“And the other decision?” I asked. Anxiety pulsed through me and pushed away my appetite. I put down my fork, knowing I wouldn’t need it.
My mom took a deep, shaky breath and covered her mouth with a napkin. She nodded at dad for him to answer me.
“Your mother and I are taking a month-long cruise to reconnect. At the end, we’re either going to get a divorce or renew our vows.”
“What about couples’ therapy?” I asked. A month in close quarters with such high stakes attached seemed extreme to me, but I was clearly no authority on how to keep a relationship alive.
“We’ve tried that, Jody. It just didn’t seem to do much good. Some friends of ours at church tried something similar to what we’re doing as a last-ditch effort to save their marriage and they said it worked. We’re hoping that when we pull back into our cruise port come New Year’s Day, we’ll be able to say the same.”
My heart sank even further down than it already was. If they were going to be gone through all of December, that also meant Christmas. I knew it was selfish of me, but if this was the last Christmas before they divorced, I wanted the three of us to be able to spend it together. Make a few last holiday memories before everything changed. Clearly, that wasn’t in the cards.
“Is there anything I can do to help while you’re gone?”
Dad shook his head. “We’re turning off our mail service while we’re on our cruise and we’ll have lights set to turn on and off based on a timer so that it will look like someone’s home. That way, if you want to stay at your apartment for the holiday or spend Christmas with friends, you won’t feel like you need to be here, house sitting.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” I said. Knowing my mom, there was an Excel spreadsheet somewhere with all the things they needed to pack, last minute action items to complete before setting sail, and an entire tab for things to do while they were together to maximize their effort. I just couldn’t fathom what would be on that last list. Couples’ massages? Serenading one another during karaoke night with the song they danced to at their wedding? Excursions that involved climbing Mayan ruins or trying their luck making exotic recipes under the tutelage of a renowned international chef?
When we cleared the table, barely anyone had touched their plate. I scraped my pasta back into the takeout box and put it in the fridge.
“How about we all take a breather and reconvene in an hour to start prepping for tomorrow?”
I nodded and leaned into my mom for a moment, resting my head on her shoulder. Then I walked over to the dryer and pulled out my Coastal College hoodie, still toasty warm. I could fold the rest of the clothes later. What I needed was to get outside. If I could get some fresh air and let out the sobs I knew were coming without my parents seeing me, I might just be able to collect myself enough to make it through the rest of the night.
3
I didn’t have to think about my destination. My body went on autopilot, leading the way.
When Andrew and I were old enough to leave the vicinity of our front yards without being accompanied by our parents, we discovered there was a park equidistant from both of our houses. In middle school, we spent most of our time swinging on the swings and talking. By freshman year, we’d progressed to sneaking into the woods behind the park to make out. It’s where we went to make up when we got into fights, where we complained about our teachers, where we snuck our first beers. We’d made a lot of memories there, both good and bad.
While it would have been nice to have someone to talk to about my parents, I figured that just being in a familiar place could be enough to bring some comfort and clarity. I climbed the ladder to the monkey bars and then maneuvered myself on top of them. The metal rungs were cold to the touch beneath my hands but on the whole it still made for a nearly perfect perch for looking at the stars.
It was easier for me to imagine the moon disappearing from space than it was to imagine my parents not being together anymore.
I couldn’t think of a single blowout fight I’d heard them get into or remember a time that they’d been anything but warm to the other person. Growing up, they’d embarrassed me more times than I could count by flirting like teenagers regardless of where they were and who was in earshot. When my friends came over, I’d always have to remind my parents they needed to keep the displays of affection to a minimum so one of my school chums wouldn’t find mom and dad pressed up against the wall should they get up in the middle of the night to find the bathroom or get a midnight snack. I always just assumed that as empty nesters, they’d be getting into all kinds of trouble together now that I wasn’t in the way to roll my eyes and ask they stop mauling one another.
If my parents couldn’t keep it together, it seemed to me that there was little hope for the rest of us.
As much as I was upset about their marital trouble, I was also upset at myself. How could I have failed to notice? Sure, I was away at school a lot, but I still talked to them at least once a week and visited on a regular basis. I’d also come back home for the summer. Rifts big enough to end a marriage didn’t happen overnight. At some point, whatever was wrong had been right under my nose and I’d been oblivious.
My own heartache had made me selfish. I was so wrapped up in figuring out how to navigate life without Andrew that it was all I could think about. That, and getting through school one day and one assignment at a time.
I was lost in thought when I heard a twig snap behind me and almost jumped out of my skin. It was rare that anyone besides Andrew and I came to the park after dark. By dusk, all the neighborhood kids had usually already been called in by their parents for the night. North Carolina was pitch black by dinnertime in late November.
When I turned to look and saw that it was Andrew staring up at me, his hands shoved down to his pockets, I nearly pinched myself to make sure what I was seeing was real. Unless he had a twin I didn’t know about, I’d recognize him anywhere. He had eyes the color of espresso and shaggy brown hair that always looked like it was a few months overdue for a cut. It looked out of place here in our hometown but made more sense when we were back on campus. There, he looked like he was just another surfer blending into the crowd, itching to get through class so he could get out to the water and catch his next wave.
