Gray Hair Don't Care

by Karen Booth

  “Don’t put someone on a pedestal they don’t want to be on. When I was in college, I was in awe of your dad. I thought he was the coolest, smartest, most handsome guy I had ever met. Since then, I’ve learned that he might be a lot of those things, but he’s still human. Just like me.”

  “So you don’t have a magic wand that will make everything better? Not even for yourself?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t, other than good old fashioned emotional labor. As a woman, you’ll do a whole bunch of it in your life. Just make sure you get the men around you to understand it’s their job to do some, too.”

  Echo managed a smile. “I feel like an idiot for being such a drama queen.”

  “Don’t. Every wedding needs drama. That’s half of what makes it memorable.” Lela nodded toward the house. “Shall we head inside? Fix your tragic mascara?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You are ready to get married, aren’t you?”

  “I’m ready to be married. Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Donovan had promised himself he wasn’t going to cry. But dammit, sitting there and watching his only kid get married was overwhelming—heavy and light, sad and happy, serious and sentimental. Unable to make any sense of it, the only logical conclusion was to let the tears wash his eyes out.

  “Are you crying?” Genevieve whispered, although it came out a bit like a hiss. She was seated to Donovan’s right, while his mother and Stuart were to his left. Unfortunately, Lela was with Austin in the row behind them. He’d heard them giggling a few times during the ceremony, enough to make him second-guess Lela’s assertion that love and romance weren’t a thing she cared about anymore.

  “Yes. I’m crying. Our daughter is getting married. Shhh.” He sat straighter, listening to Echo and Lucius exchange vows. He couldn’t help but think about the day she came into the world, when he and Genevieve were scared out of their wits and completely out of their depth. Hell, they were practically kids, too, hardly equipped to care and nurture each other, let alone a baby. That was Day One of Donovan’s biggest life lesson—sometimes, you have to find your way. When a tiny, defenseless, and utterly helpless human being depends on you for everything? You figure it out.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the officiant said. Eileen had hired the man, a suspiciously handsome candlemaker she’d met at a farmer’s market. Apparently he was licensed to perform this ceremony? Donovan hadn’t asked for his credentials. It did make him wonder, however, if said candle man might become the new Stuart. He wouldn’t put it past his mom. Perhaps that was the reason she didn’t want to get married. She was still playing the field.

  The small gathering of guests all stood and threw confetti—biodegradable, of course—as Echo and Lucius marched victoriously down the aisle, arm in arm, gleeful grins pasted to their faces. The trip took twenty steps or less. Echo had said she’d wanted small, and that was what she got.

  “It was a beautiful ceremony,” Lela said, making a point to address Genevieve and Donovan’s mom. “You both did a great job with organizing everything.”

  Genevieve did seem noticeably more relaxed now. Hopefully that would stick. “Thank you, Lela. I appreciate that.”

  Lucius and Echo led the parade up the grassy slope to the east side of the house, where a more formal garden and patio were situated. It was an area rarely used when Donovan was a kid, but it was a lovely space, perfect for the occasion, with room for several round cloth-topped tables and a dance floor. At one end, a DJ was setting up. String lights zigzagged overhead. Although it would be quite some time until the sun would set, the house cast a long shadow, allowing the Edison bulbs to brightly glow.

  Champagne and passed hors d’oeuvres made the rounds for a while, then everyone sat for a dinner of crab cakes and rice pilaf, which was Lucius’s favorite. Donovan endeavored to focus on his conversation with Lucius’s father, who he was seated next to, but all too often his attention was drawn to Lela and Austin at the table next to them. They were getting chummier. This bothered Donovan, mostly because he knew it shouldn’t bother him. Lela was a grown woman and could do whatever she wanted. But still feeling the effects of the Vespa ride earlier in the afternoon, he was having a hard time convincing himself that he and Lela should never be more than friends. He was stuck with phantom feelings of Lela all over his body, of her arms wrapped tightly around him, her inner thighs squeezing his hips, and the lightness in the vicinity of his heart when she laughed. Lela was haunting him in real time, from a table away.

  As the meal ended, Echo got up from her seat and walked over to Donovan, crouching down to speak to him. “Are you having fun?”

  “Of course. Everything’s perfect.” He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He caressed her arm, feeling nothing less than lucky to have such a wonderful daughter. It made him all the more thankful for the relationship they had now. If this wedding had taken place two or three years ago, it wouldn’t have been quite the same. “The important question is, are you having fun?”

  “Yes. Although I feel stupid for the drama earlier.”

  “Don’t. I’m no expert, but I think every bride has to panic about something.”

  “Maybe. Thank God Lela was here. She was amazing. She really helped me sort through everything.”

  “Good. I’m glad. What was the takeaway?”

  “That feelings can be messy. And sometimes, understanding where the other person is coming from is as good as it’s going to get. Some situations aren’t fixable.”

  He couldn’t help but look at his own relationship with Lela through that lens. Everything between them had indeed been messy, but that was his track record with all women, not just her. Logic said that romance and sex were what got in the way every time, and that had been the case with Lela. But something about focusing on friendship, and only that, still didn’t sit right with him. “That sounds like good advice.”

