I clung to her. “Every woman has, so far.”
This time, Erica pulled me hard enough to stop me from slipping farther, then several times more, and with each pull she said one word, “I’m . . . not . . . every . . . woman.”
She was right about that.
She managed to pull me forward a few inches away from the edge before having to adjust her grip. When she let go of my arms, I felt the pain where her fingers had dug into my skin, right through my shirt. Regretfully, I launched a scream into her ear, “Fuck!”, and I could feel myself start to slip backward again. I said, “If I go, don’t you dare fall with me. I don’t need you falling on top of me!”
Erica said, “I won’t fall for you. Fucking just hold on!”
I won’t fall for you?
I fucking just held on. It was then that I thought, Of course it’s her. Who else could it ever be for me? Was I in love with Erica? Had my world really tipped upside down and was I really left hanging by my fingernails like this? I was not only hanging from the edge of this roof. I could not feel this for her. I would not continue feeling this. But what else could I do? The crazy thought occurred to me, Could I let go?
Maybe for my brother? Judging by the way I was fighting, No, I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t enough of a hero to give up on life for anyone, even Vince. So, I hung on like that stupid old poster with the orange kitty that says: “Hang On, Friday is Coming!”—only I was dangling from a roof instead of a tree limb, desperate to have a life that could never be mine.
As I was dangling there, I wasn’t just desperate to live. I thought, Even if I get off this roof in once piece, there will be no way home from this, there will only be running away—and I doubted I had the strength to even do that. I would be dangling from this roof forever, now that I knew this. Even if I was saved, I was lost. And yet, I was fighting to live, as hard as she was fighting to save me.
Erica gave a gut-wrenching scream and yanked me up far enough so I finally could hook one foot onto the edge of the roof, then I kicked wildly with the other as she pulled once more, and somehow she managed to pull me over the edge.
I had been pulled over the edge, for sure.
I kept kicking and she kept pulling me long after she needed to, until I finally said, “I’m up, I’m up! You can stop!” and Erica released both of my arms and embraced me hard and I held on to her as if my life still depended on it.
We were both breathing against each other, ragged, deeply, and in exactly matched gasps, so I could barely hear her whisper as she rocked me back and forth in the rain, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you.”
I loved her. This time it wasn’t a voice inside telling me. It was just me admitting it: I loved Erica. I felt a deep tremble in her body against me, and I reminded myself her nerves had to be more shot than mine; she had done the heavy lifting, after all.
I tried to pull away from her, but even after saving me, she still had the strength to hold on, hard, and I relented. Just for another second, I thought, I’ll hold on to her for just another second; she may have saved me from a broken neck, or even saved my life. I could have been dead. And then my next thought: Never to have felt this way again, never to feel her again. And then the selfish thought: Just let me have a few more seconds of her warmth and strength before I pull away. I had almost fallen off a roof, after all.
I felt Erica unwrap her arms from me and move her hands to my face, pulling me away just far enough to look me in the eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the invitation of this made me want to kiss her, so I tried to look away, but she was holding both sides of my face now, so I was unable to avoid looking anywhere else.
“Do you think about me?” she asked. What a question. Such an odd thing to ask on top of a roof during a powerful storm. A very powerful storm.
I couldn’t lie; she had me by the face. And in one breath I said, “Of course I do.”
I had planned for my answer to come out as a casual dismissal of her question, but it didn’t. It came out as I felt it. From the gut. Of course I think about you. Of course I do.
Erica pulled my face toward her and I managed to say “No, don’t,” just before she kissed me. We kissed just once, and for only a few seconds, but the heat of it made the lightning bolt that followed seem a weak little echo. I came to my senses and pulled myself from her warm mouth, but now I was fighting her strength, instead of being saved by it.
I said what we both knew, “Vince loves you, and I love my brother.”
“What about who I love?” she asked, her words creating an infuriating hope flooding into my stupid heart. Could it please be true? Then, oh no, it can’t be true. I can’t want this, she can’t also feel this.
