Still Us

by Lindsay Detwiler

  We gather around, exhausted from a day of moving and lugging heavy boxes. I’m exhausted emotionally as well.

  I nibble on a slice of cheese pizza, trying to remind myself this is good. Sitting around the table with family is great. I have a perfectly fine life without him.

  “How many more days until the wedding, Maren?” Grandma asks after taking a bite of pizza. Maren pours us all a glass of wine, and Grandma motions for her to keep pouring. Mom shakes her head. Grandma’s not really supposed to drink with her heart medicine, but that’s never slowed her down. Italian to the core, she loves herself a good wine with dinner—every night. I think Mom’s just resigned herself to this and given up.

  “One hundred thirty-one,” she says, a huge grin lighting up her face as she scrunches her nose at Will.

  They’re so in love it should make me sick. It doesn’t though. I’m happy for my wild-child sister. To be honest, I never thought she’d settle down. More than that, I never thought she’d settle down with an accountant who loves reading and Sudoku. Still, the two of them together balance each other out. When they look at each other, happiness seems to pour out of them in a sickening concoction of sweet and passionate.

  I look up from my plate to realize everyone is silently gauging me, to see if I’m going to get upset.

  This just frustrates me. “Okay, guys, I’m going to be fine. You don’t have to tiptoe around me. I love you all for looking out for me, but I’m fine. Seriously.”

  “Yeah, she’s fine,” Grandma says, feeding Cookie a piece of pepperoni. “She’s still got time to find a new one so she has a date for the wedding.”

  “Grandma, that’s not helping,” Maren says. “Although, I do know this great guy….”

  “Okay. We’re done here. No one is setting me up. I’m fine, really. There’s nothing wrong with being single until I can figure things out.” I reach for my napkin to wipe some pizza grease from my face, hoping to hell this conversation is shutting down.

  “Amen,” Dad says.

  “Truth. Men are overrated. Although after so long without sex, it does get a little lonely,” Grandma chimes in, and everyone simultaneously groans as the word “sex” comes out of our grandma’s mouth.

  She just chuckles and shrugs.

  “Just make sure you don’t end up a spinster, okay?” Grandma adds, and I grimace.

  “Oh stop. She won’t be a spinster. Before you know it, she’ll be engaged to a hot hunk who deserves her. This is just a rough patch,” Mom says.

  At this, it is my turn to groan. An edge infiltrates my voice as I respond, “Mom, please just stop.”

  “I know, honey. But you two were so… different. I think this is going to be such a good thing. You’re going to find someone who can actually fit you. A good doctor or lawyer or something.” She’s making the serious face at me, a mixture between the duck face and the Mom glare.

  “You know, different isn’t a bad thing. And really, Mom? Doctors or lawyers? Are we doing arranged marriages now?” I ask, still feeling the need to defend Luke and me like I have so many times.

  “You’re going to need something different after about two weeks of this. Hell, you might even beg for an arranged marriage if it gets you out of here,” Maren whispers to me, gesturing her wine glass toward Mom.

  “I heard that,” Mom says.

  “I know,” Maren says.

  “Ladies,” Dad says.

  And so the bickering, arguing family is back, shoving pizza in their mouths, being way too loud, drinking too much wine, and yelling at Grandma for more inappropriate comments.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” I ask Will when my family is engaged in a battle about whether cousin Wilma should, in fact, be invited to the wedding despite the refrigerator fight from two years ago.

  “I’m beginning to wonder,” he whispers, smiling. “But listen, if you ever need a break, we have an open guest room. I’m sure we could sneak Henry in for a day or so.”

  “Thanks,” I say, meaning it.

  “Oh, and Lila?”

  “Yeah, Will?”

  “It is going to be okay, you know. You’ll see. You’re a strong woman, just like your sister, even if you don’t think so.”

  I smile, thankful there’s at least one sane person going to be in our family. Or at least sane until the family gets their hooks into him.

