Not Looking For Love: Episode 2

by Bourne, Lena

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I make the drive to Gran's retirement home as soon as Dad comes home at lunchtime on Friday. Yesterday on the beach, after Scott left, that old lady was looking at me all the way back to my car, like she wanted to hug and comfort me. And all I kept thinking of was Gran, who lost the love of her life, her husband, and will now soon lose her daughter.

  The drive to her retirement home usually takes about forty-five minutes, but I make it in thirty, speeding all the way there. I can stay for an hour or so and still beat the grid-lock back home.

  Gran is sitting in a plush, old-style armchair gazing out the window in her room. A thick woolen carpet covers the floor, and her four poster bed is pure mahogany that gleams in the sunlight, complete with a white linen canopy. She brought all her own furniture with her when she moved in here two years ago after she broke her hip.

  "Hi, Gran," I say loudly, because she didn't hear me come in. "How are you?"

  She turns to me in a series of jerky movements. "Gail, sweetheart. How is your mother?"

  Her voice is hard, cuts like a sword. But her wide, watery eyes and shaking bottom lip betray her terror at the news I might be bringing. I force myself to smile, and stride over to her. "Mom is fine. Or you know…"

  My voice cracks and I can't finish the sentence.

  Gran turns back to the window, and I sit in the matching armchair across from her.

  "I would like to go and see her, one last time," Gran says so softly, I'm not sure I even heard it.

  "I can come pick you up and drive you there anytime," I say. "Or we can go now, and I'll bring you back tonight."

  Gran takes a long, shuddering breath, which makes the papery skin on her face shake. "Not today, I've been having my spells all day. I'm afraid to even leave the room. On Sunday, perhaps."

  I nod and gaze out the window too. A few of the retirees are making their way slowly along the wide paths that transverse the sprawling garden, clutching their walkers and moving at a snail's pace.

  Gran whimpers. "I never thought I would live to bury my children. The pain is unbearable. I hope you never have to face it."

  "I won't," I say and cross my legs. "I'm not planning on having any children."

  "That's certainly one way to sort it," she says, a flash of the haughty, feisty heiress she once was clear in her voice. She places her hand over my knee. "But you'll change your mind, Gail, once you're a little older."

  "No." Heat from her hand is searing through my leg.

  "I lost my first baby during World War II," she says, again gazing out the window. "I woke up one morning with a terrible pain in my stomach, and blood covering the sheets."

  "Was it Edmond's baby?" I blurt out.

  A twitch twists her cheek, and she squeezes my knee. "Dear Edmond. Yes it was his."

  The thought of him dying under machine gun fire on D-Day, just as his only child died in the womb is unbearable, but I ask anyway, "Did you love him very much?"

  "I did and I still do," she says and smiles sadly, the years melting away from her face.

  "How can you still love him?" The thought alone chokes me, and here she is looking like Edmond just walked into the room, ready to whisk her away and marry her.

  "I accepted that it could never be, Gail. I've lived a good long life, and Edmond was a part of it, if only for a short while. It makes me glad to know that."

  None of what she's saying makes any sense to me. I want to erase Scott from my thoughts, and the day I never think of him again will be the happiest of my life.

  "Would you like to see him?"

  I gasp, sure she's talking about Scott, and I'm angry because the answer is yes. But she knows nothing about Scott, and she never will.

  "Sure," I mutter and stand up, ready to bring her the photo album she keeps in the top drawer of a pitch black, gleaming dresser. The album is a giant, leather bound thing, with silver flowers worked into the covers and it's filled with black and white photos of her living it up with the Rockefellers, and Vanderbilts, and who knows which other old money families, out in the Hamptons.

  She shakes her head as I lift it from the drawer. "Not there, in the nightstand. It's in a little leather case."

  I rummage through the crosswords, bits of paper and other odds and ends in the drawer before I finally find it. The young man staring at me is wearing a uniform, his eyes scared and lost, begging me to tell him he can come home. But his mouth is set in a firm straight line, accepting his fate. To my one and only, Love Ed, is written in fading black ink on the back.

