“It’s rolling now,” she said. Cathy poured in a mixture of oil and boiling spices. Lindy stood by the big pot with the potatoes and slid them in, jumping back so hot water wouldn’t scald her. Cathy did the same with the corn pieces. They stared into the pot before putting the lid back on.
“Boo,” Neil said behind them. Lindy screamed a little.
“Don’t do that!” she said. Neil put his arm around her. “I was just joking,” he said.
“It’s not funny,” Lindy said, but she was smiling. Watching them, a feeling of sorrow and bitterness ran through Cathy for all she had lost.
“I forgot the sausage,” Cathy said getting up from her seat.
“They can get that,” Lindy said looking at Neil and Zachery. “Y’all go on in the kitchen and cut that smoked sausage up into three-inch pieces. Think you can manage that?”
“I think we can,” Neil said.
“It’s nice out here,” Lindy said after Zachery and Neil left. “It must’ve been great growing up right on the bay.”
“It had its plusses,” Cathy said. “When I was younger, I spent my days on the shore or the pier. Grandpa and I fished all the time.”
“What about your mother?” Lindy asked. “Did she fish, too?”
“No, not really,” Cathy said in a faraway voice, remembering her mother. “She stayed inside most of the time watching TV.”
“Oh,” Lindy said. “I don’t think I’d be able to stay away if I lived here.”
“She was grieving,” Cathy said.
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“It’s okay,” Cathy said. But she felt tears stinging her eyes.
“I’m an idiot,” Lindy said. “Now I’ve upset you.”
“No, no,” Cathy said with a wave of her hand. But the tears fell anyway. Lindy moved over closer to Cathy and put her arm around her.
Cathy turned to Lindy and said tearfully, “Can you put that sausage in? I need to get myself together.”
She went out the front door so Zachery and Neil wouldn’t see her. Their laughter floated on the air from the patio as she walked along the edge of the woods toward the bay. The moon was only a fingernail in the dark sky, but Cathy knew her way to the pier. She walked out across the water and stared at the sky, strewn with stars. She hadn’t expected to be thinking about her mother that night, but that’s how loss was. It hit you out of the blue sometimes.
After her father’s death, Cathy’s mother had sunk into a chronic depression. At first, it just seemed like grieving. But as time went by, the grieving never stopped.
Up until her father’s death, Cathy had lived in Jacksonville, where her father taught engineering at the university. They had a nice house in a nice suburb, with a creek running through the back end of the yard. Cathy had a lot of friends in the neighborhood, and they spent their free time after school and in summers, playing in the woods that permeated the neighborhood, riding their bikes up and down the streets, having spend-the-night parties.
All of that came to an end when her father got sick. The house was quiet when he finally moved into the den where the hospital bed was set up. The previous year had been spent in chemo for his lung cancer. At first, her parents were hopeful about the treatments. But as the year moved ahead, her father got sicker and sicker, until he was in the den with daily visits from nurses, then round-the-clock hospice care.
Cathy’s mother rarely left her father’s side. Cathy’s friends were no longer allowed to come over because her mother wanted complete peace and quiet for her father. But Cathy remembered a day when she was talking to her father as he lay in his bed. He held her hand and said, “I miss all the noise, Catbird.”
And then, a couple of days later, he said to her, “I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you blossom. But always remember that you are a Catbird. You fly high and are always watchful. You know the truth.”
Three days later, he was dead.
Her mother shrieked when the hospice nurse declared her father dead. Cathy stood in the doorjamb, watching. The Catbird. She saw her mother fall to the floor and the nurse kneel beside her. “Call your grandparents,” the nurse instructed her urgently. “She needs them now.”
And Grandma and Grandpa had come right away. Grandma stayed with her mother, who was inconsolable. Grandpa took care of Cathy. She had always loved her grandfather, but in the days following her father’s death, he had become her rock, the one who would never let her down. She clung to him then.
She clung to him now in the wake of her recent loss.