  But thinking about his words, I’m not so sure he’s right. Because no matter how much I tell myself I’m going to be happy or that this is the right thing to do, as I crawl over the pathway of boxes in my childhood bedroom and stare at the bright walls and Justin Timberlake later that night, I wonder how many more days I can manage this new life. I wonder what Luke’s doing.

  Most of all, I hear the word “spinster” circulating in my head, and I wonder if this whole breakup was even worth it at all.

  Chapter Three

  Luke

  “Dude, I’m all for having a good time and living it up, but maybe you should slow down? You have to go to work tomorrow. You can’t call off again.”

  Evan reaches across the sofa to snag the bottle of beer from my hand. I don’t budge, aimlessly staring at the football game on television, the faded plaid couch an extension of my body at this point. I’m wearing the same jeans and T-shirt I wore yesterday, my black beanie keeping my semigreasy curls tucked away. Floyd is curled up on his back on my lap, giving me more motivation to not move an inch.

  Evan goes to put the beer on the coffee table, but apparently changes his mind and starts swigging it.

  I don’t care. I don’t care about anything.

  “Did you hear me? Look, I love that you’re here and I think it’s awesome you’re having a good time and all. But I have rent to pay, you know?”

  I turn to eye Evan, who is, in typical Evan fashion, talking way too much with his hands.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m going to work tomorrow. I can’t stand sitting here another day anyway.”

  “That’s the spirit. Look, I know this sucks right now, but give it a few weeks and you’ll be asking ‘Lila who?’ You’re not tied down anymore. You can have all the girls you want, and man, do I have some to show to you.”

  He pats me on the back now, or more like slaps me, apparently in a gesture of male bonding.

  It just pisses me off. We might have been best friends in high school, but we’re on completely different levels now. Evan, the eternal bachelor, is all about getting all the girls he wants. That’s just not me, not anymore.

  You could find me fifty supermodels right now and tell me they’re mine for the taking, and it wouldn’t stir anything.

  Because the fifty of them… they wouldn’t be her, not even close.

  Evan jaunts off to the kitchen, probably to dig out some Fritos or something. I just stare, the murmur of the game blending into the background. I don’t see anything that’s happening. I barely hear Evan rambling on about tomorrow and bills and some bet he made with Steve.

  I just keep playing the memories over and over, thinking about how I ended up here, and wondering how I’m ever going to move on from this.

  Most of all, I sit and think about what a fool I’ve been and how I should’ve never let it come to this. My cell phone catches my eye on the coffee table.

  It’s not too late. It’s only been a few days. Maybe it’s not too late.

  But then I think about those final words I said, and the ultimate nail in the coffin. I think about that look in her eyes when I took that last box out of the apartment. It was a teary look and a pleading look. Still, somewhere in there, I saw something else.

  A look of hope.

  Maybe this is what Lila needed all along. Maybe I was an idiot for thinking I could be good enough for her, could be what she needed. I’m too far gone for that, too far lost to be the man Lila Morrow deserves. It’s about time I figured that out.

  But it doesn’t make this shitty feeling in my chest any more bearable. It doesn’t make me want to
stop drinking beer after beer, to go out there and live life.

  The thought that Lila is no longer mine makes me want to do exactly what I’ve done for the two days since moving into Evan’s bachelor pad—sit, stare, and fade into nothingness.

  No matter what Evan says, I’m not going to just forget about Lila. I’m not going to merge into the bachelor life seamlessly.

  I’m not going to stop missing her and wondering how I could’ve stopped this train wreck from imploding.

  I’m not going to stop wishing I could get her back but remembering that she’s better off without me.

  So I stare at the television until I nod off, the morning alarm rousting me and Floyd from the plaid couch for the first time in half a day. I drag myself to the shower and finally rinse off the residue from the breakup days ago. I wash away the Luke I was with Lila and try to start fresh.

  But the new start I thought we’d both get doesn’t feel too great, I realize, as I trudge out the door to work.

