Fire and Glass

by Linda Seed

  “Sometimes,” Jackson answered. “We had that Fourth of July deal.”

  The smell of the meat, marinated with some concoction only Jackson knew the mystical secrets to, made Daniel’s stomach growl, but he figured he should make an attempt to be social for a while before he dug into the food.

  “Rose looks happy,” he commented, making conversation.

  “She’s over the moon. She’s probably going to deck the baby out in punk rock Tshirts and temporary tattoos.”

  “I’d like to see that,” Daniel said.

  A big outdoor table had been set up with a white tablecloth, place settings, and a centerpiece of red roses, presumably inspired by the guest of honor. Some of the women, and Will’s dad, were bringing platters of food out to the table. Lacy came out of the house with a big bowl of some kind of salad in her hands, and Daniel followed her with his eyes.

  Jackson said something that Daniel didn’t hear. “Huh?” Daniel asked, distracted.

  “I said, it seems like you’re a goner,” Jackson said, looking pointedly at Daniel and then at Lacy.

  “That’s not what you said.”

  “No, but it’s still true.”

  Daniel’s first impulse was to be annoyed and to deny that he was seriously hung up on Lacy, or anyone else for that matter. But what would the point of that be? He wasn’t in damned third grade, after all. Denying feeling for girls was no longer a matter of manly honor.

  He sighed. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

  “Well, you could do one hell of a lot worse,” Jackson said jovially, flipping a row of chicken parts.

  “That’s what worries me.” Daniel watched Lacy as she put the salad on the table, exchanged a few words with one of Ryan’s relatives, and then went back up the porch stairs and into the house.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson looked up from the grill to squint at Daniel.

  Daniel shrugged. “It means, I kind of feel like I’m playing A-ball and Lacy’s the Major Leagues. Like I’m out of my depth.”

  “Ah, that’s bullshit,” Jackson said, gesturing at Daniel with his barbecue tongs. “It’s shallow as hell, and it’s unfair to Lacy, and it’s not what’s really bothering you.”

  Daniel scowled, surprised. “What are you—”

  “It’s shallow and unfair because it assumes that an especially beautiful woman only wants some European underwear model named Javier.” He pointed at Daniel with the tongs. “And that because you’re no Javier, she’s going to get bored and run off with some other guy.”

  “Well.” Daniel had to admit that it sounded pretty stupid when Jackson put it that way.

  “And it’s bullshit,” Jackson continued, “because what you’re really worried about is that this is the big one.”

  “The big one?” Daniel said.

  “The big one. The big L. And that doesn’t stand for Lacy.”

  “Ah … you’re an asshole,” Daniel said, lacking a more trenchant response.

  “I’m just saying.” Jackson turned his attention back to the meat on the grill. “You think it was easy for me when I fell for Kate? It took me a while to start thinking like part of a couple. It’s worth it, though. I’m just saying.”

  Daniel scowled. “Ah … just cook your damned meat.”

  After everyone had eaten and the plates had been stacked in the kitchen for some later cleanup, Rose opened her gifts, gasping and clapping with glee over each onesie, each diapering accessory, each piece of gear intended to make the baby sleep better, or stay safer, or look cuter. Daniel didn’t know what he and Lacy had given her, but it rankled him slightly that they’d given a joint gift. Like he was already losing his identity, becoming less Daniel and more Lacy and Daniel. Not that it was fair for him to be rankled. It wasn’t like he’d even mentioned the issue to Lacy. So why was he feeling pissy about it now?

  After the gifts, the girls did their party games while the guys hovered around the edges uncomfortably, drinking beer and muttering about the incomprehensibility of women.

  One game involved using streamers of toilet paper to estimate Rose’s girth. Another required the participants to wear necklaces made of diaper pins while trying to avoid saying the word “baby.” And yet another involved the timed diapering of a roughly baby-sized teddy bear.