Erica said, “This thing with you, with us, it’s been happening for so long, maybe even before I was with Vince, back when it was just us.”
Even through the rain, I could see that her eyes were filling, and I wanted to stop her pain. And I wanted to kiss her again. But there was one thing I wanted more than this, and that was not to break my brother’s heart.
“But it isn’t just us,” I said, and I remembered my dream, my brother’s hurt still so vividly clear. I pulled back to let a sheet of water rain between us, doing absolutely nothing to cool the heat. We were both breathing as heavily from her revelation as from exhaustion. I wanted her. I could never have her. And now I knew she wanted me.
Erica said, “Back then, I didn’t understand what I was feeling, I was so confused by it—”
“Maybe you’re still confused.”
“No,” she said, and she had me by both sides of my face again, pulling me so close to her face again. “Marie, you have no idea how sure I am.” Then she slowly closed the space between us, the curtain of rain thinning as I braced for the electric current to hit my lips again, hoping the lightning would hit me at the same time, taking me out, since I was powerless to stop this.
“Mare!”
The shout came from directly below us. I couldn’t see him, but it was Vince. His voice made us both jerk back from each other, though our eyes never parted. I was staring at Erica as I shouted back to him, “We’re up here, we’re OK! Everything’s OK now!” I backed away from Erica like a crab who had been given a chance to escape from a trap, and my heart broke as she watched me with the most wounded expression I had ever seen.
Vince yelled up, “Jesus, somebody’s cooler just floated by! Mare, Erica! You guys need to forget the roof and get down here before you get struck by lightning!”
Erica said just loud enough for me to hear, “I said I wouldn’t let you go.”
“You have to,” I said.
Erica didn’t ask for things she didn’t get, she didn’t try for things she didn’t win, she didn’t want things she couldn’t have. She was not that kind of woman. She took what she wanted and she probably could have taken me if I hadn’t lied to her right then.
“I’m sorry, Erica. I was scared. I almost fell off the damned roof and you saved me. It’s not just my brother. I . . . don’t want this.”
Erica studied my face as I heard Vince moving tables down below us. To make sure she understood me, I pounded it home as my gut twisted in knots, “I’m already in love with someone I can’t have.” And of course Erica thought I meant Lorn, and so I didn’t have to lie, since I really didn’t want this (because of Vince) and I really was in love with someone I couldn’t have (her).
I really was so screwed.
I imagined Erica was not a woman who had ever heard anyone didn’t want her before, so I feared she would guess how ridiculous this was. She had to know how impossible it was for this to be true. Who wouldn’t want her? Yet, the shattered look on her face, the one that was killing me, said she believed it, and I was left feeling like I was falling off the roof again. And what I really wanted was to take it all back. I wanted to tell her, Of course it isn’t true. I wished I could tell her that I wanted her more than anything in the world. Anything in the world, except hurting my brother.
Vince called back up to us once more, his voice finding a break in the storm. “You both need to get down here, now!” Erica finally looked away from me, so I could find the strength to crawl the rest of the distance away from her.
Twenty-Three
MILF’s, Meatballs & Mistakes
It was opening night, and while Dove Gaio Mangia wasn’t due to open for another hour, the smell of Lisa’s giant vat of meatballs and half-dozen trays of lasagna were filling the hall. People were waiting patiently, the smell keeping them happy with the promise of an amazing feast. They were grateful to be occupying any table at all, since there was already a line forming for Seating Two.
I had asked Lisa what she would do about switching from Seating One to Seating Two: “What if someone isn’t done with dinner?” Lisa said she’d toss a To-Go box at their heads and wish them a pleasant walk back to their campsites. This seemed a reasonable solution for the price.
