Nico

by J. B. Hartnett

  “Oh, come on, babe. You can still eat the rice and the spinach.” I wiped my eyes.

  “No, I really can’t, Nico. Blech!” she said as she slapped giant globs of grape jam and peanut butter on the bread.

  So, that night, I learned that Lark would not be eating those “exotic” foods as she deemed them, with me. In fact, they were not to be cooked in the kitchen when she was there. I thought she was overreacting… just a little bit. But I let it go.

  I would like to say that Lark was perfect in every way possible. But there was one thing, and only one thing, she did that I really, really hated. Lark’s hair was very long. Beautiful, long blonde hair to the middle of her back. I loved that fuckin’ hair. I loved to smell it, touch it, and watch it move as she walked… among other things. And I thought it was also very considerate that she always cleaned the drain in the tub after she washed her long tresses. What I hated, though, was that she left that disgusting clump on the side of the tub.

  “Babe?” I called into the bedroom from the bathroom.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you come in here for a minute?”

  “Hey.” She appeared in the doorway with the book she was reading. “Did you know that, every year, at least one idiot decides to take a dip in the thermal pools at Yellowstone and basically boils to death? No shit, some people fall in, which is sad, but some idiots decide to, you know, go hot tubbing. This is Darwin award stuff right here.” She laughed and showed me the cover.

  “Cool. Babe?” I wanted to just say this one thing and get back to our happy little life together.

  “Yep.” She smiled.

  “I love you, you know that. There isn’t anything I can think of that you do that I don’t like… except one thing.”

  The smile left her face immediately.

  “Oh my God, what did I do?”

  I showed her the offending hair. “Please, I can handle anything else except for that.”

  “Oh, Nico.” She laughed as she grabbed some toilet paper and threw away the clump. “You’ll eat balls, but you can’t handle that?”

  We had gone to this Italian restaurant where I ordered sweet meats, or balls, basically. She told Zack I liked my balls in gravy. She then asked me if I preferred my balls small and white or big and dark. She even told my pop on a loud whisper, “I think you should know… Nico likes to eat… balls.” We went on like that for a while. It was one of those stories, like the time that shark took my boxers, that I would look back on and laugh one day.

  I wasn’t there yet.

  I smiled at the memory. Then realization struck me. I just knew she was going to do something… then I figured it out, and thus, ruined everything.

  “You’re throwing me a surprise birthday party, aren’t you?” I asked.

  She lifted her eyes and started to open her mouth, but no words came out. She couldn’t lie to me to save her life, and this was a doozy. She ran to the front door and grabbed her purse on the way. “Igottagonowseeyalater!” And she was gone.

  Three hours later, I was sitting at the head of the table at Mom and Pop’s place. The weather had started to warm up a week before. It was just us and Zack. He closed the shop early but hadn’t brought the deposit, so I had to go back, but I didn’t care. What stood out on the celebration of my fortieth birthday, unfortunately, was seeing how fucking depressed my best friend was.

  We cut the cake, chocolate mud cake with forty candles, and washed it down with Budweiser… I did anyway. Lark had milk. She said there are four things in life that should never be consumed without milk: cereal, chocolate chip cookies, cake, and peanut butter sandwiches. I was in the mood for beer. While Lark told Mom and Pop all about the hotbed of potential seismic activity that happened to be Yellowstone National Park, I moved to Zack.

  “Dude, what’s going on?”

  “She won’t return my calls.”

  “Who?” I asked. I knew the answer. I just wanted him to say it.

  “You know who, fuckwad.”

  “Is that any way to talk to the birthday boy?”

  “Right. Anyway, I’m gonna split. I’m the worst kind of wet fuckin’ blanket, dude. Sorry, Nico.”

  He quickly thanked Mom, Pop, and Lark and left.

  ***

  It was only an hour later when we left, too.

  “That was perfect, babe. Thanks. I’m glad you didn’t overdo it.”

  “I think I have you pretty well figured out, Mr. Grant.”

  I could see her smirking out of the corner of my eye.

  “Mr. Grant? Is that some kind of forty-year old dig or something?” I asked.

