Forever This Time

by Maggie McGinnis

  “What’d you do? Kill the help again?” Papi’s voice bellowed from behind the grill, making Josie smile.

  “Eh, she’s not dead. Just forgot to drink.”

  “When’s she supposed to drink, eh? You’ve had her running since she walked in. Hasn’t even had time to give old Papi a kiss.”

  “It’s good for her. City’s got her all soft.” Mama took her glass and spooned up a plate of spaghetti. She grabbed a bread stick and a fork and handed Josie the plate. “Here. Eat. And I don’t want to hear any garbage about being a vegetarian. That sauce’s got my best sirloin burger in it.” She kissed her fingers and threw them in the air. “Perfection!”

  Papi laughed out loud. “Mama, you’d say that even if you used horse meat.” Josie choked on a mouthful of spaghetti. “Which she didn’t. But you and me both know I’m right.” Papi winked.

  Josie smiled as she ate another bite of the spaghetti. This was no sauce from a jar, that’s for sure. And the pasta itself was perfectly al dente, just the way she liked it.

  Mama nodded as she watched Josie’s plate empty. “That’s better. Carbohydrates are not the enemy. You stick around and I’ll put some meat back on those bones.”

  “Her bones are just fine the way they are. Leave the girl alone.” Papi ladled steaming soup into two huge bowls, then headed toward the swinging doors. “I’m gonna go eat me some soup with Mel before the next rush.”

  “Next rush?” Josie’s voice quivered. “That wasn’t the only rush?”

  “Nope.” Mama bustled around the huge kitchen. “That was the tourists. Locals start coming in a few minutes. Things are different than you remember, eh? Eat up! We got work to do! And you!” She pointed at Papi. “You better be back here in five!”

  “Slave driver.” Papi leaned toward Josie. “Hey. Why do Italian men always die before their wives?”

  Josie laughed. “I don’t know, Papi. Why do they?”

  “Because they want to!” Papi quick-stepped through the door before Mama could swat him, cackling his way down the bar.

  Josie stood up and brought her plate to the stainless steel dishwasher. “You two haven’t changed a bit, Mama.”

  “Ha. And this is a good thing? I’ve been married to that man for forty years now. It’s a wonder we’re still speaking.”

  “Oh, you two are all bark and no bite. Can’t fool me.”

  “Eh, we’re too old to bite. Barking’s all that’s left. Someday you’ll see. You’ll be happy, too.”

  Josie stopped. “I’m happy.”

  Mama dried her hands and put them to Josie’s cheeks. “Honey, I’ve known you for an awful long time, and this isn’t your happy.”

  “I’m fine. Just worried about Dad.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mama patted her cheeks, then turned around to grab a stack of plates. “How are you and Ethan getting on?”

  Oh boy. Whatever Josie said was going to go straight to Molly, so she needed to tread carefully. “We’re fine. Good. It’s a little awkward, of course. But it’s fine. Good.”

  Mama turned her head toward Josie. “That was an awful lot of not-so-convincing adjectives.”

  “Still can’t fool you, hm?”

  “Italian-Mama radar is a fearful thing, for sure. I saw through you and Molly for a lot of years, so I’ve had practice.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “So here’s what I figure. You’re single. Ethan’s single. Once upon a time, you were heading for the altar, so neither of you sees any other way it could be. And that’s way too scary to think about. Am I right?”

  Mama raised her eyebrows. “Never mind. I’m right. So now you think—well, I can’t marry him, so I’d better stay away, because God knows we can’t be friends.” She paused again. “Yes? I’m right?”

  “Maybe?” Josie squirmed like she was thirteen again.

  “So how ’bout a fling?”

  Josie choked on her water. “What?”

  “I know you, and I know you’ve probably psychobabbled yourself right to death about all this, but I think here’s what you need to do. Stop talking yourself out of falling for him, Josie. What if a Mack truck comes along tomorrow and poom! That’s it! Think what you would have missed.”