Cathy took her eyes off the star-studded sky and bowed her head. She began to sob about her father and her mother. And then she sobbed about Aaron and their mangled relationship.
She let it go fully, casting her tears into the waters.
Cathy tried to get a grip on herself, but her tears fell no matter what. She didn’t want to ruin the evening they had all planned, but she couldn’t stop her grief.
“Hey, Cathy,” Lindy called to her. “I came to check on you.”
Cathy looked down the length of the pier and saw a flashlight bobbing toward her.
“I’m sorry,” Cathy said when Lindy got closer.
“No need to be sorry,” Lindy said. “Look, I brought the wine bottle and some glasses.”
They sat down on the pier, dangling their legs over the side. Lindy poured white wine into the glasses and handed one to Cathy.
“Should I leave you alone?” Lindy asked with concern.
“I’m okay,” Cathy said taking a sip of the wine. “It just came out of nowhere. I think I’ve been holding things back when I need to be grieving over Aaron.”
“I took the stuff out of the pot and put it in a bowl. We can throw it back in right before we add the shrimp,” Lindy said.
“Thanks,” Cathy said, sniffling a little.
“Oh, and I brought some paper towels. I couldn’t find any Kleenex.”
Cathy took the towels and dried her eyes, then her nose.
“What are Zachery and Neil thinking?” Cathy asked.
“I told them you were thinking about your mother and you needed some space. They’re fine. Watching a movie, I think.”
“I’ve been thinking about my mother and my father,” Cathy said. “About how tragic it all was. About how my dad called me Catbird and how Aaron called me Cat.”
Lindy didn’t say anything. She just listened as Cathy talked. She told Lindy about her relationship with Aaron, how close they had been. She talked about the wedding that wasn’t and where it was supposed to be, in the gardens with the trees ablaze in the background. She told Lindy about the cake with autumn leaves cascading down the tiers.
“That sounds pretty,” Lindy said.
“We should go back up,” Cathy said. “I’m starving.”
“Let’s talk on Monday like we planned, okay?” Lindy said.
“Okay,” Cathy said. “And Lindy? I want to tell you that when we were in high school, I just thought of you as a perky cheerleader. But you’re a good friend now.”
“Hey, I’m still pretty perky,” Lindy said.
Cathy and Lindy walked side by side down the pier and up the path to the back yard.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Cathy called into the house. She and Lindy put the vegetables and sausage back in the pot, then added six pounds of Gulf shrimp.
Zachery came out with a radio in his hand and plugged it up in the outlet on the side of the house.
“Put it on ZBQ, Zach,” Lindy said.
After fiddling with the knob, the radio station from their high school years blared out.
“Oh, they played this at our prom,” Lindy practically squealed. “Come on, babe. Let’s dance.”
Neil and Lindy started to dance to the Goo Goo Dolls and Zachery put his arm around Cathy. They laughed at Neil and Lindy, and Cathy hoped Zachery wouldn’t try to dance with her. She wasn’t in the mood. But he didn’t. He kept drinking his beer and kep
t his arm around her shoulders.
“Soup’s on,” Cathy said when the song ended. She and Lindy fished the food out of the steaming water and put it into three large bowls, which they placed in the middle of the table. With a big spoon and burning fingers, they put the shrimp, sausage, corn, and potatoes on their plates.
“It’s too hot but I can’t stop myself,” Neil said.
The radio station from their youth played in the background as they ate.
“That guy, Richard Smith—the one that owns the house now,” Neil said. “He’s pretty intense. He’s got this dark beard and his eyes are kind of lonely looking or something.”
“Grieving,” Lindy said. “He’s grieving something.”
“He just sits in his recliner all day watching TV,” Neil said. “I’ll look in at him and he’s in the same position as the last time I looked.”
“How old is he?” Cathy asked.
“It’s hard to tell with that beard,” Neil said, “but I think he’s in his thirties. Which makes it even stranger that he sits there all day like my grandfather used to do.”