  Tears are trickling down my cheeks and I'm frozen still, just staring at those words, the weight of his death crushing me.

  "Oh, come now, Gail," Gran says, her voice stern and commanding. "Life is to be faced straight on, with your head held high, come what may. You know that."

  I wipe away my tears and walk over to her, handing her the photo. "Would you have married him, if he came back?"

  She takes the photo. "He wouldn't have me. He told me to forget all about him when he enlisted, but he sent me this photo later. How it rankled."

  She sets it against the vase of flowers on the table and gazes at it. "But his rejection helped me get through it. Old money does not marry the help, after all."

  "How can you still say that?"

  There's a twinkle in her eyes. "It's how I was raised, Gail. My parents would never have allowed me to marry Edmond, and I did love your grandfather. We had a happy life together. But in time, I came to realize Edmond was simply trying to do me a favor. He loved me still, but knew we could never be together, so he let me go."

  I don't reply. All this talk of love, and happiness, is making me shake, unable to sit still. I get up and open the window. "Would you like to go for a walk in the garden?"

  Gran shakes her head. "Not today, I might fall. I don't feel very steady today."

  Neither do I. And Mom might be awake now.

  "I should go now," I say and pick up my purse. "Before the traffic gets too bad. But I'll come pick you up on Sunday and take you to see Mom."

  "On second thought, maybe Sunday is not the best. Let's phone first and see," Gran says, not meeting my gaze.

  "Fine," I say and kiss her cheek. I expected her to say it, but it still hurts. Gran's so lucky, being able to pretend the world beyond these four walls doesn't exist.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Come on, Gail, it will be fun." For the last fifteen minutes, Kate has been convincing me to go with her to see our friend Tanya sing. It's Saturday, and mom has been up since lunch. Dad's with her now.

  "I'd rather stay at home tonight," I mutter.

  "Nonsense, Gail. It will just be for an hour or two. I don't want to go alone, and I promised Tanya we'd be there," Kate whines.

  I can't believe she'd promise Tanya something like that, and I think she's probably lying, since Tanya hasn't called me about it at all. But maybe I should go. I've known Tanya since kindergarten and she's been having a really hard time trying to convince her parents to support her music career these last few years.

  "Fine," I say. "I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes."

  "Great," Kate says and I can hear the relief in her voice. "Can we take your car? Brandon has mine."

  "Sure." I'd rather have my car anyway, so I can get home easily if I have to.

  I dress casually in my skinny jeans and trench coat, forgoing heels for flats. The leather is hard from my walk in the ocean the day before yesterday, but at least they're dry.

  I sit in my car in Kate's driveway for ten minutes before she finally comes out wearing a tight black dress and shiny stilettos, smelling like a flower shop.

  "Maybe I'm underdressed?" I say once she slides into the car.

  I've never been to the club Tanya's performing at. It's on a beach about eight miles from my house and I have no idea who goes there, but since Tanya will be performing her folky tunes, I'd assumed it'd be a laid back sort of place.

  Kate waves her hand through the air di
smissively, and types the address into the GPS. "Don't worry about it. I might go into the city later, but you're dressed fine for Tanya's performance."

  "So, why does Brandon have your car?" I ask. "Didn't he just get a new one for his birthday?"

  She whips sideways to face me. "Oh my God, didn't I tell you. It got stolen."

  "No, that's terrible."

  "Yeah, last Wednesday when he was in the city," Kate says. "I told him so many times not to park that thing on the street. It's like a magnet for thieves."

  Brandon was beyond excited to get that car, and as much as he's been annoying me lately with his advances I feel sorry for him. "But didn't it have like voice recognition security, or something?"

  "According to the cops, that's not so hard to break at all. They probably had someone watching him, maybe even recording his voice," Kate explains and shudders. "Imagine that, car thieves stalking you."

  "That would be awful," I say.

  "Anyway," Kate continues. "The cops also told him he's probably never going to see it again. Brandon's been absolutely livid these last few days, demanding to speak to the Commissioner and whatnot. But no one is taking it very seriously. He was asking for it."

