Goodbye Uncertainty

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  “Jesus, baby, I think I’m gonna fucking hit it into next week!” he says as his right hand slides up my back and grasps my shoulder before he enters me. He takes my hip in his left hand, and as if someone shot a gun—he’s off! Within several minutes, his tempo slows and he thrusts deeper into me, his fingers pressing harder into my skin. “THANK ... YOU ... MA’AM!” he says with each last thrust, then pulls out. He crashes next to me as he grabs my right arm to guide me onto my backside. He slides his hand slowly between my thighs, parting them again.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I finally open my eyes.

  “It’s your turn.” He smiles.

  “No, no. I’m good.” I wince.

  “Sore?” He bites his lip to hide his amusement—unsuccessfully.

  “That’s a bit of an understatement.” I pull his lip free and lean up to kiss him.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.” I giggle.

  “Well, I guess that’s true.” He smiles. “Shower?”

  “Uh, yeah ... three times definitely warrants a shower.” I push myself up.

  “Shall we continue?” he asks as he plops down onto the couch and throws his legs up, parting them. I sit between them and lean against his chest. I go on to tell him about our phone conversation, the flashback I had in the middle of the night. “Ugh, I was so mad at you that night.” He smacks my leg.

  “Yeah, I got that.” I roll my eyes. I tell him about our texts and us getting together the next day. “Now, Ray, we talked about George. Did you mention George, or was it not part of your dream?” I turn my head back to him.

  “No, I mentioned Grayson and told you he couldn’t have you, stuff like that. You told me you were leaving in two days, which freaked me out when I woke up. I thought you were going to die and be with him.” He hugs me. “Becca, you have no idea. Your heart rate spiked like crazy several times a day, for no reason the doctors could find.” At this, I go into hysterics. “What?” he asks.

  “Um, well, I know why I was setting off the alarms. Grayson and I were joking about it the last day we were together.” My laughter gets blanketed by sadness.

  “Why?”

  “I was having sex. Every time they went off ... that’s why.” I sigh.

  “Becs, it was several times a day, sometimes a few times in a row,” he says, trying to discredit my revelation.

  “Yep, that’s right.” I give him a frown-smile.

  “Whatever, Becca ...” He trails off. His facial expression is a mixture of anger and jealousy. I kiss his pressed-together lips in an effort to soften his mood. It works a little and he nudges my lips back.

  “When you left, you gave me my Christmas present. Grayson made me watch it right away. It’s really beautiful, Ray. I love it.” I hug him.

  “Babe, what are you talking about?”

  “The DVD you made me, set to music. You took your mom’s flash drives with all the photos she’s taken.” I furrow my brow at him. A lightbulb suddenly comes on. When would he have had the time for that?

  “Uh, Becs, I only thought of doing that. I, uh ... ”

  “I know, you haven’t had time. But when you do, please do it. And please use the songs you originally thought about. I loved it, and it would be a great reminder of my journey to you if you do everything the same. By the way,” I add, “your mother has gone beyond Nanarazzi boundaries!” I giggle.

  “Why?”

  “Have you looked at the pictures she has on her flash drive?” I widen my eyes.

  “No, I haven’t ‘borrowed’ it yet. Why?” He rubs my belly and kisses my cheek.

  “Um ... remember when we had sex in the meadow during a riding excursion with your parents? After they headed back before we did?” I ask, trying to contain my laughter.

  “Yeah. Jesus, that was hot, baby.” He nips at my ear.

  “Ahem ... yeah, well, apparently your mother’s desire to take some nature shots produced a very interesting take on ‘the birds and the bees.’” A giggle escapes.

  “No—c’mon, Becs!” he says in disbelief.

  “Didn’t she come up to you later and tell you to take your time with me and to not be in such a rush?”

  “Yeah, she did, but how do you know that?” He turns my face to him.

  “You told me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well, then Grayson did through you in my subconscious. You’ll see—the pictures are there.” I smile. Ray is starting to look a little freaked out. “Well, after all that, I had a hard time not thinking about you. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you and Annie. I was so torn. Part of me wanted to walk away from both of you, because all I was doing was hurting everyone.” I play with his fingers on my belly.

