by Rea Frey
11
grace
Grace opens the doors to Ugly Mugs. She inhales the fresh baked goods. Her mouth waters at the thought of her gigantic cinnamon donut and steamy chai latte. She orders and twirls her wooden number as she searches for a seat. All the tables are taken, but the bar along the bay windows is open. She claims two stools and removes the novel she’s just started from her tote. Midmorning sunshine pours through the glass, and she leans into the warmth.
She can’t concentrate on the novel, of course. She’s thinking about Lee. She will gauge her mood first and then decide what to do. Her donut and latte come in record time. The pleasure erupts over her tongue with the first doughy bite. She washes it down with her drink.
“Sorry I’m late.” Lee appears over her shoulder, sunglasses on, her nude lips downturned and tight.
Grace is mid-bite and covers her mouth. “Hey.” She motions to her food. “I was starving. Sorry.”
“Oh, please. Eat. I’m not even hungry.” Lee pats her flat stomach and scoots closer on her bar stool.
Grace wonders if she should just get it over with. Forget the trip. Do it now.
“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me last night.”
Grace devours another edge. “Oh? Is Mason okay?”
“It has nothing to do with Mason.” Lee flushes. “Noah and I … last night. On the couch.”
Grace swallows a large bite and shakes her head, certain she hasn’t heard right. “What?”
Lee flicks her thin wrist into the air, her bangles sliding toward her elbow. “We didn’t have sex or anything. I kissed him. Well, I tried to kiss him, but he rejected me.”
Grace opens her mouth, unsure of what to say. She knows Lee has a crush on Noah, could sense it the moment she hired him. But she knows rejection runs deep for Lee, and being rejected can have more than one implication. “What happened exactly?”
Lee chews one of her nails, a terrible habit she’s always trying to quit. “Well, I just screwed everything up. Professionally, I mean. I feel like a fool.”
“No, hey. You’re not a fool.” Grace’s heart begins to thud as she wraps a protective arm around Lee. “I’m sure he just doesn’t want to muddle the lines between employee and employer, you know?”
She snorts. “That’s exactly what he said.”
“So I’m sure it’s true. I mean, who wouldn’t be interested in you? Look at you. I’m sure he’s just trying to do the right thing.”
“But why is that the right thing? He’s always at the house. Mason adores him. Just last night, Mason asked if we were going to be a family.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. It makes perfect sense. We make perfect sense.” Lee turns to face her. “Do you think he’s seeing someone? Is that what this is all about?”
Grace sits back and crosses her arms. “I’ve never heard you even imply that you were interested to this degree. I always thought you might have a crush, but…” Grace buries her own confession. Not now.
“Of course I’m interested. I was interested when you first introduced him. Who wouldn’t be interested?”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
She lifts one shoulder and drops it just as suddenly. “Why would I?”
Grace dabs her lips with the napkin and slides her plate across the bar. “Because I’m your best friend? Because it’s a big deal? Because you need someone to talk to?”
“I know. But I feel protective over him. Like, the thought of him dating…” She shakes her head. “The thought makes me insanely jealous, and I never get jealous. How ridiculous is that?”
Grace doesn’t know what to say. Lee is jealous? Lee is crazy about Noah? The complexities of their working relationship fly into focus. If Lee makes a move, she could ruin everything for Mason. “Listen. I’m sure being so good with Mason makes you more attracted to him. You’ve never had a guy around Mason. Noah’s the first, right?”
Lee nods. “So?”
“So that probably has something to do with it.”
“What do you mean?” Lee sweeps her hair over one shoulder.
“I mean … the first guy who’s good with Mason will obviously tug on your heartstrings.” She makes her voice as tender as possible. “That doesn’t mean he’s necessarily a match made in heaven for you though.”
“Where were you last night?” Lee’s eyes are blank behind her sunglasses.
Grace is thrown by the change of topic. “What do you mean? I was home.”