“He must not have a job,” Zachery said. “Wonder how he gets money.”
“He’s got an LLC,” Neil said. “That’s how he paid me. Hell, I don’t care how he gets his money. I’m just glad I’m getting some of it.”
As the evening wound down, Cathy started dreading when Neil and Lindy would leave and she would be there, alone with Zachery. He was getting more and more pushy about making their relationship sexual. She shouldn’t have ever given him the idea that was a possibility. Not right now. She wasn’t ready for that.
When Neil and Lindy started making the motions of leaving, Cathy turned to Zachery.
“I’ve got a headache that’s starting to pound in my skull. I’ll talk to you next week, okay?”
Zachery’s eyes flashed in irritation, but he got up and followed Neil and Lindy out the door. He didn’t have much choice with Neil and Lindy there as witnesses. Cathy gave Zachery a quick kiss and shut the door. She wished that had been the end of it.
An engine started and Cathy saw headlights back away from the house. Then came the knock at her door. She sighed as she opened it.
Zachery stared at her. “What’s going on, Cathy?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I started thinking about my parents and it got to me. I’ve got a huge headache and just want to get to bed.”
Zachery slammed his fist against the doorframe, startling Cathy. “Dammit, Cathy,” he said. “You’ve got to start letting me in a little bit. How can we have a relationship if you keep things to yourself all the time? I sat up here half the night while you were on the pier and didn’t even feel like I had the right to go talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, Zachery,” she said. And she was sorry. She felt bad about the lack of progress in her relationship with Zachery. But she didn’t want to lead him on.
“I do know what it’s like to lose a parent,” Zachery said. “You know I lost my Mom two years ago and it still hurts every day.”
Cathy put her hand on Zachery’s arm. He covered her hand with his.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” Cathy said. “I know it hasn’t been fair to you for me to be so mixed up. But I’m not ready.”
“I’m willing to wait until you are ready,” Zachery said, but Cathy wasn’t sure about that.
“Right now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Maybe we’ve jumped in too soon,” she said.
Zachery took her hand and held it to his mouth and kissed it.
“Don’t say that,” he said. “We were our first together. That’s gotta be special to you.”
Cathy didn’t know what else to say. Zachery was special to her, had always been special to her as her first serious boyfriend and the person she had given her virginity to. But she wasn’t sure she could have a future with him.
“It is special, Zachery,” she said, feeling sorry for him and sorry for herself.
“Then let me take you out on Valentine’s Day, like we planned,” he said. “We’ll go from there.”
Against her better judgment, Cathy agreed. More than anything, she wanted Zachery to leave so she could be alone. The evening had been difficult, though she had tried to rally. When she shut the door for the second time that night, she just wanted to get in bed with a cup of tea.
Chapter Fourteen
Cathy spent Sunday in bed. She went downstairs in the morning just long enough to make coffee and some cheese toast. She carried it upstairs on the tray her mother had always used to bring soup and crackers to Cathy when she was sick. And Cathy did feel sick. Sick at heart.
She flipped the channels on the TV for a while, settling for a few minutes on a movie, then moved on to something else. She dozed off and on, waking up to the TV and watching it again. After it got dark, she went downstairs and ate leftover shrimp and sausage.
By Monday morning, Cathy was restless. She had not worked in several months, except to paint the house. She was involved in a relationship that wasn’t going to happen and she knew she had to do something about that.
Lindy texted her around ten to make sure she was still on for lunch.
“Yes!” Cathy texted her. She needed to get out of the house, go somewhere, do something, talk about her misery.
Lindy’s Vintage was empty of customers when she arrived.
“This is my slowest day,” Lindy said. “I’ve got our lunch on the table.”
Cathy dropped her purse on the floor beside her and sat down. A tiered glass server was full of sandwiches on the bottom tier and olives and marinated vegetables on the second tier. The top tier held an assortment of brownies and cookies.
