Why Now?

by Carey Heywood

  Jake leans forward, his elbows on his knees and looks over at him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Heath grins while another piece of my heart breaks away and falls to the floor. If the man I’ve loved for almost forever is there, what will I do?

  How will I be able to walk down the aisle and not stare at him?

  “It’s going to be a very small wedding,” I blurt.

  “Too small for me?” He asks, and Heath laughs, “Of course not. You’re practically family.”

  Jake looks at me, waiting for me to say something. Damn coward that I am, I look away and drink my beer.

  They talk while I quietly freak the hell out. I hear the occasional sport term as Heath catches Jake up on the last six months of games he’s missed.

  When the door swings open, we all turn to watch as Reilly storms in.

  She looks majorly tweaked; her movements are flustered and jerky as she drops her purse and keys by the door after closing it.

  Her eyes scan the three of us over and over.

  “You okay Reils?” Jake asks, standing.

  She nods. “I need a drink.”

  I follow her into the kitchen with both Heath and Jake on my heels. She doesn’t say a word as she pulls a bottle of vodka from our freezer and pours herself a shot. After throwing it back, she pours herself another.

  “Reilly, what happened?” I ask, moving to stand next to her and stopping her from pouring another shot.

  Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head.

  Jake moves in front of her. “Reilly.”

  Gulping, she pushes at him. “I need to talk to Kacey.”

  He lifts his hands to rest them on her shoulders. “I’m not okay with leaving you like this.”

  She pushes at him again. “I’ll be fine if you just go.”

  “Reilly,” he argues.

  “Go,” she snaps.

  Tipping his head to the ceiling, he inhales before stepping away. Heath moves out of the doorway as Jake approaches.

  Jake pauses there. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

  She nods and they leave. Once I hear the door to our place close behind them I turn back to her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She sets both of her hands on the counter and then leans over to rest her forehead on them. “I liked him.”

  I blink. “Who?”

  “Tad,” she moans.

  “The news anchor?” I ask in disbelief.

  He’s a good fifteen years older than us, uses way too much hair product, and does that creepy wink while shooting a pretend finger pistol thing.

  “Really?” I can’t help it.

  She lifts her head and pouts. “Yes, and I thought he liked me too.”

  “What happened?”

  “Last week he kissed me.”

  “Um, wow,” I mumble.

  She rolls her eyes. “l didn’t tell you because I knew you didn’t like him and I was waiting for him to ask me on a date.”

  “So, he didn’t ask you out?”

  Her pout returns. “No, and I just walked in on him having sex with a producer.”

  My lip curls. “At the station?”

  She nods. “I lied earlier about needing to work. I’m sorry about that.”

  I rub her arm. “It’s okay.”

  “I thought he liked me. Why was he having sex with someone else?”

  Shaking my head, I murmur, “He’s clearly an idiot.”

  Reilly laugh sniffles and nods. “It was awful. I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again.”

  Scrunching my nose I ask, “Did he have a hairy butt?”

  She pulls me into a hug as she laughs before pulling back and answering, “No, it wasn’t a bad looking ass. It’s the realization that the man attached to it is a complete dick that’s the problem.”

  “Seriously,” I agree. “How could he kiss you last week and be having sex with someone else now.”

  Her eyes go squinty. “He even flirted with me yesterday.”

  “Ugh, I’m glad I thought he was creepy. What a jerk.”

  She pours herself another shot and raises it. “Here’s to saving myself months of drama over a total asshole that isn’t worth it. I deserve a man who won’t flirt with me one minute and fuck someone else the next.”

  “Here, here,” I encourage as she throws her shot back.

  Setting her shot glass down with a bang, she levels her gaze at me. “Now, what do you deserve?”

  “What do you think that was about with Reilly?” Heath asks.

  Glancing back to their apartment, I shrug. “Probably something to do with some guy.”

  “I didn’t know she was seeing anyone.”

  “Every time I talk to her she’s dating someone new.”

