Fight For It

by Jessie Harper

  "I'm better. Most of the time."

  "I'm better most of the time, too," she tells me without me having to ask because her heart's a little banged up. Still.

  "How long were you married?" I ask once I've taken another sip of water and gotten up the courage to open my mouth again. Who knows what might fly out of it?

  "Similar to you. It was almost eight years. Before it happened."

  I know better than to ask for clarification about what happened. If she doesn't want to say the words I'm okay with it. There's no need to put everything on the table here.

  "I'm sorry." Without thinking I find myself reaching across the tiny table and putting my hand over hers. She doesn't flinch, doesn't pull her hand back, but raises her eyes to meet mine fully.

  "Me too," she says. "I'm sorry that things didn't work out the way either of us planned."

  I grunt. What can I say to that? I leave my arm outstretched, enjoying the way I can fit her entire hand into my palm.

  But talking about Abbey apparently has more than just the power of suggestion. When I look up from the unexpected tangle of hands, I realize that I've managed to conjure her in the flesh. She's dressed for work—high heels and a tight skirt. Her features are harder than they used to be. She looks pricklier now and I'm not sure if this is because of our history or because I've spent the last half hour looking at Julia.

  I've gone slack-jawed and can't take my eyes off the ghost in the restaurant doorway. It takes Julia a beat to notice that I've gone radio silent, but once she does she turns to look toward the source.

  "Who's that?" she asks. She's got the good sense to whisper and for that I'm thankful. Eventually Abbey's eyes will find me, but I don't want to give up these last few precious seconds before they do.

  The sound that comes out of my mouth almost sounds like a laugh. In any other situation I would want to laugh at this scenario. I'm in one of our old haunts with someone else when in walks my ex-wife? It's like the set up from some made-for-TV movie.

  Julia turns back to face me. She's figured it out by now, of course. "Is that Abbey?" she asks incredulously. "Seriously?"

  I nod, starting to feel the weight of Abbey's presence in the room more acutely. I can feel the sweat starting to prickle my neck. After just telling Julia that I'm fine most of the time this physical reaction isn't painting such a pulled together picture.

  "Are you freaking out a little bit?" Julia asks me, searching my face. I almost expect her to snap her fingers in front of my eyes. "Zach, look at me."

  I pull my eyes to Julia's face and come back into the present. "I'm freaking out a lot," I confess. Any tough guy exterior has faded away. Abbey's a more terrifying foe than anyone else I could dream up and out in public she's a loose cannon.

  I remember to start breathing again. This isn't the end of the world; it was bound to happen sometime. I avoid Abbey like my life depends on it, but eventually I was going to have to start having a life. If she sees me here, at least it will be with someone else.

  "Don't worry about her," Julia tells me in another low whisper. She laces our fingers together and I have never been more grateful to have made the impulsive decision to hold her hand. "You just look at me like you can't see anybody else. Like we're having a great time, and if she comes over here then you just follow my lead."

  I nod again, sure that Julia's convinced I'm some sort of idiot. But right now she's the boss and I'm more than happy to let her take charge while I fight the rising panic in my chest. Chance meetings with Abbey are usually explosive. For a while she liked to show up at the gym unannounced to make a scene when there were kids around. She's given that up now that the divorce is final and I've given her everything she demanded, but I wouldn't underestimate her in a public place. Not if she thinks she can still make me squirm.

  Julia keeps talking, her voice low and even. "I'm going to tell you about the time Noah fished Charlie's poop out of the toilet. It isn't a great lunchtime story, but it's funny and easy to focus on. You concentrate on my face and me talking. Got it?"

  I'm nodding stupidly again, but I do what she tells me. She scoots her chair closer to the table so that our knees touch. It isn't hard to keep my attention on her face. It gives me an excuse to stare at her as much as I want without having to look away. I take in the way her lips move as she tells the story and the way her eyes light up when she gets to a particularly funny part. She's animated, using her free hand to gesture as she talks and keeping her other hand firmly in mine. By the time Abbey makes the inevitable trek toward our table I'm paying attention to nothing but Julia, laughing at her ridiculous story, rubbing my thumb in absentminded circles over the soft skin between her thumb and index finger.

