How Sweet It is

by Sophie Gunn

  So Lizzie and Tay set off in his red truck up the hill.

  “Holy cow, you really are slow. Let me drive this thing,” Lizzie said.

  “Gladly. You drive a clutch?” he asked.

  “No.” She settled back in the seat for the long ride. “We should have brought snacks.”

  They stopped at a stop sign. And sat. And sat. A car approached from the right. It stopped, waiting for Tay. Tay waved it through.

  “We should have brought sleeping bags,” she said.

  “We’ll get there,” he said, pulling carefully into the intersection. “How come you don’t have your own car?”

  “I do. It’s in my driveway, rusting and undrivable. Something or other expensive is wrong with it. I forget what. Anyway, I can walk to work and to town. I can borrow Annie and Tommy’s car when I need to. It’s no big deal.”

  Lizzie looked back at the long line of cars forming behind them. “Think we’ll get there this week?”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “No hurry.” She meant it. She liked being with Tay. She liked his easy way of not caring what anyone thought now that she was trying it, too.

  He pulled to the side to let the line of cars pass.

  One by one, they drove by, trying to stare into the truck. A few drivers shouted insults that Tay ignored. He waved back.

  After an eternity, he pulled back into the traffic lane.

  “I never met anyone with problems as weird as yours,” Lizzie said. “I hope fixing you isn’t going to be too much work.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never met anyone with problems as weird as yours,” he said.

  Cars were getting stuck behind them again, beeping and tailgating.

  “My problems are not weird,” she insisted.

  “Sure they are. Nothing weirder than not knowing what you really want.”

  “It’s because I want lousy, selfish things.”

  “We can’t control what we want,” Tay said, and the look he shot her made her sure he was talking about wanting her. Her toes started to tingle and the delicious feeling spread through her. He pulled over again. More cars streamed past. “Lizzie, can I fix your house now that we’ll be even?”

  “Nope. No charity.”

  “But you fix me. We’re even,” he insisted.

  “Sorry, fixing you is what I want, Tay. You never told me what you want. So you’re still out of luck there.”

  “I don’t want anything, Liz. I already told you that.”

  “Yeah, well, you refused to take that lame answer from me, so I refuse to take it from you.”

  He was waiting to pull back into the traffic, but the car directly behind them refused to get off his bumper. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “There’s always someone like this.”

  She looked back. “Like what?”

  “Someone who’s too pissed at my driving to just move on by. Remember I told you that no one can abide a person who drives slowly?”

  The man in the car behind them got out of his car. “Shit. Sit back, Lizzie. This might get ugly.”

  “Ugly?” She sat up.

  “Hey! What the hell! Who do you think you are, asshole?” The man was at Tay’s side of the truck. “Speed limit’s thirty-five, not ten!”

  Tay rolled down the window calmly. “Sorry about that.”

  “Your truck broken?” the man asked. His breath fogged in the cold night air.

  “Nope.”

  “She sick?” He peered into the cab at Lizzie.

  “Nope,” Tay said.

  “Hey, is that Lizzie Carpenter?” the man asked.

  Lizzie peered out the window to look closer. “Why, hello, Billy. Haven’t seen you in years. Tay, Billy Reddy. Bill, this is Tay Giovanni.”

  “Sorry, Lizzie,” Billy said. “I didn’t know you were in there.”

  “No problem. See you tomorrow, right? Fries and a chocolate shake and grilled American with tomato, sliced thin.”

  Bill smiled. “Be careful out here,” he said. “College students drive like crazy people. I just thought something was wrong.” Billy got back in his car. He kept behind them at a respectable distance, his blinkers on, waving other cars around their slow convoy until he turned off down a side road.

  “Wow, do you know everyone’s order in town?” Tay asked.

  “Pretty much. If they come into the diner, I know.”

  “What about him?” Tay asked, motioning to the car that was passing on the left. An elderly man was driving.