Lindy poured hot tea into cups and motioned toward the honey and cream in the center of the table.
After they had filled their plates, Lindy didn’t waste any time in opening the conversation to what was bothering Cathy.
“So, what’s up with Zachery?” she asked.
Cathy chewed a bite of chicken salad sandwich and swallowed it while looking at Lindy’s expectant face. She took a sip of tea before answering.
“He came back the other night after y’all left,” she said. “I tried to talk to him but I ended up letting him talk me into keeping our Valentine’s date.”
“And you don’t want to go to that fancy restaurant?” Lindy asked. “I’d love to go there.”
“It’s not about the restaurant,” Cathy said. “It’s about the date.”
“I know,” Lindy said. “I was just thinking bout that sea bass they serve there.”
“I’m going to have to cancel the date,” Cathy said decidedly. “Sea bass or not. It’s not worth it. And, it’s not fair to Zachery. I just can’t get involved right now, not the way he wants to be involved.”
“You mean where you’re doing it,” Lindy said.
Cathy giggled. “Yes! I can’t do it with him!”
“Didn’t you tell me you lost your virginity to him and him to you?” Lindy asked. “That could be extra special.”
“Yes, but there are some things about Zachery that are bothering me. Aside from the pressure he’s putting on me to ‘do it’ with him.”
“Like what?” Lindy asked before popping a Calamata olive in her mouth.
“Like he seems to have a short fuse,” Cathy said. “Several times when we’ve been out to eat, he’s been rude to the waitress. It’s like he feels entitled or something. Like it doesn’t matter how he treats her. Or him, in one case. Like he’s the king or something. That bothers me.”
“Neil said he used to get so pissed off if he screwed up at a friendly game of basketball that he’d slam the ball into the ground and walk off fuming,” Lindy said.
“I just didn’t see that in him when we were together in high school,” Cathy said. “Though I do remember he was very insistent that we go all the way. He pressured me back then, too. I’m not sorry I did it, but I remember his pressuring me.”
“Why do y
ou think he’s like that?” Lindy asked.
“I have no idea. His father was very hard on him, I do remember that much. He complained about him all the time. In fact, he’s still complaining about him.”
“Didn’t his mother die?” Lindy asked.
“Yes, a couple of years ago. I do feel bad for him about it. He always put her on a pedestal.”
They ate their lunch for a few minutes without talking. When they had polished off the sandwiches and most of the olives, they put the sweets on little pink Depression glass dessert plates. Chocolate was exactly what Cathy needed to stave off her building depression.
“I keep thinking about Aaron,” Cathy said. “How I’d have been married to him for four months by now.”
“Tell me about him,” Lindy said.
Cathy thought for a minute. How could she describe the essence of Aaron in words? She didn’t think it was even possible, but she tried.
“He’s really smart,” she started out lamely.
“And good looking?” Lindy asked.
“He’s very handsome. He has dark brown hair and his eyes are an incredible blue color.” Cathy searched for something to compare his eyes to. “They’re the color of the bay on a sunny day. They’ve got little flecks of gold in them around the iris. It looks like a sunburst in his eyes, but you have to look close to see that.”
She sat there lost in thought, thinking about Aaron’s eyes. Her own eyes started to get watery. When she blinked, a tear streamed out of each eye, down her cheeks.
Lindy placed her hand over Cathy’s hand. “I can tell you miss him,” she said.
“When I left that day, everything felt like it was smothering me. The phone calls, the photo. It felt like a huge confusing mess and I couldn’t see around it. And then, in the middle of all that, Aaron went to play golf. That was the final straw for me.”
“How do you feel now that you’ve been away from it for a while?” Lindy asked.
“I’m still mad he left me to play golf,” she said. “But we could’ve worked through that, possibly. But I’m starting to realize that he was telling me the truth about everything. Someone was trying to hurt him, but I have no idea who.”
Obsessed With You Page 9
