Mourning Becomes Cassandra

by Christina Dudley

  To give myself time to pull it together, I went and fetched the step stool from the pantry, but when I climbed up on it, clutching Phyl’s Ugandan woven-raffia angel, Daniel was on his feet. “Here, you fool, let me do it. Just show me where you want it.” Grudgingly I pointed. After he hung it for me, he said casually, “So your grandmother liked birds?” Suspicious, I turned on the step ladder and found his blue eyes most disconcertingly just below my level. There was no nasty gleam in them, however, and I relaxed a little.

  “Why do you want to know?” I asked cautiously.

  Daniel gave a short laugh. “I’m not dying to know, to be honest, but you volunteered the information, and I’m trying to get to know you.”

  “But why?” I demanded, more aggressively this time. “Why do you suddenly want to get to know me?”

  “And why are you so damned bristly?” he countered. “Why can’t I want to talk to you?”

  Because it made no sense, for one thing. Mutely I handed him some sort of carved star and pointed to another high branch. Why, after months of alternating evasiveness and inappropriate flirtation should he suddenly decide he wanted something meaningful? “I just don’t get it,” I said finally. “I’ve never seen that you put yourself out for anyone, except maybe Joanie, and you always treated me like I was some kind of—I don’t know—some kind of challenge: let’s see if I can make Cass blush today! So why change things now?” Handing him another ornament, I noted his grim expression. For a few minutes we were silent, as I continued to hand him ornaments and point to where I wanted them hung, until the highest reaches of the tree were complete. “Thank you for your help,” I added awkwardly.

  “You’re welcome.” I thought he would leave the room then, having better things to do than converse with bristly women, but he didn’t. “You know, Cass,” he began again, “It’s not like you’re the easiest person to get to know and it’s all my fault for being such a cad. You have a way of…keeping people at a distance. You may not trust me, but I would say you’re not likely to trust anyone.”

  First Joanie, now him? I might have been able to blow off Daniel’s criticism, if Joanie hadn’t said almost the exact same thing not two hours ago. I was cold? Untrusting? Had I always been, or was it because of what happened to me? And Joanie accused me of fearing romantic intimacy, but Daniel was saying I was even afraid of friendship. This was absolutely pathetic, that someone like Daniel—who had no wife and no friends any closer than collegial types like Wyatt Collins or golf buddies like that Tom—even Daniel found my ability to form deep bonds lacking. My immediate reaction was an urge to go hole up in my room and pout.

  He must have seen from my face that his arrow had reached it target. “Hey,” he said, more gently, with a smile playing around his lips, “if I hurt you, it was half in self-defense. I’m not saying I’ve behaved like a quality guy, or blaming you for being gun-shy. I guess I’m just asking if we could start over. I can—I can see why Joanie likes you, and I like you too. I like having you in my life.”

  “Oh,” I breathed, completely nonplussed. Looking hard at him, I couldn’t detect any false note. His expression was open, wary, watchful. He really did want to be friends. This man who always had women hanging all over him and who didn’t appear to lack anything the world had to offer. Maybe if everyone around you falls over himself to approve of you, you begin to welcome people who can still find your flaws. I wouldn’t know, but possibly endless approbation got old.

  I was spared having to think of something to say by the sounds of Joanie and Phyl returning. Joanie took one look at the trail of pine needles and Daniel standing there holding an Inuit crêche, and she flung herself at him with a screech. “Daniel, I love you! Thank you so much!” Around her strangling arms, his eyes sought mine. I nodded and gave a tiny smile. Friends.

  With the girls home, decorating went quickly. Daniel retreated to the Lean-To, in the face of all the chattering and feminine arguments over where to place what, and I was glad because it gave me a chance to accost Joanie. “Well? Was Roy there? What happened?”

  Joanie hesitated, distracted. “Phyl, you can’t put the flipping stable animals so close to the Holy Family. We’ve got to keep an eye out for the barnyard feng shui.” When Phyl docilely backed the camels and oxen and whatnot away from the manger, Joanie answered me nonchalantly, “He broke up with me.”

