by Emerson Rose
“Wow, Vie, you have stars in your eyes. What did that man do to you last night?” Mom asks.
“Nothing,” I answer honestly. He didn’t do anything to me last night. It was this morning that he rocked my world off its foundation.
“Oh, come on, Vie, tell me about it. He’s gorgeous, successful and he’s a Marine. He’s perfect for you,” she says, bouncing up and down in her seat and clapping her hands together quietly so as not to interrupt the gift opening.
“He’s nice.”
“Nice? You need to give me more than nice or I may disown you right here, right now.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “He’s polite, and clean—like crazy clean. He has a nice house, but it’s really cold and impersonal. He has good wine and granite countertops.”
“Wait, why did you mention granite countertops? Did something dirty happen on the kitchen counter?”
“No, he sat me on it but we just talked and drank wine.”
Her face wilts. She’s disappointed, but not for long.
“So did you have any sleepwalking episodes?”
I don’t answer her. I’m not crazy about discussing my sex life with my mom. We don’t live together and haven’t for years. I’m not accountable to anyone. Who I sleep with and why is my business.
“Oh come on, Violet, it’s been forever since you had a boyfriend. I’m excited for you, and I like this one.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. I just met him yesterday.”
“Yeah, but you should have seen the fireworks exploding above your heads at Target. There was chemistry, pure chemistry. And at the bar last night, I saw how he looked at you. He’s got it bad for you, honey. You realize that, right?”
No, I don’t, but this uncomfortable conversation isn’t going to end until I throw her a bone.
“All right, yeah, we like each other. I sleepwalked into his kitchen and slept on the floor, and we had mind-blowing sex in the morning before he brought me home. Satisfied?”
A broad smile spreads across her lips and she pulls me into a side hug without leaving her chair.
“There, that wasn’t so difficult now, was it? When are you seeing him again?”
I hadn’t even thought about that. I was in such a rush to get back to the hotel to make the shower on time, we never made solid plans.
“You got his phone number, didn’t you, Vie? Tell me you got his phone number or he has yours.”
“Well, no. I . . . there was never an appropriate time to exchange numbers,” I say, trying to think back to our time together to see if there had been.
Mom smacks her forehead with the heel of her hand and groans. “Violet, where’s your head? You just had mind-blowing sex with a great guy and you didn’t think about how to contact him?” She slumps back into the plush cream-colored chair, draping her arms over the arms of it dramatically.
“He’s a Major, Mom. I’m sure he’s not that hard to find.” I worry my lip a bit. “And I know where he lives,” I say, pointing my finger at her.
“Well yes, there’s that. Did you talk about the wedding anymore? He needs to know when and where it’s going to be.”
“Someone at the table last night mentioned that it was at the base and Taye told him Saturday, so . . .”
She’s shaking her head back and forth.
“Mother, stop. We found each other twice in twenty-four hours without trying. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
She shrugs and swipes her mimosa off the table, downing it in one swallow.
I hope I’m right. Major is the first man I’ve considered seeing more than once in a long time. I’d hate to let him slip away.
Mom elbows me gently, and I look to where she’s got her eyes trained down the table at Kimber. Her skin glows in her pretty pale pink empire dress that hides her baby bump well. I wonder what I would look like pregnant. Where the hell did that thought come from? I do not care what I would look like pregnant. I’ll never be pregnant. Well, not for a long time anyway. Kimber is so sad right now without Caleb. I hope when the baby comes, it will make her happy. He’s an idiot to leave her. No matter what happened between them, I know one thing for sure. Kimber is sweet and kind and she couldn’t hurt a fly, so I’m leaning toward Caleb being the fuck-up in that marriage.
Kimber has been sitting quietly, observing but not participating in conversation. She feels left out.
“Go down there. Talk to her,” Mom says.
Belle has just opened a ridiculously large Waterford crystal vase. Everyone is oohing and ahhing over it when I take the opportunity to move down to the end of the table, where Kimber has separated herself by a few empty chairs.
She sits up straighter in her chair when she sees me approaching.
“Hey, girlie, how’s it going?”
“Hi, Violet, oh you know. Pregnant, can’t drink or stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time, but other than that, peachy.”
She smiles and I grimace. I should have stayed with Mom. I’m no good at this sort of thing.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to complain. Well yeah, I do, but I don’t want to be a party pooper. This is all just really hard,” she says, flicking her wrist down the long table of country club snobs.
“I get it. It’s okay, you can bitch to me all you want. This isn’t my kind of thing either. I’m more of a bachelorette party kind of girl.”
Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. She just got done complaining about not being able do drink.
“Sorry, that’s not what you want to hear either, is it?”
“It’s okay, I’m not a big drinker anyway. It’s just all the wedding stuff in general. It wasn’t that long ago when I was at the head of a table like this surrounded by all of my friends, dreaming of a future full of happiness and rainbows.”
I cover her hand with mine. I don’t know why. I suck at comforting people, but something tells me she needs the contact.
“What happened, Kimber? You and Caleb were so happy. You seemed perfect for each other.”
She bites her lip and looks at my hand covering hers before answering.