  “You were thinking about me even though you were with Grayson?” he asks quietly.

  “Yeah. He could tell, too. He kept getting pissed in one instance, and then in the next, he would try to help me to acknowledge that I love you. It was very confusing.” I close my eyes and try to fight back my tears. Talking about Grayson, getting close to our last moments—it’s becoming painful.

  “Baby?” Ray hugs me.

  “Ray, I’m sorry. Can I just have a minute?” I tap his hands to release me. He lets go and I get up. I find myself back on the porch, having another good cry. I’m always going to miss him. He will always be a huge part of me. He was right. The years don’t add up; it will always feel like he was just here yesterday, now more so than ever.

  “Baby?” Ray pipes up, interrupting my thoughts. I turn to him. He hands me tissues. “The bracelet you tried to buy this morning ... that wasn’t from me.” He thumbs my tears away. “Grayson bought it for you before he died. It was a special order, and Derek picked it up for him. Hey, hey ... shh.” He pulls me to him as I begin to sob uncontrollably.

  “Ray,” I cry, “he just gave me that bracelet for Christmas. That’s why I was so adamant about buying it.”

  “Holy shit,” he almost whispers.

  “Why was it with Eric?” I ask.

  “I dropped it off to get appraised so I could insure it for you. His new employee didn’t realize it and put it out on display.

  “How did you end up with it?” I nudge him, indicating we should go back inside.

  “Well, Derek and I have been hanging out a lot. He’s a great guy, and he’s been helping me understand who Grayson was and your relationship with him. I’ve actually grown quite fond of Grayson. I think we would’ve been great friends—if you weren’t in the equation, obviously.” He smiles hugging my shoulders to him.

  “Yes, we girls ruin everything, don’t we?” I laugh.

  “Hmm ... well, Derek told me he’s had the bracelet all these years, but you kept telling him you couldn’t handle any gifts from Grayson. You just weren’t ready. So he gave it to me to give to you. Of course, after you opened it, I was going to tell you it was actually from Grayson.”

  “Ray, I’m glad that I woke up knowing everything and ready to move on, because had I not, that could’ve been very traumatic for me,” I say, a little perturbed.

  “Any more traumatic then waking up to find yourself four months pregnant without remembering how it happened?” he challenges me.

  “Wow, that combo would’ve granted me a one-way, first-class ticket on the crazy train.” I hold my temples and shudder at the thought. “Let’s just both be glad I woke up the way I did—thanks to Grayson.”

  “Thanks to Grayson.” He nods with what seems like a new sense of camaraderie toward Grayson. I continue to tell him about the crazy plane dreams I was having, then Christmas Eve and Day with Grayson and Morgan. Ray finds my gifts to Grayson very funny, especially the Shelley ones. I had to go back and tell him the story behind the pictures, and he was practically in tears over what Grayson had said. “What else did you give him?” He leans on the opposite side of the counter as I pull out potatoes and start peeling.

  “Well, Christmas Eve, I gave him one more thing, but that’s pr
ivate. On Christmas Day, I gave him a horse.” I laugh at the thought now.

  “A horse? How’s that working out for him?” He joins in my thoughts.

  “Not well, I suppose.”

  “What was the private gift?” His forefinger nudges my chin up, making me look at him.

  “It was private, Ray.” I sigh, trying to give him no expression to analyze.

  “Was it something naughty?” He smirks.

  “It was private. Now, stop asking!” I say with irritation.

  “What did he give you?” he asks, changing direction.

  “Well, he wanted to wait to give me my Christmas Eve present until after Christmas. Turns out, it’s the item in the box he sent me just before he passed away.” I grab another potato to peel.

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never opened it. I just hold it every year, staring at it.” I strike the potato’s skin a bit more rapidly.

  “Why, baby?” He grabs my hands.

  “Um. I guess I couldn’t handle the finality of it all. It would’ve cemented the truth—that he’s not coming back—in my heart.” I use Grayson’s words. He knew exactly why I behaved the way I did.

  “Oh, baby, I am very sorry for your loss.”

