Rock Bottom Girl

by Score, Lucy

  Marley’s head snapped around in the direction of the car so fast I thought she might add whiplash to her list of injuries.

  “Oops! Forgot to mention that part,” Amie Jo said cheerfully. “Sorry!” Homer licked her in the face.

  Marley rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to me.

  “She’s basically Machiavelli,” Marley sighed.

  “Did you all hit your heads?” I asked.

  Marley ignored me while I tried to get a good look at her pupils. “I love you,” she said. “So much. So big and wide and more. You’re the ‘more’ I’ve been looking for my entire life. And I love you, and I hope you still love me even though I was a jerk and told you that you didn’t know what love was.”

  Homer barked from the car as if he were answering for me.

  “Do you think there’s a chance you could forgive me?” she whispered.

  “That depends. Do you think you could be happy living here with me?” I asked, running my finger over her collarbone.

  She nodded. “Yeah.” Her voice cracked. “Really happy. Like really, really happy.”

  “Baby.” I swiped the hot tears off her cheeks and leaned down to kiss her.

  “Ouch,” she said when I touched her swollen lip.

  “Sorry.” I kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “Woo-hoo!” Amie Jo and Zinnia celebrated from the back seat.

  Ned beeped the horn. “Don’t forget to ask him,” he screeched.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. If we’re made up and everything, would you mind if my family came for dinner tonight? We burnt our turkey.”

  “The more, the merrier,” I told her. “Now what the hell happened to you?”

  “I told you. Zinnia and Amie Jo and I got drunk and fell out of a tree.”

  81

  Marley

  The lights were low. The kids, including my nieces and nephew, Jake’s nieces and nephews, and Libby and her foster siblings were watching a Christmas movie in the living room on the floor while Homer snored on the couch. My pants were unbuttoned after thirds of everything.

  Lewis was opening our ninth bottle of wine, and Jake was holding my hand under the table while he grilled his mom’s boyfriend on his background.

  Everything was just about perfect. Amie Jo and my sister were shitfaced and commiserating in the corner about how hard perfection was to maintain.

  My mother was enjoying a lively debate with Max and Adeline about the education system. Dad and Jake’s mom were in the kitchen doing dishes and talking about Louisa’s water coloring hobby. Rob, who’d been up with one of the kids last night, was asleep at the dining table.

  My aches and pains from the fall were comfortably numbed by too much food, too much wine, and too much love.

  I didn’t have to be out there making a difference for thousands of people in order to matter. I could make my difference one person at a time. Starting with me. There was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. And that was the secret, I realized. It didn’t matter what my salary was. Whether or not I had a corner office and an assistant. This feeling, this contentment, was what mattered most.

  I loved and was loved. And that was the most important thing in the world.

  Jake leaned over and whispered in my ear, “What do you say we sneak upstairs for some very quiet make-up sex?”

  “I say as long as I don’t have to move around too much, you’re on. I’d hate to throw up gravy on you.”

  “Let’s pop some antacids first just to be safe,” he said with a wink.

  I followed him into the kitchen where he rifled through the cabinets. I poked my head into the living room and looked at the little bodies scattered on the floor, their attention glued to the TV.

  Libby smiled and waved from the end of the couch. Homer’s head was in her lap, and Rose was squished up against her side.

  I waved back, feeling warm and fuzzy. Her foster mom was working a double today, so we’d picked up the entire clan of kids and brought them to Jake’s.

  Jake rattled the bottle of Tums. “Who wants?”

  I heard adults from all corners say “Me!”

  Jake was busy doling out antacids when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” I volunteered.

  Homer grumbled and reluctantly crawled off the couch to join me. I opened the door and blinked.

  My sister’s husband, Ralph, and Travis stood on the porch looking uncomfortable.

  “Um. Hi,” I said.

  “Hi. Are our wives here?” Ralph asked. “And before you feel like you need to lie for Zinnia, you should know I tracked her phone here.”