“I called you after he left. I couldn’t get you.” Lee taps her knee nervously, and it reminds her of Mason.
“Well, I don’t know then. Did you leave a message? Or text?”
Lee crosses her arms. “No.”
“Sorry. My phone’s been weird since I updated the operating system.” She scoots closer. “You know I would have answered if I saw you called.” Because I always answer. Because your issues are more important than mine. “I’m here now.”
Lee exhales and uncrosses her arms. “I know. It’s just … why can’t it ever be easy? Girl likes boy. Boy likes girl back. Boy is good with girl’s kid. Boy, girl, and kid become a family.”
“Because life isn’t some fairy tale, that’s why.” She should know. Grace rummages in her bag for ChapStick, desperate to change the subject. “Before I forget. Did you get Carol’s email about the trip next week?”
“I did. I can’t go.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? Because I’ve never left Mason. And because I’ve probably ruined any chance at freedom by coming on to Noah.”
“Hey, seriously. Stop.” Grace squeezes her elbow. “You didn’t ruin anything. Was Noah acting normal when he came over this morning?”
She shrugs. “Mostly.”
“See? I’m sure he’s fine.” She rattles her elbow, as if she can shake some sense into her. “Flattered, even. You don’t need to worry about anything. And you should really consider coming to Black Mountain. I’m sure Noah would be happy to help.”
“I don’t even know if he does that sort of thing.” Lee scratches her bare, thin arm. “Stay with him overnight.”
“You trust him though, right?”
“Obviously.”
Grace knocks away a few crumbs from her lap. “Then I’m sure he’d be overjoyed to help. You deserve it. As long as I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single vacation.”
“True.” Lee spins one strand of glossy black hair around her finger. “I brought it up last night, but we didn’t get to talk about the details.”
Grace balances one elbow on the bar and leans her head into her hand. “Do you remember when we first met? I asked you about your killer haircut and we became fast friends?” Grace begged Lee to give her all of her magic hair potions, as her hair, no matter what she did, ended up frizzed and slightly curled from the relentless Nashville humidity. “It’s just like that. I wanted to know something, so I asked. Don’t overthink this. Just ask him. He can either say yes or no.”
“I’m not like you.”
“You don’t have to be like me, but anxiety from any decision comes from thinking about the decision, and not the decision itself.”
“Thanks, Yoda.” A hint of a smile curls one side of her mouth.
Grace playfully pushes her. “Just think if I had never talked to you that day.”
Lee relaxes and her shoulders drop. “I can’t even imagine.”
“See? So ask him.”
She nods. “I will.”
“Today. You’ll ask him today.”
“Yes, pushy. I’ll ask him today.” Lee types something into her phone. “I’m even making myself a note so I won’t forget. Happy?” She drops her phone back into her bag. “I’m sorry if I ruined your morning.” She faces the window, the smile wiped clean. “I just thought for once in my life, something might work out. That’s all.”
Grace’s heart aches, but she stays silent.
“I need to ask Mason. About the trip. Make sure he’s okay
with it first.”
“Good mama.” Grace’s hands rest on her satisfied belly. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Where? The greenway?”
Grace and Lee love the Shelby Bottoms Greenway. Whenever their schedules allow, they walk the trail, winding around the water with the occasional fisherman, past the baseballs fields and the playground with exhausted mothers pushing babies in swings, under the old train tracks, and onto the actual greenway itself with its thick paths of trees, bamboo, and cyclists huffing on your left as they get lost in conversation.
It’s where Grace feels closest to Lee—away from responsibility and free to talk or walk in comfortable silence. Sometimes they don’t even talk. They observe the rust of the train tracks, the rushing water, the nature museum, the natural playground with its piles of sand and homeschooled children, the path that first winds around the sprawling dog park and uncoils near the glittering lake. It’s the only time they are both free.
Lee glances at her watch. “I told Noah I’d be back in an hour and a half. Do we have time?”
“Plenty. Do you want to get coffee first?”
“Nah. I’ll get one after.”