  Dating is fine, still not sure about her getting Facebook chummy with Erik. He might be my brother on the rig but if he ever made Reilly upset, I’d have to kill him. It’s safer for him to stay platonic with her. He’s one of the four people I’d take a bullet for and I’d like it to stay that way.

  “Good for her. She’s too young to settle down.”

  We turn onto the street his building is on. “She’s the same age as Kacey.”

  “Ace is different.” He pauses. “Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with Reilly. Kacey is constant, settled. There are no surprises with her.”

  I wonder if we’re talking about the same person but hold my tongue. We have another beer once we’re back at his place.

  There’s a question I asked him earlier that I want to push him on but don’t.

  Why Kacey?

  Why now?

  Why wasn’t there any other girl he could have asked?

  Consciously not asking those questions kept me quiet as we drank. Since he has work tomorrow, and I plan to meet with my realtor as early as possible, we stick to one beer.

  Normally, my first night off the rig is always a hard one. The noises are different. While Ferncliff is no major city, the sound of the traffic is nothing like the ocean. Also, by the time I go to sleep on the rig, I’ve just pulled a twelve-hour day and I’m bone tired. Exhaustion is my cure to insomnia. On the rig, I eat, I sleep, and I work my ass off. All thoughts of the outside world don’t exist until I’m a part of it again. My paychecks get swept automatically. While Reilly was still in school, they went to two places, her school tuition and Gram and Gramps debt. Now that her tuition is paid off, ninety percent of my pay goes to their debt.

  It’s taken years paying off all the medical bills and the loans they took out to try and stay afloat. Now I’m down to only owing on the house.

  Considering they lived in this house my entire life, it should have been paid off by now. Too bad they mortgaged it to the hilt. Whoever approved those loans for an elderly couple with a pension and social security as their only income should be fired.

  The overall housing market hasn’t helped. For too long I’ve owed more on the house than what it’s worth.

  Thoughts plague my falling asleep. Once I sell this house, if I can, will there even be a reason for me to leave the rig again? There’s always Reilly, not that she needs her big brother anymore.

  It’s strange knowing that in a little under two years she’ll be thirty. Our mother was twenty-five when she had me, our father twenty-nine.

  If things were different, Reilly or Kacey could be a mother by now.

  Kacey, a mother.

  She’d make a good one, my little Killer; she’d take on the whole world to protect her loved ones.

  I can still picture it clear as a bell, Kacey taking on three boys all twice her size. They were hurting a stray dog, burning it with a lighter but I didn’t know that part until after the fact.

  By the time I came upon them, it was Kacey they were hurting. She fought like hell, though, screaming and kicking at them. I didn’t know why she wasn’t running away, not until I saw the dog she protected, shielding him with her body.

  Her screams caught my at
tention. Pedaling my bike in the direction of them, concerned curiosity brought me to her rescue.

  When I saw them, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. She was on her knees, her back to the boys, her body curved over something. Her head was turned and she was screaming at the boys, telling them to go away and kicking out with her leg when one of them stepped nearer.

  She was small, her kicks pathetic from a distance. What was she covering? Then I watched one of the boys return her kick with one of his own. The shock of it froze me.

  Her small body lurched and he lifted his leg to kick her again. Red filtered across my vision and I flew at them. What happened next was all a blur of fists.

  In the end, I broke the nose of one, gave another a black eye, and knocked the third out cold. Old Man Graham from across the way was driving past and pulled over, stopping me from hurting them any more than I already had.

  He loaded Kacey, the dog, and me into his beat up Buick and drove us home. It wasn’t until we were in the car that it dawned on me the girl I helped was my neighbor.

  Her family was new to our street and I couldn’t remember her name, so I called her Killer. I figured it fit since she was brave enough to take on three boys all on her own. I still call her Killer from time to time.

  It didn’t matter that she was smaller than them, she wasn’t the kind of girl who would ever watch someone or something being hurt and not step in.