“Hey there, stranger,” he said. The sentiment felt appropriate. Once, he’d known me inside and out, worlds better than anyone else. Now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever really known him at all. The boy I loved wasn’t capable of the things that he did.
“Aren’t you supposed to be across the world?”
He shrugged. “Mind if I come up?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. My heart couldn’t handle any more surprises tonight than it already had, but I also knew it couldn’t handle a fight. I’d already given him over ten years of my life. What was five more minutes? I could make some small talk and then I’d leave.
Both my folks and his would probably stay in Pinehurst until they died. Presumably, we’d both be back on the same campus again soon. That meant that I’d have to get used to seeing him around and learn how to play nice.
He clambered up to the top and settled four rungs away from me. I turned around so that we were facing one another, legs dangling in the space between us.
“Why are you here?” I asked after what felt like too long a stretch of uncomfortable silence. “Thanksgiving is an American holiday. Something tells me they don’t give you time off for it in New Zealand.”
“And you’d be right about that. New Zealand just didn’t go quite how I planned.”
“It didn’t go how I planned, either,” I said before I could stop myself. I didn’t want him to see how deep my wound went or how much it still ached. I hadn’t seen him in months, but it was quickly becoming evident that whatever power he’d held over me was still there. Hearing his voice, seeing his face? Those things made all the old feelings start to come out of hibernation. I would have given anything to keep them dormant.
Love didn�
��t care what I wanted. Love doesn’t cooperate.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that.”
My eyes drank him in. I hadn’t noticed it when he walked up because of the dark, but something was off. His nose was crooked, bent ever so slightly to the left.
“What happened there?” I asked, reaching out to touch his face.
He caught my hand in his and held it for a moment. In the November cold, he was warm and familiar. All we’d have to do was lean in and let our lips touch and I was pretty sure hormones and shared history would take over. I snatched my hand away.
“If you think this is bad, you should have seen the other guy,” he said, evading the question.
“Uh huh,” I said, not buying his fighting skills for even a moment. While the other guys on campus beefed up at the gym, played every rec league sport imaginable, and scrambled to get into the coveted boxing class that met the requirement for our health sciences elective, Andrew stuck to activities that were as nerdy as it got. Fencing, archery, that kind of stuff. He thought they would give him a leg up when he was directing fight sequences in fantasy films. His skills with a bow and arrow might make him a badass at his favorite comic convention, but they wouldn’t help him in hand-to-hand combat if someone decided they wanted to tear him up.
“Jody, I made a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life. I realized that the moment I stepped on campus. They’re on the quarter system instead of the semester system that we are, so I put in my time and caught the first plane I could back home when the quarter was done. I came back to be with you.”
I wanted to point out the flaws in his argument. A quarter gave him plenty of time to make a long-distance phone call or send me a postcard, neither of which he’d done.
“And you just assumed that getting back together was also what I’d want?”
The way that he blinked at me in response made me sure that was exactly what he thought.
“You can’t just come waltzing back into my life like nothing happened. Too much has changed.”
“Like what?” he asked.
I thought of my parents back home, waiting for me to get back to help them prep pies and sides for tomorrow. Waiting to save their marriage or watch it go down in flames.
“Everything,” I said, jumping down to the ground below us. I turned toward home and didn’t look back until I got to my front door. Part of me wish he’d trailed behind me. The other part was relieved he was nowhere in sight.
My plan for the rest of the night was simple. I’d put on Mariah Carey’s Christmas album before we got down to work. Without fail, her vocals would get us into the holiday spirit as they had every year as far back as I could remember. I’d make a roux for homemade macaroni and cheese and fold in cheddar, gouda, and gruyere. Once everything had been combined with the noodles, I’d top the dish with a mixture of breadcrumbs, parmesan, and a healthy sprinkling of herbs and spices. It would sit in the fridge until the next morning when it would transform into a bubbling, golden brown inside the stove.
That much I could control.
Everything else? That would have to wait.
4
The Monday after the break, I spotted Reggie at the food court. He was the only person that I knew from back home besides Andrew that also chosen to attend Coastal College. He was a grade above us. As a result, he knew the campus inside and out by the time we got there. He’d been nice enough to show us around move in weekend our Freshman year, helping us find all of our class buildings and places we’d need to know for later like the student health center and the best cafeterias. In no time, we’d become fast friends.
He turned down a full scholarship to play ball in Georgia so that he could study Marine Biology at Coastal. Reggie was a sneakerhead with Jordans in nearly every color and had dreadlocks that cascaded down past his shoulders. People made unfounded assumptions about Reggie based off his aesthetic, but he didn’t seem to sweat it. At the end of the day, he was always going to be smarter than they were. More successful. When I asked him how he kept his cool when people were so ignorant, he told me it was simple. He pictured himself as their boss. One day, they’d be kissing his ass instead of talking shit.
