A Sin Such as This

by Ellen Hopkins

  “Can I bring you a glass of wine first?” he asks.

  “Later. I want to stay clear-headed for a while.”

  “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you otherwise,” he says.

  “I have!” chimes Cassandra.

  Wisely, Charlie remains silent about the time he and I tied one on in San Francisco, not that anything untoward happened because of it, despite his overt invitation. Neither Cassandra nor Cavin needs to be privy to that.

  Charlie does say, “Well, I could use a glass of wine. Cass?”

  I flinch at the nickname, but she doesn’t at all. “Please. I’ll hold us a place in the food line.”

  “I’ll go with you, Charlie,” says Cavin.

  And suddenly I’m standing alone.

  I survey the milling guests. Everyone wears a smile. Almost everyone, that is. Mel can’t quite seem to find one. She hovers off to one side, sipping a glass of what’s definitely not wine and absentmindedly tugging at the hem of her short skirt. Despite her newly sculpted body and youthful hair, the anxiety creasing her face makes her look older than her forty years.

  I make my way over to her through the thickening crowd. “Everything okay?”

  She meets my eyes. “Sure. Why?”

  “You look unhappy.”

  “I’m not happy, Tara. I thought you knew that.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  She snorts. “Get me another drink?” She tosses back what’s left of the current one. “Never mind. I’ll get it.”

  Off she goes, and now I’m confused. She seemed fine on the ride over. What happened between then and now? Maybe Eli knows something? I scan the patio, but he, Kayla, and Taylor are nowhere in sight. I can only guess what they’re up to. I wander toward the tasting room, stopped every few feet by queries I must take the time to answer. When I finally manage to reach the door, I’m stunned to find my husband chatting cordially with Sophia.

  She was not on the guest list.

  Maybe you need a glass of wine after all.

  I choose to abstain. For the moment.

  The guitar player strums his instrument, signaling the start of the band’s first set. I wave a thumbs-up sign at Graham, and when I turn around, I see Austin and Maryann Colvin exiting the room where the video’s playing. Ah. That’s how Sophia knew about tonight. They must have encouraged her to come. They join her and Cavin now, and I guess I probably should, too.

  I cross the room in three long, confident strides, and at my approach Cavin moves a few inches away from Sophia, who smiles in a way I really don’t care for. I refuse to reward her with the reaction she so obviously wants. In fact, I ignore her completely and instead extend my hand toward the Colvins.

  “Good evening, Maryann. Austin. Thanks so much for coming.”

  “But of course,” says Maryann. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  Austin gestures in a semicircular motion. “Great job. You’ve accomplished a lot in such a short amount of time.”

  “She’s a wonder,” observes Cavin.

  “Yes,” hisses Sophia. “A wonder.”

  I offer her a calculated grimace. “I hope you brought your checkbook. Fresh for Families can use your support. Please take a few minutes to view the video and open your . . . heart. Cavin, darling, I’d like that glass of wine now. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Sophia watches him go. “What is it about a man in a tux that brings out my inner deviant?”

  “Inner? You have more than one?” Slip of the tongue, and I’m not even drunk. I remind myself to take it easy.

  Maryann gasps, but Austin chuckles and saves me. “Wish there were more deviant women in the world. They make life so interesting. Let’s get something to eat, shall we, my dear?”

  He leads his wife away, and once they’re out of earshot I pointedly tell Sophia, “You do not belong here.”

  She takes it in perfect stride. “Oh, but I do. I’d worry about that if I were you. Meanwhile, I did bring my checkbook.”

  Sophia pushes past me and a familiar voice, steeped in alcohol, falls over my shoulder. “That woman is a serious bitch.”

  “I know, Mel, I know.”

  I’m uncomfortable with the whole situation, so I’m happy when Cavin rescues me with a big glass of syrah. “Sorry it took so long. The place is packed. Well done.”

  “I could do with one fewer person.”

  “I had no idea she’d be here.”

  I really hope that’s the truth.

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t the two of you dance?” I suggest to Mel and my husband. “Maybe that would encourage people out on the floor. No use letting good music go to waste.”