  As Daniel sipped from a longneck bottle and watched, Lacy got on her knees in front of the teddy bear and raced to diaper the thing’s butt while the other women cheered her on.

  She won by a good five seconds, and received a prize of some bath salts and a scented candle.

  “This is so much fun!” Lacy beamed, holding up her treasures so someone could take a photo. “I can’t wait to have kids of my own. I want at least six.”

  Daniel felt like he’d been hit in the head with a hammer.

  “You look a little green there, son,” Ryan observed.

  Daniel looked at the beer in his hand and decided that wasn’t going to cut it. He wandered off into the kitchen to see if Ryan had anything stronger.

  A little morphine would be soothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Daniel did what he often did when a situation in his life was troubling him. He called his mother.

  A day or two after the shower, he finished work for the day, cleaned up his studio, took a shower, put on clean jeans and a T-shirt, towel dried his hair, and then settled in on his sofa with a cold beer and his cell phone.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s me.”

  “Hi, honey.” His mother sounded so happy to hear from him, and he was so comforted by the sound of her voice, that it transported him back to a childhood of road trips, Little League, and grilled cheese sandwiches served with a side of Campbell’s tomato soup.

  “How are you guys? How’s Dad?”

  “Oh, you know your father,” Irene Reed said, as though that explained everything, as though no other words needed to be said.

  They chatted for a little while about his work, and her health—her most recent physical had gone without a hitch—about the house where he’d grown up and where his parents still lived, about Zzyzx, and about Winston the beagle, whom they both were still mourning.

  “Now that we’ve gotten the small talk out of the way,” Irene said, “what’s wrong?”

  Daniel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What do you mean, what’s wrong?”

  “Just what I said, Daniel. I can read you, even over the phone, even from a thousand miles away. I’ve had more than thirty years of practice. So, get on with it. What’s wrong?”

  He chuckled and shook his head in wonder. Damned if she couldn’t read him. It was comforting to be understood so deeply, but it was also a little unsettling.

  “It’s nothing. It’s just … I’ve started seeing someone….”

  Irene said nothing, which was something of a surprise. He’d have thought news of a romantic involvement would provoke enthusiasm, curiosity—anything other than silence.

  He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “You’re not saying anything.”

  “Well, honey, you need to give me a minute to get over the shock.”

  He fidgeted in his seat, irritated. “Shock that I’m seeing someone? What’s that supposed to mean? I see people.”

  “Not shock that you’re seeing someone. Shock that you’re telling me about it. You never tell me about your girlfriends.”

  He thought about whether that was true. Surely it couldn’t be. “I tell you things. I told you about Sharon Murphy.”

  “No, you didn’t. I heard about Sharon Murphy from Sharon’s mother.”

  “You did not.”

  “Yes, I did. I was in the housewares section at Walmart, and she came up all friendly, asking what I thought of this budding romance between my boy and her daughter. I didn’t know a thing about it.”

  Daniel stared at his beer bottle. “Well … there was Katrina Ames. Now, I know I told you about her, because—”

  “You told your father, you didn’t tell me,” Irene said. “Yo
u have never told me about a girl or woman you were dating, Daniel. Not one girl, not one time.”

  He tried to think of some response, but couldn’t. He sank back against his sofa and sighed.

  “I figure that has to mean this one’s different,” Irene continued. “So tell me, honey. What’s going on?”

  He told her about Lacy, and about his insecurities. He told her about how Lacy’s family seemed to assume they were headed toward marriage, except for her mother, who didn’t like him much. He told her about his unsettled feelings. He told her about everything except the stupendous sex; he and his mother, like sons and mothers everywhere, had an unspoken pact to pretend that he was celibate, and would be until the day he took his wedding vows.

  “It’s just all going really fast,” he finally admitted. “And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  Irene took a moment to absorb all that Daniel had told her. Then she said, “Let me tell you about how your father and I met.”

