The Story of Us

by Deb Caletti

  She tilted her head, looked me in the eyes. “Are you asking for me, or for you? Love … I loved your dad.”

  I could forget that part, but it had to have been true.

  She watched the fire. She spoke, finally. “There needs to be love, yeah. And all the right reasons for love.”

  The fire popped and crackled. I smelled something cinnamon-y coming from the kitchen. I tried to concentrate on that. Because I felt so tired all at once, and I hadn’t been myself, and I missed Janssen and my own home. My heart felt like it was being squeezed.

  “Cricket, are you okay? You seem definitely not okay.” Mom took my hand. “There’s a lot going on for you right now. For all of us. All of this moving on.”

  Shit. Shit! Suddenly I felt like I could cry. I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to cry.

  “Crick?”

  “How do you know what to do? What do I do?”

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “You don’t always know.”

  Damn, it was stupid, but I was crying, and stupid tears were rolling down my face, and I had to blow my nose, and my heart hurt so bad.

  “You wait there, not knowing, until you do know,” Mom said. “Eventually you do.”

  “Maybe not me,” I whispered.

  “Yes, you, sugar. Knowing takes its own time. I swear sometimes you’ve gotta get really, really uncomfortable before it shows up.”

  “The thing is,” I said. I tried to say.

  “Sweetie, what?”

  “I want the past. I want the past with the future.” I was a stupid, sniffing, crying mess. “I don’t want it to go away. I don’t want to lose what we had.” We, all of us. All of it.

  “Oh, honey.” I heard her swallow hard too. Her own voice was unsteady. “I know. I do.”

  She hugged me. My whole chest ached. I didn’t have words for it, for everything that was happening. Had been happening, since Janssen and graduation and those moving boxes and that wedding dress in Mom’s closet. But I felt it all. Loss-life-hurt-change, I felt all of it.

  My mother’s arms were around me, and I was getting her shirt all wet with my tears, and Jupiter was squashed between us. I could feel her breathing, her dog chest going up and down. It must have been hot in there, but she did what a good dog would. She stayed, still and patient.

  chapter

  fifteen

  “Something fishy’s going on here,” Gram said too loudly, talking over the music. She had worked her way next to me on the big deck overlooking the beach, where we’d all gathered for the barbecue. The weather had cleared just before sunset, giving us a raspberry mango sky. An outdoor fireplace was blazing warmth into the salty sea air of night. Lit lanterns hung from wires overhead, and small white lights twinkled from the palm trees planted in enormous ceramic pots. Rebecca had turned on some reggae.

  “That’s just the salmon,” I said. Ted stood in the corner manning a big gas barbecue. Smoke billowed. He wore an apron over his Hawaiian shirt and jeans. Rebecca had set up a long table against the house, and platters of food—salads and breads and rice dishes—were heaped along it. Ben and Oscar were already snitching stuff over there, before it was supposed to be time to eat. An entire bread roll disappeared into Ben’s mouth. Jupiter was lying on Cruiser’s bed, which had been dragged outside for the occasion. Her own bed sat next to his, empty, and he crouched on the floor nearby, watching her nervously. John and Jane both tried to coax spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese into Baby Boo’s clenched mouth, as he sat in a plastic chair shaped like an airplane.

  “I don’t mean the salmon,” Gram said. Her eyes narrowed. “I mean that George. And Mr. Shine.” She flung her head sideways to indicate Grandpa and George, who stood innocently talking to Mom, dressed up now in a blowy blue batik skirt.

  “It’s all fine, Gram,” I said. Oh no. Not her, too. Then again, she once thought her neighbor was the same man she’d seen on 48 Hours Mystery, who’d chopped his wife up with a butcher knife.

  “He gave him money,” she said. “I saw Grandpa slip George cash when we went to Subway. Why would he do that, tell me. Maybe George is a con man.” I looked over at George, who had his hands in his pockets shyly. “Do you know your grandfather couldn’t say no to a salesman to save his life? Fuller brush men, religious fanatics, whoever came knocking on our door, he’d let him in. We had vacuums, Amway, encyclopedias. People don’t even have encyclopedias anymore. I should have saved them. They’ll be collector’s items one day.”

  “Maybe George was short on cash, Gram. Maybe Grandpa borrows from George too.”

