Sweet Forty-Two

by Andrea Randall

  Rae.

  The letter.

  I winced, feeling like I was being kicked in the stomach all over again. It really hadn’t been a dream. She sent a letter. And told me she loved me. Georgia seemed to sense my stumble because she was right behind me within seconds putting her hand on my back.

  “Sit.” She led me over to the couch, where I started to panic.

  “Shit ... where’s the...” I patted my chest all the way down to my waist, and felt around my pockets for the card.

  Georgia knelt in front of me and picked the envelope off the floor. “It’s right here.” There was a kindness on her face that brought tears to my eyes.

  “Guys?” Bo entered the apartment, with Ember oddly silent next to him. “What’s ... going on?”

  Thoughts of the beautiful and secretly sweet girl in front of me were pushed far away as the last piece of Rae dangled from my fingertips. I motioned for Bo to sit next to me, my heart racing a million miles a minute. If he’d received something like this, I’d have wanted to know. That’s what I kept telling myself as I slowly handed him the letter. Ember took a seat on the arm of the couch next to him, looking over his shoulder.

  “What’s thi—” Bo looked at the return address and brought his hand to his mouth. His eyes watered as he took a long, slow breath, exhaling into his palm.

  Ember’s head tilted to the side, and she carefully read the front of the envelope, her cheeks growing red as she stood. “If you don’t want me—”

  I held up my hand. “No, go ahead.”

  Bo kept his eyes on me as he pulled out the card. “When did you ... how did you...”

  “David Bryson sent this to me. He said it was in a box of her things from school.” I chuckled. “She’d never asked for my address, so that will explain why there’s a stamp on it and only my name.”

  Bo smiled. “When did you get it?”

  “A couple of weeks ago.”

  Ember’s eyes shot to me. “You didn’t tell me.”

  I shrugged rather unapologetically. “I couldn’t, Em. I didn’t even know if I wanted to open it. Go ahead,” I nodded to Bo, “it’s so Rae.”

  Bo’s hands trembled as he ran them over the inked words like he was trying to hold hands with his sister. The more flooded with tears his eyes got, the wider he smiled. His eyes were moving slowly over the lines, like he was trying to savor every second of Rae’s presence. As he reached the end, at the same time as Ember it seemed, he chuckled, a mix of laughing and crying that brought the heels of his hands to his eyes, wiping away a mixed bag of tears.

  Ember’s arm was immediately around his shoulder, her lips went to his temple as if it was an emotional fire drill and she was taking her position. Only this wasn’t a drill. Tears streamed down her face, and I watched her bite her lip, keeping her emotions silent and letting Bo work through his. She squeezed him harder as she kissed him on the cheek, then the head before resting her chin on the top of his head and taking a deep breath of her own.

  I cleared my throat, not having the energy to cry anymore today. “So, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to open it, or what, but Georgia encouraged me to. We went down to the pier and ... long story short, I passed out on her couch.”

  Looking into the kitchen, I found Georgia leaning against the island, watching all of us with a lost and sad look on her face. I got up and walked over to her.

  “Thank you.” I took her hands in mine and dipped my head so she was forced to look at me. “Thank you for being there for me today.”

  “Of course.” She tried to sound nonchalant as she looked over her shoulder at Bo and Ember in their embrace. When her eyes came back to my face, she drew her eyebrows in for a moment before wrapping her arms around my neck and exhaling, “You’re welcome,” into my ear.

  I squeezed her back. The warmth of her body was intoxicating. “I’m sorry about your cupcakes.”

  “Did someone say cupcakes?” Bo’s voice chirped like a teenage girl and we all laughed.

  Sometimes, you just have to laugh.

  I nodded. “Georgia’s got a bakery downstairs.”

  “Oh?” Ember walked around the back of the couch. “I was wondering about that. It’s adorable. There’s no sign, though...”

  Georgia shifted on her feet, wringing her hands. “Yeah, it’s not technically open, but I fool around down there a lot.”

  “You did say cupcakes, though, didn’t you, Regan?” Bo stood and wiped under his eyes a final time.

