Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3)

by Heather McVea

  Bryce looked intently at Alison, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. “I’m not offended, I just can’t-” Alison wanted to pry the words out of the beautiful woman’s mouth, but forced herself to be patient. “I can’t have dinner with you.” Bryce managed after several seconds.

  Alison nodded. “Okay.” She was going to leave it at that, but there was a sadness in Bryce’s eyes that pushed her forward. “Can you please tell me why you can’t?”

  Bryce looked down, her hands shoved deep in her front pockets. “I’m not -”

  Alison waited for what seemed an eternity before she spoke. “You’re not - gay?” She watched Bryce’s reaction carefully. The woman shook her head. “You’re not - attracted to me?”

  Bryce’s eyes shot up. “God no, that’s not it.”

  Alison was relieved. At least the longing looks and concerned gestures weren’t all in her head. The relief was short lived though, because she was out of explanations. “Then I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

  The uncomfortable woman stabbed at the sidewalk with the tip of her flip flop. “Can we be friends?”

  This was not what Alison had hoped for, and she struggled not to hear the question as a euphemism for I’m just not that into you, but she liked Bryce. The pragmatist in her thought a friendship was better than nothing. “That would be nice.” Alison was surprised she managed to mask her disappointment. So much so that she nearly believed herself.

  “That’s great.” Bryce’s tone and posture immediately relaxed, and she took a step toward Alison. “I like you.”

  Alison grinned at the simplicity and sincerity of the statement. “I like you too. Dinner - or drinks, at some point then?”

  Bryce nodded, a broad smile pulling at the corners of her perfect mouth. “That would be nice.”

  The women said their goodbyes, and Alison walked back to her car feeling better than she had a right to. She had been essentially rejected by a beautiful, albeit mysterious, woman for the second time, but the promise of having Bryce in her life as a friend left her with a secret hope. A hope that friendship might take root and grow into something more.

  ***

  “Ali, can you bring the bottle of wine out please?” Elaine Bailey’s voice came from the sprawling wood deck off the back of her and her husband Wayne’s Canyon Lake home. She was an attractive woman in her early sixties with light blonde shoulder length hair, and cyan-colored eyes.

  Alison was sitting on one of three high back wooden bar stools in her parents’ kitchen with a half-eaten carrot jutting out of her mouth. Her parents had built the lake house a year ago, and in spite of the drive - Canyon Lake was nearly an hour north of San Antonio - she enjoyed visiting. Alison loved the Craftsman style architecture; the low-slung roof, wraparound porch, and dark wood and granite interiors made the nearly four thousand square foot house seem more intimate.

  Balancing on the bottom rung of the bar stool, Alison reached over the gray granite bar and grabbed the bottle of Joel Gott 815 Cabernet Sauvignon before hopping off her seat. Walking toward the back of the house, her bare feet made a faint slapping sound on the chocolate colored birch floor. In spite of the size of the house, her mother had her interior designer maintain a cottage feel throughout the space. The dark woods had a distressed look and accent walls were exposed stone, giving the house an earthy ambiance.

  Walking onto the large deck, Alison took a deep breath. The coolness of the early night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the city. The lake was a sprawling body of water, and her parents had built their house further away from the more populated and sportsmen dense portion of the lake. It was unusual to hear anything more than the faint sound of a motor boat.

  “Just put that on the table, sweetie.” Elaine smiled at her middle child while basting six large chicken breasts on the built-in Char-Broil gas grill.

  Alison put the bottle of wine down on the long black metal and glass table. Pulling her leg up under her, she sat in one of six metal chairs, sinking into the plush burgundy seat cushion. “Where is everyone anyway?” She crunched on the last of the carrot.

  Closing the grill lid, Elaine wiped her hands on the red and white striped apron she was wearing. Looking at her platinum Movado watch, she calculated in her head. “Hmmm, eighteen holes, foursome - they should be back in the next half hour.” Handing Alison the electric corkscrew, she sat down in the chair next to her daughter.

  A low hum, a series of clicks, and Alison had liberated the cork and poured her and her mother a glass of wine. “So how are you, Mom?”

  Elaine took a sip from her wine glass and smiled. “I’m good.”

  “How’s Dad?”

  Setting her glass of wine down on the glass tabletop, the woman nodded. “Fine. How are you?”

  Alison and her mother had been having the same conversation for the past twenty years. Since Alison was old enough to realize her parents were real people, with very real challenges and problems, and that their marriage wasn’t always a happy one.

  Wayne Bailey had been in Texas politics since graduating from Rice University in Houston with a Bachelors of Science in political science. He had gone on to get his Masters in public policy from Baylor University and advised some of the most notable politicians in the state. He and Elaine had met at Baylor while she was finishing her undergraduate degree in economics.

  Over the years, Wayne’s role behind the scenes in the Texas Republican Party had afforded him an inordinate amount of influence and authority. Though success in the professional arena had never eluded him, his ability to make meaningful connections with his family had. Alison always thought this was because she and her siblings couldn’t be managed or debated with in the way his assistants and counterparts could.

