CircleintheSandDraftFinalBarnesNoble

by Owner

  I trail closely behind Jax, portraying a scared toddler, watching as the lurking eyes I see gleam her way accompanied with mostly toothy smiles. It’s obvious she spends a good deal of time here, and I’m already feeling guilty that she sees Rose more than I do. I will keep that emotion in my pocket, handy for when Grandmother starts in on me. I hope that will keep me from getting defensive. I don’t want another scene playing out like the last one when I came here with Dad. Sick or not, that woman knows where all the buttons are and exactly how to press them.

  I don’t recall the last compliment she gave me, but I’d be willing to bet it was veiled. Things were different when I was a little girl. Grandmother would come back from a business trip, bringing me something from each country she visited. She’d tell me all about its significance and why she picked it. She always seemed much happier after one of her trips. At the end of our conversation, she would hand me the gift and say, “Get a good job. Don’t wait for a man to take you around the world.”

  I can see Rose up ahead, seated next to the piano. I’m sure this means she expects Jax to play. A walker she didn’t need last time stands next to her chair, like a faithful servant. Her face lights up when she sees us, which strikes me as odd. She has never reacted to my presence that way. Not that she doesn’t love me, but I’ve never seen her get excited about anything, especially anything that had to do with me. Sadness hits me when I realize her joy must be in seeing Jax. They’ve grown so close lately.

  When we reach my grandmother, Jax slows her pace and lets me pass. The smile is still on Rose’s face. I go right over to her and lean down for a hug. “Hello, Grandmother,” I say quietly in her ear. “It’s good to see you.”

  This is where she usually tells me it’s about time I came for a visit, but when I pull back she stays silent. She and Jax exchange conspiratory glances that leave me curious and a little bit jealous. Has she convinced my grandmother to make nice with me?

  “Hey, Rose,” Jax says taking a seat at the piano. “Don’t you look pretty today?”

  “Cut the crap, Jax,” she says flatly. “I look hideous. My clothes are swimming on me and my face looks like a deflated balloon.”

  “Agree to disagree?” Jax winks at Rose.

  “That’s a lovely scarf,” I say. I smile and shoot my doe eyes to the hunter.

  Rose pauses, draws a shaky breath. “Thank you. It covers what would be a lovely shirt, if I had the boobs I used to.”

  I take a seat in the chair next to her. I know it’s the right thing to say, but still I cringe when I let out, “How are you grandmother?”

  “Oh, I’m just dandy. Living it up here at the Plaza.”

  Jax startles us both when she belts out a few low notes on the piano. That foreshadowing music you hear in movies when something bad is about to happen: Dun, dun, dun duuun. Grandmother fires her a dirty stare, and I try not to laugh.

  She conveniently leaves out her health and says, “I’m fine, Sage. Your father visits me once or twice a week, and I see Jax here about as much. Maybe more.”

  I gaze down in my lap, already guilt-ridden. A moment of silence passes between us until I feel her hand on mine. “I know you’re busy, and that’s a tough drive,” she says.

  I hear the words, but they don’t register. This is not my grandmother. I should be happy, vindicated. But the regret and confusion linger and I look up. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

  “Well, Jax tells me that boss of yours has you hopping around like a trained seal.”

  Okay, now this woman I recognize. I don’t bother to glance over my shoulder at Jax. She knows. “Grandmother, I’m just working hard, trying to do a good job.”

  “Did you get that promotion yet?” she asks, leaning back in her chair.

  She knows Christine has been hanging this promotion over my head for more than a year. It’s exactly the type of job grandmother would have wanted for me, working with clients that have ultra-high net worth, traveling, enjoying greater financial success. “Not yet, but I got a new client in San Diego which will have me here more.” Now why did I go and say that?

  “I see.” She pauses, pulls the scarf from around her neck. I glimpse the gorgeous sapphire pendant hanging from the chain she’s had since I was a little girl. “Is it hot in here?” she asks fanning herself with the scarf.