  “Is there something going on between her and Uncle Austin? Because he seems like he’s trying really hard.”

  Donovan laughed, but none of this struck him as funny. “I don’t think so, but it’s not my place to say. You should probably ask one of them.”

  “Well, I’m glad you and Lela have figured out a way to be friends. She seems happy about it, too.”

  Donovan grinned, hiding the disappointment he felt at Echo’s appraisal of the situation.

  The DJ tapped the microphone, which seemed superfluous considering the size of the gathering. He could’ve held his hands to his mouth and yelled, and everyone would’ve heard him. “If I can get everyone’s attention, it’s time to cut the cake and then we’ll put on some music and start dancing.”

  Echo popped up and yelled, “Woot! Cake!” She grabbed Lucius’s hand and dragged him over to the table where the three-tier marvel stood. They held the knife together, posing for a few photos before drawing it through the layers and feeding pieces to each other, not being careful at all. Everyone laughed and clapped, as did Donovan, although part of his enthusiasm was for the fact that the cake was chocolate. As one of the caterers stepped in and began slicing for guests, the DJ started the music.

  Only a few notes of the song—Sparks by Coldplay, and Donovan froze.

  This was one of his favorite songs from one of his favorite bands in recent history. Echo and Lucius stepped on to the dance floor, wrapped their arms around each other and got lost in a gaze that looked exactly like true love. And Donovan was stuck between the past and the present, jettisoned back to the first time he’d heard this album. His most immediate reaction beyond falling head over heels for the music, was an intense desire to share it with one person—Lela. He was married to Tess at the time, who only liked the poppiest of mainstream music. Still, he’d tried to bond with her over it, and she’d declared it “depressing”. It left him longing for his friend Lela, who understood what it was like to have a visceral connection to music. It had made their friendship special. He lost that when they
parted ways.

  He had to ask her to dance to this song. It was a compulsion gripping him with both hands. He turned, only to get stuck again. Austin was leading Lela out on to the floor. Donovan’s happy heart deflated like a day-old balloon. What was he was left with? Some brilliant lyrics, a winding bass line, a sparse piano arrangement and Chris Martin’s haunting falsetto. Why was he being so sappy about Lela? Was it just because of the day?

  He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see his mom. “Care to take your old mother out for a spin? Your brother is already out there.”

  “You don’t want to dance with Stuart?”

  She gestured across the patio with a backward toss of her head. “He’s busy eating cake.”

  Indeed, Stuart was at their table, squarely focused on dessert.

  “I’d love to.” Donovan took his mother’s hand, noticing how small it felt in his, and walked her on to the dance floor. Aside from the year in middle school when she’d gotten a wild hair and made him participate in cotillion classes, the culmination of which was a mother-son and father-daughter dance, he’d never cut a rug with his mom. His wedding with Genevieve had been small and not particularly celebratory, his second was on some Caribbean island his mom had refused to travel to, and the third had been hastily arranged in Vegas. Swaying back and forth with her was a nice moment to share, especially when the DJ segued to Crazy Love by Van Morrison, a song he adored but was far less torn up about.

  “Mom, Stuart really loves you. We had a whole chat about it during the hike. He told Austin and I that he wants to marry you. Why are you giving him such a hard time about it?”

  “I’m seventy-four years old. Why do I want to get married? You know what they say. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”

  Donovan chuckled, even though he was inwardly cringing. He didn’t want to think about his mother and Stuart and sex. “I’m pretty sure that was an excuse idiotic bachelors used in the 1950s. Nobody says that anymore.”

  “I say it. Then again, I’m old school.” She turned her attention across the patio to Stuart, who was still eating cake. “What if it doesn’t work out? Then I have to pay some lawyer to get me out of it. And it’ll just make it that much harder to split the estate when I die.”

  “Is everything okay, Mom? Because it seems like you’ve lost some weight. When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

  A very plain frown crossed her face. “Of course I’ve lost weight. Your ex-wife has been all over me about the wedding. It’s been stressful.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I finally learned to give in and do everything she said to do.”

  “Speaking from experience, that’s the only way to do it.”

  “As for the doctor, I go every year. Believe me, they hound you like crazy until you come in. They want their copay.”

  “And everything is okay?” He didn’t want to press the subject too hard, but he had to know.

  “I have the heart of a forty-year-old. I’ll probably outlive you and your brother.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Donovan spotted Stuart as he beelined toward them. “Mom. I think Stuart wants to dance with you.”

  “I suppose he’s entitled.” She took a single step back. “This was nice, darling. It’s always good to have you here.”

  He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s good to be here.” Despite his trepidation about a weekend on the estate, he genuinely felt that way. Again, he felt like he was turning into a marshmallow on the inside. Thank goodness he only had one child to marry off. He didn’t think he could take this a second time.

  Stuart was standing, waiting.

  “She’s all yours.” Donovan started to make his exit, but then he saw Lela and Austin still dancing. The song was changing to She’s Gone by Hall & Oates. This was his chance. “May I cut in?”