  Lizzie cracked her knuckles as if warming up for a challenge. “That’s Evan Pikes. He likes a baked potato and turkey platter with gravy on the side. Black coffee.”

  “That’s amazing,” Tay said. “You’re making that up.”

  “Never.”

  “Him?”

  A few cars passed that Lizzie didn’t recognize. Then the Bradford family passed them, and Lizzie rattled off everyone’s orders—all six of them—down to dessert.

  “Do people always order the same thing?” Tay asked.

  “Almost always. Some people have a few favorites, but I’ll know them all if they come in a few times. Those people, I can usually tell what they’ll want just by the look on their faces. Like Mr. Zinelli, that old guy who wouldn’t leave you alone that first day in the diner. He likes a plain glazed doughnut and coffee. But then, when he stops shaving, I know he’s thinking about his wife, who died last year. So then, I give him chocolate covered with pink sprinkles, because that’s what his wife, Betty, used to order before she passed. And since I notice and I remember, it makes Mr. Zinelli happy.”

  “I think you might be one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met, Liz,” Tay said. They pulled up outside her house. It had taken almost fifteen minutes to go the mile up the hill.

  “That’s not true,” Lizzie said. “I’m a mess.”

  “Maybe on the outside—”

  “Hey!”

  “On the outside of your house,” he added. “But deep down, you have a solid life.”

  They sat a few moments in silence.

  “Good night?” Tay asked.

  “Not good night,” Lizzie said.

  “No?”

  “No. You need to kiss me first.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. It’s what I want.”

  “So if I kiss you, I can come back tomorrow and finish the fence?”

  “This isn’t a trade. Just a kiss—”

  But he didn’t let her finish. His lips were already on hers, his hand behind her head, pulling her toward him. His kiss was hungry, rough, parting her lips, opening her mouth under his.

  Yes. She wanted this.

  He started to pull away, but she put her hands on his face and pulled him closer. “Don’t you dare pull away,” she murmured.

  He buried his face in her neck, biting. “Wouldn’t dare,” he managed.

  She let her head fall back as he ravaged her neck, nibbled across her collarbone. His hands were hot on her back, pinning her arms. The warmth of him felt divine, his hunger melted her. She tasted him right back and she wanted more, but she didn’t want to push him too far. Not yet.

  She pulled away from him, then watched his face change from hunger and desire to blankness.

  “So what happens to make you look like that after we kiss?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have.”

  “The accident?”

  “Something comes over me.” He licked his lips. “It’s like something is always watching me, judging me, and I’m never worthy. Like every pleasure has to be punished.”

  “Are you okay now?”

  “No. Not really. I mean, I’m okay, but I’m shaky. It’s hard to describe. Like I’m empty. Frozen.”

  “You know, Tay, it’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to be sorry.”

  “What worries me is that it’ll never end. I’ll never be normal.”

  “Who w
ants normal?” She got out of the car and didn’t look back as she let herself into the house.

  She felt as if it was Christmas and her birthday and summer vacation all rolled into one when she found another bluestone in her path the next morning, perfectly placed, the broken-down bricks it had replaced stacked neatly by her front door.

  Some men left flowers. Some men sent cards. But only Tay would do this.

  It meant that he hadn’t slept again.

  And for a selfish moment, she hoped that part of his not being able to sleep had to do with her, because her sleep had been rocky, thinking about him.

  Then she was sorry, because she knew what it was not to sleep.

  And she hoped that maybe, somehow, she’d be able to help him figure out the cure.

  CHAPTER

  26

  Tommy sat at the kitchen table, still wearing his blue uniform. He stared at the stack of hundred-dollar bills in front of him. His police instincts kept him from breaking the purple seal around the money, as if it were evidence. But what was the crime? Not having a clue how to make his wife happy? Failing to be the husband she expected?

  He looked at the money, feeling sick, as if he’d found another man’s watch on his bedstand.