  “Mom.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I know all that. You were in a play together in college. Death of a Salesman. He was Willy Loman and you were—jeez, I forget. You were some kind of bar girl or hooker, right?”

  “I was Miss Forsythe. In any event, there were some things about our early relationship that I didn’t tell you.”

  He sat up straighter, intrigued and more than a little worried about what childhood illusions his mother was about to shatter. “Like what?”

  “Like how long we dated before we got married.”

  Daniel scratched at the back of his neck, unsettled. “Okay, then. How long?”

  “Three months.”

  “Three … What?”

  “That’s right. Three months.” Irene’s voice sounded just a touch smug.

  “Well, that’s … jeez. Are you going to tell me you were pregnant? Because I don’t really think I wanna—”

  “No, Daniel. I wasn’t pregnant. I was just in love.”

  Daniel would never have thought of his mother as an impulsive romantic, someone who would plunge headlong into a lifetime commitment without considering the consequences. Now, he was clearly going to have to reevaluate.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” he asked.

  She chuckled. “Because I didn’t want you to follow my example. I figured that if you ever got involved in a bad relationship, and I wanted to encourage you to slow down and be careful, I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”

  He could see her point. “But you’re telling me now,” he said.

  “Well, right now, it seems to me, you need to consider the idea that fast isn’t always bad. Sometimes things move fast because they’re right. Look at me and your father. Thirty-five years of marriage and I haven’t strangled him yet. Though I have my moments.”

  Daniel grinned. Talking to his mom just made him feel better. It always had.

  “What if I’m just not sure where I want things to go?” he said.

  “Well.” The tone of her well suggested that she’d been waiting for him to ask that very question. “That would mean one of three things. One, you really do need more time to figure things out. Two, she’s not the right one for you. Or three, she is the right one for you, and you’re having trouble opening yourself up to her for your own reasons.”

  “You think I’m, what, emotionally stunted? Is that what you’re saying? Because I—”

  “I didn’t say that, Daniel.”

  She hadn’t. But still, he wondered if that was what she was getting at. And he wondered whether it was true. After all, how many relationships had he been in since reaching adulthood? Dozens. And how many had progressed beyond casually dating and sleeping together, with each party returning to their own home at the end of the night, or, at the very most, the next morning?

  None.

  “Honey. You’re being awfully quiet. Did I hurt your feelings?” Irene said.

  “No, no. I’m just … thinking.”

  “Daniel. Do you want a committed relationship?”

  He thought about the question. About his parents, still married after thirty-five years. He thought about the way they finished each other’s sentences, the way they just fit together emotionally, like Russian nesting dolls. God, yes, he wanted that.

  “Yeah. I do.” His throat felt unaccountably thick.

  “Well, it’s not going to happen if you don’t take a risk.”

  He thought that she likely was right. But on the other hand, the trouble with risk was that it made you think of everything you had to lose.

  Like Daniel, Lacy had been talking to her own mother about her relationship issues. The problem was, her relationship with Daniel wasn’t the one Nancy was interested in.

  Lacy’s mother simply would not stop talking about Brandon.

  Of course, Nancy was still seeing Brandon for her back problems. Every week after her adjustments, she’d get on the phone to Lacy or cross the yard to the trailer and tell her everything Brandon had said, how he looked, what he was wearing.

  Lacy dreaded the conversations, but she didn’t see much point in having it out with her mother. What would that accomplish? Nancy would still mourn the loss of Lacy and Brandon’s relationship, and Lacy would still not want to marry Brandon. So, in the interest of making her own life easier and avoiding conflict, Lacy just listened to her mother’s reports, made appropriate mouth sounds feigning interest, and then got off the phone or out of the room as soon as possible.

  This time, though, the conversation took a troubling turn. Instead of simply telling Lacy about what Brandon was doing, Nancy had started talking about the possibility of the two of them getting back together.