  "That's a terrible thing to say."

  "What, he'll get a new one, you know that. He's just making this big fuss so mom will give him the money sooner rather than later." Kate retorts. "How's your mom, Gail?"

  The swift change of subject and its direction make the road spin before me.

  "Not so great," I mutter, clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. "We took her to the hospital on Sunday."

  Or rather, Dad did. I was too busy making my crazy mistake with Scott.

  "So she's there now?"

  "No, they sent her home. Nothing they can do for her anymore."

  Kate sighs loudly and pats my leg. "I'm so sorry for you, Gail. I really am. It just breaks my heart."

  Hot tears are constricting my throat, so I just nod and focus on the driving, allowing nothing else to enter my mind.

  The parking lot by the club is packed, but I manage to find a spot at the edge right under a street lamp.

  "That's a good spot," Kate says. "Less chance it will get stolen."

  I nod in agreement, trying not to imagine my car getting stolen.

  Groups of people are talking loudly all over the parking lot, but a haunting, sweet voice echoes through the open doors.

  "On no, she's already on," Kate says and pulls me along, jogging to the club. She pays for both of us to get in.

  The place is pretty full so we have to stand to watch Tanya play. She's got a beautiful, pure voice and she's performing solo tonight, just her and her acoustic guitar. Her voice is like a soft breeze on a summer's evening, melodic and soothing, and I lose myself in the feeling of safety and peace it evokes. It has the same effect on most of the others in the club, they're just staring at her, listening, swaying gently. I lean against the back wall, and close my eyes. She's singing of a love affair, ended forever. Suddenly her voice changes pitch, the tempo increasing as though a storm has come. My heart thunders to life, and tears well behind my closed eye lids. Then the crowd erupts in a booming applause.

  "I love that song," Kate says over the noise, still clapping along. "Do you want a drink?"

  I open my eyes and scan the bar, which is packed with people. I'm just about to tell Kate it would take too long to get a drink, when I see him. Scott, with a tall, gorgeous girl hanging on him, whispering something into his ear. Her skin shines gold in the half light over the bar, and she's all curves, all legs, wearing a dress even tighter than Kate's. He really didn't wait long before moving on. What was all that talk about wanting to get to know me just two days ago?

  My face is burning, my hands fists, my nails digging painfully into my palms. Up on stage, Tanya is singing a fast paced song, stirring the anger in my chest.

  "So do you?" Kate asks impatiently and follows my gaze to the bar. "Wait, isn't that my gardener? I guess we just solved the mystery of why he wouldn't get with you."

  "What makes you think he didn't?"

  She's looking at Scott's date, but her eyes snap to mine as I say it.

  "Seriously, that dog. And now he's here with his girlfriend."

  "And I'm going to tell him just what I think of that."

  I take a step towards the bar, but Kate pulls me back. "That's not the best idea, Gail. Let's just stay here and wait until he sees you. Besides, I don't really get what you see in him. Sure he's got that rugged, outdoorsy look going on, but is he really your type?"

  I shake off her arm, gaping at her. "Obviously he is."

  "I just mean, you can't really compete with a girl like that." She smiles at the outrage and hurt that must be plastered on my face. How can she talk to me like that? "Relax. Even if I walked over there right now, none of those guys gawking at her would spare me a second glance. I just don't want you to get hurt."

  "You're making absolutely no sense, Kate."

  I stalk away toward the bar, pushing my way through the crowd. I have no idea what I'll say to Scott when I reach him, but he will know what I think of his lies.

  The path I'm forced to take through the crowd makes me approach them from the back. Scott's got his arm wrapped around his date's waist, palm on her hip. She leans in and whispers something else in his ear, making him turn to her and smile. I'm right behind them now, and he still hasn't seen me.

  "So, Scott, is this another girl you want to get to know better?" I say over the music, making several people at the bar turn to me. I don't care.

  Scott releases her and they both turn to me. Her eyes are a golden brown, and her hair hangs down the sides of her face in lazy, caramel colored curls.