“We were so happy, and everything was going along just like it’s supposed to. We were together for two years, we both had good jobs, we bought a house, and then I got pregnant.” She rests her hand on her little bump and tears fill her eyes.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No. I haven’t talked to many people about it, but my therapist says I should. It’s just so embarrassing.”
“Weren’t you and Caleb planning on having kids?”
“Yes, that’s just it. We talked about having a couple of kids when we were dating, no big, giant Brady Bunch family or anything, but one or two. We never said exactly when, though, and Caleb insists that I got pregnant on purpose without consulting him, but I swear I didn’t. I was on the pill. I took it on time every day, but somehow, I got pregnant anyway. He was angry, said I manipulated our marriage or something. I don’t even understand what he meant, but he wouldn’t forgive me. And then he met Chrissie and used her as a weapon to get back at me for making him a father earlier than he wanted to be. He cheated on me purposely, knowing I have serious trust issues. I didn’t even do anything wrong. I just slept with my husband like any wife would do and accidentally got pregnant. He went crazy though, swore there was no way that could happen unless I messed up. He wouldn’t even believe the doctors when they told him it happens all the time.”
A fat, round tear escapes one of her beautiful ocean blue eyes and rolls down her cheek onto her dress, making a wet spot where it lands.
“That’s insane, like really, it seems sort of mental. Has he ever seemed paranoid before? Did he think you were cheating when you weren’t?’
“No, never, I thought of that. I’ve wondered if he met Chrissie and used the pregnancy as an excuse to get out so he could be with her.”
“Are they still together?”
“Yeah, they’re here together for the we
dding.”
“No fucking way,” I say on exhalation with my mouth hanging open. What a fucking bastard. I have the overwhelming urge to kick that baby-faced fucker’s ass.
“I’ve only seen them once in the hotel lobby. She’s my complete opposite in every way, like he’s trying to purge himself of me. She’s a brunette, brown eyed dingbat who dresses like a stripper. Oh my God, maybe she’s a stripper, Violet.”
I can’t see Caleb with a stripper, but then I couldn’t see him as a cheating bastard until now either.
“He probably feels like an ass about what he did, so he chose someone who wouldn’t remind him of you.”
Kimber sniffles, and I look around for something for her to blow her nose on. Mom thrusts a tissue over my shoulder to Kimber, and she looks up at her, accepting it and blowing her nose.
“Let’s get outta here, ladies. I’m bored to death watching Belle open cut glass and recipe boxes,” Mom says in a whisper.
I give Kimber a what do you think look and she nods yes.
“Belle, thank you, dear, for inviting us. Kimber isn’t feeling well and Violet and I are going to walk her back to her room,” Mom calls down the table.
Belle waves. “Thanks for coming, guys. Feel better, Kimber.”
Belle’s mother looks relieved to have us go, but not more relived than I feel.
Mom takes Kimber’s hand and helps her up like an invalid instead of a pregnant woman, and we exit the private room and giggle when we reach the front doors of the country club.
“Thank you so much. I couldn’t handle much more of that,” Kimber laughs.
“I’d rather watch a cactus grow in the dessert,” Mom says.
“So now what? We have all afternoon before tonight’s Karaoke wedding get together.” I say.
“I’ve been dying to go to the beach since we got here. Are you two up for some sand and sun?” Mom says.
I look at Kimber. It’s up to her. I’m always down for some beach time.
“Yeah, actually, that sounds good, but I don’t have a suit. I wasn’t planning on swimming this week.”
“No problem, we can stop and get you one on the way. I can always use another swimsuit,” Mom says.
So we’re off to swimsuit shop and spend time at the beach, and I couldn’t be happier for the distraction, because I was really beginning to worry about not having Major’s phone number.
Mom finds this cute shop that only sells swimwear, and we are all looking through racks and racks of swimsuits when I find the perfect one for Kimber.
“Look, this is so you,” I say, holding it up for Mom and Kimber to see. It’s a black one-piece with large circle cutouts on the sides. It’s sexy as hell, and it’ll accentuate her baby bump perfectly.
She gasps and lays her hand on her chest. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
I hand it to her and watch her weave her way through the racks to the changing rooms.
“How’d you do that, Vie? You have the worst sense of style of anyone I know,” Mom says.
“Shut up, Mother. I do not.”
“Yes you do. You have a personal shopper choose all your clothes.”
“Because I don’t have time to shop, not because I can’t choose my own clothes.” I don’t know why I’m arguing with her about this. She’s right. I can’t put together an outfit to save my life. I suck at fashion. Thankfully, the dress code at Facebook is pretty relaxed.
Mom rolls her eyes at me and disappears into a dressing room with three of four suits while I keep looking for myself. It’s not totally my fault that I’m clueless when it comes to fashion. I’m short, and I have breasts and curves—a lot of things just don’t fit.
“May I help you?” a saleswoman says from behind me.
“Oh, I’m still looking. Thanks, though.”
“I noticed you were looking at bikinis. I thought you might like a couple of my favorites,” she says, holding up two adorable suits.
“Did my mother put you up to this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the young saleswoman. A frown wrinkles her forehead and she looks lost.