  “I tell you, there’s something those two haven’t told us. I’ve got a feeling.”

  Aunt Bailey danced on over to the sound of steel drums. “Buf-falo sol-dya,” she sang. “Born in Amer-ica.”

  “You guys look great,” I said. They both had new sweaters on. Gram’s was blue, and Aunt Bailey’s was green.

  “Outlet mall, super deal,” Aunt Bailey said. “I found mine first.”

  “We also got running shoes. Half off. I promise you, I’m going to find out what the situation is here,” Grandma said.

  “Are you still going on about that?” Aunt Bailey said. She once was sure a painting she’d bought at a flea market was the work of a Renaissance master. An overactive imagination was obviously one of our family traits.

  Ben and Oscar joined us. Ben handed Gram a wine cooler, and she twisted off the top and took a sip.

  “Maybe they’re an item.” Aunt Bailey wiggled her eyebrows, and Gram nearly spit spritzer through her nose. But Ben caught my eye. See? his expression said. Forget it, I said with mine.

  “Fat chance of that,” Gram said. “I know that man. He’s got a sex drive—”

  “HOW ABOUT SOME CHIPS AND SALSA!” I shouted.

  “Salsa has only fifteen calories,” Aunt Bailey said. “You can eat all you want of it in Weight Watchers.”

  “Over on that small table.” I pointed.

  Gram and Aunt Bailey headed off, and then, Jesus, Oscar put his hands on my waist, gave me a shake, and sort of pulled me to him. It was the same move he’d seen Ash do the night before. “One love,” he sang to the music. “One heart. Let’s get toge-ther and be-all-right.”

  “Okay, that was fun,” I said. “Let’s play ‘keep your hands to yourself’ now.”

  “Cricket.” Oscar looked hurt.

  I ignored him. That note under my door, the handsy move—I’d deal with it with a swift kick of denial. I looked around. Took roll call in my head. “Where’s Hailey and Gavin?”

  “Playing Road Racers in the tent,” Ben said. He wiggled his eyebrows like Aunt Bailey.

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “Dan is going to love that.” I looked over at Mom, who was smiling and happy in the glowy light of the lanterns. Obviously she didn’t hear the disaster-movie music, telling her that the shark was now swimming right by the bikini-clad swimmer. This party was going downhill fast.

  “It’s cool. They’re not—”

  “Doing it,” Oscar said.

  “She just likes the new joystick,” Ben said, and chuckled.

  “You’re awful,” I said. “You’re as bad as Gram.” Gram was going at the salsa now, sliding closer to Grandpa and George, trying to listen in.

  “No, I mean it,” Ben said. “Do you know she’s never played video games before? She can’t get enough. Gavin’s dream girl. I guess she never was allowed to eat junk food either, and you should see what’s happening to those M&M’s.”

  “Ted!” Rebecca yelled. “I need you!”

  Rebecca waved a broom over her head, up near the roof. I saw him then. A big ball of gray fur, his black bandit mask. Little evil hands, wearing black leather-ish gloves. Cruiser spotted him too. He began to run and pace along the deck, and Jupiter jumped up and joined him, two against one, barking and howling.

  “That’s him!” George said.

  “If I had my shotgun, I’d shoot the bastard,” Grandpa Shine said.

  “What are you saying, Arthur?
We were always members of the Sierra Club. Always,” Gram said.

  “Oh, my God!” Jane shrieked, and John flung himself in front of Baby Boo, who started to cry.

  Mom and Ben and I were trying to hustle the dogs inside, and Ted was shouting at that raccoon and waving the broom, and then Dan hurried out, right before we shut the door. His hair was wet, just out of the shower, probably, and he was wearing a green polo shirt, not his style. The dogs paced back and forth in front of the windows, barking as if we were under imminent terrorist attack.

  “It looks very handsome on you,” Aunt Bailey said. She stood next to Dan in her own new sweater. Both of them were as green as a golf course lawn.

  “Well, it was very kind of you to get it for me,” Dan said. Dan was a T-shirt and flannel kind of guy. He looked like he was about to play nine holes, or maybe head on over to the clubhouse for their Sunday buffet.

  “I can’t resist a bargain,” said Aunt Bailey. “We should have gotten more colors.”