  Mama came back and put her soft hands on Josie’s cheeks again. “Every moment doesn’t have to be about forever, Jos. Sometimes you just need to let a moment be a moment.”

  The swinging door smacked open, making Josie jump, but not Mama. Again she patted Josie’s cheek. “You think about that, little one.” Then they both turned around to where Molly stood just inside the kitchen.

  In a flash, Molly turned back around, but not before Josie saw the bleak, hurt look in her eyes.

  Chapter 29

  “So how was your date?” Josie took a chance and caught Molly at the bar as they both picked up trays of drinks. Since the scene in the kitchen an hour ago, neither of them had spoken a word to each other.

  “Fine.” Molly turned and delivered her drinks to the corner table, then came back. “Actually, it was a certifiable disaster, but don’t tell Mama.”

  “Oh no. What happened?” Was Molly actually going to talk?

  “Two words: tractor pull.”

  “That was your date?”

  “Don’t judge. There aren’t a lot of choices around here, you might remember.”

  “Was it … fun … at all?”

  Molly leveled Josie with a frosty look, then rolled her eyes. “I cannot get the smell of manure out of my nose. Before the tractor pull we had to tour the barns and see all of the prize-winning cows.”

  “Um, points for being original?”

  “Exactly.” Molly reached for another tray of drinks Mama shoved her way. “But hey, who knew there were so many varieties of Herefords? At least I learned something new.”

  “Maybe you can use it to impress your next country-fair date.”

  Molly started to laugh, then drew her eyebrows together like she wasn’t sure whether to take Josie’s comment as an insult.

  “I didn’t mean—” Josie reached her hand toward Molly’s arm.

  “Whatever. You should go. I can handle things now that I’m back.” Molly muttered to herself as she spun and took the drinks to another table.

  Josie sighed, then jumped as Papi’s voice came over her right shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s always two steps forward, one step back with my Molly.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re still one step ahead.”

  “Thanks, Papi, but I’m pretty sure I’m still fifty or so behind.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Molly staggered out of the kitchen for about the ninetieth time and narrowed her eyes at Josie as she collapsed on a stool. The restaurant was finally empty and Josie was restocking bar glasses. “Still here?”

  “Still want me to go?” Josie paused.

  “Whatever.”

  Josie couldn’t help but smile this time. Molly’s grudging whatever was as close as she was going to get to an engraved thank-you card, so she’d take it. She poured a large glass of seltzer and popped two limes on the edge, then slid it toward Molly.

  “Two limes? What, you think we’re made of money around here?” Molly tried not to smile as she squeezed the limes into her drink and took a swallow.

  “Eh, take it out of the tips.” Josie pointed to the tip jar, which was just about to burst its top.

  “Good God, what were we serving out here? Was it legal?” Molly scooped her hand into her server’s apron and let a pile of bills fall onto the counter. “I got these, too. I’ll take this pile. You take the jar.”

  “I was just helping out. I’m not taking your money, Molly.”

  “Not my money. You worked more hours than me tonight.” Molly took the jar and emptied it on the counter. “Damn. Were you flirting up Nathan again?” She poked through the bills, coming up with a twenty. “Yup! You were.”

  “Who’s Nathan?”

  “Rugged River guy you were leaning over the bar talking to. Again.” />
  “Ah, the one who leaves his guests camping down the river so he can come get a beer.”

  “He’s a nice guy. You could do worse. Though I guess flashing your assets earned you a good tip, at least.”

  Josie started. “What? If I leaned toward him, it was because I couldn’t hear over the televisions, not because I was flashing any of my nonexistent cleavage.”

  She looked down and pointed at her chest. “Seriously? You accuse these?”

  Molly cracked the first smile Josie had seen all night. “You have a point.”

  “Thank you.” Josie wiped down a section of the bar. “And thanks for letting me stay.”

  “You wouldn’t leave.”

  The bell on the door jangled, and Molly swore under her breath. “Crap. I forgot to lock up. I am not walking across this damn floor one more time tonight. And I am fresh out of service with a smile.”