  “Well, I was taught to respect my elders,” she stated, then burst out laughing.

  My phone chirped with a message. “Can you check that, babe?” I hoped it wasn’t a bird. That was the last thing I wanted as a memory on my birthday.

  “It’s Zack. He said he’ll take the deposit. He’s at the studio drawing.” She returned my phone to the dash. We sat there quietly, then she asked, “Do you think she’ll take him back?”

  “I don’t know, babe. I don’t know Teensy that well, but I’d like to think, with the right amount of groveling, he can pull it off. He is Zack, whiner supreme.”

  “And he loves her,” she added.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That, too.”

  As we walked into the front door of my place, I stopped mid-stride. “I’m gonna go see if he’s still there. You cool?”

  “I love you,” she said and smiled.

  I gave her a kiss and told her I wouldn’t be long.

  I lied.

  Not on purpose, but life just had a way of fucking with me sometimes.

  I unlocked the door to find Zack with his head bobbing up and down to the beat of something death metal. Double bass drums and screaming words. Angry, pissed off, fuck-you music that he said had a soothing effect on him.

  “Dude, I just came in to—”

  He wasn’t drawing. He was staring at a vintage diamond ring. A wedding ring.

  I turned down the stereo and reached over to pick it up. “Killer, dude.”

  “It belonged to my grandmother. My mom’s mom. I got it from her before Teensy told me to fuck off.”

  “For the last time dude, she didn’t tell you to fuck off. You hesitated when she asked you to make a choice. Obviously, you had already made the choice. Go and fucking talk to her!” I was practically begging him at this point. What I hadn’t recognized before was Zack had already reached his breaking point. It was why he’d left our little party.

  “I have been trying for weeks, dude!” he yelled and started to stomp around the small space of the studio like it was a mosh pit. “I fucking called, I fucking texted, I fucking begged, dude. I begged! She won’t listen to a fuckin’ word I have to say, so fuck it. That is fuckin’ it!” He picked up one of the rolling stools and slammed it into the mirrored wall behind him.

  He owned half the shop so I didn’t really care. I knew he was hurting even if he was being a reactive asshole about it. What I did care about was the giant shard of mirror that was now sticking out of my thigh. Blood had soaked through my jeans and was pooling on the floor under my right leg.

  “You are a fucking idiot!” I yelled.

  “Dude, man, I am so fucking sorry, man.”

  He turned around in a panic, looking for towels. “On the shelf, you fuckhead!” I yelled.

  My leg was beginning to throb. I knew the skin there was thin already because that was the same fucking spot where that goddamn shark had bit me.

  “What do you want me to do, man?” he asked, wide eyed and shaky.

  “Go get Lark and tell her to pull the truck out front. And grab the deposit. Fuck!” I yelled. I watched him run out the door then I looked around at the mess. I would make him clean it up.

  Dickhead.

  He returned a few minutes later. Not long after that, Lark was out the front. She had the foresight to bring giant garbage bags and lined the seat. She loved the truc
k more than I did, my girl. By the time we got to the emergency room, I was feeling pretty woozy.

  “Sir, we’re going to give you something for the pain. You’ll need a few stitches… several, actually.”

  I turned to Zack, who was sitting next to Lark in the small curtained area, and said, “Fuck you, man.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Dude,” I said to him. “Can you go and get Lark some coffee?” I gave her a long blink and hoped she would understand I needed to talk to her.

  “Whatever you want, man.” He left in search of coffee.

  I told Lark exactly what I wanted her to do.

  “Are you on board with that babe?” I grinned as Captain Morphine kicked in.

  “Oh absolutely!” She kissed me and smiled as she took the backpack with the deposit and left.

  An hour and a half later, Zack sitting between us on the bench seat as Lark drove, we pulled up in front of Teensy’s place.

  “What the fuck?” Zack said in a quiet voice right on the edge of anger.

  Lark cut the engine. “Shut the fuck up, dude. Do you have the ring?”

  “What?” He stared ahead, apparently confused.

