by Alison Pace
“Well,” she says slowly, “just remember that Bonfin, if you spell it a bit differently, and add a la, the translation, in French, it means the good ending.”
A while goes by, long enough so that she doesn’t think he’s going to acknowledge that she even said anything, and she’s begun to feel like maybe it was a stupid thing to say at this moment. But is there a sort of thing you’re supposed to say at a moment like this? She’s not sure there’s any way to know. There’s no reference because the people who have had these moments, who could tell you how you’re supposed to act, don’t tend to talk about them.
“I wonder if that’s the same thing as a happy ending?” he says, still looking out the front window.
“Maybe it is,” she says. Happy ending, she thinks, just like something in a movie. Except how do you know the ending is in fact happy, if you don’t know what happens after the last line is spoken, after that last scene, as the camera pulls back and an uplifting song plays in the background and everyone’s laughing or smiling or kissing or some combination of the three? How can you be sure that everything doesn’t just go to hell right after that?
“Should I?” she asks, “Should I come in with you? And help with the paperwork and all, you know? I’m happy to. I mean, I want to.”
Aubrey unclips his seat belt and Stephanie watches it slide back up into its holder. She watches the way his shoulder shifts to free itself from the strap and the way he moves, every single one of his gestures, they’re so familiar.
“Nah,” he says.
She holds on to the steering wheel and stares out the front window and nods her head. “Okay.”
Aubrey keeps staring, straight out the front window, too. She wishes for a moment, for maybe longer, that she could reach over to him and put his seat belt back on and drive away from here, and more than that, make it so that none of this ever happened. She holds on to that thought, that none of this ever happened, wishes on it like some burnt-out star for what feels like forever. And she imagines that’s how long she’ll want it to be true.
He leans over then, across the middle console, and it’s so unexpected that it almost startles her. It’s awkward, and they bump into each other in the same way they would have if they’d never reached out to each other before, if they’d never held on. And then he pulls away, but he doesn’t go back to the windshield, he stays turned, looking at her.
“I love you, Stephanie,” he says.
“I love you, too, Aubrey,” she says, and she takes a deep breath, because she doesn’t want to leave him here with a sentence that ends in tears. She doesn’t think crying is the right thing to do right now, but then who knows. She steadies herself, and when she’s sure she has a handle on herself, or rather when she thinks she does, she says to him, “And you know I’ll be here.”
He stares out the side window now, and she knows he heard her even though he doesn’t answer. “I’ll be here,” she says again, and she’s not even sure she’s talking to him anymore, if it’s a promise she’s making to him anymore, or if it’s now one she’s making to herself, and also to Ivy.
Aubrey moves in his seat, and he says something then, and it sounds like, “God,” but she can’t be sure. She isn’t sure she can hear properly anymore. Just as she isn’t sure she can see. She isn’t sure anymore if the things she sees aren’t just things she imagines and things she makes up. But right now she thinks she can see Aubrey putting his hand to his face. She thinks she can see his thumb in the corner of one eye, his forefinger in the corner of the other, his palm over his mouth. She thinks she can see his shoulders moving up and down rhythmically. She thinks she can hear him breathing in through his nose, liquidy and thick. He reaches over again, with his free hand, the one not covering most of his face. He reaches behind her neck, and leaves his hand there, and gently squeezes. She hears something else and it doesn’t sound like “God” anymore. It’s high-pitched and full of air, and it shakes and goes in like a whistle and then out, out, and out.
And then he says, “Alright,” and she hears the door handle clicking. She hears the door open, and then she hears the door close.
She pulls the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her hand and wipes her face with it and turns to look out the side window after him. She watches him walking away, watches the way he hikes his bag over one shoulder, the way it hangs off his side. She watches the back of the man who has been by her side for all her greatest moments, the man who has been with her on all the absolute happiest days of her life. And now, for this one, too.
twenty-four
did you come here to dance?
“Yes,” Meredith says, “I’m just walking across Union Square right now. We’re meeting at Blue Water Grill.”
“Well, great. I think you’ll have a great time. Call me after,” says Leslie.
“I will,” she says, and disconnects. As she makes her way over to the restaurant she thinks that although a Sunday brunch date hardly ever says romance to her, it’s a good thing that she’s going. She’s looking forward in fact to going on a date, since she hasn’t been on one in quite a while. She doesn’t think the one with Gary can count, because it wasn’t really a date. And she doesn’t think she should think right now about Gary. She’s looking forward to Blue Water Grill; she often does. She tries not to think that the only reason Leslie and Kevin have set her up on this date is because in their happy couple bliss, maybe at one point, when they were at the movies, Kevin leaned over to Leslie and said, “You know, I always suspected Meredith liked me, and maybe we should find her someone, just someone to go on a date with, because it’s been such a while.”
Her phone rings again, and even though she’s much more Zen now, is doing her best to embrace a more yoga-inspired lifestyle even when she isn’t practicing on her mat, she thinks, Leslie, what now, as she flips her phone open quickly.
“Hello,” she says.
“Meres, hi.”