  I’m taken aback. Not by the sincerity in his voice, but by the pain he seems to be feeling for me. I’m in awe at the depth of this man’s patience and understanding. I put the potato and peeler down and wipe my hands on a towel before I walk around the other side of the counter.

  “You are truly an amazing man, Ray. I love you so much, and am so thankful for you.” I kiss him with everything I’ve got.

  “Does this mean I get a private gift?” He smiles against my lips.

  I wave at the ceiling.

  “What are you doing?” he asks with a chuckle.

  “Waving goodbye to that very special moment you just killed,” I reply. He throws his head back to let out a good, hearty laugh, then swats my butt as I get back to the potatoes. “McNeil!” I gasp. He grabs a stool and sits. “By all means ... pull up a chair,” I tease him. He always watches and rarely helps me in the kitchen. It’s okay. We decided a long time ago—it’s best this way.

  “So, did he get you anything else?” He hands me the next potato.

  “Yes. A PANDORA bracelet filled with sentimental charms. If you don’t mind, I’d like to buy what he gave me.” I look up, unsure. He shrugs with indifference. “Um. A book, some Cricut cartridges that haven’t been released yet, the bracelet, and ...” I trail off.

  “And what?” He takes the last swig of his root beer from earlier. “Eh ... flat!” He wrinkles his nose.

  “Pilot lessons,” I say, my voice on the quiet side.

  “Pilot lessons? Why?” He repeats the same face he just made over the flat soda.

  “I used to fly Cessna planes when I was seven years old—with a pilot, of course,” I offer.

  “What? You mean actually flew?” He makes a driving motion with his hands.

  “Yes. I was quite the natural. The pilot—Kay was her name, I believe—told my father to make sure to get me lessons when I was older. I fell in love with flying. It’s an amazing feeling, to pilot a plane.” I start chopping and look up when the long silence feels awkward. Ray is just staring at me, mouth open—speechless. I push his chin up and smile slightly.

  “Becs, you have never told me this. Why didn’t you pursue flying?” He grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl and takes a hearty bite.

  “Well, my aunt’s friend, the one she stayed with on the island, passed away. We stopped going out there, and my parents could never afford the lessons.” I shrug.

  “What island?” He looks at me quizzically.

  “Really, Ray? I’m from Jersey. What ‘island’ do you think a struggling middle-class family would visit often?” I can’t help my sarcasm.

  “Would that be Laung Island?” he imitates my Jersey accent with annoying exaggeration. I throw a piece of raw potato at him. “So, do you still want to do that?” He pulls the piece of potato off of his shirt. “I have to say, I’m really not comfortable with the idea. I’d prefer if you didn’t do it.” He clears his throat and takes another bite of the apple.

  “Well, it’s not something I’m going to do right now, but I am thinking about it.” I throw the cut potatoes into the pot.

  “All I ask, babe, is that you please talk to me before you run off and do this. Okay?” I look over my shoulder at him as I fill the pot with water. “All decisions are made together now, not just the ones about the girls. Got me?” he asks. I give him a half smile and nod. This is going to take a bit of getting used to. “Hey, why were you at the jewelry store, anyway?” He gets up to throw the core into the trash.

  “I was placing a special order for a necklace from Grayson to Morgan. He gave it to her for Christmas, and asked me to get it for her for real.” I point to my iPod. Ray hands it to me and I put it in the dock, then turn on the Singers and Standards station at a low volume while I cook.

  “It must’ve been bittersweet for him to spend time with Morgan.”

  I nod sadly. Ray grabs my hand and pulls me into his embrace. We start to dance slowly to “It Had to Be You.” We’re silent, soaking in the moment. I lay my head on his chest and he twirls us around. I think the period from the 20s to the 40s had to have produced the most romantic music of all time. So innocent and sweet—it’s enough to make you fall in love with love.

  “It was bittersweet for him,” I finally say.

  “I don’t even want to imagine.” Ray shakes his head. “Becca, I promise to be a better father—more attentive and more equal to Morgan.” His hands cup my face.

  “You’ve already stepped up these past few months. I know you will keep at it, and I appreciate it, baby. Morgan loves you. I love you.” I kiss him.

  “So when did Grayson let you know who he really was?” he asks as we disengage so I can carry on with supper.