  “They’re delicious, too.”

  Georgia slapped my shoulder. “How would you know? You haven’t had one.”

  “Well, I’ve had those blueberry muffins. I trust your talent transfers from baked good to baked good. Let’s take these two downstairs, I know you have all of those cupcakes left from this morning.” I don’t know what I wanted more, to see Georgia in her element, or to step away from the letter for a few minutes.

  Before she could answer, Bo was already at the door. “You said cupcakes. I want cupcakes. I might not always verbalize my feelings—”

  “Yes, you do,” Ember cut in with a smile.

  “Whatever.” He rolled his eyes as I chuckled. “Fine. I might always verbalize my feelings, but whatever they are, cupcakes make them better.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  “What’s with his sweet tooth all of a sudden?” I asked Ember.

  “You know ... I don’t bake, my parents used to think sugar was evil, I just ... there are no cupcakes in my life.”

  “None?” Georgia nearly shouted.

  Ember shrugged. “I try. I just ... can’t”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” For someone who said more nonsensical things than anyone I’d ever met, Georgia sounded serious about this. She breezed past Ember, and then stopped in front of Bo at the door, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go get you a cupcake.”

  Georgia

  It was innocent at first, bringing the grieving friends into my bakery for some confection-type comfort. But, as I watched the three of them eating cupcake after cupcake in one of the booths, laughing their way through memories of their lost sister, friend, and girlfriend, I started to feel like my own skin was too tight.

  I didn’t belong here. With them. It wasn’t my scene. Friends. Laughter. Especially not given the fact that next week I’d start taking my mother to her shock therapy a few times a week. I was built for solitude, though the structure around me suggested that, at least at one point, I’d wanted this.

  Life ... around me.

  “Hey, you.” Regan walked into the kitchen, fetching the last of the cupcakes from the porcelain cake stand. “Told you they were delicious.” He took a gluttonous bite and smiled.

  There were no butterflies in my stomach as I watched him smile. No thumpety-thump of my heart. When I watched the tip of his tongue snag a stray drop of icing from the corner of his lips, there was none of that light and bubbly flirty feeling. It was heavy. So suffocatingly heavy was my need to be curled up on the couch with him again that I had to get out of there. It was too late to make a graceful exit, though, since Regan seemed to see my cheeks go flush.

  “What’s the matter?” He set the cupcakes down as Bo and Ember laughed softly in their booth and walked toward me.

  I swallowed hard. We had to have the conversation. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “About what?”

  I wiped my palms on my jeans. “The couch ... I—”

  Regan shook his head. “It’s okay. It felt ... nice to wake up next to you.”

  “Nice?” I pulled my head back and scrunched my forehead. After the reading of the letter from his dead girlfriend, how could he ... just ... how?

  He swallowed audibly and took a deep breath. “Yes. Nice. It was nice to wake up next to someone. To feel the warmth of another body next to mine...” He ran his hand up the top part of my arm.

  “But ... Rae. Your letter.”

  He nodded. “Rae wrote a letter
to me. It’s not like she wrote it from beyond the grave, although it felt a hell of a lot like that as I read it. I just need to process what she said, and make peace with it.”

  He squeezed my arm a little as he said the words, like he was trying to say something else, but before I could interpret anything Ember stuck her head into the kitchen.

  “Georgia. These cupcakes are so good. Can you give me the recipe? Bo’s already sad that he’s about to eat his last one.”

  I stepped back from Regan’s hold. He didn’t seem to give a shit what Bo and Ember thought about his boundaries with me. It was uncomfortable for me to be around someone so unashamed of every action, with no apparent need to cover anything up. He twisted his lips a little as I moved around him, but he dropped his hand without a fight.

  “I can give you the recipe but you’ll probably have to spend some time at the grocery store. I’m not sure if Regan told you, but everything is gluten-free.”

  Ember’s mouth dropped open and she shouted to Bo. “Did you hear that, Bo? She said everything here is gluten-free! My parents would have a field day!”