  She’ll be the type of mother who will move heaven and earth to protect her kids. Old Man Graham ended up adopting that dog since Kacey’s dad was allergic and Grams was scared of big dogs.

  The dog was only a puppy when Kacey saved it, a pit puppy. He grew to be massive.

  That didn’t stop Kacey from tackle hugging him every time she saw Old Man Graham walking him.

  Used to crack me up, that dog scared everyone but her. Only the three of us knew why he’d never bite her. She would always be his hero, and in a way, I was hers.

  It was on that thought that I fell asleep.

  Thanks to my internal alarm clock, I’m showered and dressed before Heath. Not wanting to raid his fridge, I venture out for breakfast, leaving him a note and taking his spare key with me.

  The sleepy little town I grew up in has changed over the years. One thing I hope never changes is Lola’s Diner. There’s a decent breakfast crowd this morning so I head for the counter instead of waiting for a booth.

  “Haven’t seen you in ages, Jake. You still working on that rig?” I get by way of greeting as I slide onto a stool.

  “Morning, Mrs. Fairlane. Yes ma’am, still on the rig.”

  “Honey, you’re old enough to call me by my first name now and have been for at least a decade. How many times do I need to tell you that?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer since she already knows what I’ll say. “You want a coffee and the usual?”

  Grinning at her, I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She clucks her tongue at me before turning to call out my order and pour me a cup of coffee. The mugs are all mismatched at Lola’s. Somewhere amongst them is a Santa Barbara mug I gave them.

  Over the years, almost everyone in town has given her a mug or two.

  They have so many that they had a cool shelf put in to cover the back wall of the diner to display the ones they aren’t using.

  They rotate them out too, well the ones that aren’t too fragile or don’t have a particular special meaning.

  Those mugs are on the top shelf of that unit and never get used for customers anymore. The mug I got today is shaped like an owl and the base reads Owlbuquerque, NM.

  Lifting it to my nose, I inhale. The coffee we drink on the rig resembles sludge it’s so strong. Lola’s coffee is a thing of beauty in comparison.

  Mrs. Fairlane interrupts my unconscious homage to her coffee. “How long are you in town for, Jake?”

  Setting my owl mug down I straighten. “Not sure. Maybe long enough to finally talk you into running away with me.”

  Mrs. Fairlane could easily be my grandmother. It’s still fun to make her blush.

  “I’m too old for you and we both know it, Jake Whitmore,” she laughs.

  “Jake?”

  Both of our heads turn at the sound of my name being called.

  The voice belongs to a woman I don’t recognize. She’s pretty, though, with a rockabilly look to her. Her black hair is pulled up in a ponytail; blunt cut bangs covering her forehead. Tattoos peek out from the sleeves of her polka dotted dress, an apron tied at her waist.

  She works here but I still have no idea who she is even though she obviously knows me.

  It’s Mrs. Fairlane to the rescue. “You remember my granddaughter, Sydney, don’t you?”

  My eyes widen. “Sydney Fairlane? I didn’t even recognize you. I thought you had blonde hair.”

  Sydney grins as Mrs. Fairlane shakes her head. “I dyed it.” She hitches her thumb towards her grandmother. “It drives Gigi nuts.”

  Mrs. Fairlane looks upward and addresses the ceiling. “The good Lord gives her beautiful blonde hair and what does she do? Dyes it black.” Her eyes move back to Sydney. “Keep Jake company while I check on his food.”

  Sydney stops her as she passes and kisses her cheek. Mrs. Fairlane continues to grumble about such a waste of glorious hair as she goes but does it smiling.

  Sydney rolls her eyes before turning to me. “She loves to bitch. She hates my hair and all of my tattoos. Thank God she doesn’t know about my piercings.”

  It’s an effort to keep my face neutral and my eyes from searching for any mystery piercings.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever, Jake. How’ve you been?”