  I shrug and turn to Jax who copies me. When I look back at Rose she is staring at me as if she’s aware that whatever she says next will make or break this visit. I pull my lips tight and will myself to wait it out. I will not speak first. Let her be the one to cause the disaster. I don’t know how many seconds or minutes go by. I can hear my stomach grumble, my heart beating. I begin to examine every feature on her face. She has the same blue eyes I do. Her sagging skin is dotted with coffee-colored spots and her hair still in that same sixties tight curl with the sides pulled up—the only difference being that it’s all gray. “So, are you seeing anyone?” she finally says.

  It wasn’t even close to the response I was expecting. Before I can answer, someone calls Jax’s name. A young man pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair stops in front of us.

  “Hey, Dante.” Jax rises from the piano and heads over to him.

  “Hello, Lydia,” grandmother says to the woman. “Is this your nephew?”

  “Yes it is. He’s a troublemaker so watch out for him, ladies.”

  “That’s right,” Dante says as he tilts Lydia back a tiny bit. “I’m a bad boy. Ladies like bad boys, right?”

  “Key word being boy,” Jax says. “Call us in five years.”

  “That’s cold.” Dante shakes his head sending dark braids flying across each side of his head.

  “Yes, he’s my sweetheart.” Lydia reaches up and touches his arm on the chair handle.

  Introductions are made all around, and then the two older women talk while Jax and Dante stand off to the side to speak. I listen as grandmother and Lydia speak about dinner last night and how dry the chicken was, but at least there were three dessert choices. I can’t tell if it is an act, but grandmother smiles and laughs through their whole two-minute conversation.

  After Dante rolls his aunt away, Jax plays grandmother’s favorite song on the piano: Fur Elise. Jax’s father taught her to read music and play the guitar, but most of the songs she knows on piano she learned on her own. I should be relieved that they have each other, and I am. But I don’t want to keep being an outsider. Shouldn’t I be doing all the things that Jax is doing? Maybe I would if only I knew that grandmother wanted that too.

  ●●●

  “It doesn’t look like you’re in a retirement home to me,” Christine says.

  I am at Jax’s house at the desk in her room, live video-chatting with my boss. I do my best to remain stoic even though all my senses have come alive with memories. She’s back in her old room. How many times have I slept on this floor, or in that bed? In this room we talked, laughed, danced, swore, and pledged our undying friendship to each other over and over.

  “I’m at a friend’s house. My grandmother needed to rest and eat dinner, but we’re going back later.” Jax is actually in the bathroom, packing toiletries for the weekend. I haven’t decided if I’ll stay both nights at this point, but after seeing Emily, I’m excited about tonight.

  “Did you get Mr. Klein’s priority list?” she says as she swivels in her chair tapping her pencil. I shouldn’t be surprised that she went back to the office.

  “Yes, he emailed me a few minutes ago. I’ll forward it to you.”

  “This is the perfect client for you, Sage. You’re getting in with him pretty early in the game, so you need to stay on top of it.”

  “I will,” I say. “I am,” I correct. “I’ve already worked up some preliminaries and will send them as well.”

  “We should be working on this now…together. But I see where your priorities lie.”

  “Christine, he said he was going out of town this weekend with his family. He doesn’t even expect to hear from
us until Monday or Tuesday.”

  “Which means you need to be ready to run everything by me by Monday morning.”

  “And I will…trust me.” I can never understand where this doubt comes from. I have never let her down. It’s possible she believes it’s because she’s always on my case. But if she would give me a little freaking breathing room, I’d show her she’s wrong. In the back of my mind, another thought creeps in. She knows what happened that night.

  Christine pauses and picks up her latte from her desk. “Mr. Fitzgerald is having a party at his home next month. He’s inviting the team and their significant others. I’ll be bringing David.”

  “Oh…how nice of him.” Mr. Fitzgerald is a long-standing client, but also a friend of Christine’s. We’ve been managing his money for years. A party like that could make for a potentially explosive situation, knowing that Christine’s husband will be there. “I’m not sure I have someone to bring.”

  “I’m sure you can manage to find a man,” she says.