  “Uh. Well, maybe?” My sense of loyalty told me I needed to check with Zinnia and Amie Jo first before admitting that they were here. And shitfaced.

  “Hi, Daddy!” Edith peeked around me and waved at her father.

  Ralph’s face softened, and he leaned down to pick her up. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Why don’t you two come in, and I’ll see if I can find your wives?” I suggested. “Wait right here.”

  I beelined into the dining room where Zinnia and Amie Jo were laughing hysterically over nothing. “Your husbands are here,” I hissed.

  “Who?” Amie Jo asked. She had an abrasion on her cheek, a black eye, and a broken middle finger.

  “Your husband, Travis, and your husband, Ralph,” I said, pointing to each of them in turn.

  “What about them?” Zinnia asked. She had a cut on her forehead and a raw scrape on her neck. Her shoulder had been dislocated and popped back into place.

  “They’re heeeeeere.” I enunciated carefully, hoping my words would make it to them through the river of wine they’d ingested.

  “Where?” Amie Jo asked.

  “Oh, for the love of—your wives are in here,” I bellowed. The men appeared in the doorway, and I bolted for safety, taking the last of the utensils with me. Amie Jo was more of a schemer. But angry Zinnia was new to me. I didn’t know if she’d get stabby.

  “What’s going on in there?” Jake asked, nodding in the direction of the dining room.

  “They’re either making up or breaking up.”

  “It’s the perfect distraction,” he said, dragging me by the good arm toward the stairs.

  We snuck upstairs, giggling. It was dark on the second floor, and Jake fumbled with the light switch as he pushed me into the bedroom. Our bedroom, I thought. He flicked the switch, and the sconces on the wall glowed to life. The bed was made with…were those new linens?

  “What do you think?” he asked, rubbing my shoulder.

  The duvet was a nice, manly navy. Plain, simple, and a thousand times better than the scratchy comforter he’d had before. The pillows, well, there was a mountain of them. In blues and grays.

  I crawled onto the mattress and flopped back against them. “Ahhh. This is really nice,” I whispered.

  He slid in next to me and carefully rolled me to the side so he could spoon me. His body against mine was the more I’d been looking for. This room. This bed. This house. This life. I was sure. And it had only taken a fractured radius, an honest sister, and a miserable nemesis for me to get the message.

  “I love you, Jake Weston,” I whispered.

  He brushed his hand through my hair. “I love you, Marley Cicero.” His lips tickled my ear. I felt him go hard against me, but he didn’t make a move to tear my clothes off. He just held me like there was nothing else in the whole world he’d rather be doing.

  “Where are we going to put the Christmas tree?” I asked, staring out the still curtain-less windows.

  I felt him smile. “I think one in the living room and maybe a small one up here.”

  “I’d like that,” I confessed.

  Jake kissed my neck softly, sweetly, taking his time.

  And I sank into that love, that goodness, that anticipation of all good things to come.

  “Have you given any thought to whether you want to be Mrs. Cicero or Mrs. Weston?” he asked, sliding his hand under
my sweater to cup my breast.

  Epilogue

  Marley

  “Are you guys getting up?” the long-suffering voice demanded through the door.

  “It’s summer,” I groaned. Next to me, Jake pulled the comforter over his head and snuggled closer.

  “It’s not summer. It’s graduation. Tomorrow it’s summer.”

  “Being a teacher is hard,” I moaned into the pillow. I’d survived an entire school year as a gym teacher. Okay, admittedly, I had it easier than most of the faculty. But still. I’d been getting up early since August. I felt that I deserved a late morning with my handsome boyfriend.

  “It’s noon. You guys have two hours to eat, shower, and make yourselves presentable.”

  “She’s not going to go away,” Jake yawned.

  “Do you ever feel like she’s more our legal guardian than we are hers?” I asked him.

  “Only every day,” he said with a sleepy laugh before pulling a pillow over his head.

  Grumbling, I stumbled out of bed, pulled on pajama pants and a t-shirt, and opened the door.