  “He—he what?” I gasped.

  She slung herself on the couch, next to where I was perched on the arm, and put her arms around my waist, leaning her red-gold head against me. “He dumped me.” Automatically I began petting her hair, as if she were Benny, all the while shooting Phyl incredulous looks. Phyl only smiled sadly and shrugged, waiting to let Joanie tell her story, which she did, after a few minutes. “He came to Chaff late and sat in the back, so I didn’t even see him come in, but luckily I got up to get by the door before it was over, so I cut him off before he could escape, the blinking coward.” At least she was sitting up in her remembered anger and had renewed fire in her eyes. “I said, ‘Hey, Roy, are you up for getting coffee?’ and he just kind of mumbled and shuffled his feet, so I pulled him into the hall and was like, ‘What the hell? You’re acting weird.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, Joanie, it’s like I said—I need a little time—and I’m thinking we should take a break.’ And I said, ‘Was it something in stinking particular that made you feel this way?’ I can’t cuss around Roy, of course, because he has ears like somebody’s maiden aunt. And he tried to evade the question, and only by constant hammering did I get it out of him that he heard from that gossip-mongering, nose-in-everyone’s-business hag of a hypocrite Lauren Potts that I’d had three broken engagements, like it was any of her blazing business to be talking to anyone about my life.”

  “So was it the number of broken engagements that freaked him out, or the fact that you didn’t tell him and he had to hear from Lauren Potts?” I pursued.

  “Oh, both, probably,” snapped Joanie dismissively. “I told him he just should have been happy for me that I called them off before passing the point of no return, and for crying out loud, wasn’t he glad that I didn’t marry any of those guys? He just gave me this sanctimonious, I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look that made me want to hit him and said, ‘I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could be honest with me.’” Growling in frustration, she booted the ‘Noel’ throw pillow into the hallway. “I hate church people! I hate gossipy women! I hate men! Why don’t we get a dog of our own? I need something to kick!”

  Fighting back an urge to laugh, I gave her a firm hug. “What a crappy evening. What a stupid Roy. And whoever Lauren Potts is, she only talks about you because you’re beautiful and everyone likes you.”

  Joanie kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you, Cass, for crumbs of sympathy. And you too, Phyl, for listening to me on the way home. I told Phyl I was dreading telling you because I thought you’d say ‘I told you so,’ since you did just tell me to come clean about the ex-fiancés.”

  “It did occur to me,” I grinned, “but I figured I wouldn’t mention it until the next guy asked you out.”

  “There will be no next guy,” vowed Joanie impetuously. “I am, as of tonight, going on a dating hiatus—oh, well, except for this Friday because I was so pissed at Roy that I went straight back into Chaff and asked out the first guy I could find.” In answer to my questioning look she added, “Some bald guy named Bo with an annoying, hissy laugh. Divorced, I think.”

  “Joanie made his Christmas, I bet,” laughed Phyl. “He’ll probably want to ‘drop by’ his ex-wife’s place to show her off.”

  “Well if he does, you and Wayne are coming with,” said Joanie. “I’ve convinced Phyl to double with us because I had barely asked him out when regrets choked all further utterance. I don’t suppose you and James want to come, Cass?”

  “Not on your life. You’ve used up all your allotted sympathy, and we’ve already made plans to go skating this Friday. Now come on, ladies. Let’s see if between the three of us we can hang up
the garland.”

  Chapter 25: Show Me the Money

  “Could you spot me some money until my next payday, Cass?”

  After hurling the question at me, Nadina wadded up her elf hat nervously and then jammed it back over her spiky blond hair. James and I had agreed to meet at the rink that evening, and I had come early to see her. While waiting for him, I had been struck by Nadina’s air of discomfiture. My wariness must have shown because, before I could formulate a response, she huffed, “Never mind. I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “Now hang on a second,” I objected. In our months of knowing each other, Nadina had never made a request like this, and beyond the usual uneasiness people feel when they’re hit up for cash, the change in pattern disturbed me. “You work two jobs, and your mom pays your school tuition, so why are you feeling hard up?”