  ***

  “There he is. The free man,” Dean bellows as I get out of my pickup truck, parked outside our latest job. It’s a gray day, drizzle mercifully bringing the temperature down. I could use a relatively easy day.

  Dean’s already setting up at the tiny ranch house we’re working on today. He’s got the ladder out and is chipperly jaunting from his truck to the house, setting up tools, whistling annoyingly.

  I’d be ready to choke him if it weren’t Dean. That’s just how the guy is. Eternally in a good mood. He readjusts his sunglasses, eyeing me as I pull out my thermos for some coffee. I know I look just as rough as I feel.

  “You doing okay, buddy?” he asks, slapping my back. “You finish getting everything moved in? Sorry I couldn’t help you. Cassie’s parents were in for the weekend, and I had to do my time.”

  “It’s okay. Yeah, we got everything in.”

  “You really doing okay? You look like shit, if I’m being honest.”

  I sigh. “I know. Just… it’s been rough.”

  “I know. But listen, let’s just put in a hard day’s work, not talk about you-know-who, and maybe it’ll help. Things will be all right. Give it some time.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But I don’t know. I don’t know if I did the right thing,” I confess. Dean’s been a close friend, and he’s an honest friend. I know he won’t sugarcoat anything. Plus, unlike Evan, he’s out of the single-is-better phase.

  Dean shrugs. “Just don’t think about it too much. It sucks, I know. You and Lila had a good thing going, and I liked her. I really liked her. It’s hard. But if it wasn’t meant to be, if it couldn’t work out, well, then you owe it to each other to try to move on and be happy. And, not to sound all sappy and shit, but if you’re meant to find your way back to each other, you will. In the meantime, enjoy the bachelor life. Drink some extra beers. Because someday, when you get married, you’ll be the one spending weekends with over-the-top in-laws eating Thai food and answering eight million questions about home repairs. Trust me,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  I grin. “That bad?”

  “Worse. I had a full two-hour conversation with her mother about the best types of blinds for the house. Seriously. The woman can’t give us an inch of space.”

  I smile, letting Dean ramble on about his in-law problems, happy to drown myself in someone’s else’s world, even if just for our shift. Dean and I spend the day ripping up the old roof, the drizzle and cool temperatures making the work easier than normal. Once we’re done, we clean up, set things up for tomorrow’s task, and head to our vehicles.

  “You want to go out or something?” I ask, thinking maybe everyone’s right. Maybe I just need to give this whole moving on thing a try, or at least the forgetting part.

  “Can’t. We’re going blind shopping,” Dean says, grinning.

  “Oh, man. They got to her then?”

  “Uh-huh. Why didn’t anyone tell me on my wedding day that in four years, I’d be spending my Monday night blind shopping after a hellish weekend with in-laws?”

  “You love her,” I say, grinning.

  “Of course I do. But Jesus, sometimes, a guy needs to cling to his masculinity a little, you know? Not feel so tied down.”

  I nod, saying goodbye to Dean as I jump in my truck, knowing all too well what he’s talking about. I head back to Evan’s, which still doesn’t feel like home or like mine. I head there, regardless, to think about things too complicated and exhausting for a Monday night. Mostly I think about how much freedom I have now—and how little I actually appreciate it.

  Breaking up fucking sucks.

  Chapter Four

  Luke

  “Hey, fella, how are you? Good to see you again,” Charley proclaims from behind the grill, his beer belly almost touching the grates. I wonder if his belly hair, which is visible below what is practically a crop top, is scorched onto the burgers. I try to shove aside the thought.

  Charley lets out a wheezing cough, perhaps the abundance of cigarettes getting to him. His scraggly white beard is a little longer than the last time I saw him. He’s only got about six months to grow it out for his gig.

  “I’m okay,” I say. “Need any help?”

  “Nah, this is my prime territory. King of the grill, and all that. Maybe your mother needs help though, getting the potato salad and stuff ready.”