  “I haven’t danced in years,” says Mel. “I don’t think I remember how.”

  “It’s like riding a bike. Your body will remember how.” I take her glass. “Go on. Let your hair down.”

  She looks doubtful but follows Cavin, and while she isn’t exactly relaxed at first, after a minute or two she’s actually moving to the beat. Before long, others join them, including the Colvins. Austin has pretty good moves.

  I travel the far wall, where the silent auction items are drawing attention, the bids increasing to a satisfying degree. I even bid on a couple myself—a new pair of skis, and a weekend stay at a spa in historic Genoa, Nevada. Then I allow myself the luxury of a bathroom break. It’s been hours since I peed, I realize.

  I have to wait for whoever’s inside the restroom marked with a skirted stick figure, and have almost decided to use the men’s room when the door unlocks. Just beyond is Kayla, whose eyes are shot through with crimson streaks. Not to mention, she reeks of liquor.

  “Having a good time?” I ask.

  “Uh . . . yeah.”

  “Maybe a little too good?”

  “No sush thing,” she slurs.

  “You’d better quit now, and if Eli is anywhere close to the state you’re in, you might encourage him to quit, too. How exactly did you score the booze?”

  She grins. “Wouldn’ you like to know?”

  “Actually, yes, I would.”

  “I’m jus’ relaxing, Aun’ Tara. Been working hard, like you wanted. I deserve a li’l fun.”

  “Keep it in check. Hangovers aren’t so fun.”

  I use the bathroom before someone else wants it and am washing my hands when all hell breaks loose.

  “You leave him the fuck alone!”

  The music stops and footsteps pound as I rush out the door, into the tasting room, where Taylor and Cavin are pulling my niece up and off a woman splayed on the floor at Eli’s feet. I’m half gratified, half mortified to discover it’s Sophia. Witnessing the scene are most of our guests, including Cassandra, Charlie, and Melody, in whose embrace Kayla is sobbing.

  Eli helps Sophia off the floor.

  “Don’t touch her!” screams Kayla, completely unhinged.

  “That’s enough!” orders Cavin, taking charge. He puts an arm around Melody’s shoulders and steers her toward the patio, obliging Kayla to go, too.

  Eli looks at Sophia, as if asking for her permission to leave. In answer, she shrugs, and he reluctantly trails the others outside.

  “Okay, everyone,” announces Jason. “Looks like someone maybe had a little too much to drink tonight, but everything’s under control. The night is young. Let’s get back to why we’re here. Music, please!”

  Sophia and the Colvins are huddled in a tight knot. I go over to them. “What happened?” Stupid question. I’ve got the gist of the answer, if not the details.

  “I was dancing with Eli,” answers Sophia, “and that . . . that . . . person came barreling into me.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “My ass will be bruised, and my scalp is sore where she yanked on my hair, but other than that, I guess I’m fine.”

  Pretty sure her ego is black-and-blue, too.

  Go ahead and smile.

  “Do yo
u know that little monster?” asks Sophia.

  The answer is obvious. “I do.”

  “I don’t think she belongs here,” she mocks. “Did she bring her checkbook?”

  I hook Sophia’s elbow with mine. “Let’s talk.” I walk her toward the front door and, when we’re outside, drop her arm. “Kayla is Eli’s girlfriend. She’s been away at college and was anxious to see him. I’m sure it was something of a shock to find him dancing with you.”

  “She’s drunk.”

  “I realize that, and of course her overreaction hinged on that. I, however, am sober, and I want you to leave.”

  In the yellow glare of the porch light, I can see the knot-unknot of her fingers and the tense rise of her shoulders. I expect a jab. Instead, she parries, “Fine. If I manage a winning silent-auction bid, Cavin can let me know.”

  She rotates on one heel, and as she goes in search of her car I say out loud, “Over my dead body.” Two beats. “Or yours.”

  When I turn, Cassandra is standing right behind me. “What was that all about?” she asks.

  “Just removing a thorn from my side. I’ll give you the lowdown later.”