  "Zach?" Abbey's voice genuinely startles me and I don't have to fake surprise to see her looming over us. Her eyes dart from my face to Julia's and then settle on our hands.

  "Abbey? Um, hi." I focus on the feeling of Julia's hand in mine. "What's up?" Admittedly it isn't the strongest response. I don't actually care what's up, after all, but I think I sound casual, unaffected by her presence at the table.

  "Just on my way back to work." She eyes Julia. She's waiting on an introduction, making her annoyed face, the one that, actually, toward the end of our marriage I should have just started calling "her face" since it was the expression she wore the most around me.

  "Oh, sorry, I should introduce you. Julia this is Abbey. Abbey this is Julia."

  Julia's all smiles as she extends her right hand, leaving her left still attached to mine. "Nice to meet you, Gabby."

  Abbey's face registers shock for a millisecond before composing itself back into the most pleasant mask possible.

  "It's Abbey," she corrects. "I'm Abbey." She enunciates her name as if it should mean something to Julia. As if by clarifying who she is Julia will suddenly see the importance of this moment and give her the deference she's due. Julia does none of this and instead just smiles at Abbey as if knowing her name changes nothing.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Abbey? Like Abigail?" Julia doesn't know, can't possibly know, how much Abbey hates her full name. But she must get a sense of this as Abbey's mouth scrunches up into a sour pucker before relaxing again.

  "Yes, but everyone calls me Abbey," she corrects again, waiting for some flash of recognition from Julia to let her know that we're all aware of how awkward this should be. She wants me to feel like I've been caught and for Julia to feel threatened even if neither of those are reasonable responses.

  "Got it," Julia tells her. "Abbey, short for Abigail, but no one calls you that." She gives Abbey a thumbs up. "Nice to meet you. Are you here for lunch? Would you like to join us? We could pull up a chair. It would be tight, but we could manage." Mentioning the size of the table has Abbey looking at our knees. Julia's kneecaps are still kissing mine under the tabletop and she moves her leg just enough to rub one calf along the inside of mine. I know she's doing this for show, but my body responds just the same and my own calf presses against hers in the hope that it can maintain contact.

  Abbey stands dumbfounded for a second, unsure how to proceed if Julia doesn't concede defeat here. That I'm not jumping in to smooth things over or backing down is throwing Abbey off her game. She continues to shoot glances at our hands, still prominent between us on the table.

  "Is this a date?" Abbey finally blurts out. Her hands move to her hips but then find their way in front of her where she clasps them together. "I mean, I wouldn't want to interrupt a date and I'm just getting takeout." She recovers and plasters on a smile.

  "A date?" Julia asks and then hesitates. "Not a date, really. We're old friends and we're just reconnecting." She puts emphasis on reconnecting, making it sound almost sexual and smiles at me as if we're the only two people in the room.

  "You're Julia? From high school?" Abbey's eyes narrow and I have a vivid recollection of an afternoon argument that featured my high school yearbook front and center. Abbey could fabricate drama from nothing and had decided to grill me
on who I had found attractive in my senior class. Julia's name had come up and Abbey had latched onto that. Now here I am on a not-date with the prom queen. If I know Abbey, and I most certainly do, she's seething inside.

  "I'm sorry, are you local?" Julia asks her. "I've just moved back into town and everyone looks different after not seeing them for so long." She's syrupy sweet in her delivery. "Should I remember you? Have we met before?" Julia pretends to wrack her brain for clues as to how she might know Abbey. For once Abbey's speechless and I can't even enjoy the moment because Julia's leg shifts and she takes away the warmth of her calf. I immediately miss the feeling of our legs so close together and her kneecap seems like a poor substitute.

