by Roxie Noir
And this is only for the rehearsal dinner, Calder thought.
A fire truck ran into his ankle, and he looked down. A pair of nervous blue eyes looked up, white-blond hair flopping in front of them.
“Sorry,” the kid said very quietly.
“It’s okay,” said Calder, but the kid was off again, racing the fire truck down the hallway.
Calder couldn’t remember the kid’s name. He’d been born after Calder had left, just like all three of Ingrid’s kids.
That was why they looked at him like he was a stranger, instead of their uncle. He was a stranger.
Shane and Elliott walked through the front door, and without stopping, Elliott scooped up the kid with the fire truck and plopped him onto his shoulders. The kid squealed with delight, and Greta looked up.
“Hi,” she said, giving them both a kiss. “Ready?”
Another kid charged between the three of them, then tripped over her own feet, poofy dress flying over her head. The kid froze, her face scrunching up like she was about to cry, but then the moment passed, and she decided not to.
Instead she got to her feet and looked up at the three adults.
“Hi Uncle Shane,” she said, very softly.
Then she turned around and ran away at top speed.
Calder pulled the final knot through his tie and looked at himself in the mirror again. The suit wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do well enough. Particularly since he’d bought it that morning from a suit store in Canyon City, on an awkward outing with Shane and one of Ingrid’s mates.
They were family, but barely knew each other. He’d met Shane and Elliott for the first time yesterday.
It was weird, being single in this madhouse. Ingrid had been happily mated for years, and even Greta was finally tying the knot. Watching everyone tangled together, fixing hair and lifting kids and laughing and fixing collars just made him feel even more single.
I was the first one, Calder thought. Before it was even legal to get married.
If it had been legal then, we would have gotten married.
Maybe it was for the best that they hadn’t. In a way, Calder had been able to pretend that things in Rustvale were exactly like he left them. Getting a divorce would have shattered that particular illusion pretty thoroughly.
“Okay,” Calder’s Papa shouted, raising his voice over the chaos. “The first van is leaving for Page’s. Who’s on it?”
Calder shrugged, then raised his hand. When everyone looked around, it seemed like they took a minute to remember who he was.
Somehow, he ended up squished into the middle of the back seat of a minivan, with Greta on one side and Ingrid on the other, Ingrid’s kids in the seat in front of them in car seats. Every time the van went over a bump, Calder hit his head on the ceiling.
“It’s like a family vacation again,” Greta said. Her face was glowing.
“Please, God, no,” said Ingrid.
Calder held up one finger, half a centimeter away from Ingrid’s shoulder.
“I’m not touching you,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, but smiled.
“I was just telling someone the other day about the time that you convinced Greta that burgers were made of cow poop, so next time we had them for dinner, she threw a fit and it took forever to figure out what was wrong,” Ingrid said.
Calder looked down at his other sister and grinned.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You are not,” Greta said.
“Do you remember throwing one of your blocks at me and hitting me square in the eye?” he asked. “I had a black eye for two weeks. I think my teacher almost reported us to Child Protective Services.”
Greta laughed.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Remember when you drew mustaches on all her Nine Inch Nails posters when she was fourteen or fifteen?” Ingrid offered.
“I’m still mad about that,” Greta said.
“But you tore my copy of Fight Club into little pieces,” Calder pointed out. “And you tried to tear up Atlas Shrugged, but I caught you.”
“I feel like you should be thanking me for that now,” Greta said. “You were obnoxious.”
Calder laughed, feeling oddly at home, fighting with his little sister in the back seat of a minivan.
Weird that we can spend years apart and fall right back into it, he thought.
Maybe I belong here, despite everything.
“Want to see if we can annoy Ingrid enough for her to curse us out in front of her kids?” Greta asked, grinning.
Ingrid put her face in her hands.
“Drive faster!” she called.
The rehearsal dinner wasn’t so bad, Calder thought. He was seated between Shane and one of Ingrid’s mates — Norman, maybe? He could not remember the man’s name and the whiskey wasn’t exactly helping — and the food was good, plus the drinks were free.
Rehearsing itself had been the hard part, even though it had taken twenty minutes. The bar hadn’t been open yet, and Calder had to do it sober.
All he had to do was walk down the aisle, escorting Ingrid, then stand to the side and act interested. When the ceremony was over, he had to escort Ingrid back down the aisle. He didn’t even have to hold Greta’s bouquet.
It was still hard. He couldn’t watch Elliott whisper something into Shane’s ear as they stood up front, waiting for Greta, watch the smile on Shane’s face. He couldn’t see them watch his sister come down the aisle and he couldn’t handle the way she fucking glowed as she walked toward them.
As she held their hands, Elliott rubbed one thumb over the back of Greta’s hand. It was so obviously a habit, something that he did every time they held hands, that Calder had to close his eyes and pretend that he was somewhere else.
I can’t believe this, he thought. It’s been so long and nothing is better. I’m still just as broken as I was.