  We go back inside, where all seems to be well. The first thing I do is go over to the silent-auction table and find Sophia’s bids.

  And raise them.

  forty

  D ESPITE KAYLA’S MELODRAMA, THE Fresh for Families fund-raiser was, by everyone’s assessment, a huge success. The ultimate tally won’t be known until all donations are accounted for, and several people will mail them or send them online. But what came in last night alone, including the silent auction, was close to sixty thousand.

  My bids netted the skis and two tickets anywhere Southwest Airlines flies. I despise Southwest, with its unassigned seats and peanuts for food, but I had to outbid Sophia. Wonder where she wanted to go.

  And with whom .

  I had to stay late to help with the bookkeeping and oversee the cleanup, so I sent everyone home ahead of me except Graham, who needed to break down his equipment anyway and offered me a ride. That was good, because I wasn’t about to let either Eli or Mel drive the Escalade. Instead, I gave the keys to Charlie, after a heavy assessment.

  “I’m in fine shape,” he claimed.

  “Prove it.”

  He recited the alphabet backward without a stumble. Good enough.

  Eli, who was still fuming, went with Cavin, leaving Taylor and Kayla to go with Cassandra. Charlie carted Melody and the younger girls. Mel wanted to stay and supervise her husband and me, though that isn’t the way she put it. But by ten, she was almost asleep, drugged into oblivion by one too many Scotches on the rocks. I refused to take no for an answer.

  Graham and I packed it in around eleven fifteen, both of us tired but content. Rather than sit in total silence, I used the time to ask, “Any idea what got into Mel today? By the time we got back from the tour, she was already on edge and drinking.”

  “I guess she and Suzette got into it earlier. Suz wants to spend next year as a foreign exchange student and put in an application. Melody said okay, thinking she would never be accepted. She was, and she got her country of choice—Austria. You know how much she loves her snowboarding. But now Mel wants her to back out.”

  “I don’t get it. Sounds like a great opportunity.”

  “It totally is. Honestly, I have no clue what Mel’s objection is.”

  I thought for a minute. “Maybe with you leaving, she’s afraid to let go of someone else.”

  “What do you mean, leaving? I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Oh. Good. I’m relieved to hear it.”

  The conversation ended there because a raccoon wandered out into the highway in front of us. Graham expertly steered around the creature, who was, I’m sure, even happier about that than I was. Graham slowed down, worried about other nocturnal adventurers, and we arrived, safe and sound, at home a little before one.

  I did not check up on the sleeping arrangements. I figured the adults in charge could handle it, and if they couldn’t it wasn’t my job anyway. Besides, the atmosphere downstairs could only have been strained at best. Pretty sure I heard muted arguing, but I can’t say who it was.

  Due to alcohol or sheer exhaustion, everyone sleeps in late the next morning, emerging from their personal cocoons disheveled and/or fighting hangovers. With a couple of exceptions, they ask for ibuprofen, antacids, Pepto-Bismol, water, or coffee. No hair of the dog.

  So I guess it isn’t surprising that our Dixie cruise feels more subdued than celebratory, especially when the Tahoe wind rises, as it often does in the afternoon, causing an up-and-down, side-to-side motion. No one eats, and only Cassandra, Charlie, and I sip the champagne I bought to toast Mel’s fortieth birthday.

  The unusual dynamics must be obvious, even to strangers.

  Eli has taken the two younger girls under his arm. I’d worry about him putting the moves on Suzette, but I’m more concerned about older women.

  He’s definitely not talking to Kayla, who flirts unmercifully with Taylor. The boy eats it up. It’s not like he cares what Eli thinks. They’re acquaintances, not close friends.

  Cavin and Graham are talking. About what, I have no clue, but they do not include Mel in their conversation.

  Melody acts the strangest of all. It’s like she’s barely here with us in the land of the living. “I’m not feeling well,” is her excuse for sitting off by herself, eyes closed, one leg twitching.

  “Some party,” observes Charlie.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I agree.

  “We’ll just have to consider last night the party,” says Cassandra.

  Charlie nods. “Yeah. And today is the aftermath.”