  Her words slice through me, leave me confused. If she found out what happened at the Christmas party, why has she not confronted me? I won’t be able to get out of this party, and I don’t want to show up alone. I immediately think of Ned. He’s come to my rescue before, and I guess I would get over feeling pathetic asking him. “I’ll work it out. Is there anything else?”

  “I guess not.” She reaches forward but stops short. “On second thought, email me tomorrow morning what you’ve got so far.”

  “Okay.”

  We both click off and though I’m now obligated to get more work done this weekend, I can’t help but enjoy the excitement building inside me. A weekend alone with Jax and Emily—just like old times.

  CHAPTER 9 - JAX

  By the time we get to the Anderson’s house, it’s already seven o’clock and the sun has gone down, swallowed up by the ocean. I’m not worried about the time. We still have tomorrow, and I’m already sensing that this weekend is going to be special—something each of us desperately needs.

  The house is tidy even though they left last minute, but more importantly, the refrigerator is full. There are three bedrooms, two baths, and a small patio that faces Mission Bay and the marina. A walking path and a large grassy area separate these homes from the water. To the right, you can see Sea World in the distance. In the summer, this makes for a great viewing spot to watch the fireworks at the park.

  “So how do you know these people?” Sage asks, sitting at the counter on a bar stool.

  I take a glass of water and pour some into each of the four plants that sit in the window sill. “I met Jung and Margaret ten years ago when I worked in their t-shirt shop on the boardwalk.” I see a weary potato bug in the dirt of one plant and scoop him up in my fingernail. I carry him to the patio door, where I step out and deposit him in a bush.

  “His name is Jung?” Sage says.

  “Yeah, it’s Korean. It means righteous. As in, it’s pretty righteous of them to let us use this place,” I say.

  “Cute and very true.”

  “They’re two of the most generous people I know. We’ve stayed close over the years, and I even babysat their boys way back when.”

  Sage stands up and goes to the fridge. “So they don’t care if we help ourselves?”

  “She practically begged me to make sure we did. Her father had a heart attack, so they rushed out of here and flew to Oregon. They don’t want to come back to a bunch of rotten food.”

  “Great, then I think I’ll start with a glass of this Chardonnay.”

  After opening and closing five cupboards, Sage locates two wine glasses and fills them up. “I hope Emily gets here soon.”

  “Me too,” I say and grab the glass from the counter. I see her lift up her glass to me, so I blurt out, “No toasts!”

  “Crap, girl.” She looks startled.

  “Sorry. Not yet. We have to wait for Emily.”

  She shrugs. “Sorry, I forgot. Do you think Ned will stay?”

  I’m not sure of the answer, but I say, “Why, do you want him to?” Our faithful sidekick Ned sure did take a beating over the years. To an outsider, we probably came off as three little bitches the way we treated him sometimes. But I honestly believe he loved it…part of the time. If I’m being honest, maybe I was the worst of us all. He was always too nice and an easy target. But he did somehow manage to give back almost as much as I gave.

  Sage doesn’t answer right away, only peers out the back patio and takes another sip of her wine. Then she says, “I might need a favor from him.”

  That’s not unusual. There was a time when Sage and Emily were in college that I wondered if she’d hooked up with Ned. An awkward aura stood in the room whenever we were all together. I never asked. It was none of my business and looking back, I probably didn’t want to know.

  ●●●

  Emily arrives a little after seven-thirty, timid and frazzled. I’ve seen that version of her before, the glazed-over eyes longing for little arms to wrap around your neck. And I’m sure she’d just spent the last hour running over a list, or should I say lists, for Eric and kissing and re-kissing each of her darlings. I don’t blame her at all. I assume when you almost lose a child, you never want to let go of them again.

  Ned stands behind her in the doorway. As far as twins go, the resemblance is not striking. They both have the same dusty-blue eyes and light brown hair that never cooperates, but that’s where the similarities end. Ned is much taller at about five-ten. His looks are not rugged or model-like, but pleasant—the type of guy who appears more attractive when you get to know him. There is something about his smile, though. He seems to get that when he’s completely annoyed me, he can smile in that certain way that makes me a little less annoyed.