She forgets all at once that she’s been angry and she forgets all at once about everything, and it’s so good just to hear her sister’s voice, and she thinks she has so many things to tell her, and that maybe one of those things should be “Sorry.”
“Oh, gosh. Oh, Steph. Hi.”
“Hi, Meres. Listen, I know you must be so mad at me. I know you must think I’m just awful.”
“No, no, Steph, I don’t. I don’t,” she says softly, and she doesn’t. She can’t say she has ever, throughout a lot of this, actually understood, but she doesn’t think Stephanie is awful. Mostly, she wonders if Stephanie would understand if she told her that in its way, it had been a good thing, how she left her alone, how even though she missed her and thought about her so often, that she wouldn’t have done some of the things, so many of the things, she’s done lately if her world hadn’t been shaken up, if her perspective hadn’t been changed. “And I have so many things to tell you, good things.”
“Meres, I don’t mean to cut you off, and there’s so many things I want to say, too, but,” Stephanie says, and she sounds different, a little cautious and maybe a little sad, “I’m calling because I really have to tell you something.” Meredith stops walking, holds on to her phone tighter than she had been.
“Sure, Steph, anything. What do you have to tell me?”
She can hear Stephanie taking a deep breath. “I have to tell you the truth.”
Wow, Meredith keeps thinking over and over again as she stands across the street from Blue Water Grill, staring blankly at it, focusing and not focusing on the large blue banner that hangs over the entrance from a second story window. It’s a different type of wow she is thinking and saying over and over again in her head. It’s not festive, there is no exclamation point. It’s more of a horrible wow. She’d never thought before that wows could be horrible, but it’s amazing, it’s almost mind-boggling really, how very many things she might not know.
“I can catch the next train,” she’d said to Stephanie. And Stephanie had been so calm, so peaceful that Meredith had wondered
if it was possible that all that was good about Stephanie hadn’t been affected by everything Stephanie had just told her.
“Meres, I love you for offering. And I do want to see you, so much. But I literally just got back from dropping him off, and I think I need, oh, a moment, or the afternoon. What about a little later on in the week, would that be okay?” Stephanie had asked.
Meredith wanted to argue, wanted to insist, but she heard something in her sister’s voice and she felt assured that Stephanie’s spirit wasn’t broken, but maybe just a little bit bent, and she hadn’t really wanted to, but she’d said okay. And they made plans for Wednesday. She didn’t have her blind date’s number on her, to call him up and cancel, and she didn’t know what else to do.
She takes a deep breath, looks straight ahead at Blue Water Grill, no longer looking forward to it, and crosses the street.
He’s standing right by the hostess station, and she knows it’s him right away. He looks like Kevin, and it’s strange that doesn’t mean more to her. He looks tall, too, even against the strong vertical feel, the triple height ceiling of the restaurant. She walks up to him, and he notices her, and she extends her hand.
“Hi,” she says, “Brendan?”
“Hi, Meredith,” he says, “Very nice to meet you,” and he smiles at her, a shiny, sparkly smile, and she notes that he’s very dashing looking, which makes sense of course as she has already determined that he looks like Kevin. She feels numb.
The hostess emerges from behind her post, smiling broadly at them. She wonders if she’s recognized, if she should have said, No, it’s Sarah, if maybe she should have worn a wig.
As they are about to turn and follow the smiling hostess into the cavernous space that is the dining room, Brendan’s cell phone rings. He reaches quickly, sharply into his pocket and flips his phone open.
“Yeah,” he says brusquely and he holds one finger up to her, and says, “Sorry, just one sec.” Meredith nods and looks up at the vaulted ceiling and listens to the strains of jazz music coming up from the downstairs.
“Listen, dipshit,” Brendan spits a few moments later. That’s what he says, he says, “Listen, dipshit,” with so much venom that no matter who is on the other end of the phone, Meredith thinks it can’t be an appropriate amount. Really it can’t. And he actually does spit a little bit when he says it. “If I have to come all the way down to the office today, on a Sunday, to sit in your fucking cubicle with you and look at a fucking spreadsheet, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
There is, thankfully, a moment of silence, as the person on the other end of the phone apparently says something. Poor person, Meredith thinks. She hates this right now, hates the jazz music that’s playing, hates the guy, hates his cell phone, his complete absorption in it. She thinks she really shouldn’t be here. She takes her iPod out of her bag.
Brendan says, “Don’t give me that shit,” into his cell phone, spitting again as he does, and Meredith puts her headphones into her ears. She turns the iPod on. The song that’s just starting is “Let It Rain,” by OK Go, and she tries to tune everything else out, everything else as best as she can, and just listen to the music.
Did you come here to dance? pipes through her headphones and into her ears, and she thinks of Stephanie.
And she thinks of DB Sweeney, how he has in his way filled all the moments. How before him, the moments were just moments, and now, they’re him. And she thinks of Gary.
Through her headphones, OK Go is lyrically inquiring, Do you feel better now? And even though it had always been Stephanie who had always thought so much about movies, right in this moment, Meredith is reminded of A Christmas Carol. She thinks of the part, right near the end, when Scrooge wakes up and realizes it’s still Christmas morning, and he still has time to fix everything.