  “I’ve got it. Sit.” Josie swung around to play hostess, but when she saw who’d just walked in, her feet froze.

  Ethan grinned and held up two paper lunch bags stained with grease circles. “You ordered?”

  Josie couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, and at what he carried. “We did not. You’d better hide those. You know what Mama will think if she sees them.”

  “No worries. Just saw her go upstairs. We’re free to eat ’em.” Ethan grabbed the barstool closest to the counter and placed the bags reverently on the counter, wafting their scent toward Josie with his hand. “Resist if you can.”

  “Ha.” Molly grabbed one of the bags and flipped it open. “I have no pride.” She pulled out two hand-cut French fries and dipped them in the ketchup she’d already poured on a napkin. “I am going to marry Morris and live in his French fry wagon.”

  Josie opened the other bag and peered in before she plucked a golden, hot fry out and let it slide into her mouth. “Oh God.”

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Still as good as you remember?”

  “Better.”

  “That’s because you don’t actually eat anymore.”

  “I eat.”

  “Not nearly enough.”

  “Well, I’m definitely eating these.” Josie popped another one in her mouth. “I can’t believe Morris still does these.”

  “Just for another few weeks, till the tourists head back south.”

  “Can’t your mom offer him a contract to work through the winter or something, Molly?”

  Molly shook her head. “Are you kidding? If she knew we were eating these, she’d have our heads.”

  “Are either of you going to share?” Ethan held out a hand.

  “Not me.” Molly shook her head.

  Ethan reached into Josie’s bag and pulled out a handful of fries. “Remember you wanted to serve these at our reception?”

  Josie’s stomach jolted as a fry got caught in her throat. She swallowed carefully. “Well, they’re good. And I was eighteen.”

  “Okay, you two. Enough memory lane. Tonight’s already firmly in Twilight Zone territory.” Molly shook the tip jar and wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Speaking of which, we’ve got tips.”

  Josie paused, then laughed uncertainly. Molly couldn’t possibly—“No. No way.”

  Years ago, they’d take their tips and go midnight bowling after a shift like this. But that was ten years ago.

  “Ethan?”

  “Midnight bowling? Oh, I’m definitely in.” Ethan slid off his stool. “Think you can score a hundred, Jos?”

  “I haven’t been bowling in—”

  “Ten years?” Both Molly and Ethan finished her sentence.

  “Yeah. Ten years.”

  Ethan held out his hand. “Then it’s high time you went. Come on. It’s Disco Night. Lights go on at eleven.”

  “I can’t bowl.”

  Molly snorted. “You never could. Never stopped you before.” Her eyebrows went up in challenge.

  Josie crumpled up the French fry bag, then looked down at it in surprise. She’d downed more calories in the past three days than the previous three weeks in Boston. She was going to need a new wardrobe if she wasn’t careful. “You guys really still—bowl?”

  A strange look passed over Molly’s face before she answered. “We still do a lot of things, Josie. That’s kind of how it works here.” Then, in a flash, she positioned her mouth in a big grin as she swung the bar counter up and ducked under it. “Come on. Live like the simple folk. Come midnight bowling.”

  Molly linked elbows with Ethan and led the way out of the restaurant. As Josie followed them out the door, the irony was hardly lost on her that this time, she was the third wheel tagging along with two people who’d maybe been getting along just fine in her absence.

  It made her think of another night, another world.

  * * *

  “What do you guys want to do?” Molly leaned on the bar at the end of the night.

  Josie shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” It was early August, and if she had to spend one more Friday night at the bowling alley, she was going to scream. There was nothing to do in this town.

  “Midnight bowling?”

  Josie grimaced, but tried to hide it. No such luck.

  “Okay, Wellesley princess, what is it that your highness would prefer to do this evening?”

  “Shut up, Mols. I just wish we had choices besides midnight bowling.”

  “Well, in three short weeks, you can go clubbing and see artsy late-night films and take a midnight Boston Harbor cruise if you want. Meanwhile, me and Ethan will still be here … going midnight bowling.” She linked her arm in his. “Which, I should add, you have always actually liked to do.”

