Sail (Wake #2)

by M. Mabie

  Girlfriend. Was I his girlfriend?

  “What did you call me?” I asked, as I followed him out and took the towel he offered me.

  “I called you my girlfriend,” he answered, but he kept moving like the whole world hadn’t just shifted.

  Was that where we were? Was it even possible?

  After all this time, after everything, I was overwhelmed by that one tiny word. I felt myself getting choked up and tried not to get silly emotional over it. But it really hit me at that moment.

  We’d been given another shot. No. We’d earned our shot.

  Where other couples were lucky to have met and effortlessly moved from strangers into such trivial roles as boyfriend and girlfriend, we had to fight like hell—just for the titles. It wasn’t a huge thing, and I was sure I was overreacting, but I didn’t stand a chance at quelling the happiness that surged through me.

  I wrapped an extra towel around my hair. When I stood up, eyes beginning to sting from the first happy tears I’d cried, in I didn’t know how long, he caught me. My chin quivered, but I smiled brightly.

  “Now, what’s this? Are you crying?” He ran a thumb under my eye, which only intensified the moment. He was so…so…exactly what I wanted.

  “No,” I disputed, but nodded my head yes. I’d never cried from pride, but that was how I felt. Proud. I was proud to be claimed like that by him.

  Then the thought hit me, I couldn’t be all-the-way his.

  Regardless of not wearing the ring, or parking in the same driveway after work, the truth was, I was still married to Grant. Accepting the precious title of Casey’s girlfriend didn’t seem right yet.

  My happy tears mixed with my frustrated tears. It was a lucky thing both kinds were clear. He couldn’t tell them apart.

  “Why are you not crying then?” he asked, humoring me.

  “I’m not crying because you called me your girlfriend.” I sat down on top of the toilet lid. “And I’m not crying because you’re so sweet and just wiped a tear—that wasn’t really there, by the way—off my cheek. But mostly, I’m not crying because I’m sick of waiting to actually deserve being called that.” I tucked my chin onto my chest and sat there feeling foolish and hyper-emotional, maybe a little hormonal—as it was about that time of the month.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not crying.” He squatted in front of me.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m being stupid.”

  “Hey, come on,” he cajoled.

  “I’m sorry,” I said and took a big breath through my nose and blew a raspberry out my mouth. “I just want it so bad. You know?”

  Then my chin shook again. Damn chin.

  “Tell me something, do I deserve to be your boyfriend?”

  I raised my head to look at him, finding compassion and humor in his expression.

  I answered, “Yes, you deserve more than that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you make me feel so cared for and you never let me down.”

  “Those are good reasons—a little off—but I’ll take them. And when you look into the future, what do you see?”

  My knee bounced and I fought the urge to say so many things. I’d never really allowed myself to picture specifics. I mostly wished for him. “I see you.”

  “And?” He steadied my leg and then took my hands in his. “What else?”

  “I don’t know? What do you see?”

  “Oh, I see lots of things,” he confirmed. “Maybe it’s weird, but I’ve always imagined a future with you.”

  “Like what?”

  “It changes,” he said. “Where we live. What you’ll look like when you’re old. The places we’ll travel to. Sometimes I wonder what kind of mother you’ll be, like when I see pictures of you and Foster.” He kissed my knuckles.

  “Really?”

  “Yep. When I was with Micah on the way to the hospital, I thought about what you’d be like in labor, too. I’ve pictured what you’d look like in a wedding gown. And I’ve pictured you naked almost everywhere.”

  “You’ve already seen me in a wedding gown,” I reminded him. The truth hurt, but it was our truth and we were learning to deal with the pain.

  He shrugged. “Depends on what you call a wedding.”

  Damn, if that wasn’t a good point. I nodded in agreement.

  “In my mind, you don’t wear white when we get married. God, I sound like a woman.”

  “Kind of,” I teased and bumped my knee into him in jest. “But I like it. White’s a little predictable. And I’m not really eligible for white anyway. It would be my second wedding.”

  “Not to me.”

  Even though I’d love to be Casey’s wife, I didn’t know if I could ever go through another wedding. Not that any of my first wedding felt like mine; my mom planned almost all of it and I didn’t pay attention to any of the details. I was too distracted.

  Thinking back about the planning of my wedding, I could see my lack of participation in the planning of it matched my lack of participation in my relationship with Grant. Distracted? I wasn’t even involved. I hadn’t been invested in a future with Grant. Yet a future with Casey was more appealing than I ever thought possible.

  “I like the way your future looks,” I said anyway.

  “Good. Then I’ll share it with you. But for now, you’re my girlfriend. Now give me a kiss and get up.” His lips brushed against mine and once again, he’d eased my mind.

  We dressed and he made us grilled cheese sandwiches for an early lunch. It rained all day, and since he was taking me out that night, we hung out and watched the Discovery Channel and napped.

  It was an excellent way to spend a rainy Saturday in Seattle.

  My mom called just as I was putting in my earrings, and was almost ready leave for our night out.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie. How’s your day?” Her greeting was becoming the normal way we started our phones calls. She was worried.

