by Kat Pace
“Like in the wilderness?" Meg asks.
“No! Not the wilderness, freak,” I laugh.
“Not the wilderness. The Mountains.” Trix corrects.
“Doesn’t seem very safe,” Meg says.
“We will behave,” Trix says, rolling her eyes. “We will roar responsibly.”
“It’s a ski-in/ski-out château at a club on a resort mountain. Something like that,” I continue. “Well anyway, my parents aren’t going but we have the invitation. It is invite only.”
“Sounds boujee AF. I am SO in!” Trix shrieks.
“OK. OK I am in!” Meg caves.
“Perfect. Tell the guys?” I ask, looking at Trix.
“Sure, sure. All the guys?” She looks at me, all coy and shit.
“Yes,” I laugh and elbow her. “All the guys.”
“Still not hating a certain someone again, I take it?” Meg smirks.
“Astute,” I say.
“Are you ever going to tell us what happened on Thanksgiving?” Trix asks.
“Wait, wait! What happened on Thanksgiving?” Meg says, suddenly interested.
“Exaccctly!” Trix laughs, stressing the word. “What didn’t happen? A certain boy visited a certain girl on Thanksgiving Eve and stayed for Thanksgiving.”
“More like he just showed up,” I say, suddenly bashful.
“Showed up? Like surprised you? We are talking about Brooks, right?” Meg asks, clearly in disbelief. “Surprised you just because?”
“Yea, I mean just because he had to be out west. We had Thanksgiving… as friends. It was casual.” I smirk.
“Ugh!!” Trix rolls her eyes. “You two, casual? Please.”
“We can be casual,” I say, defensive. Challenge me. “What? We can be!”
“You two will never be casual,” Meg agrees, giving me the same exasperated look as Trix.
“Trix,” I start.
“Don’t Trix me,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. Meg smirks.
“I doubt Travis is hounding Brooks right now about Thanksgiving,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“You don’t know that, Emmy. The guys could be talking about you right now,” Trix insists.
“Just, would you, let us worry about us,” I laugh. “It’s hard enough dealing with Brooks alone.”
“I will never understand you guys,” Meg says, shaking her head.
“Me either.” I laugh. “But what about you two?”
“What about us?” Trix asks, smirking.
“You’re both like already wifed up without the ring,” I say, shrugging.
“Your point?” Meg asks.
“Where’s the ring?” I shake my head.
Trix and Meg laugh me off but not before I catch the look they share together. Someone knows something. Maybe they both know the same thing.
“What? Are Travis and Nate waiting to see which can hold off longer?” I tease.
“Funny.” Meg rolls her eyes.
“We’re in no rush, Em,” Trix agrees.
“Babe, come on. You two are worse than them,” I say, rolling my eyes to Meg. “Y’all have been dating for 10 years. Whatcha waiting for?”
“I guess nothing,” she shrugs. Trix rolls her eyes again, but I can see it.
She wants the ring. I’m sure she’ll get it in no time. Meg too.
Two peppermint-eggnog-jingle bell wannabe lattés later and the conversation is still on NYE. The men (I’m feeling generous calling them that) have all confirmed via text. Doesn’t take much to convince a bunch of twenty-something’s with virtually no money to book a last-minute trip that’s less than two weeks away. Relatable, I know. What are we millennials good for if not having absolutely zero responsibility and even less will power?
Still, couldn’t help but smile as my glittering Internet box buzzed against the table.
NYE?!
What else don’t I kno?
Can I pick U up now ;)
Damn word travels around this friend group fast AF. Proud to say I don’t respond. Not now at least. Not while Meg and Trix are in such a debacle.
“So Vail? What’s it like. You ever been before, Em?”
“Yes, I have.” I shake my head. “But it was years ago. I just remember it was cold.”
“Cold. Right. Could have guessed that.”
“The guys want to stay for two nights. Trav says we can ski while we’re there!” Trix exclaims, showing us her chat with Travis.
“Sure. Man I haven’t skied in years,” I laugh.
“What do we wear?” Meg wonders, of course that’s what she cares about.
“Jacket and pants. Boots. Skis tend to help.” I sip my drink.
“Smartass. I mean what do we wear to a roaring ‘20s party?" She scrunches up her nose.
“Evening gowns? Fancy flapper dresses?” Trix suggests.
“Birdcage veils and pearls?” I offer.
They drone on. I let them. My mind has its own things to obsess over.
My phone buzzes again. This time I don’t have the will power to not answer.
Pick U up?
…
No! Trix dropping off. I’m sad just typing it.
…
Deck Party at Back Bay?
Travis posts the invite in the group thread.
Trix is kind enough to stop at my house so I can change from my airplane outfit. I get a weird feeling when I see the old Christmas lights illuminating my front lawn. I haven’t seen them in years –haven’t seen my house at the holidays for years.
