by Kaira Rouda
“I’m sorry I haven’t been attentive, Sarah,” Jud said. “I’ve left you alone too often, alone with Ashley and The Boyfriend. I’m sure she’s just asserting her independence, practicing for when she’s on her own next year. But still, it’s hurtful. You two have always been best friends. So, how are we going to eliminate The Boyfriend?”
Sarah choked on her martini, coughing loudly before regaining composure. “Eliminate? Um, we don’t. They’re in love, like we were,” Sarah said.
“That’s not acceptable. They’re too young, younger than we were,” Jud said, leaning forward. “I need you to talk some sense into her.”
“You never know when the right person will come along and sweep you off your feet. I had so many suitors back then, so many choices,” Sarah said. She knew she was pushing it, baiting him for a fight. She hadn’t even managed to wipe the fake smile from his face. He was a better actor than she realized.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, the candle illuminating his face from below. “He is not the right person for our daughter, and that is who we are focusing on right now. Ashley is a child. You of all people should realize you need to be fully formed to be able to truly love,” Jud said.
The waiter materialized immediately. “Another round of martinis while the red is decanting?” Scott asked.
Jud nodded at the waiter and he disappeared. “I didn’t know that then, or clearly we could have done things differently. I’m sorry about that. But we do know now, don’t you know it, too?”
“I think I know a lot of things,” Sarah said, not exactly sure what she was confessing to knowing. “What are you talking about?”
“The notion of being an adult, of knowing yourself before you commit to another, no matter what, no matter the consequences,” Jud said, pausing as Scott placed two fresh martinis in front of them. Sarah now had one and a half drinks in front of her. “It’s the only way to true love.”
“Who have you been seeing?” Sarah asked. Her voice was calm but she scratched the side of her head, a nervous habit that always gave her away. She couldn’t believe she’d asked the question that was lying at the bottom of the pit, the darkest place in her heart.
“Okay, you caught me,” Jud said. “I’ve been seeing a therapist. You should try it.”
“What?” she asked, exhaling. Was he trying to drive her crazy? “Why are you being so obtuse? I thought you were kidding, back at the house. You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. She’s helping me understand myself, and the role of others in my life,” Jud said, proud of himself for summing up all of his deep learnings in a simple sentence even his wife could understand.
“The role of others? You are such a classic narcissist,” Sarah said, and then downed her first martini.
“I am not,” Jud said. He seemed surprised, and a little miffed. His jaw clenched. “My therapist says I simply have some of the traits.”
“You have almost all of them, Jud. My friend Laura told me to look up the traits online. You have eighteen out of twenty,” Sarah said. “Google narcissism—it’s you.”
“Well, whatever I am, I’m getting more clarity. It’s a good exercise,” Jud said.
“I’m sure it is. I’m considering counseling, too,” Sarah said.
“Hmm,” he said. “On second thought, this is a pretty small community and if you go see someone here, well, word will get out that you’re unstable.”
“What?” Sarah dropped her palms flat on the white tablecloth and leaned forward.
“It’s true. You know how this place is. I am seeing someone in the desert, Palm Springs, that’s why it is safe. I don’t think you have the time to drive to the desert for therapy,” Jud said. “Maybe next year, after Ashley’s gone.”
Sarah looked at him and saw a pompous jerk. He could devote time to self-improvement, jetting to the desert for counseling while she was home, raising their only daughter. Was he trying to tell her that she couldn’t see a therapist? He couldn’t allow his wife to start talking about their private issues to a therapist, or anyone else. Control freak.
“It’s such a relief that you’re seeing someone in the desert,” Sarah said. “Makes perfect sense.”
“Who is this friend Laura? I don’t know her, do I?” Jud asked. Sarah knew he was trying to change the subject.
“No, you don’t know her,” Sarah said.
“What else have you been discussing with friends?” he asked as Scott presented their meals and then their wine.