  I gave my commonplace answer. “I’m good.” Then I gave it a little more thought. I didn’t have to hide that I was with Casey anymore. “No, actually, I’m really good. Casey’s here for Valentine’s Day.” Again it was strange, but wonderful telling the truth—or maybe it was the affirmation of saying it to somebody out loud.

  “He is? Okay, well then I won’t keep you. I was just calling to see what you were doing for Valentine’s Day anyhow and invite you to dinner with us.”

  “Oh, thank you.” I laughed. “I appreciate the invitation, Mom. But you and Dad go have some fun.”

  “You too, Blake.” She paused for a second like she wanted to say something more. Then she simply said, “Happy Valentine’s day, sweetheart.”

  What a difference a year truly made. At the same time the year before, I thought I was saying goodbye to Casey forever. Thank goodness things don’t always turn out like you predict they will.

  Life’s crazy like that, and even more so with a man like Casey. He let me spend all that time getting dolled up, and then ended up taking me to a skating rink.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked as we stood in line at the skate counter to rent pairs for both of us.

  “I am absolutely not kidding. Can you skate?”

  “As a kid I could, but as an adult? Hell, I have no idea,” I admitted. I didn’t feel that confident.

  I glanced around and saw young, teenage couples, who’d no doubt met there for a sweethearts rendezvous. It was pretty charming. So many young couples holding hands and awkwardly fumbling around on eight wheels.

  It was actually kind of perfect.

  “What made you think of this?” I asked, as we sat on a bench near the side of the rink.

  “When I was younger we used to go almost every Saturday night. My friends always had girlfriends, but I never really got into them at that age. So I thought, it’s never too late. You’re my new girlfriend and we’re both kinda fumbling our way through this thing. Just like these little fuckers.”

  He tied his laces an
d when he was finished, I propped my skate up on his knee for him to tie mine.

  He said, “This morning got me thinking. We’re both so unsure. So are all of them.” He nodded to the junior high aged kids doing laps, hand in hand to awful pop music. “We don’t know much more than they do, as I see it. Rolling around trying not to fall down and look dumb. Boyfriends and girlfriends. Young love. Making out in dark corners at the end of the night. Which we won’t do here. They don’t need to see that—we’ve got that part down to an art form.”

  I switched legs, crossing my left one over my right and onto his jean-clad lap. As he worked on my other skate, he added, “We’re going to fall down most likely. It might hurt. That’s nothing new for us. But we’ll help each other up from here out.”

  I full-on swooned, and I, just like the tween girls going round-and-round with their boyfriends, felt the nervous excitement only a beginning can give you.

  “I like you,” I confessed and batted my eyes at him.

  “Blake, officially, will you go out with me?” he requested and bobbed his head around like a shy, squeaky voice boy. “I think you’re hot and funny and I was just kinda hoping you’d want to be my girlfriend. Officially.” It was hilarious and I loved him even more.

  “Gee, Casey, I think you’re hot and funny, too.” I brought my mouth to his, and before I kissed him I said, “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend. I love you.” I sealed the promise with our first official kiss as a couple. And in true junior high fashion there was gratuitous tongue.

  We skated and laughed at ourselves. I did better than he did, which was very surprising. Maybe he was doing it on purpose to make all the young dudes look cool, as they sped by the hot older guy, flat on his ass. Maybe he just liked looking up my skirt, which he did every single time. It didn’t matter though, because when he fell I helped him up.

  And wasn’t that what relationships were all about? Helping the other be their best, and seeing them through when they weren’t? Well, and letting your boyfriend look up your skirt.

  Although it wasn’t what I’d expected for our Valentine’s date, we had a great time. We acted like we were thirteen, eating pizza and drinking soda. We shut the place down. I loved how it was unexpected and quirky, because it was memorable and totally all us.

  Casey left as planned on Sunday and flew to Houston.

  I hated watching the cab pull away with him, but he insisted I didn’t take him to the airport. After he left, I was pleased to find his scent on my couch and I lay there thinking of him and watched sappy romantic comedies all evening.

  Before I went to bed, I emailed Grant about the situation with Dr. Rex. And I made a note to remind myself I needed to be out of the apartment by five the next day for the showing.

  I lay in my bed, thinking about the weekend and how comfortable it was having Casey in my space. I couldn’t wait until he came back.

  He text when he got settled at his hotel.

  Casey: I’m here. I sat next to a guy who smelled like a Bob Marley concert. Now, I just want to go to a Bob Marley concert. LOL

  I could still hear him laugh.

  Me: Ha Puff. Puff. Pass.

  Casey: Thanks for having me over. I like sleepovers at your place.

  Me: I liked having you here. I’m already in bed. You wore me out.

  Casey: Good. Sleep well. I’ll call you tomorrow. Miss me.

  Me: Miss me too. Goodnight.

  Casey: Always.

  I fell asleep and dreamed of Casey with dreadlocks. They didn’t look that bad, but I think he could probably pull off any look. I reveled in the notion that I might be around for all of the rest of them.

  Monday, March 29, 2010

  EVEN THOUGH WE WEREN’T close in proximity, it was like we were. I got off on talking to her through every mood she possessed. I was quickly learning all of them. A few I was afraid of. I thought I knew her, but in those days apart, I learned so much more.