  I know I should most likely break down now and make a show of telling Julia that Abbey is my ex-wife. This is what Abbey's waiting for. She wants the chance to gloat. If it turns out this is the first time Julia's heard that I have an ex, even better. Sure, she'll be furious that she hasn't come up in conversation before, but forcing my hand and making me clear up our relationship in front of Julia will still be red meat for her. But Julia already knows all of this so the only one who's going to be surprised here is Abbey.

  "No." Abbey looks straight at me and gets ready to lower the boom. “I’m—"

  In a stroke of either luck or divine intervention our waitress chooses this moment to reappear at the table, her arms carrying a tray of the million things Julia ordered. Abbey scoots a bit to the side, but seems determined to finish what she started.

  "Oh, thanks so much!" Julia exclaims as she starts to shift plates around the table. It requires her to release my hand but then she reaches right back out to grab it again once she's finished. "Sure you don't want to join us?" She looks expectantly to Abbey. "We have a ton of food. After this morning I think we were both starving. Right, Z?"

  Julia doesn't clarify what she means and just leaves that last bit dangling there for Abbey to make of it whatever she wants. I don't make things any clearer when I answer with my usual, "Yep."

  Abbey's flustered as she declines Julia's offer. "My order's probably ready. I should get back to the office before Jonathan starts to wonder where I am." She makes sure to drop his name. I know how she operates. Sleeping with her boss was one of the many ways she thought she could get ahead. But there's still no ring on her finger so things aren't going exactly as she planned.

  As Abbey turns to go Julia calls out after her. "So nice to meet you, Abigail! Enjoy the rest of your afternoon!" She gives a wave over her shoulder at Abbey's stiffly retreating back and raises an eyebrow at me, releasing my hand only to organize her chopsticks. "Get ready for me to get a little familiar," she whispers as she leans forward and slides one hand up my forearm. With her chopsticks she snags a piece of fish off our sashimi platter and dips it in the dish of soy sauce.

  "Open your mouth," she instructs me and I comply without hesitation. When she feeds me the slice of salty fish our eyes lock and she holds my gaze as if I'm the most important person in the world.

  "Good, right?"

  "The best." I'm not talking about the food.

  Julia slides her hand back down my arm and gives my hand a squeeze. "She hasn't left yet, right?"

  I go to lift my head to get a good look at the door, but Julia grips my hand tighter. I grunt as her fingers dig onto mine. Her hands are surprisingly strong.

  "Don't make it obvious!"

  I can still see Abbey at the front finishing up at the register. "She's paying now, I think." I keep my eyes on Julia as if we're deep in conversation about anything other than my ex-wife.

  "She'll look one last time before she makes it to the door. She won't be able to help herself."

  Sure enough, Abbey turns as she pushes the glass door open. She's balancing her purse and the bag of takeout, but she takes one last look toward the back of the restaurant before she moves through the doorway just as Julia predicted. Right on cue Julia leans forward again lightly tracing circles up and down my forearm with her index finger. It's not a huge gesture, almost so slight that Abbey might miss it. But her face contorts when her eyes catch the movement.

  Once she's gone I let out a celebratory whoop. "That was amazing! I've never seen Abbey so pissed. You were great, Julia. I definitely owe you one for that."

  Julia smiles as she scoots away from me back toward her side of the table. Gone is the feeling of her knees against mine and her hand on my arm.

  "No worries. You have no idea how many times I've had to do that for Graham. For a while everywhere we went he left a trail of hopeful ladies in his wake." She laughs and picks up a piece of sushi from one of the plates and pops it into her mouth. She chews it quickly and swallows.

  I deflate a little. "So, you've had plenty of practice, then?" I'm joking, but it hurts that this isn't the first time she's had to pretend to be interested in her lunch companion.

  "Tons." She readies her chopsticks to pick up another piece of fish. "But don't worry, what are friends for if not to help drive your ex crazy?"

  Friends. Of course, we're just friends. Then why is my brain having such a hard time telling that to the rest of me?