Like I found most things to be here, they’re the same. It’s the same three metal reindeers grazing under the same bright white star above our front door. They distract me enough.
No time to give myself a private fashion show tonight. Trix flings herself across my bed and starts unwrapping a mint she took from the café. Meg sits in the chair at my old desk. She grabs the picture of the three of us from high school graduation.
“Oh my godddd,” she laughs. “Look at my trash bangs!”
“Trash bangs?” I raise my eyebrows. “Trash everything.”
Trix looks over her shoulder, mint between her teeth. “Yup. Not a pretty pic.”
“It's classic!” I laugh. “Plus I need a good laugh when I come back here.”
“Glad we’re good for comedic relief,” Trix says.
“Me too.” I smirk. Trix throws a pillow at me.
“Good reminder that tie-dye dresses are never a good idea.” Meg puts the photo back on my desk.
“Weren’t in 2010 either,” I laugh.
I heave my suitcase onto my bed and let it flop open onto Trix’s legs.
“Lucky I brought casual clothes,” I say.
“Yea, can't wear this to Back Bay.” Meg holds up my now unfolded dress. The Black Friday dress for the benefit.
“Hey, hang that for me, will you? I need to steam it tomorrow,” I say, throwing Meg the hanger from my sweater.
First time in eight years this bad boy is coming out of my closet. Up to the big leagues. Man, it used to be a go-to staple. A weird maroon/wine color with mock neck and bell sleeves –just as I remember it. I pull it over my head and it somehow fits better than before.
“Trix, toss me those jeans.” I nod to the folded denim on the top of my suitcase pile.
“Love these!” She frisbees them to me.
“Thanks. New and on sale.” I slip them up over my legs and peek in the mirror. Two words: Bell. Bottoms.
Is it just me or is the whole 70s-making-a-comeback thing really starting to catch on? Is it just me or is it great? I mean, the twenty-teens are as useless as an umbrella on a sunny day. Or condoms to a virgin. Nothing is original anymore.
My hair has seen better days. The curls are more like pathetic waves now, but hey. The snow made it pretty wet looking, but it's nothing some powder can't temporarily fix. Really bringing out the dirty blonde.
“K, ready.” I grab my bag and lead them to the door.
“Finally,” Meg
says.
“I just sat on a plane for hours today. Give me a break! That was literally record time.” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, you’re a great speed demon. Let’s go!” Trix moves in between us.
“Bye mom!” I shout from the hallway.
“Have fun! Don’t be too late!” I hear her before the door slams behind us.
Fuck it’s cold.
“Who wants to have a deck party in this?” I say, watching my breath spiral away from me.
“Seriously. I don't care how many bonfires he lights. I'm not standing outside,” Trix agrees.
“Maybe if you two wore coats,” Meg scoffs.
“Excuse us, these are coats. Cute ones,” Trix sighs, jabbing at Meg’s giant quilted down jacket.
“Yea,” I laugh. “Sorry our fashion hasn't died yet.”
Trix snorts with laughter. Meg rolls her eyes. “Jokes on you, I’m the only one dressed for walking.”
“Don’t remind me,” I whine to Meg as Trix shoots me a look. “I c-can't believe I let you talk m-me into walking.”
“You live like THREE blocks from Travis. Don't be such a baby.”
“Three LONG blocks,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Three blocks is a leisurely stroll to me and my coat,” Meg says, pulling up her hood.
“Shut up!” Trix and I scream at the same time.
6:00 PM
The walk is pretty quick. Before I know it, and before my toes are 100% numb, we are walking onto the back yard of Travis’s parents’ house. Which, I found out at lunch when I was paying attention, is actually now Travis’s house. His parents did the most Jersey thing ever and retired to Florida.
I am elated to see that there’s no blaze in the usual pit across from the deck steps. Trix walks right on to the deck and through the screen door onto the porch. What’s his is hers, right?
It’s cozy inside. Lantern lights hang on a wire above the old sofa and loveseat. Flashing back to my sleepover with Brooks.
“Hey babe.” Travis steps onto the porch, holding a mug in one hand and a stereo under his arm in the other. Yes, stereo.
“Hey,” Trix says, planting a kiss on Travis’s lips. “Need any help?”
“Nah. Guys are in the kitchen. They’ll be right out.” Travis sets his mug down.
Guys. The excitement is stupid. I’m stupid.
I have a Question, why are women TRASH? Like good trash though, fancy garbage. Garbagio.
The sliding glass door opens again and Nate and Alex step onto the sun porch. Joe comes out behind them.
Stop looking, Em.
“Hey ladies,” Alex says. “Welcome back, Emmy.”
I hug Alex and Nate. I know it’s been like three months, but it feels like I just saw them. Like I’m used to seeing them all the time again.