“There’s going to be hell to pay. Hell!” Brendan says and flips his phone shut, utilizing as much testosterone as could possibly be utilized to flip shut a Razor phone. And even with the jazz music, even with the music still coming through her headphones, she doubts if she’s ever, at any point previous in her life, heard a sentence spoken so clearly.
“I have to go,” she says.
“Where do you have to go?” He asks, rather pleasantly.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “There are some people I need to see.”
As soon as she’s gotten back uptown in a taxi, as soon as she’s run quickly upstairs to get DB Sweeney, and somehow wrangled him into his Sherpa traveling bag, as soon as she’s finally, at last, on her way, she opens up her cell phone, and dials.
twenty-five
king of the fairies, ruler of the elves
“Hello?”
“Steph, hey.”
“Meres, hey. What are you doing? I thought you were off to brunch at Blue Water Grill?’
“Well,” she begins slowly, “I had a change of plans.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I’m on the train to Ridgewood. And I know you wanted time, and I want you to have time, and even though I had a change of plans, I still of course have a plan, and do you want to hear mine?”
“Okay,” Stephanie says and she can’t help smiling, just at Meredith, and also because even though she told her to go on with her day—because she’d really like that, she’d really like for the whole world to go on with its day and not come to a grinding halt—she would also like to see Meredith.
“I just want to see you, I just want to give you a hug and make sure you’re okay, and there’s a train headed right back to the city in an hour, and I’ll jump right back on that. Definitely.”
“That sounds just fine, Meres. Ivy and I will leave soon and meet you at the station.”
“Fantastic, and thanks,” Meredith says.
“Thanks back at you,” Stephanie says back.
Twenty minutes later, Meredith and DB Sweeney emerge from the train. Meredith bends down quickly to take DB Sweeney out of his bag, and they walk together over to Stephanie and Ivy.
Once they meet up, Stephanie and Meredith reach out to each other and hold on, and only after a while do they pull apart. Meredith bends down to Ivy’s stroller to get a better look at her, and Stephanie bends down, too, and looks over at Meredith and says, “Who’s this?”
“This is DB Sweeney,” Meredith says proudly, and laughs a little bit, too.
“The most underrated actor of our generation?”
“Of course. I kind of named him for you,” Meredith says and smiles, a sad but also happy kind of smile. “Steph,” she says, still looking down at Ivy, “it’s been so long. I mean, it hasn’t been so long, but she’s grown so much. It’s amazing how much they grow. It’s so amazing.”
“Mmmmmm,” says Ivy.
“Hi, Ivy!”
“I’m sorry, Meres. I’m so sorry you missed her last few months, and that I missed yours.”
“Let’s not. Let’s not be sorry,” Meredith says. “I think maybe we needed to miss some stuff. I just want you to know, I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you.”
Stephanie smiles, “I know. And now just think, we get to catch up.”
“Right,” Meredith says, “but we’ll catch up after you’ve caught your own breath. I’m sticking to the plan and coming back on Wednesday.”
Stephanie wants to thank her for that, but she doesn’t say anything, because she’s sure some things don’t, after all, always need to be said.
“As long as you’re sure you’re okay. As long as you don’t need to talk about Aubrey?” Meredith, ever the double-checker, double-checks.
“You know, I’m sure I’m going to want to talk about it soon. And there’s lots of things I’m sure I’m going to want you to know, but right now I think,” and she pauses and breathes, “right now, I just want you to know that I’m sticking by him.”
“Of course you are,” Meredith says seriously, and Stephanie thinks that in Meredith’s words she can hear hopefulness. She really does.
“I know a lot of people might th
ink I’m crazy and that I should just look out for myself and my daughter, but you know he’s her father and also, he needs me. And if he’s ever needed me, if he’s ever needed anyone, it’s right now. And I can’t turn my back on him. I can’t.”
“Steph,” Meredith begins, “I don’t think you’re crazy. And I wouldn’t have doubted for a second that you’d stick by Aubrey. I can’t imagine anyone who knows you, even just the tiniest bit, would expect an inch, a centimeter less. You stay the course. You always have. It’s one of the things that I’ve always admired about you the most.”
“Thanks,” Stephanie says, “really.” And she means it, she thinks it’s been a while now she’s been wanting to know that there were still things about her that Meredith admired. She thinks it’s been longer than that she’s been wanting to know that there were things about her that Meredith still understood.
“He’s really lucky to have you,” Meredith says.
“Thanks, Meres,” she says, looking down at DB Sweeney and then up, at nothing in particular, at the air. “I just can’t imagine my life without him.”
“I understand,” Meredith says. “I really do.”
They walk for a while, arm in arm, Ivy rolling in her stroller, and DB Sweeney walking in front of them. They head over to the town, to the main street, and walk slowly past the stores and restaurants there.
After a while, Meredith says, “I wish I’d known. I would have wanted to help you. I do always want to help you, even though it doesn’t seem like that, even though it seems so much more like it’s always you helping me.”
“We both help each other,” Stephanie says, and Meredith doesn’t say anything. Stephanie doesn’t say anything either, and she hopes that maybe it’s their way of not saying that now they’re going to put it behind them.