“I’m going to get one to go.”
She pays for a regular coffee and hooks elbows with Lee as they step outside. They separate to their cars to make the quick drive to the greenway entrance. Grace lets the earlier tension fade as she parks in the half-empty lot.
Her secret hammers her conscience, and she grits her teeth. She fires off a few texts and feels better. She takes a breath, plasters on a smile, and joins Lee on the path by the trees. But underneath that smile, she knows what is coming. The truth will drive a wedge between them, one that—no matter how hard she tries—cannot be removed.
sunday
12
lee
Sometimes, when she wakes, Lee forgets where she is, in what fragment of time, as if the contents of her life have been sliced and reshuffled like a deck of cards.
She will come stumbling into consciousness and reach for the bottle on the nightstand. When her fingers swab the lamp or her phone, she will think only: then.
That was then. How many mornings before this has she come into the day still drunk and wanting to take the edge off? Lee is built on edges. If it isn’t wine, it’s work, worrying, remembering, or trying not to remember. But today, when she stirs, it isn’t Mason she thinks of first, or the wine she reaches for.
It’s Noah.
Lee lies in bed and eyes the dated ceiling fan. Her gaze shifts to the water spot on the ceiling, newly patched but still showing a blown-out brown stain. Her eyes travel down to the bedroom windows, recently afflicted with wood rot.
She’s tried her best to spruce up the house, but it’s still an outdated ranch, and a rental. Though her friends don’t live far—Carol only a few streets over in Lincoya Hills, Grace and Alice in Green Hills, a more affluent neighborhood with better schools—Lee is the only renter. But to her, this house, on this street, signifies her fresh start with Mason, and she’s proud of it.
Lee slides a hand over the pillow on the other side of the bed. It’s been empty for as long as Mason has been alive. She has a switch, and she simply turned it off. But with one mistaken moment of throwing herself at Noah, the switch has been flipped, and she doesn’t want to turn it off again. She can almost feel what it would be like to have him here beside her.
She tiptoes to Mason’s room and presses her ear against the cold wood. Still asleep. Mason is a troubled sleeper. For a few years, he sleepwalked. She’d jar awake at the sound of him jiggling a doorknob to go outside or insisting, confused, that it was time to start his lessons for the day. Later, it had turned into the occasional thrashing or swinging of a pillow, disjointed sentences muffled by sleep. There is no rhyme or reason to what constitutes a good night versus a bad night, but she recently started giving him melatonin, which seems to help.
She dresses and puts on the kettle for tea. As she drops a tea bag into an empty cup, her eyes drift to the backyard, the garden, and the trees that fill the perimeter with their tiny, pregnant flower buds and dancing branches. She’s just planted anemones, poppies, and a row of ranunculus and can’t wait to see the wonderful bounty for late spring.
She needs to get to a meeting today. The uncertainty of what Noah’s rejection means makes her feel antsy, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to take it out on Mason or erupt into a tantrum again. Even though Sunday mornings are packed, she clears her schedule.
She can’t stand over all those talking heads today, nodding and giving her opinions about her clients’ inability to spend the summer completely abroad because little Billy has science camp, or how a bonus should be spent, or which Jet Ski to buy for Percy Priest Lake. She always listens and smiles, painting wiry, gray hairs, or neatly slicing split ends, when all she really wants is to fist a bottle of wine and drink until her teeth, lips, and tongue grow black. The relief with every drink—how it eases the knots of aggression, disappointment, and frustration like the hands of a masseuse after a marathon—has left her without a comparable release.
She asks Noah if he can come over a bit early today. He quickly texts back and asks if he can talk to her about something.
Lee’s fingers hover over the keys as she rereads the text. She types out a curt response: sure. She wavers between worrying it’s something to do with Mason and hoping it isn’t a rehashing of the Almost Kiss.
Lee yawns and waits for the kettle to whistle. Twenty minutes later, Noah knocks softly at the back door. What would he say if he knew he was her first thought this morning?