“Where’s Sara?” Meg asks Joe as we sit down.
“Working late tonight. She’s closing,” Joe says. Sara is a bartender in town.
“Sucks,” Trix says.
“Emmy when did you get back?” Alex asks, stretching back on the couch. Guitar in tow. Always.
“Just this morning,” I say.
“Brooks picked her up,” Trix blurts out, smirking at me.
“Did he? I wondered why I didn’t see him earlier,” Travis says. “And where is he now?”
“You tell me.”
It’s all I can say. It’s killing me that he’s not here to be honest. Killing me that two hours ago he was bothering me about picking me up from the café. And now I haven’t heard from him since. And he’s not here. But that’s Brooks.
Nowhere to be found.
Doorbell.
Heart stops.
“Babe, can you grab the pizza?” Travis says from the bookshelf where he’s plugging in the stereo.
“Course,” Trix says and hops from the couch. “Emmy, come help me?”
I jump up and follow her. She opens the door and takes the pizza and dumps it in my hands. The guy puts a 2-liter soda in each of her hands.
“Already paid for,” he says before leaving.
“Thanks,” I mumble, grabbing the pizza from Trix and tipping the bro.
Trix shuts the door and gives me a look.
“What?” I shrug. “What?”
“Brooks,” she says under her breath. Her eyes dart through the kitchen and onto the porch. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I’m not his keeper.”
“Is it hard? Lying so much?” Trix laughs.
“Stop,” I laugh.
“You stop! You should have seen your face when Brooks didn’t walk onto the porch,” Trix says.
“Please, babe. You’re being ridiculous!” I can’t help but look away from her. I know she’s right. #garbagio
“Please, you’re being ridiculous,” Trix says, laughing at me. “Meg might not pay attention, but I saw you smiling all through lunch.”
“I can’t smile now?” I raise my eyebrow.
“You were smiling at your phone screen, Em. I know it was him. I’ve been accustomed to the Emmy-Brooks smile for years. I know how to recognize it.”
“He just picked me up, really. That was it,” I say. She looks me over and smirks. “Trix, that was it.”
“Are you guys like… Officially a thing yet? Don’t worry, Meg isn’t here to judge you now,” Trix says.
“Meg doesn’t care,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ve got enough to judge Meg on, but I manage not to.”
“Look, I love you Emmy. I just want you to make sure you know what you guys are doing.” Trix stares at me with her warm eyes, holding her 2-liter sodas.
“I love you too, mom,” I say, smiling. “But I’m good. We’re good.”
“Isn’t Brooks your date for the benefit tomorrow?” She asks, still holding the soda against her hip.
“Not date,” I say. “I’m just bringing him so I didn’t need to go alone.”
“You’re right. A fancy benefit gala with gowns and tuxedos and dancing doesn’t sound like a date,” Trix says.
“So you agree?” I tease.
“As for being alone… Trav and I will be there, which you knew.” Trix crosses her arms over her chest. Sodas are finally down.
“My mom told me to bring a guest, OK? Wasn’t going to go alone! Plus he said he’d be home…” I trail off, biting my lip.
Yea fucking right I’m gonna tell Trix about our 1-month preChristmas abstinence pact.
“Hey, Pizza!” Travis shouts from the porch.
“Yea, I’m starvin’,” Nate says.
“Coming!” Trix shouts. Before turning to me, quiet again. “What exactly did happen over Thanksgiving?”
“I’m betting you can guess.”
“And? So? Why isn’t he here tonight?” Trix asks, eyes eager.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. It’s the truth. “I thought he’d be here. But he hasn’t even said anything.”
“Text him?” She asks.
“Yea, right.” I give her a look that says you should know better.
“At least have tonight, then. Worry about him tomorrow,” she says, looping her hand through mine.
“Are you guys making the pizza!?” Alex shouts.
“I said coming!” Trix yells. She grabs the pizza off the counter and tells me to get the sodas. “There’re plastic cups in the cabinet there.”
“OK. So, I’m thinking we fly to Vail on Monday?” Travis’s voice is louder than everyone else’s, but I’m not really paying attention to the plans.
No. I’m thinking how I do want to text him. In fact, it’s taking a lot of restraint to not text him right now. We aren’t even drinking tonight. I have no excuse to be needy or whiny or ask where he is. I just have to accept the fact that he isn’t coming because he’s obviously doing something else.
Or someone else.
I let Alex’s voice serenade me into a sleepy stupor. I’m curled up with Trix and Meg on the old couch, surrounded by pillows and under a plaid blanket. Nate is in the
chair and Travis tinkering with dusty records. Alex strums each cord with a delicate accuracy and I realize that even though I’ve heard him play countless times, this time is different. I am feeling his music. It’s raw and not perfect but damn he’s really good. It’s so emotive I almost forget about Brooks for a while.