  I tell him about the nap and my dream. How he had to convince me that it was all real. How my heart broke all over again. The relief I felt, though, at being able to say goodbye. How much he advocated for Ray. The appreciation, respect, and jealousy he felt toward him. I tell Ray what Grayson said about Heaven and the dilemma we’ll have when all three of us are there. Ray laughs at this, but not so much at the shag schedule I laughed with Grayson about. I tell him about how quickly time goes by there, and how that’s another reason Grayson had such a hard time with his assignment. I tell him about our book and Grayson’s encouragement.

  “Wait—you wrote a book?” Ray sits up straight on his stool once again in disbelief.

  “Um ... yeah.” I glance at the pan to season the steaks, then look up when I hear the stool hit the counter. “Where are you going?” I ask as he heads out of the kitchen.

  “I need a minute ... by myself, Becca!” he snaps. A few moments later the front door slams. What the hell is that about? I pull out a new cutting board and slice up zucchini and summer squash, then throw them in a deep frying pan with minced garlic, cinnamon, and diced tomatoes. I melt butter and blue cheese in a small saucepan, whisking it slowly until it’s creamy, and spoon it over uncooked breadsticks. I place them in the oven to bake.

  The front door opens, and I can’t help the sudden irritation I feel at hearing ESPN blaring from the family room. I head in there and find Ray in his recliner, looking pissed off instead of relaxed. I grab the remote off the side table.

  “Give me that!” he snaps and jerks it out of my hand. “I need a break, Becca! Go in the kitchen and fucking cook.” He raises the volume. Oh hell to the fucking no he didn’t!

  Ghetto Sybecca sways her head to the tempo of “uh-uh, girlfriend!” I grab the remote back out of his hand and turn the TV off.

  “Oh hi, I’m sorry ... I’m Becca ... have we met?” My sarcasm takes center stage and bows. He kicks the recliner into a seated position, stands up, and gets in my face.

  “Five fucking years! Relationship as
ide ... I have been your best friend! Flying fucking planes! Writing goddamn books! Why don’t I know this? Why didn’t you share it with me? I think these things fall under the big-fucking-deal category!” He’s all teeth and anger.

  My smart mouth is activated before I can even try to stop it.

  “Dude ... you’re like the Englishman who went up a hill and came down a fucking mountain!” I say. Ray stares at me intently, trying to stay mad. “Can I get something for you, Ray? A tampon? Maybe some Midol?” I try to keep a straight face. Ray sucks in his cheeks in an effort to avoid laughing. I, however, let my creeping glee escape.

  “You’re impossible,” he sighs, finally allowing a smile.

  “Possibly.” I wrap my arms around his neck and get on my tippy toes for a kiss. “Ray, I didn’t mention the book for the same reason I haven’t published it. And the flying? Honestly, I haven’t thought about it for a long time. That’s all.” I rub my nose against his.

  “I just ... I don’t like not knowing stuff about you.”

  “C’mon, that’s a good thing. Keeps me interesting.” I hold my head back to look into his eyes.

  “I’ve never lacked interest in you, just so you know.” He sways me a bit. “Can I read your book?” he asks.

  “Um ... yes, yes you can.” I nod after the initial thought.

  “Hey, ya’ll ... we interuptin’ somethin’?” Elise says. We turn our heads in her direction and are met with the flash of her camera. Both of us burst into laughter. I know we’re thinking the same thing.

  “Nope, you’re just in time. I’m throwing the steaks on now.” I let go of Ray and head over to her.

  “Are we okay, baby girl?” she asks, her eyes filling up.

  “Yes, of course we are.” I hug her. “I love you, you know that.” I hold her at arm’s length.

  “And I love you, baby.” She palms my cheeks and kisses my forehead.

  “Mom ... I took the breadsticks out for you!” Morgan yells. Shit!

  “Thank you, sweetie!” I yell back. “Let me get out there.” I sigh. Ray pulls me back by my hips. I turn my neck up and to the right for the kiss I know is coming. Artie walks in as we pull away and slaps his son on the shoulder; a common greeting between them. Elise and I head down the hallway to the kitchen.