  “We can enjoy it, anyway.” I tip my glass toward my sister, who’s too lost inside herself to notice. “Happy birthday, Mel! And many more.”

  As if in answer, she jumps to her feet and leans over the railing, spilling whatever her stomach was holding into the azure Tahoe water.

  “Ahem,” says Charlie. “I think I’ll go hang out with the guys.”

  Mel stumbles back into her seat, nodding her head and closing her eyes, a clear statement to leave her alone. Cassandra and I spend the rest of the cruise discussing San Francisco. Tahoe. Charlie. Cavin. Off-Broadway. Shakespeare at Sand Harbor. Genevieve Lennon. Nick, the personal trainer I had back in the city. The one I made the mistake of sleeping with. The one who changed gyms when my complaint made him lose his job, and ended up working at Cassandra’s gym.

  “He got fired from there, too, you know,” she tells me.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I guess he slept with the owner’s wife.”

  “Some people never change.”

  I consider that carefully. Some people never change. Prince or troll, they hang on tight to the truth of themselves and feel no need to trade places. Others work very hard to transform themselves, and not always in positive ways. I fought my way out of “Idaho,” and through three marriages to men not suited for me. How this one will end is anyone’s guess. Divorce? Death? It can only be one or the other.

  Back at the marina, Cassandra herds Kayla and Taylor into her car. She and Charlie packed up for the return trip before we left home so they could head straight back to San Francisco. Kayla glances at Eli, but whatever she sees convinces her there’s no need for a good-bye. So maybe last night drove the final wedge between them, which in my opinion is for the best.

  The Sacramento returnees left their stuff at our house, which is on the way. The kids ride with Cavin and Graham. Mel joins me in the Beamer. The others take off, but I pause long enough to inquire, “Are you okay?”

  When Mel looks at me, her eyes seem unable to focus. “I will be once I swallow a Xanax. I left them in my overnight case.”

  “I didn’t know you were taking meds.”

  “I needed something to combat my anxiety.”

  “Be careful. Xanax can be habit-forming, and it isn’t without side eff
ects.”

  “Thanks for your concern, doctor, but I’ve got it under control.”

  I don’t quiz her more and when we get home she disappears, I presume to go pop a pill to do battle with her nerves.

  Cavin’s in the kitchen, fixing sandwiches.

  “Finally hungry?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I figured the kids, at least, might want something to nibble on in the car. I’m surprised the girls haven’t asked for food. They weren’t drinking last night. At least, I’m pretty sure they weren’t.”

  The young women in question are out on the deck with Eli, who looks vaguely amused by their cheerful chatter. “It was nice of you to think of it. Here, let me help.”

  We are wrapping the sandwiches for travel when Graham crests the stairs and comes into the kitchen. He glances around. “Where’s Melody?”

  “Did you check the downstairs bathroom?”

  “Uh, yeah. I just used it.”

  Odd.

  I call to the girls, “Have you seen your mom?”

  Negative.

  Graham goes to the front door, peeks outside. “Her car is gone.”

  “That can’t be.” I stomp up the hallway, take a look for myself. He’s right. She’s gone. “Why wouldn’t she say good-bye?”

  “No clue.”

  I gesture for us to step out front, closing the door behind us. “Did you know Mel’s taking Xanax?”

  “What? No. She never discussed it with me.”

  “Could that be responsible for her unusual behavior of late?”

  He nods. “It could, actually. It could explain a lot.”

  Graham’s compelled to leave immediately. He calls to the girls to get their stuff, and they retreat to do exactly that. While they’re gathering their essentials, I try calling Mel, not that I expect her to answer, and she doesn’t. I leave her a voice mail. “Where did you go in such a hurry? It would’ve been nice to say good-bye.”

  Eli carries the girls’ stuff out to Graham’s car, and Cavin hands over the sandwiches. As Graham starts the engine, I urge, “Please let me know you made it home safely. Mel, too.”

  He promises he will, and as his taillights disappear my concern dissolves immediately. Mel’s circus. Mel’s orangutans.