“Oh, nothing, dear. Just housewife stuff,” Sarah said, smiling. “Bon appetit!”
She sliced into the perfectly prepared cut of beef, not knowing what to say to her husband, confused by the sudden control she was feeling. She had felt like her husband’s inferior in everything from intellect to social prowess. He was king of the castle and she was, at best, his hand servant, a beautiful creation of his making. Hopefully he was sensing what his mate was capable of; hopefully he was reassessing this woman sitting across the table from him. She was eating with gusto for the first time in forever, tearing into her steak as if she hadn’t eaten in days, which may have been the case.
“This is so good. I’d forgotten,” Sarah said, breaking their silence.
“Forgotten what?” he said.
“How great a steak can taste. The blood, the sinew, the saltiness. The pure, decadent, predatory feeling of eating another animal is so empowering,” Sarah said. She saw the shock in his eyes. She was enjoying what she saw.
“Yes, well, glad you’re eating,” he said quickly before shoving another bite of steak into his mouth.
“Do you know the last time you and I had dinner out together, the two of us?” she asked.
She watched as her husband struggled to remember, trying to come up with a time with just the two of them, no Ashley, no business associates. It was almost seven months ago now.
“Sarah, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. That’s totally my fault. Let’s get some dates on the calendar,” he said, and pulled out his phone. “I’ll mark a recurring date night with you. Okay? Eight recurrences should do it, once a month. Look, I’ve plugged it into my calendar. We’re on.” Jud hoisted his glass of wine in the air. “Cheers.”
“Great, cheers,” she said, without enthusiasm. “I hope you’ll keep those commitments, Jud. Our relationship isn’t right.”
They continued eating in silence, while Sarah watched him ponder his next move. She hoped it had become clear to him that he needed to pay more attention to her. In his absence, she’d been getting advice from people he didn’t know, and worse yet, blabbing her secrets to strangers from Ohio. If he would just come back, be with them, all of this craziness would stop. She’d stop fretting over the text he had mistakenly sent her two weeks ago. “God that was great. I wish we could do that every day at lunch. See you after my meeting. XO.”
She knew the text hadn’t been meant for her. He was out of town, as usual, supposedly in Dallas. Jud had been doing something mind-blowing at lunch while she’d been doing Ashley’s laundry. She had waited for him to call, all afternoon and into the evening, but her phone never rang. After Ashley had finally come home from Blake’s and was in her room for the night, Sarah got the nerve to call him. But it went straight to voice mail. But maybe he had told the truth. Maybe it hadn’t been a text from him at all. She could believe him, and then she wouldn’t feel like her life was slipping away. They could regain what they’d lost. It would be all right.
He reached for the decanter and refilled her wineglass. “You are supporting my decision that Ashley goes to Harvard for college, correct?”
Her eyes popped open a little wider, unfortunately showing him the control was still there, no matter how much she pretended she was strong, independent. He knew her too well.
“Jud, look. If Ashley can get into Stanford, too, why wouldn’t you applaud that? I know you want our daughter to have the best of everything and that includes choice. I’d love to keep her on this coast,
” Sarah said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. Very ladylike, she hoped.
“I do want the best for her but I’d like her to spread her wings, get out of the bubble. I know it’s tempting to stay. Who wouldn’t want to be close to us, look at us,” Jud said.
Scott appeared at the table and cleared their plates. Jud reached across the table and held out his hands, palms up. It was their thing, a sign for Sarah to place her hands in his. After a beat, she complied.
“Yes, just look at us,” Sarah said, smiling, knowing her otherwise whitened teeth were stained brown from the red wine. She watched as two strands of her hair floated from her head, riding a gentle breeze in the restaurant, landing on top of their clasped hands. She left the hair there, knowing how much it would bother her husband. “But times have changed, things have changed, haven’t they Jud?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m referring to college, of course,” Sarah said.
“Of course.”
CHAPTER FOUR
College Fair, Monday, October 27
DANE
Dane couldn’t believe his mom was making him go to the college fair at school tonight.