That wasn’t quite true, he realized, standing there with his eyes closed. It had been years since he imagined Marie every time he closed his eyes, years since her beautiful, dead face haunted his dreams.
He still thought of her. He thought of her all the time, but now when he thought of her, she was alive and laughing. Lacing up her running shoes, or planning some ambitious hike. Sliding onto his lap as he sat on the couch, reading a book, her arms around his neck.
Thinking of her didn’t really hurt anymore, he realized with a shock. He’d always miss her. He’d always love her, but she was gone and that wasn’t going to change.
Calder had no idea what to do with this strange, sudden knowledge, and he stood there, blinking.
“Then I pronounce you husbands and wife,” the justice of the peace was saying, her glasses down her nose as she read from a binder. “You kiss, all that.”
And then Calder did what he’d been trying all night desperately not to do.
He thought of Sam, and he watched Elliott and Shane and Greta all kiss, and he couldn’t stop thinking of Sam. Sam was still alive, and Sam was probably somewhere, right now, with another mate, happily snuggled on a couch.
Marie wasn’t coming back, and that was for certain. But Sam was still alive, and he was somewhere in Rustvale, and that was a wound that hadn’t healed even a little in seven years.
Ingrid handed Greta’s bouquet back, and Greta looped her arms through Elliott and Shane’s, and they walked back through the room, pretending there was an aisle. Calder shook himself back to reality, Ingrid took his arm, and they followed.
“Okay,” Greta said, once everyone was finished. “I don’t think you’ll embarrass us.”
“That’s all we hoped for,” Calder said, teasing his little sister.
He was the first person at the bar, scanning the whiskey behind it and ordering a double Maker’s Mark on the rocks. His new suit was starting to get uncomfortable: the vest didn’t fit quite right, and kept riding up a little, the jacket a tiny bit too tight across the shoulders.
Calder knocked back a slug of whisk
ey, straightened up, and told himself to deal with it.
Until dinner, he drank and talked to people he hadn’t seen in seven years, and he tried to make it sound like he had some kind of purpose, some reason for driving from place to place. He told someone he was writing a travel blog, which wasn’t true, and told someone else that he really wanted to see as much of North America as he could before he settled down, which also wasn’t really true.
He just didn’t feel like he could be somewhere. Not since he’d left.
At dinner, he was seated between Shane and Ingrid’s mate. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, and since he was on his fifth whiskey, the chances of remembering it were getting slimmer by the moment. Calder ate a steak and talked about the best season to visit Yosemite National Park, then had a lively chat with Shane about how Greta scrunched up her nose when she was angry but didn’t want to admit it.
He had another whiskey, and people started making speeches, but Calder couldn’t pay attention. He knew what they were saying: Greta and Shane and Elliott are great, blah blah blah. Love and stuff. Family.
In the back of the room, he saw Annika quietly come out of the kitchen, a pie in each hand, followed by a girl with long black hair and gray eyes. Annika whispered something to her, and the other girl set the pies down on the table, then went back in the kitchen.
Calder’s eyes followed Annika as she walked, the whiskey sloshing around in his brain. She made him feel some kind of way, that was for sure, and for a moment Calder imagined going into the kitchen and finding her. Maybe hoisting her up onto the counter, pulling out her braids, her mouth on his.
He raised his eyebrows at nothing and took another drink.
When the fuck was the last time I thought that about someone? he wondered. Everyone started applauding and he joined in, not knowing what the hell it was for.
Then everyone stood, and Calder followed suit, but they seemed to just be milling around aimlessly again.
He went to the bar and got another refill. Then, as everyone was milling around the dessert table he stepped out of the private room and went to look for Annika.
She and the other girl were in the kitchen, and as soon as Calder stepped in, he felt like he’d walked into a jungle. It was noisy as hell, the sounds of dishwashers and food prep and people shouting, everywhere. Steam hung in the air, and it took him a moment to locate Annika, poring over a sheet of paper with the black-haired girl.
“I did that today,” the black-haired girl was saying. “All those just need to get baked and boxed, and that’s it.”
“Perfect,” Annika said. “I think that’s it.”
“See you bright and early tomorrow,” the other girl said, and both of them turned around. Annika’s eyebrows went up.
“Hey,” Calder said. He stuck his hand out to the new girl. “I’m Calder, Greta’s big brother.”
“Scarlet,” she said coolly, shaking his hand. “I work for Annika.”
“Nice,” Calder said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Scarlet removed her hand from his and waved at Annika.
“See you soon,” she said, waving, and disappeared through the door.
Calder walked to the counter where Annika had a notebook open and leaned one hip against it.
“I found a suit,” he said. “What do you think?”
She started at his feet and he could practically feel her eyes crawl up him.
“It looks good,” she said, sounding a little reluctant. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Just good?” Calder asked. He set his whiskey glass on the counter with the click of glass on metal. “I think I look damn good, myself.”
“You’re drunk as hell,” Annika said.
“Yeah,” Calder said.
“How many have you even had?”
Calder narrowed his eyes, then looked at his whiskey glass. After a little while, he gave up and shrugged.