  “I do like it. I’m just … I don’t know. I’m just a little sick of it, maybe?”

  Before the words were out of her mouth, Josie saw two different expressions of hurt. Molly didn’t try all that hard to hide hers, but Ethan’s disappeared behind a steely mask almost as quickly as it had appeared.

  “Well.” Molly pulled her tiny purse from under the register. “I’m going bowling. Ethan? You coming?”

  Ethan looked from one to the other of them, sensing a female standoff but knowing instinctively that he had the wrong chromosomes to understand it. He reached out for Josie. “Come on, Jos. Let’s go.”

  Josie sighed. “I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be out in a second.” She turned to head down the back hallway, but before she got to the bathroom, she turned back to see Molly and Ethan heading toward the door, Molly’s head on Ethan’s shoulder.

  Yup. She was leaving. They were both staying.

  There were a lot of ways this could go.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Josie felt like she’d been teleported back ten years. When they’d been teenagers—and before she’d tired of it—midnight bowling had been a highlight of the week in a town that had nothing at all going on after dusk. But she hadn’t picked up a bowling ball, hadn’t tied on god-awful ugly saddle shoes, hadn’t washed down greasy pizza with a pitcher of Pepsi since she’d left town.

  She looked around the alley as they waited for shoes, and was struck by a strange comfort. Balls bombed down the lanes and hit the pins with satisfying crashes. The smell of pepperoni hung in the air, and colorful pitchers of soda were scattered on the tables behind the lanes. Strobe lights flashed, and high-pitched laughter hit her ears every few seconds.

  Ethan turned from the counter and handed her some shoes, looking down at her feet. “Can you fit into an adult shoe yet?”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure these will be fine, thanks.” They made their way to the farthest lane, bypassing six empty ones on the way. “Did you request this lane on purpose?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Afraid to have anyone see me beat you?”

  Molly sat down to put on her bowling shoes. “He’s probably just protecting the innocent.” She pulled the laces tight. “Or maybe they still have your name on the black list up there.”

&nb
sp; Josie sat down across the table from her and pulled off her sneakers. “It wasn’t my fault. The ball got stuck on my thumb.”

  “We know.” Molly pointed up at the tiled ceiling. “You can still tell that part had to be repaired.”

  Ethan laughed as he tied his own shoes. “I think they were more concerned about the lane they had to repair when the ball came back down.”

  “I was still pulling ceiling chips out of my hair three days later.” Josie grimaced.

  “You’re lucky they weren’t pulling the ball out of your head.”

  Molly found a ball that fit her fingers and placed it on the ball return. “Well, it almost won us a trip to California for that funniest video show.”

  “But we were beaten out by giggling triplet babies. Go figure.” Josie pulled a ball off the rack, but it almost pulled her shoulder out of its socket, so she swung it back in. Her only goal here was to not make a complete and utter fool of herself. If pins went down, that’d be a bonus.

  “Okay, princess. You’re up.” Molly pointed her way.

  “You can stop calling me princess, Molly.” Josie finally found a ball she could lift, and that let her fingers slide in and out, so she pulled it off the rack.

  “Sorry. Habit.” Molly actually looked a little chagrined as Josie passed her on the way to the lane.

  Ethan motioned toward the sides of the lane. “Need the bumpers?”

  “Never mind bumpers. Alert the seagulls on the roof.” Molly laughed.

  Josie pushed her fingers into the slightly scratchy holes and pulled the ball to her chest, looking down the lane toward the pins. She tried to remember which foot to lead off on, when to swing the ball back, when to let go, but it had been so long that she knew it was going to be a disaster.

  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Then she tried to coordinate stepping and swinging and letting go and not falling, and remarkably, the ball left her hand and sailed smoothly down the lane with a deep, rolling grumble.

  She backed up slowly, watching the ball, but her jaw dropped as it crashed into the pins and felled every single one of them. A strike? Her? Had that ever happened before? She turned around and laughed out loud when she saw Ethan’s expression.