I’d introduced him to Latosha when he helped the Vixens with a day of beach cleanup earlier in the semester. They’d spent the entire afternoon alternating between flirting and picking up trash. I had a strong feeling that once he found out she’d be participating in the date auction, he’d be there, money in hand.
I walked over to stand beside him in line for the taco bar, bumping his hip with my own in greeting.
“What’s good, killer?” he said, flashing me a grin.
“Just trying to make it to the end of the semester in one piece.”
“I hear that. We’re almost to the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“If you say so,” I grumbled.
Once we got to the front of the line, we put a hold on our conversation to order our food. I worked at a local farm one morning a week for class credit and this morning the farmer had worn me out. I had calluses on my hands, an aching back, and an appetite so big I could probably eat my meal and Reggie’s, too. I ordered two carnitas tacos, a heaping scoop of cilantro rice, and a piece of tres leches cake for dessert.
“Wanna have lunch together?” Reggie asked after we’d both swiped our meal cards to pay and grabbed our trays.
“I was hoping you’d ask.”
He motioned for me to lead the way. After snatching what I’d need from the silverware station, I found a two-person booth in the back corner of the cafeteria. We plopped down across from one another and took a moment to get settled, passing a bottle of hot sauce back and forth.
“Did you know Andrew was back from New Zealand?” I asked.
When we first got here, Reggie been better friends with Andrew than he was with me. That changed after some of my classes overlapped with the ones he took for his concentration in marine conservation. After what felt like endless hours studying together for conservation biology and global environmental problems, our bond was a lot stronger. We were passionate about the same things. I wanted to save the land. He wanted to save the sea. You couldn’t do one without the other. We found that we made a good team.
“Yeah,” he said, taking a huge bite out of his taco, lettuce and ground beef falling out onto his plate. He chewed thoughtfully, eyes locked on mine, as though he wasn’t sure exactly how much he should say. “I saw him when I was back home for Thanksgiving. We grabbed a beer on Saturday.”
I nodded, poking at my food.
“I hope that’s okay with you. I mean, clearly, I’m on your side in the breakup. Besides, he got what he deserved.”
“No need to apologize. I have no business dictating who my friends spend their time with, my ex included. What do you mean, though, that he got what he deserved?”
“That girl Layla he was chasing? When he got there, he found out she’d been in a relationship the entire time. When Layla’s boyfriend found out about Andrew, he beat the devil out of him. Broke his nose and his glasses.”
“That’s karma for you,” I said, stuffing my mouth with a piece of cake. The tacos could wait. After that revelation, I needed some comfort carbs.
That night on the monkey bars, I was sure that something was fishy about Andrew’s story and I was right.
I was no one’s consolation prize. I might have a southern drawl instead of an international air of mystery, but I’d been a damn good girlfriend. If he’d gotten bored with me, I’d have been more than willing to spice things up. We could have taken a trip to the sex shop to sample their wares— the latex and leather and whips and chains. I could have worn a wig and played the part of a Russian spy intent on holding him hostage, teasing secrets out of him while he was handcuffed to the bedposts and blindfolded. I was willing to push boundaries and think outside the box. There were options for exploration that didn’t include him ruining everything that was sacred between us.
Opt
ions that didn’t include Layla.
Instead of wallowing in my pity like I’d been so tempted to do, it was finally time to move on. I could feel something shift inside me.
“Did you see him?” Reggie asked.
“Yeah. The story I got about why he came home was a little different than that.”
He shook his head. “I wish I was surprised.”
“Speaking of our love lives…”
“Lack of love lives,” he corrected.
“Have you talked to my girl Latosha lately?”
Reggie blushed a dark red, shaking his head. “You know I’m shy.”
“Well, you better get un-shy real fast. She graduates soon. If you want to make a move, you’re running out of time.”
That’s when I told him about the auction.
5
After the disaster that was Thanksgiving and the horror that was a pop quiz in one of my classes on assigned chapters I hadn’t read, I was beyond grateful for a girls’ night in.
Shania lived in a trailer about fifteen minutes from campus. Her parents called it their sugar shack. They’d purchased it so they’d always have a convenient place to rest their heads come fishing season. In the summer, her family spent their time chasing speckled trout, Spanish mackerel, blackfin tuna and mahi. Last July, they’d taken the Vixens out and taught us about the differences between surf fishing and pier fishing before treating us to a sumptuous feast. During the school year, they went back home and picked up their hunting rifles while Shania took courses towards a degree in art.
I loved everything about being at Shania’s house. The entire place was a strange amalgamation of camo and glitter. In her bedroom, her necklaces hung off of deer antlers instead of being hidden away in an armoire somewhere. Looking around, you learned a lot about Shania and where she came from. I didn’t know anyone else who lived in a place as representative of their personalities.
I also liked that she made us margaritas bigger than our heads.
Carolina Christmas Kiss: A Vixens In Love Novella Page 2