  I nod, relieved I don’t have to make awkward small talk with Mom’s boyfriend of the month, who happens to be the Santa Claus at our local mall in the winter and a sculptor the rest of the year. They met at one of his art shows a few months ago, Charley’s nude sculptures capturing Mom’s eye.

  And the rest was history… or at least history for this month.

  I wander inside the familiar ranch, eyeing the peeling yellow paint on the outside. I really should make it over to help Mom fix the place up. Of course, she’d probably just read me a riot act about how women don’t need men to save them and all that.

  I open the creaky screen door and amble inside, Bowser nipping at my heels. He is one piece of Charley’s baggage—a five-pound Chihuahua that hates everyone and has an overactive bladder. I look down in time to move my foot from the spray of piss coming my way.

  Great. Just what I need.

  “Luke, there you are!” Mom exclaims, dashing from the kitchen to greet me. She leans in for a huge hug and squeezes me a long time. “It’s been forever,” she says.

  Really, it’s only been about three weeks. Mom and Charley were away on a Caribbean cruise for a while. Thankfully, Scarlet got stuck with the joy of watching Bowser.

  Mom readjusts her tube top—when she gets a new boyfriend, she breaks out the faded turquoise square of fabric, feeling more confident, I suppose. Scarlet and I always give each other a knowing look when we see it reappear, knowing there’s a new man in the picture.

  “Dinner’s almost ready. I’m so glad you could make it, especially with everything going on. This is the time you need to be surrounded by family,” she says, leading me to the kitchen. Scarlet and her husband John are chopping onions and helping ice the cake Mom made. Scarlet turns to eye me.

  “Mom, Jesus, it’s not like she died. They broke up,” Scarlet says, shaking her head and giving Mom the Scarlet eye roll. She looks me up and down for a second before continuing. “Although, he does look awful. Are you eating and sleeping? You look like hell, Luke. Really.”

  “Yep, family. Just what I need right now,” I say, shaking my head as I run a hand through my curls. I know Scarlet’s right, and I know she’s not one to hide the truth.

  John approaches, slapping me on the back. “You look fine, Luke. Don’t listen to them. How’s the single life treating you?”

  I shrug noncommittally. It’s crazy how my breakup seems to be the talk on everyone’s lips. How is a guy supposed to move on and let it go when no one will let me?

  “Will everyone stop talking about it? Give him some room to breathe,” Scarlet says now. “Jesus, where is the tact
in this family?”

  I raise an eyebrow at Scarlet, the infernal hypocrite.

  “Well, we’re just worried about him is all. I know how much Lila meant. And don’t get me wrong, she was a great girl. But she wasn’t for you. So serious all the time. Always so… judgy, you know? Like the time she refused to eat my brownies and stuff.”

  “Mom, you put pot in them. Honestly, what did you expect?” I ask, squeezing the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. This family is a headache. I’m surprised Lila didn’t go running sooner than she did.

  “The girl needed to loosen up. We all do. But anyway, you’re better off. Play the field. Live it up, Luke. You’re still so young.” Mom is carrying potato salad out the screen door to the picnic table, John following with the onions and condiments.

  “Not that young,” Scarlet says, nudging me, and I smirk.

  “Hey, you’re not going to be in your twenties forever,” I retort, leaning on the counter to look out the kitchen window. Charley’s taking the burgers off the grill, but he stops to lean in and give Mom a kiss. Their kissing turns a little heated, and John looks hellishly uncomfortable, trying to distract himself with setting the table. Scarlet peers out the window beside me, laughing at her husband’s clear discomfort.

  “How did you keep him around? How did he not go running?” I ask, smirking.

  Scarlet shrugged. “Guess he figured I was worth dealing with Mom’s bizarre ways.”

  “Remind me to have another chat with that guy,” I tease.

  Scarlet and I have always had an easy relationship despite our typical sibling rivalry. We’re close enough to be honest with each other.