  Green Dan kissed Green Aunt Bailey’s cheek. His shirt still had the fold lines on it. He approached me. “Do you know where Amy is?” I hooked my thumb toward the house. I could see Amy in there, sitting on the living room couch, holding her phone and texting. Dan exhaled in frustration. “Hailey?”

  “She’s out in the tent with Gavin. Playing video games,” I said.

  “That’s all they’re doing,” Oscar said. “They’re not making out or anything.”

  Dan smoothed his hair back with the palm of his hand. “All right, okay.” His eyes were distracted. Ted put the broom down. The raccoon was gone. Baby Boo had calmed down now, and was eating a strawberry like a little angel. Mom came over, took Dan’s hand. “Hi, sweetie,” she said.

  “Can you get Hailey?” Dan asked me. “It’s almost time to eat, by the look of things.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “Everything all right, honey?” Mom asked him.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  “I’ll come along,” Oscar said.

  “No, I’ll be right back alone.”

  I got the hell out of there, headed down the boardwalk toward the beach. I could hear Dan’s urgent tones, and Mom’s Oh no. You’re kidding in a clearly pissed-off way. I heard Ben shout something that made people laugh, and the door opened again, and there was the scamper of dog toenails.

  I touched down on the beach. I wondered if I could take the long way to Oscar and Gavin’s tent. Like maybe via Southern California. The music up there, the lights and the laughter and voices—it all seemed twinkly and merry from down here. Inside of it there were too many stories. People’s pasts and futures colliding.

  I took a moment to breathe in the smell of the sea. Seaweed and murky green depths, coldness and salt. The waves rolled in over sand. Chshsh … Cshshsh … Maybe some things were forever. The ocean was. Tides in, tides out. A beach just is and always will be.

  I heard laughter and screaming coming from that glowing tent globe. “Knock, knock,” I said.

  Not loud enough, I guess, because when I pulled back the tent flap, I caught Hailey in Gavin’s lap, and at the sound of my voice, she jumped back and shrieked, twisted her shirt around the right way, grabbing at buttons. Gavin had sort of flung her off of him, and now looked more triumphant than embarrassed. I could see the television. A teddy bear sat in a car with its teddy bear arms raised over its head. The video words “YOU’RE THE WINNER!!!” danced happily around to cartoon circus music.

  “Jesus, you guys!” I said. I covered my eyes. “This is neither the time nor the place.” I sounded like somebody’s mother. “Your father wants to see you.”

  “I didn’t know what I was missing all these years!” Hailey said. Her cheeks were flushed. The boyfriend back home had obviously been forgotten in the thrill of the high score.

  “Stick with me, baby,” Gavin said.

  “We’re eating,” I said. My voice had turned prim. My mouth felt pinched together in some church-lady way. “You both need to head up to the house, now.”

  “Okay, okay,” Hailey said. She stood, pulled a handful of shorts from her butt crack.

  “I’m not all that hungry after astronaut pot roast and mashed potatoes,” Gavin said.

  “I’m stuffed too. All those chocolates,” Hailey said. She made the word sound sensual. The top button of her shorts was unbuttoned. Maybe Gavin had done it, or maybe she had, needing more room after all those M&M’s and sour gummy worms and—wait, nacho cheese Doritos—partied in her stomach.

  “Gavin, jeez,” I said. “This place is a mess!”

  “We’re having fun. Isn’t that the idea? What are you so pissed about?” Gavin said.

  “The idea is …” I didn’t know. Not this. Not the kind of disaster upon disaster that could lead to frantic cab rides to airports.

  “Come on, Gavin,” Hailey said. She was outside already.

  Gavin was rushing me along. “She’s never had chocolate, so she’s a little—”

  “I love technology!” Hailey shouted.

  “Never?”

  “Carob,” Gavin said. He mimed sticking his finger down his throat in a gag. “She really pounded those M&M’s.”

  “I’ve decided something!” Hailey said. Great. Terrific. “No more fucking organic. No more diets. Die yet, get it? They’re trying to kill us.”

  We caught up to her. Maybe pro athletes should give up those pesky steroids, because by the look of it, M&M’s could work magic. Hailey was cruising, fast. She could probably lift a car with one finger. She leaped over a large rock. “Hey, I like a real woman,” Gavin said. “I don’t do bones.”

