“You’ll be the rock now.”
She nodded, and I could sense her resolve.
THE NEXT MORNING I took a cab to get my car and bring back chicken soup from a deli near Penny’s house. Penny, Anne, and Kiki thanked me endlessly. I told them I had to get home and feed Jackie Chan, but I promised to come back later.
The truth was that I hadn’t spoken to Lottie since I’d dropped her off at her apartment. I had thirteen voicemails from her. I did text her to tell her I was okay, and that I had a family emergency, but I waited until I was in my apartment to call her back.
“What the fuck, Gavin?” she said the minute she answered the phone.
“I’m sorry, Lottie. Penny’s dad died right after commencement.”
The phone went quiet for several moments. “You said family emergency.” She didn’t bother asking what happened. That should have been a red flag, but in the moment, I was too exhausted to notice.
“They’re like family,” I told her.
“Hmm, well, okay . . . Tell her I’m very sorry.” She huffed into the phone. “But I need you too, Gavin. Can I come over?”
Maybe she’s going to break up with me.
“Okay.”
I rushed around, making sure there was no evidence of Penny. When the doorbell rang, I opened it and said, “If you’re going to start a fight with me, can you let me shower first? I’ve been running around the whole day.”
She started untying her long black coat to reveal nothing but a matching lace bra and panty set underneath. “Why don’t we shower together?”
She walked past me into the living room. I closed the door and followed her toward the bathroom.
22. Fourteen Years Ago
PENNY
In the days following my father’s death, my mother flip-flopped between crying and getting shit done. She had my father cremated, planned his service, cried, went through all of their finances, cried, called the lab, cried, went to Home Depot to buy a gallon of paint, cried, painted her bedroom like a crazy person, and cried some more. Kiki and I helped.
When we were done, she stepped back to admire our work. “Shall we paint the whole house?” she asked.
That’s exactly what we did. It was my mother’s own brand of bereavement therapy, and Kiki and I were happy to go along with it. I hobbled around, filling up pans, while she and Kiki painted. Gavin popped in periodically, and Lance came over to help for a few days, too. I was amazed by how patient Lance was with me. He never pushed me for anything more, even after I had surprised him with a kiss on graduation day. Even though I still didn’t feel a spark between us, I was comforted by his solid presence. I was even coming to rely on him.
WE HELD MY father’s service on a beautiful lakeshore just outside of Fort Collins. Gavin played my dad’s favorite song, “Hey Jude,” on his Telecaster. Everyone cried.
Kiki spoke for all of us. After all, she was the best public speaker in the family, even at her young age. My mom helped her write the eulogy. I don’t know who added it, but there was a line in there that said, “My dad loved us all, and he loved his job. But his favorite thing in the whole world was watching my sister dance. She’s such a beautiful dancer, and my dad was so proud of her.” My stupid knee ached at the words. My dad was so proud of her. I broke down.
This time, Lance was there to comfort me. Gavin and Lottie were there, too, but in the back row. My mother, stoic, sat on the other side of me. Ten days of huffing paint and crying had made her zombielike. How the hell Kiki pulled that eulogy off without falling apart, I’ll never know. I guess all of her pageant training was paying off in ways I hadn’t expected. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to stand in front of a crowd and speak about my father without crumbling into a ball and turning to dust myself.
A MONTH BLURRED by. My father had a great life insurance policy, thank God, enough for Kiki to go to college and my mom to pay off the house—but not enough to set them up long-term. My mom would have to get a job. The lab, fortunately, adored my father and offered my mother a well-paying secretarial position. She’d never had a job in her life, but she was grateful.
I’d never realized how brave my mother was, and my respect for her grew with each day after my father’s passing. She funneled all of her pageant energy into being a strong woman and mother. She refused to be defined by her grief and widowhood.
I, on the other hand, fell apart on the daily: at physical therapy, in my room alone, and especially when I was with Gavin.
One night after dinner, Kiki came into my room, closed my door, and sat at the end of my bed. “Do you think it would kill Mom if I told her I didn’t want to do the pageants anymore?”
I shook my head. I knew this was coming. “No, Keeks. I know I haven’t always been the best big sister, and I’ve never really given you any advice worth taking, but this I know for sure: You have to tell her. She can take it now. She’s different. Hell, she might even be happy about it. But you also have to find something to focus on. Maybe not right now, but eventually, when you’re in high school and stuff. Stick with the piano or play a sport or something.”
“No, I know. Cara Keller plays softball. I think I want to try that.”
I cringed inwardly at the thought of Kiki telling my mother she was swapping pageantry for softball, but at least my sister would learn teamwork, not superficial competition with, and hatred toward, other girls. “I think that’s a great idea. But give Mom another couple of months. Didn’t she cancel the upcoming pageants anyway?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait until she brings it up.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Thanks, Penny.” She left my room and went to bed.
Later that night I went into my mom’s room, where I found her in the walk-in closet, sitting on the floor. She was clutching one of my dad’s shirts to her face, crying into it. I sat beside her and cried with her.
She started laughing and crying at the same time. “Remember when I was pregnant with Kiki and I made your dad drive all the way to Denver to that chocolatier I loved?”