  “When is James getting here?” she changed the subject. “Are you guys together?”

  “Soon, and no,” I answered curtly. “Answer my question.”

  She busted a roll of quarters open on the edge of the till. “Don’t worry about it, Cass. I knew I shouldn’t have asked you because you’re so friggin’ stingy and nosy.” Before I could react to the injustice of this accusation, she barreled on. “Sonya was saying that Louella is taking her to The Nutcracker, and Ellie got a gift card for iTunes—”

  “Are you saying you want a Christmas present?” I demanded. “I do happen to have one for you, and it’s not a bunch of guys leaping around in tights. That can be arranged, however.”

  Nadina rolled her eyes but had the grace to look a little abashed. “No, forget that. That was stupid. I don’t even want to see the friggin’ Nutcracker. I’m just saying I never asked you for anything before, and you just shut me down.”

  “I didn’t shut you down,” I protested, “I asked you a question, which you haven’t bothered answering, and I haven’t even ruled out the possibility of—”

  “Shhhh!” she hissed suddenly, slamming the till shut. “Just forget it, okay. Go skate.” Bewildered by her abrupt about-face, I followed the direction of her anxious gaze. At first I couldn’t figure out what she was looking at, but then, slouching out from behind a bundled-up family, I saw a slight young man making his way toward us. He was wearing a forest-green plaid flannel shirt over a black t-shirt and jeans even rattier and lower-slung than I’d seen on Kyle or Tan or any other Camden School boy. His towhead was whiter-blond than Nadina’s, and his skin several shades paler. No tanning sessions for this kid, apparently. Light green eyes flicked over me with a dead curiosity, but when he reached the counter he had already put me from his mind.

  “Did you get it?” He slapped his hand down on the glass-covered counter, and the silver rings he wore made metallic clinks. She shook her head mutely, not meeting his eyes. Judging from her strange tension and the obvious familiarity between them, a creeping suspicion was coming over me—was this ratty little fragile creature Mike?

  Before I could ask, the bundled family bustled up to the cash register, the father waving a credit card at Nadina. In silence, she processed it, and in equal silence the off-putting young man stood his ground and stared fixedly at her. When the family was on its way, Nadina slammed the till shut and said, a note of challenge in her voice, “Mike, this is Cass. Cass, this is Mike.”

  I wasn’t sure what I had expected, whenever this fateful meeting would take place—invective? violence?—but Mike did no more than nod infinitesimally at me and return his pale green gaze to Nadina. After hearing so much about how he disliked me and seeing repeated proofs of his power over Nadina, I realized for the first time that he was, after all, only twenty years old, and he might even be as intimidated by me as I had been by the imaginary Mike. Not only that, but if it came to violence, I think I could take him.

  I took a step closer to get him to look at me. “Hello, Mike. It’s nice to meet you finally.” An outright lie, but a sacrifice to manners. I held out my mittened hand. He ignored it.

  Uttering some kind of curse, heavy on the consonants, under his breath, Mike said to Nadina, “I’ll give you a few more minutes.” Without a backward glance, he took his delicate little self off to the snack bar to torture some other rink elf.

  I whipped around. “What was that about?”

  “None of your business,” she answered automatically.

  It took me a minute or two to bite back the first words that came to mind. I knew if I made any choice comments about her dear Mike, Nadina would turn on me. Choice comments like, Are you ever worried you might accidentally sit on him and kill him? Finally I settled on: “Was that why you wanted to borrow money?”

  “None. Of. Your. Business!” was her infuriating response. “Here’s James. Go skate with your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I insisted, distracted.

  “I’m not her boyfriend,” came James’ echo. I could hear the laugh in his voice. “Cass swears I’m not her boyfriend.” Catching sight of my distressed face, his grin faded, to be replaced by a questioning look.

  Nadina swiped the ten-dollar bill James held out, slapped it in the till and slammed the drawer shut without saying another word.

