Life Happens on the Stairs

by Amy J. Markstahler

“I can’t say yet,” I said. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I haven’t told Mom. Please don’t tell her.”

  “Mm,” she hummed. “I won’t. He’s not hurtin’ you, is he? I mean, physically?”

  “Oh, no. He’s not like that, he’s... he’s too good for me.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” she blurted. I flinched. “I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life. Nobody’s too good for you. You’re the finest girl in Hardin County.”

  “Gee, thanks, Ruby,” I said, dryly.

  “Okay, that’s not a good example. In the whole state of Tennessee, then. Any boy would be lucky to have you as his girl. What’s got you thinkin’ this way?”

  “I saw him with a beautiful girl.” I shook my head. “No. She’s a woman... I don’t know what to think. I’m supposed to go out with him tomorrow night, but now, I don’t know.”

  Woodrow returned with sweet tea in each hand. I said thank you. He went back to his chair and started picking ticks off the dog again.

  “Miss Elsie,” Ruby said, “don’t go gettin’ ahead of yourself. You don’t know what you saw. Go out, have a good time, and ask him about her. That’s all it takes. Now, more importantly, why haven’t you told your momma?”

  I stared at my glass. “Um, she’s not going to be happy about it,” I said, and then I looked at her and smiled. “He met Dad yesterday, though.”

  “How’d y’all do that when your momma don’t know?”

  “We went in the afternoon when she was at work. He asked if he could go to the hospital and see Dad because he might not get another chance, so after our jog—”

  “Jog!” she squawked. “When did you start jogging?”

  “Early July.” I shrugged, and then I told her about us going to the hospital.

  “I never thought they’d get a chance to talk.” I slumped back in the swing. “Oh, Ruby... he said the sweetest things, and then I had to see him today with that Victoria’s Secret model.”

  “You need to tame this crazy imagination of yours.” She waved her hand at me. “If that boy is willing to go talk to your daddy, I think he deserves a chance to explain.” Ruby bobbed her head once as if to put a period at the end of her sentence, and then she sealed it with another opinion. “Sounds like good people to me.”

  She put her arm around me and I let her squeeze me close.

  “Thanks, Ruby.”

  “You need to go on home,” she said. “Take a long shower and a good look in the mirror. I don’t ever want to hear you say you’re not good enough again. Understood? You’re a beautiful, smart, and talented girl. If a boy can’t see that, he’s as blind as that ole’ dog over there.”

  “Thank you for listening.” I said, giving her a hug.

  “All right, you go on now.” She patted my back. “And cheer up.”

  I said goodbye and headed home. Ruby always made me feel better, but I was nervous I’d told her about Tyler. I’d gotten too bold. I had to end the lie before it blew up in my face.

  Chapter 11

  I tossed and turned all night, nightmares in full color, waking me every two hours. I hadn’t talked to Tyler, and I swore I wouldn’t text or call him.

  I heard a tap on my door around nine the next morning.

  “Come in.”

  Mom stepped inside and sat on the edge of my bed.

  “I’m headed to the hospital. I probably won’t be home until late. Your dad, well, it’s hard to say what will happen, but he’s not doing well this morning.”

  “What?” I sat up. “I just saw him last Thursday. He woke up and talked to me. I thought it had been a good sign.”

  The ache of constant uncertainty plagued my stomach.

  Her eyes brightened. “You talked to him?”

  “Yeah, Aaron said they took him off his medication.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said. “The swelling won’t go down. They’re talking like they want to transfer him to Nashville. If they do, you’re going to have to work my jobs for me, especially at the Vaughn’s. I haven’t told her about your dad yet, but I can’t afford for her to use the time off against me.”

  “What kind of person holds your husband dying against you?”

  “She’s... well.” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “She’s a bitch. There’s no other way to say it.”

  I pressed my hand over my mouth to cover my smile. I couldn’t believe Mom said it. She never spoke that way about anyone, especially her clients.