“Hey,” she says as she opens the door. She rearranges her face to some semblance of normal, but it’s strained, tight.
Noah places his satchel by the mud bench, and something about it reminds her of husbands all over the world coming home after a long day’s work to their wives. His hair is slightly wet, and she wonders if he’s just taken a shower. He glances toward the hall. “Is he up yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Is now an okay time to talk?”
“Sure.” She fixes herself a cup of tea, offers him one, and sits at the dining room table. “I feel like I’m in trouble or something.”
“No. It’s nothing like that.” Noah struggles to find the words.
“Is it about what happened on Friday?” She senses his hesitation and hurries to fill the gap. “Please tell me you’re not quitting because of that.”
“Lee.” Noah rests a hand on hers. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m not quitting. Relax.”
She smiles, lips tight over her teeth, and loves the heaviness of his hand on hers. “Okay, I’ll be quiet. Speak.”
He drags his hand across the table and back to his lap. “I’m not sure the best way to say this, so I’m just going to say it, and I want you to listen. Okay? Entirely. Until I’m done.”
Lee’s breath sticks in her lungs. She only nods.
“It’s about this trip with your friends.”
She exhales, relieved that it’s not about the kiss, but also anxious about what he’s going to say. She wants to go—everything in her wants to—but the reality of packing a bag, getting in a car, and driving away from her life and Mason seems impossible. No one but her knows what a monumental step that is. No one but her knows exactly what that means.
“I’m thinking about it.”
He narrows his eyes. “No, you’re not. I know you.”
She laughs. “How do you know I’m not going to go?”
“Like I said, I know you. You’re easy to read. Have you talked to Mason about it yet?”
“Not yet. But I will.”
“Okay, fair enough.” He spreads his hands on the table and tips back in the chair. “Still want to hear my prepared speech?”
He’s prepared a speech? She extends one hand, not needing one more reason to find him adorable. “By all means.”
He clears his
throat. “Here goes: you need to go on this trip. Not just because it’s a fun thing to do, or because you need a break. But because Mason needs this. Mason needs to know that his mother can be gone for forty-eight or seventy-two hours, and his world will not fall apart. Mason is capable, even at this young age, of coping with his limitations. His mind is exceptional. You know that, and I know that. But it’s his emotional health that needs a real test. This is why he needs this. He will be fine. You will be fine. You will be a better mother once you take a few days to yourself.” He scratches his head. “I mean, what? You’ve never even been away from him, unless it’s for coffee or to run an errand, right? Most seven-year-olds leave their parents eight hours a day every day for school.”
“I know.” The guilt washes over her. She often worries he’s not getting the socialization he needs by staying at home.
“He will have familiar faces around him. He’ll be protected and safe. Okay?”
She nods, but inside, the nerves begin their frenetic dance. No one understands that if she goes, she’ll be thinking about what could happen while she’s gone. It would be nothing more than obsessing if he’s okay, if he’s missing her, if he’s having a meltdown that Noah can’t fix. She’s come to realize that she relies on Mason more than he relies on her. Which probably means that she’s taken on a new addiction.
Noah’s strong, masculine face and earnest eyes await her response. She lingers on the lips she would love to kiss and drifts down to the hands she would like to hold. This man wants to give her a break. Even if he doesn’t reciprocate the same romantic feelings, he still wants to take care of Mason so she can go have fun. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever offered.
“Why are you here?” Mason rubs the sleep from his eyes and stands in his Star Wars pajamas, hair mussed and static-prone. He checks the time. “It’s not even nine.”
“I needed to talk to your mom about something. Let’s get you some breakfast and then we can start.”
“I’m going to get dressed first.”
Lee stands to help.
Mason stops in the hall and calls over his shoulder. “I have decided that I am now old enough to get dressed by myself. Grace is the only one who does it right, and I don’t have the luxury of living with Grace. So I’m going to do it from now on.” He disappears to his room.