  “Excellent, where’s my gluten-free goodness?” His impatience made me smile inside.

  “Calm yourself, sweetie. Georgia,” she turned back to me, beaming, “you have to make some of these for our recording session. And some muffins. And bread. Do you make bread?”

  “Yes,” I chuckled, “I make bread. Do your parents have Celiac or something?” Her enthusiasm over my ingredients was intriguing.

  She waved her hand. “I ate homemade wheat bread from the fields of the farm we lived at most of my childhood. Made by my mom. All of a sudden it’s an issue for them. Whatever. It’s more my mom than my dad. He’ll be thrilled to have something sweet.”

  “Oh, Georgia, that would be wicked. Please do it.” Regan shoved the rest of the cupcake into his mouth.

  “Okay. What time do you record tomorrow? I’ll make some of the stuff tonight and the rest in the morning.” It felt good to be wanted rather than needed.

  Ember picked up the last two cupcakes. “I’m going to bring these into the other room. Regan can just bring the goods with him when he comes tomorrow. Regan,” Ember raised an eyebrow to him, “be nice to her. This food is delicious.”

  I felt worse by the minute for having misjudged Ember’s character due to a few shitty days she’d had. While I didn’t envision us ever sitting around painting each other’s nails, I no longer wanted to claw her face. It was progress.

  “They’ll pay you, too, you know.” Regan wiped crumbs from the counter and tossed them in the trash.

  “Oh ... that’s not why I said yes,” I spoke quickly, not wanting him to misjudge my intentions. Especially since I didn’t even know what my intentions were.

  He laughed. I could get lost in that sound. It was deeper than his speaking voice, but full of this mouthwatering joy. “I know that’s not why, but I’m just saying ... maybe if you do it regularly enough, word will get around and you can, like, run this place full time.”

  I looked through to the seating area and watched Bo and Ember. They looked noticeably more relaxed than I’d seen them even in their own oceanside environment. My mom and her mom had been right; food brings people together, and sweet food is even better.

  “Maybe.” I shrugged, glancing up at Regan’s face.

  “Why haven’t you opened it? The real reason.” He leaned sideways against the counter and crossed his arms in front of him.

  I wanted to make something up. But, given the events of the day that had him crying in front of me more than once, lying to him seemed particularly horrendous. I couldn’t get in to it with Bo and Ember here, though. They were surrounded by hippies all day and took no issue with weeping in front of strangers. It wasn’t that I planned on crying, but I’d have to be more honest with them than I’d ever even intended on being with Regan in the first place.

  “We can wait till they leave, if you want. But, I want you to talk about it, okay?”

  I hadn’t realized I’d been staring for so long at the loving couple until Regan spoke.

  I nodded. “Yeah. When they go. Go hang out with your friends. I’ll clean up in here.”

  I bought myself some time. Time to come up with a story. One that would have been a lot easier to come up with had I not curled up on the couch with him, and inhaled the saltiness on his skin that made me miss home. And his lips. God. It had been so long since I’d felt lips against mine, I was certain they’d burst with eagerness.

  Looking out at their booth, I caught Regan mid-smile and it honestly took my breath away. Hours earlier he’d been the saddest human being I’d ever seen in the flesh. How could he turn it around so quickly? How could he move forward—so open and not boxed in by his pain?

  Maybe I wanted that. That was the only explanation for why I was turning over in my mind ways to keep him around.

  After another half hour, Bo and Ember said their goodbyes to Regan and me. Bo made sure that I was serious about sending baked goods to the studio tomorrow. I assured him I was and laughed as Ember poked at Bo’s rock-hard stomach and begged him not to get soft. I’d soften him up just to spite the skinny bitch. I said I no longer wanted to claw her face, not that I was going to sympathize with her ever running into the issue of bringing something into a dressing room, only to find out it’s too big.

  Regan locked the door behind them, without me asking him to, and came back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his hands in his pockets and smiling like I was holding a camera. “Thank you for letting me just bring them down here like that. I wasn’t really thinking...”