This college thing was becoming almost as big of a deal as his refusal to try out for the lame high school plays. Sure, he’d loved doing the plays in middle school. Back then they’d been in Ohio. Then, it was cool. Now, he was in Crystal Beach and it wasn’t. He didn’t want to ruin his meager social standing by hanging with those weird theater kids. At lunch, they put on ridiculous music and danced like possessed creatures in the courtyard, in front of all the other tables of kids. He wouldn’t do it, be associated with those freaks. It had ruined Joe Crane’s life, being in those stupid plays. Joe used to be cool, sit at the popular table, but now he sulked in the corners of the quad like a freak. For the first couple of years, Dane and Joe still talked, said hi when they saw each other in the hall. But now the kid was too far-gone. Besides, all the theater kids performed were old, lame musicals. Nothing edgy. Nothing contemporary.
Dane and his mom had finally stopped fighting over the theater thing about the time the getting into college thing began rearing its ugly head. Didn’t she realize by now he hated school? That the thought of four years of traditional college with its GEs and lame structure would literally make him go mad? She’d promised him that if he just did well enough to get into college, school would be different, that classes would interest him. But he’d visited Seth, he’d seen the classes he had to take as a freshman and it had made him shudder.
When his mom forced him to go to a music college last summer, he had to admit he had loved it. He’d even told her so, called her in the afternoon so he knew she wouldn’t be drinking yet and thanked her for pushing him. He’d even gotten all A’s in his classes there. But they wouldn’t let him in, he knew. Not with his miserable grade point average. Nobody would. That’s why the college fair was a stupid exercise in embarrassment.
Unbelievably, Collin had been over after school, hanging out in his music room, trying to convince Dane of the same thing as his mom.
“Dude, you’ll love college. It’s freedom and all new girls. You can sleep in, take classes whenever you want. Nobody’s checking up on you. It’s gonna be awesome,” he’d said, banging Dane’s drums as punctuation. Dane was glad he’d arrived solo, without Doug tagging along. That kid was still annoying, but he seemed to have latched onto another group at school. Good riddance, Dane thought.
“College is not for me. You know it. I can’t sit still in class, I hate math and science, and my mind wanders during any lecture. It’s torture,” Dane said, strumming his guitar. “I can’t handle it.”
“You need to go to music school then. You have to get a degree, dude. You need a plan B,” Collin had said, and Dane knew he was right. It’s just that it was too late. He’d blown off too much, the hole was too big to climb out of, and the odds of him being accepted at one of the five degree-granting music schools were remote. Most of the kids he was competing against had gone to immersion, musical high schools. He hadn’t even known those existed.
“It’s just not going to happen, bro,” Dane said.
“I’ll see you at the college fair. If I can do this, you can. You’re getting into that school in Boston. You’ll see,” Collin said.
Over dinner, Dane’s mom had threatened to go with him to the stupid event. They were about to get into another fight when his dad had stepped in and said he’d go. Which was better, but still. They were treating him like he was a baby and couldn’t go to a college fair without an escort. He was almost eighteen years old. He could die in a war but he couldn’t attend a school function without his parents.
Until his dad decided to go with him, he had planned on blowing it off. Some of the other guys were meeting at a gym in Irvine to play basketball, telling their moms they were at the fair. Their moms didn’t stalk, harass, or belittle them. Make them want to punch someone because they weren’t living up to their brothers’ soaring successes. Somehow Doug felt it was all right to tease him for being a momma’s boy. It was getting as annoying as Doug’s constant need for drugs. Dane didn’t smoke, didn’t like how it made him feel, and he’d told Doug that the day they met in shop. But the kid kept bringing it up. At basketball after school, hanging out with Kiley and the grunge kids in the parking lot. Doug and drugs. His mom and college. Some people just get stuck on things and can’t let go, he thought. Maybe if Doug found some good stuff he’d ask him for a little, just to fade the mom pain. He wouldn’t actually, but the idea was appealing.