  “I don’t want to send you, but I think it’ll only be for a few days.” She gave me a stern look. “You have to ignore her and her snide remarks. She doesn’t have a filter. To be honest, I think she loves to patronize me because I’m not Southern.”

  I remembered Tyler saying how she hated Northerners. It didn’t make any sense. It was almost as stupid as hating a person because of their skin color.

  “Hopefully, they’ll tell me today if they’re transferring Dad,” she said, patting my leg with an exhausted look.

  I didn’t refuse to help or give her any attitude. Complaining might’ve broken any spirit she had left. She walked across the room and opened the door.

  “Thanks for all you do, Elsie. It helps to know I can trust you. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Guilt pierced my stomach. I couldn’t tell her about Tyler (even though my lie might have been irrelevant after seeing him with that woman). Mom was under too much stress already. After all the crap Mark and I’d put her through, she still trusted me. But it had taken over a year of isolation and self-punishment to regain her regard. I sunk back on my pillows and stared at the ceiling.

  My phone beeped.

  Tyler: I missed you this morning.

  Sure, you did...

  Me: Yeah, right.

  No, I couldn’t send that. Delete, delete...

  Me: Me too.

  I pressed send.

  Tyler: 6, right?

  Me: Yes.

  Tyler: You okay?

  Me: Sure.

  Tyler: Good. See u soon.

  Me:

  I had nothing to say. I let the phone drop on the bed, and then I grabbed my sketchpad. A tornado had just ripped through my secret world of happiness. I needed to forget about Tyler and focus on something else. All I could imagine was him sitting at his grandmother’s, talking about the poor girl he’d taken pity on. I turned the page, shaking off that horrible thought.

  The sketch was of Dad. I’d been working on a twenty-three-portrait series of him from the age of eighteen to present. I’d gathered photos from each year and affixed them to separate pages. The problem was, I wasn’t sure how I should portray his current “look.” He’d drastically changed, and it wasn’t flattering compared to how handsome he once was. I wanted to honor him, not record the way he’d deteriorated. That part I wanted to forget.

  For the rest of my life, I’d question why people died the way they did. Some people passed in their sleep, peacefully without pain, while others were ripped away within seconds, and then there were those who had to endure a long, slow, and painful death. What qualified one person to get a peaceful, quiet passing and another to be tortured until their last breath? It would never make sense, and as a simple human being, I’d never understand. The thought made me wonder what fate held for me. I turned the page, shaking off the awful idea.

  Tyler. Damn. I’d actually stopped thinking about him for a minute. Looking over the pages, I’d drawn several versions of him, but there was something about him I couldn’t capture – something internal, an aspect that I didn’t understand yet.

  Tyler challenged me. He defied my charcoal and my talent. I had to try harder.

  I flipped to a blank page and snatched up my charcoal, determined to do it right. I started with a collage of Dad depicting his different expressions over the years, positioning each version in opposite corners. Smiling brightly; rubbing his forehead (something he did often); staring into the distance, and a sketch of him laughing. At the ce
nter, I drew a larger version of him, copied from a photo I’d found, where he had a look of pure love that I knew was directed at Mom. Recreating that one hurt. I loved the way Mom and Dad could communicate with just a simple look.

  Tears started rolling down my cheeks.

  When I was eight years old, I had asked Dad if he would take me to get ice cream.

  “Elsie, I don’t have a penny to my name.”

  I thought I was brilliant as I ran around the house, gathering all the pennies I could find. When I handed him my pile, he stared at his palm, and then looked at me with stoic blue eyes.

  “I stand corrected,” he’d said. “I have seven.”

  He’d taken a deep breath, closed his hand around the change as he ruffled my hair with his other. Then he’d pulled me close to give me a hug. I’d squeezed him around the waist in return.

  “Let’s see what we have in the deep freeze,” he’d said.

  Five minutes later, we were sitting on the back step together, eating a fudge pop in the afternoon sun. Dad always found a way. I didn’t have a clue how I’d move forward without him.