  Libby smirked at me. “Look at you, all picture-perfect.”

  “Shut your face, smarty pants. What are you so excited about, anyhow? You still have an entire year of the horrors of high school left.”

  “My friends that you forced me to make are graduating today. So, really, my excitement and your 12:05 p.m. wake-up call are your own fault.” She pushed a mug of coffee into my hands.

  “Bless you, child. You don’t by chance have five or six other siblings we could foster, do you? The lawn’s getting a little tall, and it would be nice to have a designated kid for garbage takeout,” I mused.

  I followed her downstairs and paused to give Homer a sloppy good morning kiss. “I’ll walk you tonight, buddy, and we’ll stop for ice cream,” I promised him.

  He grumbled his excitement at me.

  Libby grabbed her laptop that Jake had bought her for her birthday in the spring. “Now that one of you is vertical, I’m going to hang out on the porch for a bit.”

  “Obsessing about colleges again?” I teased. One of the best things about becoming Libby’s legal guardians was telling her that college was on the table if she wanted it to be. Our normally cool and collected kid had squealed her girlish delight and hugged us off and on for three days straight. Since then, she’d researched every single college and university on the East Coast. Libby had narrowed her list down to twelve schools.

  “Maybe,” she grinned.

  “I’ll make you a sandwich.” I waved her off and rummaged through the fridge and crafted three delectable Lebanon bologna sandwiches. I delivered Libby’s sandwich to her and jogged upstairs with the other two.

  Jake was snoring softly in our bed so I helpfully whipped open the curtains, flooding the room with light.

  “Lunch delivery,” I said cheerfully, sliding his plate onto the nightstand. “If you don’t wake up and eat it in two minutes, Homer will take care of it for you.

  “Mmmph,” Jake said. But his hand snaked out from the covers and grabbed my wrist. “Come back to bed.”

  Was there anything sexier than bed-headed sex god Jake Weston beckoning me under the covers? No. Was I falling for it when I had an hour and a half to get myself ready for my first high school graduation ceremony as an adult? Apparently yes.

  I let him tow me under the covers, let him wrap me in his inked arms. I relished the heat of his body against mine. The feel of his skin as it stroked over mine. The taste of his mouth. The rough of his jaw as it abraded my neck and shoulder.

  He cupped my breasts as I straddled him. Together we were two lovers lost and found. His eyes, that bright, hard green, glinted as he drove into me. I was always ready for him, always wanting him. I marveled at the thought that I almost missed out on this. That I almost chose a sad apartment and a stressful job over Jake. Over this home. This family we cobbled together.

  “I love you, Mars,” Jake said as he leisurely thrust into me. He savored me. Worshiped me. Loved me.

  And I welcomed it. Welcomed him into me so we were as close as two people could be.

  “Jake,” I breathed.

  “Come, Marley,” he ordered. The cords in his neck stood out as he held on to control while I rocked against him.

  We linked fingers on the mattress. We were in this together. Coming apart together.

  * * *

  We were late enough that we drove the five blocks to the high school. Jake and I were decked out in our college caps and gowns, and Libby was rocking a little black dress that she and my mom found on their monthly shopping spree to the outlets.

  I’d rushed through the hair and makeup tutorial the girls had posted for me on the message board. Even in the off-season, they’d made a sport out of pushing me to make an effort. And I enjoyed it. Thanks to my team, I regularly turned up in public as a reasonably put-together woman.

  Jake didn’t have a preference for Made-Up Me vs. Just-Rolled-Out-of-Bed Me. But I had fun making the effort on occasion.

  We parked and funneled into the stadium with the better part of Culpepper. Good weather dictated an outdoor ceremony, and today was good. Balmy and sunny. Students were lining up in caps and gowns, sporting heels and sunglasses. It was a good day. I could almost smell the promise of the future on the late spring breeze.

  Libby ducked off to sit with friends while Jake and I headed to the teachers’ section on the field next to the graduating class. We took our seats in the back row like the rebels we still aspired to be. Floyd grabbed the seat next to me. Amie Jo turned around from the front row and waved.