  “Do you have the fuckin’ ring?” I raised my voice. I was tired and high and over Zack being a depressed pussy.

  “You are so far up your ass you didn’t even look in the back of the truck, man.” I told Lark to go down to the twenty-four-hour florist on El Toro and buy as many flowers as it would take to make a grand gesture and not to worry about the cost. She said she was ‘all over that’ and left. “Take those fucking flowers and lay them on her doorstep, then get down on your knees and beg for her forgiveness, dude.”

  He was about to argue when Lark turned to him and said, “Sometimes, a girl needs to hear it shouted from the mountaintop, just to be sure.” Then she whispered, “She won’t say no, Zack. She loves you.”

  We watched as he set out every single one of those bouquets. When he was done, he turned his head toward us, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at Lark. She nodded. He took a deep breath, rang the doorbell, and sunk down to his knees.

  “I wish I had popcorn,” Lark said to me as she held my hand in a death grip, her smile so big, I didn’t bother to watch Zack; I watched her. “Oh my God,” she squealed as quiet as she possibly could.

  Then I turned my attention from her just as Zack pulled the ring from his pocket. Teensy flung her entire body onto him and crushed all the flowers underneath.

  Teensy ran to the truck. “Was this you?” she asked me.

  “No, babe. We’re just the drivers.” I smiled.

  She leaned in, knowing he’d had a push in the right direction, and kissed my cheek, “Thanks, Nico.”

  “No problem, Teense.”

  “Celebration pancakes?” she asked.

  Lark leaned around me. “You sure you want company?”

  “These moments are best shared with friends,” she happily replied.

  ***

  My leg was propped up on two pillows, and a naked Lark was lying on my naked chest. “Did you enjoy your birthday?” she asked.

  “I won’t forget it, that’s for sure.” I smiled, exhausted.

  “That wasn’t what I asked you,” she said.

  I lifted my head to look at her. She lifted hers and let her chin rest on my pec.

  “Hands down, babe, best birthday ever.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Spent it with my family, my friends, and the woman I love. Watched a man go from his lowest low to what will be one of his highest highs. Saw the eyes of a beautiful woman light up with pure happiness… it was a pretty good birthday.”

  “She was happy, wasn’t she?” She smiled.

  I held her eyes and said, “I meant you.”

  She moved up to my face and gave me a soft kiss. “I love you, Nico.”

  “Love you, too, babe.” I let my head fall back down and felt Lark relax back into me before I said, “Can’t wait to see your eyes light up when I ask you the same question.”

  I felt her smile into my skin, her breathing slow and even as we drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 13

  April

  Dear Dish –

  The last four months have been incredible. She loves me, and I love her. So strange to even see those words written by my hand. But I haven’t told her about you yet. I don’t know why exactly. It’s almost like every time I start, something else prevents me from getting the story out. Maybe it’s because I’m always telling her about the other tragic women in my life. She knows about all of them, all except for your mom. To this day, Dish, I think about that night. I have to admit, at first, when I really let myself go with Lark, I felt like I was betraying you somehow. Crazy, huh? I hope wherever you are, you’re happy, surrounded by people who love you.

  N-

  I used to sit and think about what I was going to tell Dish. I’d compose my thoughts throughout the day, come home and eat something, have a beer and write in my journal, then listen to music and pull my dick. That was then. Now, my day started with Lark. We would either make coffee at home or walk downtown to buy a cup. I no longer ran because I got plenty of exercise with Lark… the good kind. When I went to work, I thought about what I was going to tell her. I’d come home and shower—sometimes with her, sometimes without—have a beer, tell her about my day, and make love… with her. I knew what I wanted, and I was pretty sure she and I were on the same page. Therefore, my house was in need of a change.

  Today was my day off. Zack would call if there were any problems, but I was going shopping.

  That’s right. I was going fucking shopping. Every time I thought about it, I would start to laugh.

  It was actually my idea, because Lark had spent every night at my place. It was still early in our relationship, but no matter what my intentions were, I wanted her to feel like my home was her home, because, for months now, I never let her go back to her place. She would always say she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. It was killing me to not ask her to just go get all her shit and put it wherever she wanted. I didn’t want to rush her, so I decided to sweeten the deal with some move-in-with-me incentive.