  It was commonplace in the Bailey household that in the absence of actual facts to win an argument, Wayne Bailey would resort to the cliché because I’m your father and I told you so method. This had left him and Alison at odds on more than one occasion- in particular, when Alison’s choices contradicted her father’s professional ambitions.

  “You’re seventeen. What can you possibly know about who to love, and why you love them?” Wayne had been in his favorite overstuffed leather recliner in his study, a Maker’s Mark bourbon with ice in a glass tumbler clutched in his left hand.

  “I’m not naïve, Dad. I’ve dated guys and I know it doesn’t feel right for me.” Alison had been working up the courage to tell her parents she was a lesbian for nearly a year. On the eve of leaving for the University of North Carolina to begin her undergraduate studies, she had finally decided it was now or never.

  Elaine’s tone was soft, but her brow was furrowed as she spoke. “Ali, what’s happened to make you think that you’re - a lesbian?”

  It occurred to Alison that she had never heard her mother say that word, or her father either, and she immediately began to sweat with nervousness. “Robert and I dated for over a year, and before that I went out with Jason. I cared for both of them, but I never felt - passionate.”

  Wayne huffed. “Christ, you’re practically a child; you wouldn’t know passion -”

  “Wayne.” Elaine, who was sitting on the light brown leather sofa next to Alison, scowled at her husband. “Let her finish.” Rolling his eyes, he took a long drink of his bourbon.

  Elaine took Alison’s hand in hers. “Go ahead.”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alison continued. “When I was at swim camp last summer, I met a girl, and we-” Alison chewed nervously on her lower lip. “We really liked each other, and for the first time - things felt right.” She didn’t dare confide how right things had felt with Debbie.

  Pushing his 6’3”, thin frame up out of the recliner, Wayne walked across the room and poured another glass of Maker’s Mark, forgoing the ice. “Ridiculous.” He muttered as he turned to face his daughter. “If you think I’m going to let you gallivant around with - with women, then you have another think coming.”

  Alison
felt her face redden and her heart was pounding in her ears. She had structured so much of her life around what her father had wanted, and what his friends and colleagues thought about him and his family. When she told him she would be studying American folklore, not political science, he had been stunned. The idea one of his children had not taken his direction, thinly disguised as advice, was so shocking it had rendered him speechless.

  “I’m not gallivanting, and it’s not ridiculous.” Alison’s voice trembled as she spoke, her hand tightening around her mother’s. “My entire life you’ve always said we could debate and talk about anything in this house.” The tears began to stream down her face. “But you’ve always set the parameters of what was acceptable opinion.” Wiping at her eyes, Alison took a deep breath. “This is who I am, and just because it doesn’t fall within a set of guidelines you deem worthy, doesn’t -” She had struggled for the word as her fear morphed to anger. “It doesn’t - doesn’t negate it.”

  Her father’s face had turned several shades of red as Alison was speaking. Her mother stood up, and stepped between her husband and her daughter. “Wayne, you and I can discuss this, but Alison is our daughter and nothing trumps that.”

  He looked at his wife, his eyes narrow. “So I’m the bad guy because I don’t want her relegated to a life of -”

  Elaine held her hand up to silence her husband. “Stop now, before you make an even bigger ass out of yourself.” She stepped closer to her husband. “This is not about you or me.” Laying her hand on the man’s shoulder, her voice was soft, but stern.

  His eyes moved from his wife to his daughter who remained seated on the sofa. Wayne shook his head. “I’m not paying for her school.”

  Elaine gasped and turned to see a stunned Alison. “What?”

  Wayne shook his head. “You heard me. If this is the life she wants, then she can pay for it herself.”

  Alison had stood up at that point. The crying having stopped, she felt more confident. “Your money would be nice, but I don’t need it. And I don’t want it.” She had turned and left the study. The last thing she heard was her mother telling her husband how awful he was.

  True to his word, Wayne Bailey had not paid for a single book, lab, or class throughout Alison’s undergraduate studies in North Carolina. She had taken out loans, worked at the campus bookstore, and driven a campus shuttle for the four years she attended school at Chapel Hill.

  Elaine had clearly lost the argument with her husband, but she had paid her daughter’s rent every month from an account she kept independent of her husband. She even paid for her to fly back to Texas for Thanksgivings and Christmases.

  Over time, Wayne’s attitudes had softened, in no small part because every other member of their family- Julia included, who most closely resembled their father in her political and life views- thought he was being unreasonable.

  Though never entirely accepting of Alison’s sexuality, her father had met a couple of her girlfriends over the years. He had actually even taken a liking to Ashley Haines, Alison’s first serious girlfriend. They had met while Alison was working on her Masters at the University of Texas in Austin.

  “She plays a decent round of golf, and her handicap is thirteen.” Wayne had said this casually after Ash and he had finished an eighteen hole round at the Dominion golf course north of San Antonio. “What’s not to like?”

  On the other hand, Alison’s relationship with her mother had grown stronger over the years. She knew Elaine would never understand Alison’s attraction to women, but her mother knew that wasn’t the point. As far as she was concerned, the point was to support and love her children, regardless of who they loved.

  Now, sitting next to her mother, Alison felt a tremendous amount of gratitude and love for a woman who had managed a difficult marriage, but never seemed to lose herself in it. “Are you going to keep consulting, Mom?”