  I wiped my face, yearning for him to get better.

  I flipped to a clean page and tackled Tyler’s profile. I started sketching his shy smile when he’d kissed me in the log cabin church. By the time I’d finished, I gasped when I looked at the clock.

  Four-thirty!

  I dropped my stuff and ran to the bathroom. At ten till five, I hurried out of the shower, performing all my usual rituals to get ready. By five forty-five, I’d managed to put myself together enough to slip into my new dress and shoes. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, impressed with the person reflected back. In the past few weeks, my jogging had transformed any fat I had into muscle. My arms and legs were defined, and the shoes jacked me up another three and a half inches. Even if I had to throw him out because of the beautiful blonde, at least I had a new dress and shoes that were clearly meant for me.

  A knock boomed from the front door. I walked to the living room, took a deep breath, and opened the door. My heart skipped a beat. Tyler wore black on black, standing tall with both hands in his slacks pockets.

  He smiled. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  As he stepped inside, his earthy-cedar scent filled the air. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms. I tried to remember how mad I was at him, but his cologne clouded my judgment, and he had turned to me with his dark eyes. Sliding his hand into my hair, he pressed his lips to mine. I clutched his strong shoulders, completely incapable of resisting him.

  “Nice, I like you up here,” he responded to my newfound height.

  “You look really good in black.”

  He flashed an adorable smile. I stepped away and headed toward my room to grab my purse. My sketchpad with his face drawn across it was lying on the bed. I snagged the book and flipped it over. When I turned around, he was leaning against the doorway, looking around the room.

  “You have a lovely home,” Tyler said.

  “Thank you. It’s not that great, but it’s home.”

  “It’s you. I just want to know about you.” He nodded toward my bed. “I’m hoping you’ll share what’s inside that sketchbook one of these days, as well.”

  I looked at him straight-faced, unable to discern his wishes. Those particular sets of drawings were for me alone. He wouldn’t get near that book until I knew the truth about the girl.

  “Something wrong?” he asked, perceptive as always. “You seem... tense.”

  “Um... I have something to ask you.”

  “Anything.” He pushed off the door and moved closer.

  “Mom asked me to come by your house yesterday. I, um... I saw you get out of your car, and, well, you were with a woman. And she certainly wasn’t your grandmother,” I blurted, and then I took a deep breath to reel in my anxiety. “Can I ask who she is?”

  An amused smile broached his lips as he stepped toward me and took my hands in his. Heart pounding, palms sweating, it was the first time I’d ever wanted to pull away from him. I waited. His hesitation was unbearable. Maybe he was trying to decide if he should tell me the truth. If I had to, I’d show him to the door. I wasn’t in this to get jerked around.

  “Miss Elizabeth, if I may be so bold as to use your given name, you’re more beautiful right now than I’ve ever seen you. Seriously. Amazing.” He let the statement linger for a few seconds, then he looked at me with the sincerest expression. “The woman you saw yesterday is my mother. My parents are in town for the weekend.”

  “Who has a mom who looks like that?”

  “I guess I do.” He chuckled. “Elsie, you have nothing to worry about.”

  He leaned in and kissed me so tenderly I thought my knees would fold. Thankfully, he held me around the waist as he deepened his embrace. After he pulled away, my cheeks felt like they were on fire.

  “I feel pretty stupid,” I whispered.

  “Don’t. Can I take you out for dinner now?”

  I smiled. “Yes.”

  Tyler took my hand, and within minutes, I was sitting in another world – his world. The Mercedes had black-leather bucket seats with white stitching lining the leather, chrome highlighted the dash without a speck of dirt in sight, and it still smelled brand-new. When he closed the door, it didn’t slam with a bang or piercing squeak, like the Honda, but with a quiet and demure click. I strapped on the seatbelt as he started the engine. The dash lit up in fluorescent blue, and then the soft sound of a classical piece filled the air.

  “I think you’ll like where we’re going,” he said. “It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s worth it.”

  “Anywhere but here sounds good to me.”