  I took her to Crate and Barrel.

  We stood in the middle of South Coast Plaza, and I actually felt like the air in that place was toxic. It was like being choked by the fumes of pretention, but I wasn’t there for me. I was there for her, which, I guess, was really for me. I wanted to give Lark what that asshole denied her… that’s where I was starting anyway, so while stopped in front of the shop, I took her arms and turned her to face me.

  “Babe?” I said seriously.

  “Nico?” she responded, confused.

  “You know why I brought you here?”

  “Cheap stemware?” she joked.

  “No, babe,” I said and moved her hair behind her ear. “I want you to make my home, our home. You can use your cottage for your business until you talk to Hank and Ramona about the empty shop next door. But there’s plenty of room for both of us at my place. You find your style, and I’ll be happy with whatever you choose. Try not to make it too pink or flowery though.” I smirked.

  “Are you sure? I mean, really, really sure?”

  “I am. I’m really, really sure.”

  “Did you think I was a pink and flowery kind of girl?” she asked.

  “Not really,” I answered.

  “Then why would I do that to you?”

  “To fuck with me?” I grinned at her and watched as she laughed so hard, it echoed throughout that Grand Canyon of a shopping mall.

  ***

  Now, I’m not much of a shopper myself. I hated to leave the containment of the beautiful city where I lived, unless it was to go to my folks place or up the mountain, but I could have easily spent thousands of dollars in that store on barbeque shit alone. It was ridiculous. I watched Lark walk through and match this with that. I chose four beer mugs to add to the growing pile
of crap we were about to buy, and, like magic, this saleswoman would appear. She would take it all away so our hands would be free to pick something else up, take it home, and in its place leave our hard-earned money. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy every fucking second.

  We walked through the mall on the way to the truck. Lark was buzzing about our new green plates and how she was planning to make a special meal just as an excuse to break them in, when we walked right into her ex, Shane, and his new wife, Marcie.

  A minute ago, no, not even a minute, seconds ago, we had been laughing together. I was teasing her about matching green food to eat off the green plates when she dropped a bag and threw her hands over her mouth.

  I had never seen Shane. Hadn’t seen a photo of him or Marcie, but I knew from her description, this was the motherfucker who I had fantasized kicking the shit out of for months now. He was the one making us go slow. He was the one that didn’t have the fucking balls to let her go before he fucked with her trust and her heart.

  I made no move for the bag; I made a move for her, and slowly took one of her hands and laced my fingers through hers. It wasn’t a possessive-asshole move, it was to let her know I was there for her. Whatever she needed in that raw moment, confronted by the asshole that broke her, I was fucking there.

  “Lark!” he said, surprised. “You’re looking well.” The non-dickhead thing would be to offer his hand, to shake mine, but he didn’t. “And you are?” he asked.

  “I’m Nico,” I answered.

  He eyed the bags and glanced to his wife, who sucked in her lips and looked to the sky. She was amused and disgusted by our choice of shopping destinations apparently.

  “I see you found someone that appreciates your style.” That jibe should have earned him my hand wrapped around his throat, but my girl proved once again she was a better person than I was. She gave me her left hand to hold and offered her right, steady as anything to the woman who had silently been a fuckin’ bitch to her face and taken her fiancé.

  “You must be Marcie. I saw your announcement in the paper. The photo was lovely… you make a beautiful couple.” She let go of the stunned woman’s hand and picked up the two bags she had dropped as she continued. “I love Crate and Barrel. Shane hated it, but I can be clumsy sometimes. I would feel just awful if I was hand-washing a two-hundred dollar wine glass and broke it. I’d still feel bad if I broke the nice twelve dollar ones I just bought, but I could replace them. I doubt I’d ever even take the expensive ones out of the box. I’d be too scared I’d break them. They’d just sit there, unused and unloved.” She looked down at the bags, over at Shane and Marcie, then stared up at me and said, “These glasses will see plenty of love.”