  “So I told him that there wasn’t anything going on between you and Daniel Reed, and that you’d just said that because you were angry,” Nancy told Lacy one morning over coffee at the Jordan kitchen table. “He seemed to really be interested in that piece of news. I think he’d take you back. I really do.”

  Exasperated, Lacy pushed her coffee mug aside. “Mom, there is something going on between me and Daniel. You know that.”

  Nancy waved it off. “Oh, but there wasn’t when you were still engaged to Brandon. You didn’t cheat on him. That’s the point. I think now that he understands that you were faithful, there’s room to work things out.”

  “But—”

  “I told him you were just hurt and upset about that fight you’d had. That you just said what you did to lash out. I told him you were sorry, and Lacy, you should have seen the look on his face. You’re going to get back together, I know you are. I told Josie Smith at the Cookie Crock, and she said—”

  “Wait.” Lacy held up a hand to stop her mother. “You’re telling people at the Cookie Crock that Brandon and I are getting back together?”

  “Well,” Nancy said, looking defensive, “you will. Just wait.”

  Lacy got up from her seat at the table, picked up her coffee mug, and carried it to the sink. She poured out the rest of the coffee, rinsed the mug, and placed it on the top rack of the dishwasher. Then, having calmed herself through the rote task, she turned to her mother.

  “Mom. Why don’t you like Daniel?”

  Nancy looked surprised, as though Daniel Reed were entirely beside the point.

  “I don’t dislike him,” she said, which Lacy noted was very different from saying that she did like him. “He’s nice enough, I suppose. And it’s perfectly understandable that you’d want to seek … I don’t know … comfort after a difficult breakup. But, honey, it’s not too late to fix things with Brandon. I just know—”

  “Mom.” Lacy tried to interrupt her.

  “If you’d only seen how he looked when I told him, you’d know that he misses you, honey. He wants—”

  “Mom.”

  “Why, it’s probably not too late to plan a spring wedding, if only—”

  “Mom!”

  Nancy stopped in midsentence, looking surprised to discover that Lacy was yelling at her.

  “Well, w
hat is it, Lacy?”

  “It’s over,” Lacy said, exasperated. “Me and Brandon. It’s over. We’re not getting married. We’re not getting back together. I’m with Daniel now.”

  Nancy pressed her lips together in a stern and unforgiving line. “This is pre-wedding jitters, is what it is. You proved your point bringing Daniel to Thanksgiving, I guess. But now, Lacy, it’s time to—”

  “I was not proving a point! I’m not playing some kind of game with Daniel.”

  “Well, you can’t possibly love him,” Nancy said.

  “Yes, Mom! I do! I love him! I’m in love with Daniel!”

  Lacy stood gaping at her mother, shocked by her own words. She hadn’t articulated it before now, even to herself.

  It was true: She loved Daniel.

  “I guess you and Josie Smith are just going to be disappointed,” Lacy said, and walked out the back door and across the yard to her trailer.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lacy needed to get away from her mother. But more than that, she needed to see Daniel. Now that she knew she loved him, she was ready to get down to the business of loving him. And the sooner the better.

  She didn’t call him, she didn’t text to let him know she was on her way. She just left her parents’ place, left the trailer, and drove south toward Daniel’s house. As she drove down Highway 1, she felt a growing urgency building in her center. She needed to tell him what she felt, what she now knew to be true. She needed to show him.

  His SUV was parked in front of his house. She parked beside it, got out of the car, and rushed up onto his front porch, because this couldn’t wait. This mattered.

  Lacy’s heart pounded as she knocked on the front door of Daniel’s house. The house was at the end of a winding road, and she had the sensation of herself, the house, and Daniel—wherever he was—being completely alone in the world. At her knock, she heard the sound of Zzyzx whining and scratching at the other side of the door, but she didn’t hear Daniel. No footsteps from inside the house, no call in answer to her knock.

  Besides the dog, the only sound she heard was the wind whispering through the tall grass that carpeted the rolling hills.