  Just when he thought he and Annie were getting somewhere with their relationship, he had to find this under the couch.

  All he wished for was to be able to figure out how to make the old Annie come back. Ever since Meghan’s birth, she had been depressed and bitter and he had no idea what to do about it. Then, lately, she’d been suddenly happy. In truth, he’d been too scared to ask her why. She was so fragile lately, he didn’t dare ruin it.

  But today, when he was searching for Meghan’s blue bootie, he’d found this stack of cash under the couch.

  He had assumed Annie had been miserable these past few months because she was bored and frustrated with taking care of Meghan. After all, she had quit her job that she loved at the library, and most of her old friends didn’t come by anymore. But now that this money had mysteriously appeared under his couch, he couldn’t help wondering if Annie had something going on that he didn’t know about. How had he missed something so important?

  He jumped up when he heard Annie outside talking to Mrs. Wendell and her schnauzer, Witzell. Tommy joined them outside, freeing Meghan from her stroller and swinging her up in the air. He gave Annie a kiss on the cheek. They all smiled as Mrs. Wendell chatted about her Witzell’s hurt paw and about Meghan’s new tooth and Tommy thought, This is what unhappy families do, isn’t it? Pretend? He had the sense that Annie didn’t want to come inside. That she was avoiding him.

  But eventually, Mrs. Wendell let herself be pulled away by Witzell, and his small family moved toward the house. The moment the door clicked behind them, the mood shifted ominously.

  Was he right? Was something awful going on with his wife?

  Annie danced Meghan into the kitchen. “Time for dinner, honey-pie?” She was talking to the baby, not him.

  He followed, helping to settle Meghan into her high chair. He went in search of Cheerios to keep her busy. The thousand dollars sat in the middle of the table. Ben Franklin smiled up at them.

  Annie froze when she spotted the money. She looked as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. Her mood shifted, as if from a fault far below the surface.

  “So, I found a thousand dollars under the love seat today. How was your day, dear?” he asked.

  “Tommy.” She took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you. I found it and I want to keep it. I think we should. I think it was meant to be.”

  Tommy caught her happiness and held on to it because he loved her and wanted her happiness to be his. But he couldn’t keep his grip; it was too slippery. “Okay. Great. Except no way. You found it? Where? And then you shoved it under the couch? I don’t get it, Annie. That’s not right. To keep it is stealing. We need to turn it in right away.”

  “Tommy, it’s mine.”

  This was such an unexpected, flatly wrong statement that he had the sinking feeling he didn’t know the first thing about his wife, and she surely didn’t know anything about him. “You found it? Then it’s not yours. It’s lost property that needs to be turned in to the proper authorities, which happen to be me, so how easy is that? Where did you find it?”

  “In the Galton Street gorge. While I was walking with Meghan. I found it awhile ago and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with it. What kind of person has that kind of money to toss off a bridge?”

  “Did it hit you?” He tried to envision the money flying off the bridge, bonking her on the head.

  “If it did, do I get to keep it? A fine for endangering a mother and baby?”

  After a moment of silence, he said, “You have to turn it in.”

  “No.”

  Meghan pounded her table, sending the Cheerios flying. “No!” she shouted, delighted with herself.

  “Annie, it’s a crime to take things that aren’t yours.” An indistinct pain began to form in his gut.

  “Remember when we used to have fun?” she said. “Do crazy things? Remember the time we broke into the Wilsons’ vacation cabin at the lake and—”

  “And now we’re grown-ups with responsibilities. We can’t risk stuff like that anymore. I’m up for captain next month when Viller retires, Annie. You know that. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with the mother of my daughter.”

  Shit. Bad description. Her blue eyes darkened.

  “I can’t believe that I’m having this conversation with the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world,” he backpedaled. He tried to take her in his arms, but she wouldn’t let him. “I love you, Annie. But I don’t get what’s going on in your head anymore. You’re always sad. We haven’t had sex in two hundred and thirteen days—and that’s only if you count a hand job as sex.”