  Austin looked annoyed, but he gave up easy enough. “Fine. See you later, Lela.” He let go of her, then sauntered away.

  “Bye, Austin…” she said, but he was already gone. “Is this part of your sibling rivalry?”

  “No. I want to dance with you.”

  Lela was a captivating vision when she smiled, but the way the light hit her face made it especially spellbinding. “Okay.” She fit perfectly in his arms as they began to dance. “She’s Gone seems like an odd song choice for a wedding reception. Isn’t it about a woman leaving a man?”

  “Yes. I’m sure my mom picked it. It might even be her way of dropping a hint for Stuart.”

  Lela looked at him quizzically. “Are things not going well?”

  “He wants more than she’s willing to give. Let’s put it that way.”

  She moved a little closer to him, only an inch or two, but his body took it as a positive sign, sending pulses to every nerved ending.

  “I love this song,” she said. “I feel like I didn’t fully appreciate Hall & Oates when I was younger. I get it more now.”

  “I blame Private Eyes. Too silly.”

  “Oh, no. I beg to differ. It’s a perfect pop song. Just try to get it out of your head.”

  “I miss talking about music with you.” He sensed that this little confession, however inconsequential, deserved to be made. “You know how the DJ played Coldplay for the first song? It made me think of you.”

  Lela reared back her head. “That record came out in 1999. That was way after college.”

  “Actually, it was 2000.” He pulled her a little closer, and drew in the sweet smell of her hair. “The first time I heard it, the only thing I wanted to do was call you so we could talk about it.”

  “Oh, my God, Donovan. That’s so weird.”

  Now that was disappointing. He’d thought she would say it was sweet. “I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I had the exact same experience. A couple of times.”

  The goofy grin that spread across Donovan’s face was too much to take. It made his face hurt. “When? With who?”

  “Oh, gosh. The Foo Fighters for sure. Weezer… Macy Gray… Bon Iver… Eminem… Beyoncé. There’s been so much great music since we were in college.”

  “Yes to all of those. I’m also thinking The Strokes. Outkast. The Killers. Arcade Fire.” How he loved that she’d had the same impulse, but how he hated that neither of them had acted on it. “The big question is why neither of us reached out.”

  “I know. One of us should have.”

  “But we didn’t.” He sighed, resigned to the fact that he had to spill his guts again. “I didn’t reach out because I thought you wouldn’t speak to me. I wasn’t sure I could handle that.”

  “I would’ve talked to you. I totally would have.”

  The regrets in his life were piling so high he was going to need a shovel. “Tell me why you didn’t call. Or send an email.”

  “I was worried I’d blown our entire friendship out of proportion. That maybe our friendship didn’t mean the same thing to you that it meant to me.”

  “Of course it meant the same to me. It did.”

  “But you got panicky when we slept together. And right after that, like days later, you got engaged to Genevieve. So I don’t know that I could come to another conclusion.”

  “I got panicky because our friendship meant so much. I was worried I’d ruined everything when I kissed you. That started it all.”

  “Another thing I didn’t know.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  The DJ segued into Time after Time by Cyndi Lauper. Lela peered up into his face with a touch of melancholy in her eyes. The world around them blurred. The music wasn’t helping—every lyric about looking back and putting memories in a suitcase. If he had any chance at all with her, he hated the idea of missing it. But he was also terrified to convince her of anything. If he failed, so much around him would suffer, including his relationship with Echo.

  “I want to kiss you rig
ht now.” The words barely made their way out of his mouth, but they were there, circling around them like birds or butterflies.

  She shook her head. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “But I do.”

  “But then I’ll just kiss you back.”

  “That’s sorta what I was hoping for.”

  “And then you’ll walk away and I’ll be mad and everything at work will get weird.”

  He sighed. “You sound like Echo.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know she knows about us. Our past.”

  “I do know that. She asked me about it. She asked me if you were a mistake.”

  Donovan swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what was on the other side of the question his daughter had asked. He was 99% sure the answer was yes. “What did you say?”

  “That I don’t regret it. And that it was just another life lesson about not putting someone on a pedestal they don’t want to be on. I thought far too much of you in college.”

  He supposed it was better to be a life lesson rather than a mistake, but that was of little consolation. He’d messed up. He knew that. All of this was merely the logical aftermath of his choices. “Is it possible to think too much of someone?”

  “In my case, yes. Don’t worry. I’m very well aware that you’re human now. You’re not actually a god on a Vespa.”

  “Good. That’s good.” I wouldn’t want you thinking too highly of me. He held on to her tightly as the song changed again—another slow one, Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House. Was it over for Lela and him? It sure sounded like that. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the direction his heart wanted to take. He knew he was stumbling his way through this, but he had no clue how to break his fall.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lela tried to avoid excessive swearing, but sometimes it was the only thing that made sense. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened this weekend?” Standing in the foyer of the James Estate, she frantically scrolled through the notifications and texts on her phone for the first time in two days. It was… a lot.