  I was about to make a snarky comment about his supposed thoughtlessness, but when I looked up, he was looking away. Not down, not off into the distance, but to somewhere no one else around him would ever be able to see.

  “It’s okay. I was afraid they’d be upset about you being in my apartment, or something.” I realized how stupid it sounded as soon as I said it. We were two adults and we weren’t found in bed, so to speak. And, really, even if we had been, what would anyone say?

  I was too unsure of the ghost of Rae to know exactly what anyone would have really said.

  Regan shrugged, allowing his vision to come back to the present. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it once before opening it again. Then, he took my hand. “Come in here and sit for a minute.”

  I followed without argument, because you follow someone who looks that sad when they ask you to. As a matter of practice, someone should really always just follow someone around who looks that sad. He brought me over to the booth he’d been sitting in with his friends. A few cupcake wrappers and errant crumbs were young fossils of the happiness that briefly inhabited this space.

  In the looming greyness that tomorrow would bring, those crumbs gave me hope.

  “So,” Regan started, “I’m sorry if it was weird for you up there in your place ... all that crying and stuff. I didn’t know if I was going to show Bo the card, and I certainly didn’t plan on doing it in your apartment.”

  “It’s okay.” I shrugged. “It was a little jarring, obviously, since I haven’t had that many people in my place, like, ever, and certainly not for anything so emotional.”

  “Do you always keep to yourself because of your mom?” His question was as direct as his eyes were. Unflinching. Bold.

  “It’s not really like that.” I shifted in my seat, picking up the crumbs one by one and placing them on an empty cupcake wrapper.

  “What’s it like then?”

  My eyes shot up. “What’s with the inquisition, Regan?” I stood, but he lurched across the table, capturing my hand.

  “Sorry. Please sit?”

  I sat, but only because I swear I could hear a flicker of Irish accent in his voice, and I wanted to hear it again.

  “Let me try this again.” He cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was thank you for being so cool. Upstairs with Bo and Ember, and earlier today with me.�
��

  A few seconds ago I was uncomfortable with what seemed to be an interrogation, but that swiftly morphed into me viewing his own uneasiness. Then I felt like a giant ass for assuming it was about me at all. Regan picked at something invisible on the table, looking down, and lost again.

  I put my hand on his to stop the maddening noise. “Hey, it’s okay. She was clearly really special. Rae, I mean.”

  He released half his mouth into a smile. I needed to give him more.

  “Tell me about her.”

  He looked up, seemingly startled. “Really?”

  I nodded. “Really.”

  For the next several minutes, Regan told me the story of his star-crossed romance with Rae Cavanaugh. He had a dumbstruck grin on his face, but the wear around his eyes highlighted the unhappy ending that awaited me. I always read the last page of books first, anyway; it gives more guts to the story. It was no different here. Knowing the ending made Regan’s smiles brighter. Tragedy has a way of amplifying the good and smudging the bad. When he finished the story of his spunky, tough as nails girlfriend, he sat back and took a weary breath.

  “I like her,” I whispered.

  “I loved her. And,” he cleared his throat but that did nothing to stop the tremble in his voice, “I never told her.”

  Regret is ugly. A pus-filled boil ready to break open on the face of your soul. As soon as I saw it forming, I stood. “Come to the kitchen with me. I need your help for the stuff I’m sending with you to the studio tomorrow.”

  “Really?” His eyes lit up and the boil faded into hiding.

  “Really.” I chuckled, mocking our identical conversation from minutes before.

  Tomorrow I would tell Regan anything he wanted to know, because I knew he wouldn’t forget to ask. For tonight, though, I’d let us get lost in the sweet escape of this confectioner’s wonderland. A place where nothing was sour.

  Georgia

  Regan and I had stayed up well past midnight making a mix of cookies, cupcakes, and muffins for him to bring to Blue Seed Studios with him the next day. While he’d seemed excited at the prospect of helping me, we completed the project in near silence. It wasn’t heavy, by any means. It was more meditative. We didn’t ask questions of one another; rather, we just seemed to enjoy the company and the silence.