“Never mind. Yes, I’ll try those. Thanks,” I say, snatching the suits and heading for the changing rooms.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say when I’m shown to a stall next to hers.
“No problem,” she calls out.
.
I put on the first suit, and it’s a perfect silver bikini with thin slashes at the hips and a halter-top that makes my breasts look great. I’m looking at myself in the three-way mirror when Mom steps out in a white tankini that could almost pass as a bikini. She looks great.
“Where’s Kimber?” she asks, and I hitch my thumb toward her door.
“How ya doing, Kimber?” she asks.
“Fine,” she says with zero enthusiasm.
Mom and I look at each other.
“Let’s see how it looks,” Mom encourages.
The door opens slowly and Kimber steps out, all legs and long black hair spilling over her shoulders, looking like a pregnant Sports Illustrated model.
“You look gorgeous,” Mom gushes, and she really does look great. I can’t imagine ever looking that good in a swimsuit pregnant, but then I can’t imagine looking pregnant at all.
“You think it’s okay? Not too revealing?” she says, running her hands over the cutouts on the sides.
“No, it’s perfect, just the right amount of peek-a-boo skin exposure,” I say.
“I love both of yours too,” she says, and we all take one quick turn in front of the mirrors and change back into our stuffy bridal shower dresses.
In the car, we decide to stop at Target and grab some towels and sunscreen, and I can’t help but scan every aisle hoping for another run-in with Major. But sadly, there’s no sign of my collision partner today.
“You’re going to have to ask Taye to get his number for you. I doubt he hangs out at Target a lot,” Mom says under her breath in the checkout line.
“Hush. I wasn’t looking for him.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Looking for whom?” Kimber asks.
“Oh, nobody. Just this guy who bumped into me here yesterday,” I say like it was nothing.
“A hot Marine that she just happened to bump into again last night after dinner at the bar, and she went home with him and he’s coming to the wedding with her,” Mom adds, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.
“What? You went home with a Marine, and you’re bringing him to the wedding? Violet, you’ve been holding out. Tell me about this,” Kimber says.
“Mom pretty much covered it. We bumped into each other twice, he’s hot, he’s a Marine, and I uh . . . I went home with him last night.”
Kimber lays her purchases on the conveyer belt and looks at me with her mouth hanging open.
“Wow, some girls get all the luck,” she says.
“It was a one-night stand. No biggie, it’s what I do.”
“A one-night stand that’s coming to the wedding with you?” she asks.
“We didn’t even exchange numbers. He said he would go, but you know guys will do or say anything to get into your pants,” I say, praying my words aren’t really true.
“He’ll call, and if he doesn’t, we will find him,” Mom says confidently.
“Mom, I’m not hunting him down and holding him to his word. If he wants to go, he will find a way to contact me.”
“I bet he calls. Your brother’s a Marine, and those guys stick together,” Kimber says.
The conversation is cut off when the cashier starts chatting with us about the weather and two-for-one sunscreen prices.
When we get to the beach, we take turns holding up a towel in the back seat of the car to change into our suits. When our tops are all tied and our bottoms adjusted into place, we grab our towels and some snacks we picked up at Target and head out onto the warm sand.
I set up three lawn chairs near the water, and we all sit down and moan when the sun seeps into our skin and the water laps at our toes
.
“This right here is heaven on earth,” I say, and they both murmur in agreement.
“I miss this,” Kimber says.
“The beach?” I ask.
“No. Well yes, but I meant I miss just hanging with friends. I’ve been so sick with the pregnancy until recently, and none of my friends know what to say about the divorce, so they just sort of don’t say anything at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. It’s been an eye opener for sure. You learn who your real friends are when something like this happens.”
Mom reaches over and pats Kimber’s hand and we all sit for a while, soaking up the sun.
I’m dozing off when suddenly the sun isn’t glowing inside my eyelids anymore. Something is blocking the sun—something big. I open my eyes and find Captain Garcia standing in front of me with his hands on his hips, wearing only a pair of running shorts and Asics, breathing hard.
“I thought that was you,” he says out of breath from running on the beach.
I look up at him and shade my eyes. He is all glistening solid muscle and ten times hotter with no clothes on. I mean, I thought he was a sweet guy last night, flirting with me and trying to help me with my shirt, but wow, I had no idea all of this was hidden under that blue button-up shirt.
“Garcia, right?” I say, even though I’m sure who he is.
“Yes, it’s nice to see you again. I’d offer to shake your hand but I’ve been running and . . .” He holds up his sweaty hands to explain himself.
“Oh no, that’s okay. It’s nice to see you again too. I can’t seem to turn around without running into a Marine lately,” I say with a chuckle.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of us here.”
Mom perks up and not so subtly elbows Kimber, who has fallen asleep.
“Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Violet, or are you going to be selfish and keep all the Marines to yourself?” Mom asks. Sometimes I wish I had an old, grey haired mother who loved to bake cookies and do needlework on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune all day. But she’s not that kind of mom.
“Oh, of course. Mom, this is Captain Garcia. He’s a friend of Major Steele’s. Captain Garcia, this is my mother and my friend, Kimber.”