  Elaine had technically retired six months ago from her director’s position with the Overseas Development Institute, but continued to work with numerous relief organizations on developing third world infrastructures. “I am. I’ve got a few projects in the works, and I’m working on a white paper for the World Food Program.”

  Alison nodded. “Regarding?”

  Pouring another glass of wine, Elaine smiled at her daughter’s interest. “Food distribution, specifically in countries and regions that have no airport infrastructure and limited roads.”

  “I was reading an article in the New York Times about Somalia, and the fact that out of sixty-two airports across the country, only seven have paved runways. That and the infighting make it next to impossible for relief organizations to get supplies into the region.”

  “I speak to that in the paper at length.” Elaine’s smile became slightly mischievous. “So, sweetheart, are you seeing anyone?”

  When her and her mother’s conversation took this turn, and it seemed it almost always did, Alison was torn between being touched that Elaine was comfortable enough to ask and being horrified she was asking. “I see lots of people, Mom.” Alison couldn’t help giving her mother a little grief.

  Elaine huffed. “You know what I mean.”

  Alison did know, and sadly the last few times she and her mother had broached the topic of her love life, the answer was the same. “I’m not seeing anyone.” She wasn’t about to tell her mother she had a major crush on a quasi-student who had stood her up and then nearly given her a heart attack.

  Alison was saved from further discussion by the sound of the house alarm beeping, as the front door was opened. “Oh, look at that, they’re back.” She rushed back into the house, leaving an amused Elaine sipping her wine.

  “It’s a two stroke penalty if you accidentally kick the ball with your foot, Chad.” Wayne handed his son a Shiner Bock beer from the large stainless steel sub-zero refrigerator.

  “I didn’t kick it. I slipped.” Chad took a drink of the cold beer.

  Julia and Gayle leaned against the counter with annoyed expressions on their faces. “Jesus, can you let it go? We all had a crappy round.” Julia always seemed to look immaculate even after running one of her many marathons. Tonight was no exception. Her thick, brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her electric blue Nike golf shorts hit her just above the knee, and complemented the matching white, sleeveless Dri-FIT shirt she was wearing.

  Gayle rolled her eyes. “I second that.” Chad’s wife took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the filter tap. Alison had always thought she was an attractive woman. She had a lean build and sandy blonde hair that she kept cut short. Her features were rounder than her frame suggested, but she had a beautiful smile with two perfectly placed dimples on either cheek.

  Wayne looked at Alison. “It’s two strokes, right?” He was pouring himself a generous amount of Maker’s Mark as he looked expectantly at his daughter.

  She had found herself in these tie breaker situations before, and it always made Alison uncomfortable. “Nope.” She waved her hands in front of her. “I’m not a part of this.” She turned and walked back toward the deck. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”

  Walking back to the deck, Alison poured another glass of wine and sat back down at the table. “Need some help?”

  Elaine was pulling the small foil packs that contained an assortment of vegetables off the grill. “I’ve got it. Did you let the brood know dinner was almost ready?”

  Before Alison could answer, the remaining members of the dinner party made their way onto the deck. “He hadn’t had his teeth cleaned in over ten years, and he’s a smoker.” Chad was regaling the group with a dental war story.

  “That’s disgusting.” Jules had joined her father and had a glass of bourbon in her hand as she took a seat next to Alison. “What does that even look like?”

  “Enough.” Elaine interrupted as she sat a platter of grilled vegetables in the center of the table. “That’s not good dinner talk.”

  Chad sat down across the table from his sisters, and
then leaned over, his voice lowered. “The Ganges River - at low tide - in the summer.”

  Gayle, who had sat down next to her husband, cringed. “And I let you touch me with those hands.”

  The table erupted in laughter. “Hey, I wear gloves.”

  “I don’t know that there’s latex thick enough, my love.” Gayle leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Elaine, let us help.”

  Shaking her head, Elaine plated the chicken breasts, and made her way to the table. “It’s done.” Putting the platter down, she looked over at her husband who was standing at the railing of the deck with his bourbon in one hand and his iPhone in the other. “Wayne. Dinner.”

  The man nodded absently and went back to typing on the phone. “Let’s start without him.” Jules insisted. “Otherwise, it could be hours.”

  The group began plating the food. Alison looked at her mother, who was clearly annoyed with her husband as she kept looking accusatorily at him. Alison was reminded of a passage from Anna Karenina: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

  ***

  It was Alison’s turn to do dishes as the rest of the family lounged on the deck, occasional bursts of laughter finding their way into the kitchen and bringing a smile to Alison’s face.

  “Need help?” Chad walked in, a half empty glass of wine in his hand.

  Alison looked suspiciously at her brother as she finished filling the top rack of the Kenmore dishwasher. “I’ve known you my entire life and you’ve never offered to do dishes.”

  Leaning against the granite counter next to Alison, Chad smiled. “I offered to help.”

  “I see. Well, in that case, you can load the flatware.” She nodded toward the left side of the sink that was full of forks, spoons and knives.

  “Check.” Putting his glass down, Chad began loading the Kenmore’s silverware basket.