Vince and Uncle Freddie were looking handsome in their suits for the opening night, which clashed with the bulk of the clientele, who came to dinner in typical camp garb of shorts and t-shirts. Except for a stray feather boa or two on a few of Eddie’s friends, Vince and Uncle Freddie were the most dapper of the evening. (Lisa had insisted they be, even though she wore her signature army green cargo shorts with multi pockets and her favorite “My Girlfriend Is Hotter Than Your Honor Student” T-shirt.) Erica was nowhere to be seen, and I assumed, miserably, she wanted to avoid me, too.
Lisa was a master in the kitchen, and anyone who went into the kitchen looking to help, was told to stand back and not get in her way. It was an unspoken agreement that we handled everything else but the food was entirely my sister’s territory. I was convinced she had a kitchen timer built in her head, and I thought of this again as I watched her jump from giant vat to pot to pan to skillet to oven, just at the right moment.
I stood a safe distance from the entryway, watching her start another pan of tomato sauce—or gravy, as Uncle Freddie called it. She held a long row of pepperoni slices like a stack of poker chips and flicked them into the pan like a casino dealer, starting at the outer edge and working her way in to the center, the disks just barely overlapping, each one placed exactly the same distance as the one before it.
When we were kids we watched our Aunt Aggie do this, and we said she was doing The Wizard of Oz since the pepperoni pattern looked like the perfect yellow brick spiral. Lisa let the pepperoni simmer, scenting the partially open-air kitchen with its spicy steam, before moving on to prepare another dish.
“Remember when Lisa got dumped by that girl Rhonda?” Vince asked.
He was right behind me, and I hadn’t meant to jump when hearing his voice. I was relieved he sounded normal. He seemed to have no idea my world had cracked in two: the side with Vince on it, and the side with Erica, and a treacherous chasm with a weak tarp pouch overfilled with stormy water stretched dangerously in between. With the earth still cracking beneath my feet, I had an idea how wide that chasm would get.
“I remember,” I said, laughing too enthusiastically. Oddly, I had been thinking of that just a few minutes ago when Lisa was readying the main buffet table.
Lisa had thrown a surprise shower for her former girlfriend, Rhonda, who unfortunately had gained a sudden 40 pounds over the winter she dated Lisa. For some reason, Lisa thought inviting everyone over to a surprise buffet dinner and calling it “Rhonda’s Food-Baby Shower” was a good idea.
Rhonda was always reasonable when it came to not wasting food, so she stayed for the dinner and a double helping of dessert, but then she dumped Lisa with the smell of Lisa’s delectable anise egg biscuits still on her breath.
Vince asked, “Where’s Erica?”
“I haven’t seen her,” I said, my heart pounding like a convict who was about to have her escape hole discovered behind a bathing suit poster of Farrah Fawcett.
He said, “So, listen, I think there’s something going on.”
I spun around to him, “What?” I said, panic rising in my voice, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Vince looked at me, totally confused, then pointed to the table closest to the kitchen, where a woman was seated with her son. They were both waving at Lisa, who had not missed this. She was the same woman who had found her little boy, Buddy, fishing with Lisa, and who had invited Lisa to her trailer for lunch.
Vince said, “Lisa is trying to score with someone that doesn’t play for her team.”
“She loves a challenge,” I said, feeling relieved and guilty.
Vince mumbled, “I hate challenges.”
When he patted me on the back, I said, “Ditto.”
Lisa rushed a small dish of spaghetti and two meatballs over to us, fanning it to cool it a bit before handing it to Vince.
“Who’s that for?” Vince and I asked at the same time.
Lisa answered, “Give it to the little boy with the hot MILF at table two.”
Vince said, “I thought everything was buffet-style?” but Lisa ignored him, shoving the steaming dish into his hands. “Warn the MILF it’s very hot.”
He grinned, “I should definitely warn her.”
“I’ll kick your ass,” Lisa said. Then she noticed the stacks of small plates had not been moved to the buffet table and yelled over to Eddie, “You forgot the dessert plates, you little fruit.” He cheerfully flitted by her as if she had asked perfectly nicely and she yelled after him, “When you’re done, help us get ready in the back!” Then she snorted to me, “I can’t imagine how many times he’s been told that.”