  Sage hugs Emily and then Ned.

  I hug Emily, pat her back, and then when my eyes lock on Ned’s I say, “Hey, Nerdy.”

  “Hey, Wonder Woman,” he answers right back.

  First Sage today at lunch and now Ned? They must be comparing notes, but it doesn’t matter since Wonder Woman is ancient history.

  Sage laughs. “I tried one at lunch, but I guess she’s all grown up now. Wonder Woman has hung up her cape.”

  “Hey,” I say in my defense. “My fascination with wonderment was never about maturity.”

  I can tell Emily is not listening to a word we are saying. I take her hand, squeeze it, and give her a smile.

  “Yeah,” Sage says, “that was real mature what you did to Alison Kingsly.”

  It was our sophomore year of high school and we’d arrived back from lunch. Emily, Sage, and I stood in the hall at Sage’s locker. Her mortal enemy, Alison Kingsly, and her sidekick Luann leaned against a wall a few feet away from us. Alison had stolen Sage’s boyfriend earlier that year by batting a set of overly exposed melons at him. She seemed to have it in for Sage merely because she was popular and beautiful.

  Alison had her eye on a new boy named Trey. She put the word out that he was going to be hers. Trey happened to walk by that day, stopping to stuff a baseball glove in his locker. Alison said to Luann loud enough for the three of us to hear, “I can’t wait to taste those beautiful lips.” We all shook our heads with disgusted expressions on our faces. We started to walk away when Alison said, “I wonder if he’s a good kisser?”

  The three of us stopped as if a brick wall slid down from the sky in front of us. We all knew what that word “wonder” did to me. Sage and Emily busted into a fit of giggles, aware of what was about to happen. I turned and walked right up to Trey, hooked my hand behind his neck, and pulled him in for a long kiss. He caught on perfectly fine and willingly participated. After, I marched by Alison and Luann, their mouths agape and said, “Now you don’t have to wonder. The answer is yes.”

  But I wasn’t doing my Wonder Woman routine any longer. It lost its luster after a while, and I came to the understanding that there are way too many things in this universe to wonder about. And sometimes the mysteries in
life were better left to the cosmos, to unfold how they were meant to and when destiny set them. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t watch for signs. There are always signs.

  Now I am more worried about Emily and getting her off to a good start for this weekend. I have to get her mind off missing her kids. We say our goodbyes to Ned, and I invite him to a barbeque tomorrow after we do some shopping. When he hesitates, Sage jumps in to insist. This seems to make Emily happy, but not happy enough. This is serious and we need a serious remedy. Sage and I race Emily to the kitchen, ready to hook her up to a wine IV if necessary. When each of us has a glass in hand, we begin with our toast. Sage says a few simple words, but no one brings up our pledge. I guess it’s silly now, but I actually had the urge to grab their hands and say it. I wonder if I’m the only one experiencing this nostalgia.

  Within minutes, we are lounging in the living room, acting like giddy teenagers again. I watch Emily’s expressions, trying to see if she’s faking it or actually having a good time. She’s become expert at the facial facade, fooling almost everyone but me. But I never try to push her into talking; I only try to be there. Maybe that’s not enough anymore.

  At first, we all steer clear of the past. We also don’t talk about our current lives. Instead we talk about books, movies, reality television—safe topics that will keep this conversation light. None of us wants to bring up anything that will take our mood down, which makes me consider we all might be holding on to something that could. It also shows me how hesitant we’ve become to share our feelings.

  Later, we discover two treasures: The Anderson’s extensive CD collection with tons of great albums from the eighties to now, and frozen cookie dough in the freezer. I take charge as DJ while Emily gets the cookies going. Sage slips away to get on her laptop. I switch from song to song, continuing until the boos being shouted from the other room subside. Finally, I put on Madonna’s Greatest Hits, the perfect party-girl dance mix. Moments later, I come up behind a rapidly typing Sage.