“I remember. I went with him.”
“I was convinced it was the only thing that could make me happy.”
“Did it?”
“Yes, for about three hours.” We laughed. “You were an easygoing baby. Kiki gave me such a hard time. I never felt well while I was pregnant with her.”
“Well, you were older.”
“After I had her, I had postpartum depression. And I never told you. You were too young, anyway.” She was blinking up at the ceiling. “Kiki cried so much as a baby. I just couldn’t bond with her.”
I looked up at the ceiling, too. “I remember her crying.”
“I wanted to throw her in a trash can. I had visions of it.” Shocked by her candor, I was speechless as she went on. “I was in a very dark place, and your dad helped me out of it. He would have done anything for me.”
“I know, Mom.”
Minutes were strung on a clothesline of memories until she spoke again.
“That’s how Gavin is with you. He’d do anything for you.”
“Gavin has a girlfriend. He and I are just friends.”
“Lottie won’t last,” she mumbled.
Trying to change the subject, I said, “Is that why you gave Kiki so much attention?”
She paused, contemplative. “Yes. I’m sure part of it was guilt—later, relief that I had finally bonded with her.”
I put my arm around her awkwardly. My knee brace got in the way of everything. She held me back for a long time. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her affection.
“Mom, Kiki doesn’t want to do the pageants anymore. I told her to hold off on telling you, but she came to me tonight. I just thought you should know.”
She wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I know. I was going to talk to her about it and let her know it’s all right with me. I’m still proud of her.”
“Me too.”
“And, Penny, I’m proud of you, too
. You’re a college graduate and you’re a beautiful dancer. Your knee will heal. And you’ll get your chance again. I believe it.”
“I hope so.”
TWO WEEKS LATER, Gavin called and asked what I had planned for the day. I told him my mom was taking me to physical therapy at ten that morning.
“Want me to pick you up afterward? We can go grab a bite.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be done at eleven thirty.”
“See you then.”
“Peace.”
On our way to physical therapy I asked my mom what she was doing for the rest of the day.
“Kiki and I are going to see a therapist as well, but a different kind. I just thought it would be good if we both had someone to talk to. Let me know when you’re ready, Penny. I can set up an appointment with Dr. Rush for you, too.” She was still on an impressive proactive streak, hoping my father’s sudden death wouldn’t fuck us up too horribly.
“Thanks for the offer, Mom. I just wanted to let you know that Gavin’s picking me up, so I’ll see you guys back at home. Good luck at therapy today.” I hobbled into PT.
Stephanie, my physical therapist, worked my knee hard that day. I was finally doing weight-bearing exercises for the first time, and it hurt like hell.
At eleven thirty, I made my way out to the bench in front of the clinic and waited for Gavin. Even though it was summer, there was a chill in the air. I had on a tank top and shorts.
At eleven forty-five, I texted him.
Me: Where are you?
No response.
At noon, I tried calling my mom but her phone was turned off. She must’ve been in her therapy session with Kiki.
At twelve thirty, Gavin still wasn’t answering. I was worried that he had gotten into a car wreck and started to panic. I called Lance. He was there in just ten minutes.
“What happened?” he said after I got in the car.
“Gavin was supposed to get me, but he’s an hour late and not answering his phone.”
“What were your plans?”
“We were just going to get some lunch,” I said, irritated.
“I was just asking, Penny.”
I looked at him and felt guilty. It wasn’t his fault Gavin flaked. He was there to get me in ten minutes flat. I noticed he had on suit pants, a dress shirt, and a tie. He must’ve come straight from his new job.
Finally, I got a text from Gavin.
Gavin: Fuck, P. I just drove by your PT and you were gone. I’m so sorry. Fucking Lottie locked me out of the house and threatened to kill herself. I almost called the police. She finally let me in to get my keys. She’s at work now. Where are you? I’ll come get you?
Me: GO. FUCK. YOURSELF. I waited an hour. I was cold and my fucking knee is killing me. I’m done with Lottie’s shit and you should be too. You thrive on having a psychopath for a girlfriend. I got a ride. Thanks anyway.
Gavin: Please don’t do this.
I didn’t respond.
“Getting a lot of texts?” Lance remarked.
“It’s Gavin. He got into a fight with Lottie. Shocker.”
“She’s kind of a nut, huh?”
“Yes, but people like Gavin like that sort of thing. Makes him feel cool, you know?” I wasn’t in the mood to psychoanalyze Gavin. “So, are you working right now?”
“Yeah, I was on my lunch. I’ll drop you at home—I have to get back. Sorry, I wish I could take you for that bite but I’m out of time.”
Lance had already landed a job as a pharmaceutical sales rep for a large company in Fort Collins selling a diabetes drug. Something about the fact that he had a job immediately after graduation made me like him more.
“What about tonight? Let’s go out. I need to get my mind off my dad.” And Gavin.
“Yeah, for sure, I’d love to. Dinner at seven?”
We were pulling into my driveway. “Perfect. See you then.” I got out and did a backward wave to Lance as he pulled away.
As soon as I got to the door, I heard the familiar, rumbling engine of Gavin’s car coming down the street. I walked into the house to the kitchen and calmly collected a dozen eggs from the refrigerator.