  “Bet you never thought you two would be making nice on this field,” Jake teased.

  I elbowed him. “We’ve all grown up a lot since high school.”

  “Some of us more than others.”

  “Hey, what are my parents and your uncles doing here?” I asked, spotting the foursome in the audience. They’d become fast friends since Thanksgiving. Mom joined Jake’s poker nights, and Dad had been a regular attendee of Lewis’s book club. They were planning a cruise with Jake’s mom and Walter in the new year.

  “Are you kidding?” Floyd said. “This is the social event of the year.”

  The first bars of “Pomp and Circumstance” crackled over the loudspeaker, and we all rose.

  Culpepper liked to keep commencement short. No one in town had time to sit through three hours of speakers. I tuned out Principal Eccles’s remarks on past and future and relaxed against Jake’s arm on the back of my chair.

  Not so long ago, my future had been a lonely, anxiety-inducing mystery. Now, it was an adventure.

  “I’d like to take this moment to invite Jake Weston to the podium,” Principal Eccles said.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered. Jake hadn’t mentioned that he was part of the program.

  “I gotta do this thing quick,” he said with a wink.

  I watched him walk to the podium and shake hands with the principal.

  She stepped aside and let him have the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my great honor this year to present the Teacher of the Year award. This year’s recipient has not only been an exemplary member of the faculty but an integral part of the Culpepper community. The only thing more impressive than her bravery is the capacity of her heart. She set out to make every student feel like they belonged in this school, on her team, in this town.” His voice tightened, and he cleared his throat.

  Uh-oh. Jake was getting emotional. Could he possibly be talking about—

  “Marley Cicero, if you’d join me up here,” Jake said.

  “Me?” I pointed at myself.

  Jake grinned. Floyd elbowed me. “Get your ass up there, Cicero!”

  I only vaguely heard the applause from the students or the faculty or the crowd. I was too busy wading through molasses. This wasn’t happening. I hadn’t even been a real teacher for half the year.

  My feet moved of their own accord, carrying me closer to
Jake. My Jake.

  Principal Eccles handed me the award. It was heavy and glass and had my name engraved in gold. Marley Cicero, Teacher of the Year. At least, that’s what I think it said. My eyes were a little blurry. It was probably pollen.

  “I’d also like to take this moment to ask Marley something in private,” Jake said into the microphone.

  I distinctly heard several of my senior girls scream, and when I glanced their way, they were standing on their chairs to get a better view.

  “Marley?”

  I looked back at Jake and found him in front of me, down on one knee.

  “Holy shit.”

  “What do you say, Mars? You and me? Forever. We’ll take Libby and Homer along for the ride.”

  He was holding a black box, but I couldn’t see what was in it because my stupid wet eyes were geysering off my face. Why hadn’t I done the waterproof mascara Natalee mentioned?

  I didn’t trust my voice. But I trusted my heart. I nodded so hard the cap fell off my head, and then Jake was picking me up and swinging me around to the wild cheers of the crowd.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, you amateurs.” Amie Jo elbowed her way up to us and picked up the box I’d knocked out of Jake’s grasp. She grabbed my hand, wrestled the ring onto it, then turned and smiled pretty for the crowd.

  The deal sealed, I kissed Jake in an entirely unprofessional, unteacherly way. Some students probably had to bleach their eyes afterward. But I didn’t care. We’d started in the shadows under the bleachers. And here we were, twenty years later, standing in the sun.

  We resumed our seats, and the rest of the ceremony was a blur. So were the congratulations and celebrations afterward. I got so many hugs from my players my neck was sore by the time we got back to the parking lot.

  Libby was waiting for us at the car, a grin on her face. “So my legal guardians are getting married. Guess that means I won’t be an illegitimate bastard anymore,” she said cheerfully.

  “Show her the rest of the surprise, Libs,” Jake said, ruffling her hair.

  She punched a button on the car remote, and the hatch rose.