  "Gail?" Scott says.

  "Gail?" she echoes, and looks me up and down, one side of her perfectly shaped lips curled up. One of her red-nailed, perfectly manicured hands is resting protectively on Scott's shoulder. "Is this the girl—?

  "So?" I speak right over her.

  "I don't see how that concerns you, Gail," Scott says, his eyes black, his gaze gripping my throat. "You told me to get lost."

  Tears of frustration are building in my throat. I open my mouth to retort, but find I absolutely don't know what to say.

  "Really, Scott…" his date says and snatches her hand off his shoulder.

  "You could have told me you have a girlfriend." I finally find my voice. "Then I wouldn't have fucked you."

  Her face is a frozen mask of shock, mouth open, eyes wide. Any moment now, she'll explode.

  "We should go now, Gail," Kate whispers in my ear. I had no idea she was standing right behind me.

  A dark haired man leans sideways from the bar toward Scott's date. "I think that was your cue to get really mad, Janine."

  "Shut up, Mike," Janine says and looks at Scott, who's still staring at me, his gaze making me shiver. I'm stuck waiting for Janine to yell at him, or at me, and break this tension, but she's doing neither of those things.

  The dark haired man turns all the way in his chair to look at me too, but his eyes freeze on Kate.

  "Mark?" she chirps behind me, and he blushes.

  "Kate, how nice of you to finally notice me," he says.

  She peels away from me and takes a few steps toward him. "I told you I was busy tonight. Did you follow me here?"

  "Yes, I did. I couldn't stay away."

  I feel Scott's gaze leave me. It's fixed on the dark haired guy now, his eyes black, shooting pure hatred. "What the fuck, Mike?"

  Janine turns to Mike too, her eyes narrowed. "Why did she call you Mark, Mike?"

  But neither Kate nor Mark heard any of it. They're kissing wildly, people on either side of them edging away.

  They finally break for air, and talk for a bit. Then Kate smiles at me, her eyes soft. "I'm going to take off now. You're alright getting home?"

  "No wait…" I say, but he's already pulling her through the crowd.

  Scott is gla
ring at them. Then he fixes his eyes on me, his gaze every bit as cold and menacing as that night when he threw me out of his apartment. "Why don't you just leave too, for once."

  "You can't tell me what to do!" I yell, fully aware I sound like a ten year old girl, but powerless to stop it.

  People turn, but I don't really see them through the tears welling in my eyes. I won't cry in front of Scott. I won't give him the satisfaction.

  I twirl around and elbow my way through the crowd, taking the most direct path to the exit. Someone spills their beer all over my shirt, but it hardly matters. I'm a total mess anyway.

  Outside it's raining in sheets, and the water douses me as soon as I emerge from the club, cooling my hot tears. Icy water sloshes in my shoes as I run to my car. I floor the gas, but the car moves forward not back. I whip my face forward, right into the way of the exploding airbag. My nose feels like it's broken in a thousand places, the sharp, stinging pain shooting straight into my brain. Hot blood erupts from my nose and flows down to my lips, coppery and salty.

  Someone pulls open my car door and then Scott is crouching beside me. He's got the hood of his windbreaker on, and drops of water are falling off the edge. His eyes are flashing across my face.

  "Are you hurt?"

  I wipe the blood on the sleeve of my coat, wincing as more pain erupts in my nose.

  "Maybe we should call an ambulance," Janine says, leaning in to peer at me too, holding her jacket over her head.

  "No," I mumble, craning my head back and pinching my nose together. "I'm fine. I just got hit by the air bag."

  I move to exit the car and inspect the damage. Scott takes my arm to help me, but I wriggle away. None of this would have happened if not for him.

  The front of my car had smashed right into the lamp post. A crowd has gathered despite the rain, and they're gawking at me like I'm on stage. I turn back toward my car so I don't have to see them. At least blood is no longer flowing from my nose.

  "It's alright, we got this!" Janine yells to them, then leans closer to me. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"