“A couple,” he said.
Then he took a step closer to her.
“Enough to ask what you’re doing later,” he said.
“I’m cleaning up and then going to bed,” she said, her arms still crossed in front of her.
“Okay, but where are you going to bed?”
Something clattered in the kitchen, and someone shouted something Calder couldn’t understand. Annika looked quickly over her shoulder, and then back at him.
Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him, and then Calder couldn’t help himself.
He bent down and pressed his mouth to hers, her lips soft and yielding under his. Warmth blossomed through him and he reached for her waist.
Instead, her hands were on his chest, pushing him away. Calder stood up and took a step back.
“Stop it,” Annika said.
Calder held up both hands in an I’m innocent gesture.
“Sorry,” he said.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest again.
“I thought you wanted me to kiss you,” he said.
“You’re wasted at a rehearsal dinner,” Annika said.
“Open bar?” he asked.
“Seriously,” she said.
“You’re hot and I thought I’d try my luck before I left,” he said.
It was something like the truth.
She gave him another long look up and down.
“Come on,” he said, letting himself smile. “You’re thinking about it.”
Annika looked into his eyes, and drunk as he was, Calder could sense her hunger.
Then she shook her head firmly.
“No,” she said. “You’re a drunk mess at your sister’s rehearsal dinner, and you’re leaving again in two days.”
“We could still have fun,” Calder said.
“I don’t want fun,” Annika said. “I’ve had fun. I want someone who’ll stick around for a while.”
Calder felt like she’d slapped him. He had no response, just looked down at the counter, into his whiskey glass.
“I know about Sam,” she said. “I’m not getting in the middle of that. You need to straighten your own life out, Calder Waltz. Then you can get drunk and try your luck with me.”
She flipped the notebook closed, then walked to a coat rack and stuck it into a tote bag that hung there.
“But that’s over,” he said, and shrugged, trying to make it look casual. “We broke up. That’s all.”
“That’s why you’re getting trashed right now? That’s why you didn’t tell Greta you were coming home, you just showed up? Because you and Sam broke up and you’re emotionally healthy right now?”
This is going so wrong, Calder thought.
Annika stepped forward, reached her hands up, and adjusted Calder’s tie.
“You’re a project, Calder. An attractive one, but you’re a project, and I’ve been around too many blocks to take on projects any more.”
She stepped back and looked at his tie approvingly.
“See you tomorrow?” she asked.
Calder nodded, and Annika left the kitchen.
He sagged against the counter and drained his whiskey. One of the dishwashers looked over at him, and Calder held up his empty glass in a cheers motion, then walked through the door as well.
The private room felt hot and sticky. Calder wandered for a moment, but everyone seemed preoccupied, wrapped up in their own lives. Lives he wasn’t a part of, not anymore.
I need fresh air, he thought, and walked for a door.
Greta caught his arm.
“Are you leaving?”
He shook his head.
“I just need some fresh air.”
She nodded, not looking convinced.
“Have some water when you come back,” she said, looking concerned.
“Will do,” he said, and kissed her lightly on top of the head.
Then he walked out.
Page’s, the restaurant they were at, bordered on the forest. The door he’d gone through led to the parking lot, and Ca
lder rested against the hood of a car, taking deep breaths.
He didn’t know whether to feel buoyed or devastated by his talk with Annika. Yes, she’d turned him down, but she was obviously interested. All he had to do was... well, fix himself, apparently.
Calder had thought he was getting there. Well, sort of. Thinking of Sam always hurt, but he’d forced himself to think of him less and less, at least until he came back.
Until the door of Greta’s bar had opened, and there he was. Sam looked different: a little older, his face a little thinner. His hair had gotten longer and he’d been wearing a sweater. Calder had never known Sam to wear a sweater.
And then he’d just stood to the side, let Calder walk through. Like they’d never even met.
Before he’d come to Rustvale, Calder had looked up Sam’s address. He’d known that he shouldn’t, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from finding it, and then from finding it on a map.
It wasn’t far, Calder knew. Not for a wolf.
Don’t, he thought. You’re drunk as hell. You’re just going to get there and be an absolute wreck, and you’re going to wake up him and his mates and the kids that they probably have by now.
Or, worse, it’s going to be just him. And he’s going to invite you in for a drink, and he’s going to be polite. Cordial. He’s going to ask how your travels are going, and he’s going to talk about his job, and then halfway through you’re going to realize that it really is over for him.
Then what are you going to do, Calder? You’ll still be drunk in the middle of the woods the night before Greta gets married, and then you’re going to be wrecked even worse.
Calder’s hands started undoing his tie.
Don’t, he thought. Don’t. Don’t.
He tossed it to the ground, then took off his jacket, his vest. His button-down shirt. He took off his shoes and socks and put them in a pile on the grass.
Calder glanced at the restaurant, then took off his white undershirt and pants, quickly folding them into a small package. Then he shifted, the smell of the grass and the woods and the steakhouse sharpening. It was always weird to be drunk as a wolf, but not so bad.