Lisa went back to her stove to unload the first steaming trays of lasagna as I watched Vince introduce himself to the MILF. He crouched down next to the boy and put the plate in front of him, but the boy looked troubled. Without missing a beat, Vince took his fork and cleared off a large amount of sauce to the side of his plate, then tossed the spaghetti a few times until it was just barely sauced, the only way he used to eat spaghetti when he was a boy. The boy smiled, reached for the fork, and Vince smiled at him as the little guy dug in.
The MILF thanked Vince and appeared to ask him if he would like to sit, but Vince politely refused, and pointed out that the dish was from his sister the chef, and the MILF thanked Lisa with another enthused wave. Lisa said under her breath so I could hear, “Oh, honey, stop waving, rest those pretty hands, you’ll need them later.”
Dinner was a huge success, the gay boys moaning orgasmic appreciation over each delicate bite they took. Their plates were scarcely filled, so as not to risk their tiny waistlines. By contrast, the lesbians asked for extra To Go boxes and several hit the buffet for refills before reluctantly abandoning their tables to the anxious Seating Two campers. The line was now wrapped around the hall, indicating that Seating Two would be another full house.
Erica was still nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, signs of the near catastrophe from the storm last night were barely visible: a few drying tarps out by the campfire, and my shaking hands every time I let my mind wander.
After the second round of dinner was completed, Erica finally came in as we began to transform the dining hall for the rest of the evening so the gay boys could have their fun and put on a G-rated show. I looked away as Erica greeted everyone and busied myself moving tables. Could I get away with not looking at her all night? I attempted to move a large table one side at a time and didn’t notice it was Erica who grabbed the other end, so when I finally looked up, I made an audible gasp.
“Did I scare you?” she asked.
Why, yes, you did, I wanted to say . . . very, very much.
There was a long pause before I could say, “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. She looked at me as if I should have more to say, but I had nothing. “This table needs to be against the wall.” We moved the table together and when I released my end so I could get some distance from her, I noticed she still had her end raised from the ground.
“You should let it go now,” I said.
She stayed still, lookin
g hurt. Specifically, she looked like I was hurting her. She also looked beautiful, which hurt me. Touché, I thought.
She finally lowered her end of the table and walked away. I watched her safely from a distance as she did a final check on the wiring for the sound system, while all I could do was lean heavily on the table we had just moved, exhausted. I looked across the room in time to see that Vince was also leaning on a table, also looking at Erica, also looking hurt. I left the hall and was relieved by the coolness and privacy of night, content to be swallowed up by the darkness. I rested my head against the side of the rec hall and closed my eyes.
How would I ever get myself out of this one?
Sadly, this was one of those times when you ask the universe a question and the universe answers you. Not the best answer, certainly, but that universe was pretty fucking funny sometimes. When I opened my eyes, Lorn Elaine was standing in front of me. Very close.
Lorn said, “I saw Erica and she said you just slipped out back. Are you OK?”
I had forgotten how her voice used to affect me, and my exhausted heart started pounding. I felt relieved by it, hoping it was for Lorn, but fearing it was more likely from the mention of Erica’s name—and the fact that she had been watching me.
“I just needed to take a moment. Lisa works us to death,” I said, but I could see she doubted this was the reason I was faking a horizontal snooze against a spider-covered wall. “Why did you come back?” I asked her.
“I never really left. I just gave you some time. I’m here so we can talk about this . . . huge mistake I made.”
I sighed. “Oh, there have been so many mistakes since then,” I said coldly. “A few months ago, I would have been thrilled to hear you say that.”
“What’s happened since then?”
“Nothing,” I said, defensive, “nothing at all. I’m still the same.”
“Still in love with me?” she asked.
When I didn’t answer, she studied my face and said, “Am I too late? You said there wasn’t anyone else?”
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