  “Hey, what about my change?” James pointed out. “I thought Kyle’s been helping you with your math.” Scowling, Nadina punched the button for the drawer again. When it shot open, she yanked out two ones, threw them on the counter, and slung the drawer shut.

  “Good thing you came early to butter her up,” James teased, when we were out of earshot and lacing up our skates. “What’s up with her?”

  “I hardly know,” I murmured. “But she tried to borrow money from me when I got here, and before I could even find out why, her boyfriend Mike showed up and then she wouldn’t tell me.” James whistled. “He’s still here,” I added. “He’s that pale little hominid in the snack bar—don’t look now!”

  Obediently, James waited until we were out on the rough, divoted ice, circling leisurely, to look in the direction of the snack bar. Mike was hunched at a table, sipping a hot chocolate or something, his eyes fixed on Nadina.

  “Him?” asked James incredulously. “I bet our Nadina could snap him in two. Did you meet him?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” I replied, recounting the uncomfortable introduction. “I just wonder if she wanted the money from me because she knew he was going to show up and that he was expecting her to have some.”

  “Good thing you didn’t give her any then,” said James practically. “Charming as he appears, I’m not sure he would have put it to the best use.” He pulled on my hand. “Come on, you. Let’s not let the ‘pale little hominid’ spoil our undate.” Laughing, I tried to pull away, but he hung on and swung me around so that I was skating backwards in front of him. “Let’s see some of these famed elementary school moves, Cass, that you bragged about in front of Rachel.”

  “Bragged about? I did not either brag about them,” I objected, giving him a push with my free hand and spinning back around to skate next to him.

  “Sure you did, so don’t pretend to be outraged,” he persisted, winking at me. “You know you wanted me.” This time I gave him a harder shove and yanked my hand away, but he was too comfortable on skates to lose his balance and merely whisked around to my other side and took my hand again.

  “Not in front of Nadina,” I pleaded, feeling myself start to blush.

  He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, trying to judge my mood, but then he obligingly dropped my hand and put his own behind his back. Relieved and yet mildly disappointed, I smiled my thanks, and we made a few more circuits in silence.

  After a while, James began again. “I was going to be patient,” he said. “I was going to be well-behaved and just ‘hang out’ with you until you got used to the idea, but I’m not a very patient person.”

  “So I see.”

  “It would be one thing to be patient if I needed to give you time to learn to like me,” he continued, “but I think—I think you already have.” S
winging out in front of me, he skated backwards so he could look me full in the face.

  Well, here it was. James was a charming, attractive, well-liked man, and he liked me, for some reason, but he wouldn’t wait around forever. And he was young and impatient, and I suppose two weeks in this relationship limbo had seemed long enough to him. If I put him off again, would he give up and move on? But if I said yes, what would it mean? He might lose interest in a few more weeks anyhow, but what if he didn’t? Would we somewhere down the road have to wrestle with the question of marriage?

  I thought back to my brain-damaged wedding dream, and it was no more natural to picture James waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs than it was to see Daniel there. It wasn’t that James wasn’t a good, faithful man or that he wouldn’t make someone a good husband—it was that I felt so much older than he was, not only in years, but also in all the things I’d been through. As if I stood on the other side of some emotional chasm, and I didn’t know how I could pretend life was simple and made sense anymore.

  All of a sudden, Joanie’s voice popped into my head, as if she had sprung up next to me: “For Pete’s sake, Cass, don’t over-analyze! You don’t have to marry him. Just have fun. Get out of your scary cave.” She had taken a risk, after all, to confront Roy; surely I could take a similar step to overcome my fears. It was true: I didn’t have to marry him. All he wanted was to give going out together a try, and chances were he’d dump me before it even became an issue. And until that happened, it would be…fun.

  I think James knew what I had decided, when I finally raised my eyes to his, because a huge smile spread over his features. “Good,” he said simply, a note of excitement under his voice. “Good. I’d kiss you right here and now, but I think I can wait till Nadina isn’t around since you’re being so reasonable.”