  Tyler drove north out of Savannah through the valley and into the high hills, maybe a tad too fast, but the car rolled over the bumps on the road like they didn’t exist. After weeks of stress, I finally felt like I could relax and enjoy myself. He reached over and took my hand. The music changed, and the sound of Jeff Buckley’s aching electric guitar filled the air with the slow tempo of Hallelujah. The first time I heard the song was in the movie Shrek. Buckley’s version was different, but it was definitely my favorite. Tyler’s warm touch, his unwavering confidence, the erotic sounds of the haunting music – made me wish the evening could last forever.

  Thirty minutes later, Tyler turned onto a country road and followed the curves, gradually climbing in elevation through the dense woodlands. Within a half mile, he drove down an asphalt driveway to a small brick building with twenty-foot, black iron gates guarding the entrance. He rolled down his tinted window.

  “Good evening, Mr. Vaughn,” a bald, plump guard said. “How are you?”

  “Very well, sir,” Tyler said with a nod.

  “Enjoy your evening.”

  “Same to you, Philip.”

  The gates opened to a lane that led to a two-story, log cabin lodge that was settled in the center of a vast, green lawn, overlooking the mountain valley. On both sides were one-story wings with full-length windows facing the tranquil view of the forests.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful,” I said. “It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Yeah, not many people know about it.” He smiled. “Only the ones who know. You know?”

  I smirked at his corny remark as we drove up to the front entrance. A young man, wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt, ran around the car to open the door. Tyler gave him the keys and then shook the guy’s hand, leaving some cash in his palm. Nerves prickled my arms as I watched Tyler walk around the car and open my door. He offered me his hand. Standing up, I paused to compose myself.

  He smiled, giving my hand a squeeze. “You’re perfect. Follow me.”

  Tyler held the door open, and I stepped inside a lodge meant for Aspen, Colorado. The maître d’ immediately rushed to greet Tyler. The man acknowledged me with a nod, and led us through the low-lit dining room, past the tab
les of people enjoying dinner. The tall ceilings were stamped copper, outlined in mahogany wood trim. Deep-burgundy walls complemented the dark woodwork. Brown leather booths lined the space, tables covered in white linen filled the center of the dining room as the chandeliers twinkled above. The maître d’ presented us a booth next to a long window overlooking the serene forest.

  Tyler thanked him, and then he said something in French. I did a double-take – French? The man nodded and walked away. Tyler settled in across from me.

  “You know French?” I asked in disbelief.

  He shyly smiled. Within a minute, a male server approached with two glasses.

  “Ah... Mr. Vaughn,” the man said. “I heard you would be here tonight. Very nice to see you again.”

  “Nice to see you, Alto. I’d like to introduce you to Elsie.”

  Alto smiled and bowed his head. “My pleasure to meet you, Miss.” His obsidian eyes glimmered under the light. “Would you like a glass of sparkling water?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said.

  He set a glass in front of us, presented the menus, and walked away.

  Tyler held up his glass. “Would you like a toast?”

  “I’d love one.”

  “To you, Elsie,” he said, dark eyes set on mine. “Meeting you has changed my life.”

  Our glasses clinked, as my heart skipped a beat. That was a loaded statement...

  “Likewise,” I said.

  We took a sip and started looking over the menu. To my surprise, all of the entrées were in foreign languages.

  I whispered across the table, “I have no idea what any of this says.”

  He grinned and turned on the charm, pronouncing each French and Italian dish with expertise, as if he ate in Europe every night. Overwhelmed by the choices, I told him I liked a rare steak. Tyler took it from there when the server returned to take our orders.

  “Where are we, exactly?” I asked after we were alone again.

  “My family’s country club. They built it in the late nineties.”

  “It’s amazing.” Then I realized what he’d said. “What do you mean ‘they’ built it?”

  “We don’t own it anymore. Nana sold it after Grandpa died. She’s liquidated everything. On some levels, I understand, but something like this... I’d love to own it again someday.”