  Well. Who knew he had preferences? Before that day the thing Gavin looked for most in a female was one that would say hi to him after he said hi.

  “I love it!” she said, as sugar and fat and monosudiolgludo-somethings rose in her like a roller-coaster car up a rickety ramp.

  I needed an aspirin. I left them at the party and headed upstairs to hunt through Mom’s purse for the bottle. I went into their room, found her bag on the bed. I rustled around in there, trying to hurry.

  But, wait. Wait just a second. What was this? A glossy pamphlet folded in half. I opened it. It was wrong to snoop, but what did that matter when you actually found something? I sat down on the edge of the bed. I held that thing in my hands.

  There was a picture of a beach, a grass-roofed umbrella, a shadowy bikini-clad woman taking a solitary walk. My eyes stopped on the words. Enjoy the blessed isolation … Escape to sunny … Escape.

  I knew it.

  Daughters and ex-wives and arguments—bad signs. They could press and press you to the breaking point. A person might want … options. But you could have an invitation sitting there at your fingertips and not take it, right? The beach and the thought of escape and tropical drinks, of peace, it could all sit there with its finger crooked, beckoning, and it didn’t mean you’d follow. It didn’t mean there was enough reason already. Maybe you just wanted to look at the picture. Maybe you just wanted to know you could leave.

  I shoved the pamphlet back into my mother’s purse and headed back downstairs, forgetting all about the aspirin. I hurried back down. Dan had wanted us all there for dinner, and it seemed crucial to cooperate as much as possible. Things needed to go right.

  In the hall I ran smack into him. Ash. He was just out of the shower too, same as Dan. His hair was wet. He took my arms.

  “Well,” he said. “How’s that for timing.”

  God, he smelled good.

  “Coming to dinner?” I said. My voice was hoarse.

  “Let’s try that again, the whole crashing-into-me thing,” he said.

  “Later?” I said.

  “Later,” he said. “Soon, later.”

  Janssen, Janssen, Janssen, my heart said. But the voice sounded so far away.

  “Now that we’re all here,” Dan said.

  Dan’s black hair was shiny in the light of the lanterns, as black and glossy as a ra
iny street at night. His eyes were black too. Deep black and sincere. His face was serious. Everyone was gathered around on the back deck overlooking the sea. Gram wasn’t paying attention. She had her eyes locked on Grandpa and George. Hailey wasn’t paying attention either. I saw her run her pinkie along Gavin’s thigh. He started to cough; he pounded his chest with one fist.

  “I just wanted to take a moment,” Dan said. “We’ve all been here, but scattered different places. I can’t wait until everyone’s together—my parents, Daisy’s sister … But now. Tonight. Great food, great music, family, friends … And my beautiful bride.” He held his hand out to her, my mother. And she went to him. Pamphlet or no pamphlet, she took his finger tips and beamed.

  He kissed her cheek. It was … It was so damn sweet, and I felt choked up. You could see how much he loved her, and there she was, my mother, and she’d been through so much shit, she and Ben and me, all of us, and now here we were, and the night was beautiful. I could see Ted take Rebecca’s hand. Ash stood by the barbecue, smiling. Ben was next to me, with Jupiter tucked under one arm. She loved being up high, and Ben was watching out for her, making sure she wasn’t overlooked down there in the crowd, as she watched everything with her shiny eyes. And Jane swayed back and forth with Baby Boo on one hip, as John looked on, loving them both. I could hear Gram sniff. She was feeling it too—family and love and all the crazy stuff you go through together in a life. But the point was, you went through it together, and you all stood there as witnesses and allies, and you gave your love over. During the bad times, but in the moments that were this good, too.

  “I just want to say …” Dan’s voice cracked. “I am a blessed man.”

  Ben’s eyes were wet.

  “Jesus,” Grandpa said. He sniffed, and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

  My mother, our mother, set her head on Dan’s shoulder. I felt my heart squeeze. Gold lantern lights danced in her hair. Love felt like magic.

  And then it happened. The metallic, urgent song of a phone. It stopped. Started again. Amy fished into her pocket, turned her back, and plugged her other ear with one finger. “’Lo?”