.
“Danita, let me down, right now!”
“No. This ridiculousness has gone on long enough. You’re going to prank mi hermano cabrón tonight, damn it. Give him what he deserves!”
“Last time I checked, Danita, you get livid when I
call your brother ‘un carbón.’” I landed a pretty good kick to her stomach. She oofed, then dug her nails into my shin. I hissed.
“Things change.” She got a better grip on my legs. “Which we’ll have a nice chat about on the way to Lyons for prank night. You have some ’splainin to do.”
“But…it’s not even prank night yet!” I squinted through the dark at the person gripping my arms.
“Change of plans.” Molly, the traitor. “We’ve bumped up the schedule. I warned you this was going to happen, Kaye, if you wussed out on us.”
“Jaime’s meeting us at my parents’ house in an hour. If we don’t hurry, she’ll string up Samuel by his testicles, which might not be a bad idea, actually. Anyway, I’ve already drugged him and I don’t know if I can pull it off two nights in a row.”
“Fresh air and sedatives make for sleepy boys!”
“I’m serious, Danita, Molly. Let us deal with our baggage our own way.” Just let me go back to sleep. That’s all I want.
“But you don’t deal with it,” Molly argued.
“And this is dealing with it?” I tried once more to wrench my feet free.
Danita gritted her teeth as she and Molly dragged me toward the door. “Quit being difficult, Kaye. I don’t want to have to use the bungee cords, but so help me if you don’t stop squirming, I’ll put you in the trunk.”
Bungee cords? Would they really tie me up with bungee cords? Yes, they would. I had ghastly visions of being tossed in a trunk by my two friends, bound and gagged as we bounced along the road to Lyons. Crazy, crazy people. My body slumped to the floor in a massive exhale, the fight leaving me.
“Fine. At least let me throw on a fleece over my camisole. Let’s go prank the unholy cliff-hucker, woo-hoo. Then will you let me go back to bed?”
Danita flipped on the light switch. Light flooded my room, blinding me. “Yes.” She flipped her long plait over her shoulder like she was friggin’ Nora Nixie.
Hydraulic Level Five Page 15