When he pulled into the driveway, I walked out and started chucking eggs at his car one at a time. “You want crazy?” I yelled. “I’ll give you crazy!” He got out, trying to dodge the flying ova, but one got him in the hip.
“Ouch! Stop, Penny!”
“You call yourself my best friend?”
“It wasn’t my fault, Penny!”
“Leave!” I screamed. “My dad just died and you leave me on the side of the street in the cold with a fucked-up knee?”
I almost fell over, trying to balance on one crutch, holding the carton of eggs in the other hand.
He held his hands out, palms up. “Just let me explain.”
“Don’t use your martyr act on me.” I had to stop throwing eggs or I was going to fall over. “And don’t come any closer.” We were at least ten feet apart. His eyes were searching mine. “You hurt me every time I’m already in pain. You claim you’re my best friend but I can’t ever count on you to be there.”
“I’m sorry, Penny!”
“I don’t want to see you right now, Gavin! You need to figure things out with Lottie. I don’t even know if we can be friends anymore. I don’t know if I’m getting in the way of your relationship with her, or if she’s getting in the way of my relationship with you, but it’s not working.”
“She’s in love with me, Penny. And she’s jealous of you. She knows you’re going to be in my life . . .” He paused and swallowed. “Forever.”
“We’ll see. I’m going out with Lance tonight.”
He let a frustrated breath. “Okay. I get it. You can’t stay mad at me for long, though. I know you.”
“Go home, Gavin.”
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth as he walked back to his car.
“Lottie doesn’t know what love is,” I shouted.
He turned. “Do you?”
“Yeah, Gavin. I do. I know it’s not fucking with someone all the time. Locking them out, throwing their phone in lakes, starting fights . . . leaving them out in the cold.”
Silence. He was staring right at me when he whispered, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Don’t cry, Penny.
“Go. Now.”
I went into the house, locked the door, turned off my phone, and slept until my alarm went off at six p.m. I could smell dinner scents emanating from the kitchen. My mother hadn’t cooked since my dad died, so this was progress.
I cleaned myself up and went into the dining room where Kiki was sitting at the table, waiting. “Finally! No takeout,” she said.
I sat down next to her. When my mom turned, she noticed I had gotten dressed in jeans and a blouse and put on makeup. I no longer had to wear my knee brace 24/7 but I still could only wear flats.
“You look nice! I made fettuccine Alfredo.” The moment “Alfredo” came out of her mouth, she started to cry a little. It was my dad’s favorite.
I went to her, took the pan out of her hand, and set it down. “Why did you make this?”
Breathing hard, she said, “I’m okay, Penny. Dr. Rush told me to make it.”
“Dr. Rush sounds like a quack.”
She laughed through tears. “Your dad would have said the same thing. Why do you look so pretty? Why do you look so much like him?”
“Do you think Dad was pretty?” I smiled.
Kiki got up and joined our hug. My mom rocked us back and forth. “I’m so lucky to have you girls.”
“Are you going somewhere, Penny?” Kiki asked.
“I’m going to have dinner with Lance. Will you save me some of this, Mom?”
“Of course, darling.”
Lance rang the doorbell at six fifty-two. Always punctual . . . and sometimes a little too early. I opened the door and kissed him. A full, openmouthed kiss.
“Wow, Penny. I didn’t expect that.�
��
“Well, you know me, full of surprises. Where are we headed?”
“I know a nice little Italian place I think you’d like. Do you need your brace or your crutches?”
“Nope, I’m on a high dose of Advil and the doc said I should walk around a bit. No dancing yet, though.”
He opened the passenger door like a true gentleman. For once, I appreciated how clean his car was. When we pulled out of the driveway, it was dusk. I turned to look through the window and could just see Gavin, dressed in his typical head-to-toe black, leaning against his car across the street, watching us drive away.
I texted him.
Me: Creeper.
He didn’t respond. That’s when I realized he’d seen the kiss on my doorstep.
“Was that Gavin?” Lance asked as we drove by.
“No,” I lied. “Just my neighbor.”
23. Fourteen Years Ago
GAVIN
Penny: I need you.
Me: Where are you?
Penny: On the bench across the street from the Stop and Shop.
I drove like a bat out of hell. Penny and I hadn’t been good for two months, but she needed me now. We talked daily in some form, but things had been strained. She hadn’t gotten over that day I left her at the PT clinic, and I was furious and jealous that she was dating Douche-face. She was also grieving about her dad still . . . and grieving about dance, which made her a loose cannon, a raw nerve . . . all the time. The prognosis on her knee wasn’t great. Her ligaments were healing, but it would be months before she’d be able to walk properly, let alone dance with that effortless grace she once had. It made her depressed. Without dancing, she was also gaining weight, which made her even more depressed.
When I pulled over to the side of the street, she stood from the bus bench and limped to my car. She was wearing jeans, a tank top, a short black leather jacket, and black combat boots. She looked mean.
“Where’s your car?” I asked.
“Broke down over on West Mountain.”
“What do you think it is?” I pulled over and texted Pete at the garage about getting a tow truck.
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