  Sydney was never in my immediate circle of friends when I lived here, mainly because she was closer to Reilly’s age than mine. I’ve always been a regular at Lola’s when I lived here and every time I visit. Over the years, we’ve formed somewhat of a diner style friendship.

  “Nothing new with me. Still working the rig. I’m in town to meet with the realtor of Gramp’s house and see Reilly.”

  At Reilly’s name, her face brightens. “It’s so cool to see all the reports she does on the news. We have a TV,” she points toward a flat screen mounted in one corner. “It’s usually on mute with the subtitles going, but when Reilly comes on we listen to her reports.”

  The subtitles are on since the diner plays oldies. There are even mini jukeboxes on each of the booth tables where you can pick the next song that plays for a nickel.

  “She emails me links sometimes. I catch up on them when I’m off the rig. What have you been up to? Last time I was in town your grandmother told me you were living in San Fran.”

  She leans forward to drum her fingers on the counter. “It was a total bust. I followed a guy up there. He turned out to be a fu-,” she cringes, glancing to the customer sitting next to me before continuing, “friggin loser, a lazy one who didn’t want to get a job and thought I’d pay for everything. No, thank you. So, I’m back.”

  Mrs. Fairlane returns with my food. “Here you go, hon.”

  “Thanks, ma’am.”

  She clucks her tongue at me and moves on to refill someone’s coffee at the other end of the counter.

  “Are you back for good or heading off again?” I ask.

  For as long as I’ve known Sydney, she’s been flighty. In the last five years, she’s lived in no less than ten different places, all over the country.

  She tips her head in Mrs. Fairlane’s direction. “She wants to retire and for me to take over the place.”

  The diner has been family owned and run since it first opened its doors. The reason Sydney’s parents haven’t taken over the place is because they no longer live in town.

  Her mom was a transplant from the east coast and talked Mr. Fairlane into moving back there years ago. Without any brothers or sisters, if Sydney doesn’t take the place over, her grandmother will have to sell it.

  “What do you want to do?”

  She leans forward, her elbow
on the counter, her chin in her hand. “I have no fu-friggin clue. Do I want to run a diner?” She lifts her shoulder like the movement is her answer. “A piece of me would disappear if Lola’s didn’t exist. This diner has been a home away from home for so long and it’s not like I have this burning desire to do something else with my life.”

  “Running this place wouldn’t be a life sentence if you decided it wasn’t the right fit.”

  Straightening, she squints one of her eyes at me and says, “Not a life sentence. Only you would see that.”

  Her remark surprises me. “Why would you say that?”

  Turning to head to the back, she pauses to look over her shoulder at me. “You’re serving time yourself.”

  She’s gone before I can reply. Mrs. Fairlane comes to check on me and refills my coffee while I quietly eat, contemplating my conversation with Sydney.

  You’re serving time yourself—truer words were never spoken. Only a few people know what I gave up to take on my grandparent’s debt.

  I leave money on the counter to cover my bill, along with a healthy tip and leave. At the door, I catch Mrs. Fairlane’s eye and give a salute. There’s no reason to bother with goodbye yet, she’ll see me again.

  My realtor’s office is a short walk from the diner. Since we planned to meet, Rich is waiting for me in the parking lot.

  We take his car over to my grandparent’s house. Memories hit me the minute we pull into the drive. No matter how long I’ve been gone, this place will always be the last place I thought of as home. It’s your typical two-story craftsman. It was built sometime in the 70’s and was my Gram’s dream home.

  How much she loved this house shined through in each and every room. She kept it neat as a pin, spending far too much time dusting and sweeping towards the end, given her age. It was a great place to grow up.

  Thanks to the water restrictions, the grass in the yard looked like shit. However, the hedges and flowerbeds seemed maintained.

  Everything looks good until we get inside.

  “What the fuck happened?” I ask, turning, trying to take in the damage.

  Rich shakes his head, his mouth hanging open before replying, “I have no idea.”

  “Did the tenants do this?” I press, gesturing to the wall in front of us.