  14

  Zach

  Sunday dinner has been a tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. When I was younger it was my grandmother hosting, with aunts, uncles, and cousins crowding around the dinner table. I'm sure my mother pictured this tradition continuing for years with my sisters eventually bringing their husbands and me bringing my wife. I'm sure she imagined a house packed to the rafters with grandchildren. Instead, every Sunday she gets me, Amy, and Kat. It isn't exactly the Norman Rockwell painting of her dreams, but none of us would ever think about bailing on Sunday dinner. We may all have failed miserably at finding suitable partners and carrying on the family lineage, but none of us can pass up a home cooked meal.

  I'm setting the table when Kat slides up next to me. "I heard you had a date the other day." She drops it casually as she positions glasses of water at each place.

  "What? I didn't have a date." I'm dismissive, straightening the napkins and placing a fork on each one. My mother is a stickler for a well-set table and after years of practice I know exactly how to line things up to her satisfaction.

  "That's not what I heard. I heard you were all snuggled up having sushi. Is this ringing any bells?"

  Immediately I know Kat's talking about my lunch with Julia. I jerk my head up and am met with a look of triumph from my sister.

  "Aha! So you do know what I'm talking about!"

  I try to cover my surprise by going back to the napkins. There's only five of us for dinner so I won't be able to stall for long unless I can come up with something else to occupy my hands.

  "That wasn't a date." I try to act like it's no big deal, like I find myself holding hands with a beautiful woman over lunch all the time. That's a lie, of course. Kat doesn't know about the hand holding and there's no way I'm volunteering any more information than necessary.

  Amy breezes in with the salad and goes to put it on the table. When she catches Kat smirking at me, she stops. "Did I miss something?"

  "No," I blurt out before Kat has a chance to answer. But Kat isn't about to let this go that easily.

  "Zach had a very cozy lunch last week with a lady," she says and waits for Amy to pounce.

  "Like a date? An actual date?" Amy slides a chair out and sits down. Now we're here for the duration.

  "It wasn't a date. I had lunch with a friend. It's not like it's some big secret."

  "What's not a big secret?" my mother asks as she comes in from the kitchen with a platter of chicken. Great, now my mother will be in on the details of my not-date with Julia. We might as well all sit down and dissect it over dinner. Which is probably what we're about to do.

  "Zach had a date last week and he didn't tell any of us," Kat volunteers while my mother turns to look at me.

  "A date?" My mother beams. "Frank!" she bellows into the kitchen "Come in here! Zach had a date!"


  “For the last time, it wasn't a date." I rub my hand over my face in exasperation. I do not want my family getting overexcited. Because Julia and I are just friends. Maybe if I keep reminding myself of that I can keep from getting overly excited, too.

  By now my father is in the dining room, expectantly holding a bowl of peas in one hand and a bowl of mashed potatoes in the other. "I couldn't carry the gravy and there's bread that needs to come in too. What's this about Zach having a date?"

  There's no way to manage expectations around here. With so little love life activity from either of my sisters I don't even have a good way to deflect. I'm reduced to just reiterating everything I've said before, trying to convince my family that it was nothing. "I had lunch with a friend who happens to be female. Let's not freak out about it."

  "My sources tell me you were holding her hand and that she was feeding you with her chopsticks." I shoot a murderous look at Kat but she continues. "If that's just a friendly lunch then I'd like to sign up for some of that, please."

  "You were holding her hand?" My mother is nearly fainting at this point. I can only imagine what would happen if she ever found out that I kissed Julia. She'd probably have an aneurysm. Not that I'll ever get to kiss Julia again. But that hasn't stopped me from replaying it in my head every day since, unfortunately.

  I shoot daggers at Kat. There's nothing like having my entire family weigh in on a romantic relationship that's basically dead in the water. Luckily, Amy saves me from having to explain exactly why Julia and I were pretending to be crazy about each other. "Wait, how did you find out about this?" We all turn to Kat. How did she find out about my lunch with Julia?

  "Abbey called me." Kat has the good sense to look sheepish. At the mention of my ex-wife's name my father curses under his breath. My mother gives his arm a swat but her face tells me that she's thinking the exact same thing. There's no love lost between my parents and Abbey and having her memory inserted into Sunday dinner is sure to make them both grumpy.