  Having the elephant in the room for so long, it was incredible how many other things we had to talk about with him gone.

  In those few weeks, I was busy. Really busy. My Texas meeting ended up being the biggest contract we’d ever got and they didn’t want to wait for anything. Marc and I discussed with more frequency buying a second brewery to keep up with demand and also make shipping easier. By then, we had a small fleet of trucks and we’d also hired three new salesmen.

  “Marc, I think we should look for a building in Seattle,” I told him on the phone one night from my hotel room in Austin.

  “We do have a lot of accounts in the PNW, which would free up a lot of production so the San Francisco branch could accommodate Texas and the south. And even though it’s a good idea, you’re not fooling me. I know what you’re trying to do.”

  “Who? Me?” I played innocent. It was obvious why I thought Seattle was the best location for the second Bay Brew location. Ask me if I gave a fuck. It made sense from every angle.

  “Yeah, you. Do you think you’ll move there, Casey?” Really, it didn’t matter where I lived as long as Blake was close and we were both happy. You could stick my ass in Siberia if she was there, too.

  “I don’t know. It just made sense. And if she wants to be there instead of San Francisco, in the future, that could be my home base.”

  I’d known him a long time. He was my partner, my mentor, and a just a good dude. I could talk to him.

  “Well, I hate to say it, but you are pulling more than your share of the weight. If being there keeps you happy, and keeps the contracts coming in, then I’ll make a trip up there and find us a warehouse.” I always knew I’d made the right decision working for that man. He was a no bullshit kind of guy. Marc was a straight shooter and if you approached him the same way, he appreciated the hell out of it. He said, “Actually, I’ve got some time. I’ll try to set something up in the next day or two. No use dicking around.”

  “Exactly, and maybe in a year or so we could branch out again. I think looking somewhere on the central east coast would be smart. Maybe even Nashville? It’s not on the coast, but it’s in the middle of everywhere on that side of the country.” Go big or go home. Bay Brewing was my life. I only imagined it growing and claiming more of the market nationwide.

  “I’ll have Aly look into it. She can crunch numbers and figure out something.”

  I hadn’t seen Aly for weeks. I’d only been back to my house three times in the month of March. I hadn’t seen anyone for that matter, and it looked like the next time I’d have a few days off would be around Foster’s first birthday.

  If I’d learned anything about traveling so much, it was as long as you make an effort, it doesn’t matter where you are. I still talked to someone in my family every day. And I talked to Blake—in some way—every few hours. But by the end of April, I would need a few days to call my own.

  I finished up the call with Marc, when I saw Blake’s call coming in.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “So check this out. There was another showing for the duplex this afternoon. I ran home to get my mom a pair of shoes and a purse I told her she could borrow after work, because I was coming here for dinner with them… Anyway, I’m in my closet when I hear my front door open. The showing wasn’t until six, but you’re supposed to be out way before that. Casey, it was Grant. He just walked right into my apartment.” She was speaking fast, like she often did when she was riled up about something—and with good reason.

  “He did what?”

  “He just came right in. I yelled for Dad, thinking it had to be him. Because he’s the only other person with a key. When I looked down my hall, Grant was standing there. It freaked me the fuck out.”

  “He can’t just come into your apartment like that.” The fucking bastard was really beginning to get on my nerves.

  First, after it was his idea to go to couples counseling, as a condition for him to sign the divorce papers—and after Dr. Rex finally got back—he didn’t even show up to the first few appointments, always w
ith the excuse he was busy and he’d try to make it to the next one.

  He was stalling was what he was doing. That fucker.

  “Well as it turns out, he can. I knew his dad was my landlord’s agent, but since you have to be gone during showings, I just figured I’d never have to see them.”

  “What did you say?” My pulse was racing. This cocksucker was grating on my last nerve. Even Blake admitted he wasn’t the same guy she’d met and dated. But she blamed herself and felt so guilty, feeling she was responsible for the change in his demeanor. My sympathy for him was fast dissolving.

  “I asked him what he was doing there and he told me he was showing the place for his dad today. And that since my car was there he thought he’d come on in,” she shrieked.

  “And then?” I needed to know everything. And as my mind listened to her re-tell what had happened, the other half of my mind was thinking of a solution.

  “I told him he shouldn’t have let himself in. He can’t just come in when he wants. That’s so messed up, Casey.”

  I didn’t think she was afraid of Grant, but I was starting to wonder if maybe she should be, at least, a little concerned. I’d only seen them together the one time. And no matter how deep down I tried to bury the image of him grabbing her by the arm, it floated right back up every time the conversation turned to him. I saw—with my own eyes—his lack of care for her that night.

  I refused to ignore her safety and it was time for me to do something.

  “You’re right. He can’t just come in. Are you at your mom and dad’s now? What did you do after that?” I couldn’t get enough information.

  “Yeah, I’m at Mom and Dad’s now. Okay. So, I got my shoes and purse and I asked him to wait outside until the people came to look at it. He said he wanted to talk, but I told him I had somewhere to be. That if he wanted to talk, he could show up at our appointments—that he asked for.”