Dane looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. He pushed gel through his thick, wet hair. His mane was his best feature, he thought, his hair and brown eyes. He loved them. Oh, and the dimple on his right cheek, which, like his musical talent, was bestowed on him from some genetic blessing generations earlier. None of the rest of his family was musical, not his parents, not his grandparents. Nobody could figure out where he got his perfect-pitch voice and his love of and natural abilities on the guitar, drums, or whatever other instrument he decided to pick up and play. It was his thing, and he wouldn’t let go. He would be in the music industry, somehow.
It was a gift, Dane thought, looking into the room to his left. His music room, as his mom referred to it proudly. His bedroom and his music room were connected by his bathroom, and he had to admit, it was a pretty cool setup. Lately, when he had girls over, they seemed to like it, too. In his music room he had a killer vinyl collection, a beat-up leather couch, and even his own mini-fridge. It was better than any college dorm room could ever be, he knew. He’d seen Seth’s Disaster, as he referred to his brother’s freshman dorm room. This year, his brother lived in the fraternity house. Dane was certain Seth’s Sophomore Disaster was epic.
He was happy for his brother, and he missed having him around even though his absence had to make him look better at some things. With him around, he paled in comparison in everything, especially all things school. Hell, Seth probably helped organize the flipping college fair his senior year. Dane looked at his reflection. Of course Seth planned the college fair his year. He had been ASB president and that was one of his jobs.
Just like it was Ashley’s job this year. Ah Ashley, the star of his class. The high school it girl. Dane met Ashley his first day of ninth grade when he was the new kid and Annie was assigned to show him around the school. Of course, Ashley was just beginning her freshman year, too, but somehow already had the status of established school leader. She’d smiled warmly and shook his hand when Annie made the introduction. Dane had been smitten immediately, but looking back now, he was mortified that he’d met her before his transformation.
He’d been fresh out of Ohio, rocking an Ohio State Buckeyes zippered hoodie, two sizes too big, gray sweatpants that swished when he walked, and bright white tennis shoes. If he had stuck a sign on his back that said “Bully Me”, he couldn’t have been asking for it more clearly. Once the kids at Crystal Beach High found out about his
songs on iTunes, his life was over. It didn’t take long.
By the third day of school, he walked into his first period class and heard one of his songs, “The Most Special Way,” playing from somewhere. He heard giggling as the song was turned up louder until the teacher walked in the door and the song was silenced. Dane’s face turned bright red. He could feel it. He could feel it again now just remembering. It was a day for presentations and the first kid to talk walked up to the front of the class.
“I’d like to begin my discussion in ‘The Most Special Way,’” a kid named Duncan said, bringing a round of laughter from his peers. Dane sunk farther into his seat, wanting to jump out of a window. The kid continued weaving the lyrics throughout his presentation. It was the longest period of his life. Whenever he walked into a classroom, some smartass would be playing one of his middle school penned and recorded love songs. He found Seth at lunch, begged him to drive him home. He’d have to home school, Dane realized, even though he and his mom would probably kill each other. He’d never fit in to this California cool place. Eventually, of course, by the middle of sophomore year, more new kids had arrived. Other folks had emerged as targets of the bullies. But Dane had to watch his back, had to watch what he wore, what he said, and who he said it to, even as a senior. He wasn’t immune to torment, even though most of the kids who had victimized him had already graduated.
Proof had arrived in the form of his butterflied lock at the start of this year. Just a little reminder, he supposed, from somebody who still hated the idea of his existence. Probably a jock, probably with a girlfriend who liked one of Dane’s songs. Whatever, he’d just keep it that way until graduation and then he’d be gone and never look back. He’d remember these years through his songs, all of them sad about missing a place, or a person, where he felt safe and loved. About himself before they’d moved and his confidence had been dealt the deathblow, all of this something his mom would never understand.