  “I don’t,” she said flatly.

  “Two hundred and thirty-six days, then. And now this.”

  Mercifully, she smiled. “It’s not like it’s two hundred thousand dollars. It’s just a grand.” She fixed him with a look he couldn’t read.

  He’d get to hold his wife tonight—maybe even break their sexless streak—if he just shut the hell up. He knew it as surely as he knew most of Meghan’s cereal would end up on the floor and she needed a new diaper and he was tired and didn’t want to fight or clean the cereal or change the diaper. But some demon force took over and he said, “It doesn’t matter if it’s five dollars. We can’t keep it.”

  Her eyes narrowed and his hope slipped away. Meghan sent an avalanche of Cheerios onto the floor, and Tommy stifled a grunt of pain.

  “Look, let’s wait,” Annie said. “You poke around, see if anyone filed a missing money report or whatever it is someone would do if they lost a little money.”

  “A little?”

  “If someone is looking for it, we give it back. If not, we keep it. I mean, what if it belongs to a drug dealer?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it belongs to Hitler, Annie. The law will decide, not us. That’s why there are laws.” He was starting to feel a kind of panic that he hadn’t felt since they were in high school. Had he done something to drive her to a life of crime? Was that why Annie was so depressed lately?

  Annie spoke. “I thought we could do good with the money. Not keep it for ourselves. Maybe we could fix up Lizzie’s house.” She said it as if the thought had just popped into her head, but he had the feeling she’d been thinking about it for a while.

  “She won’t let us. You know that. She’s too proud. She won’t even let me replace the washers in her dripping faucets.”

  “We’d do it secretly somehow. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. Maybe we could pay Tay. Or maybe we could put half of it into a college fund. It’ll pay for Meghan’s education.”

  “Half of a thousand dollars? It’ll pay for two textbooks if we’re lucky.”

  Annie looked confused, then relieved, then he didn’t kno
w what. Jolly, almost. “It’ll grow if we invest it,” she said, a mysterious smile playing around her lips.

  “Annie, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  She fixed him with a look so pained, it took his breath away. “No. Of course not. Why?”

  “No reason.” Only that maybe our marriage depends on it.

  CHAPTER

  27

  It was Tuesday night, Lizzie’s favorite night of the week, since she had the Enemy Club to look forward to the next morning. She couldn’t wait to tell them about her dinner with Tay at Annie’s and her new vow to get what she wanted and to get their opinions on Tay and on Annie and why she’d been sneaking around her house. Tay had been back twice since their kiss in his truck, and he’d still not finished up her fence. She was starting to get the idea that he was stalling, which made her smile.

  Two more bluestones had appeared in her path, one each night.

  “Mom, I think we should get me a passport,” Paige said.

  Lizzie looked at her daughter, curled on the couch, eating popcorn from the microwave bag, the blue flicker of the TV stealing all the color from her face. Nothing like a teenager to bring her mood back down to earth. “Why?” she asked, knowing the question was dumb, but not knowing what else to say.

  Paige rolled her eyes. “’Cause I want to stay here my whole damn life. Duh, Mom,” Paige said.

  Lizzie waited out the sarcasm.

  “I’m not saying I’d go to Geneva forever. I’m just saying, I should be ready just in case. Just to visit.”

  “The problem is, honey, wherever you go, there you are.”

  Paige groaned. “Here comes the lecture.”

  Lizzie clicked off the television and sat at Paige’s feet.

  “Hey! I was watching that.”

  She put Paige’s feet on her lap, then her own feet up on the coffee table. The room was dark around them, with only a single lamp on in the far corner. “It means that running away doesn’t solve anything. The world is big, but wherever you go in it, you still have the same problems, because you’re still you, or I’m still me, or whoever. Whomever,” she corrected herself and Paige groaned as if in serious pain.