Well Played

by Jen DeLuca

  “Mom!” A shocked, slightly scandalized laugh spilled out of me. Maybe I wasn’t seventeen in her eyes after all. I got down two mugs and handed them to her. “I’ll have you know I’m all stocked up in that department,” I said as primly as I could. “Batteries make a great stocking stuffer, though.”

  Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She added tea bags to the mugs before pouring in the hot water. “Here.” She pushed one mug toward me. “Chamomile. It’ll help you relax.”

  “I’m relaxed,” I said, a little too petulantly. Okay, maybe she had a point. I took the mug and stared into it.

  “You’re sure you’re all right, then?” Mom asked while our tea steeped. “This really was a, uh, short-term thing?”

  I nodded, but then the words burst out before I could stop them. “He wanted me to go with him, Mom.” I wanted to clap a hand to my mouth, take the words back. What was the use of saying them now? That decision had already been made.

  “Oh.” She sat down at the kitchen table, her own mug of tea in front of her. “You mean out on the road with him? Doing what he does?” Her eyes narrowed. “What does he do, anyway?”

  “His cousins are a musical act. He manages them. And yes.” I sighed into my own tea. “He asked me to go out on the road with him.”

  She nodded sagely. “And you don’t want to.”

  “No, I don’t . . .” But that was a lie. “I mean, I can’t.” I sighed and took a cautious sip: the tea was still really hot. “It was for the best that we broke up. Really. His life is out there, you know?” I ran the tip of my finger around the lip of the mug. “And mine is here. He wouldn’t want to settle down here in Willow Creek.” Neither did I. Not really. But here we were, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to say that to my mother.

  “Well, neither do you.”

  “What?” My eyes flew to hers. Had I said that out loud? Had she read my mind?

  “You heard me.” She blew across her mug to cool the tea. “Listen. I know why you stayed, the first time. And believe me, I appreciate that you did. Your father means well, but it would have been hell without you, that first year or so when things were so bad.” She eyed me over her mug as she took a sip. “But you have to know, honey, how much I hated it. You gave up a great opportunity—a career, a life—to stay home in this small town and watch me go to doctor’s appointments.”

  I waved it off. “It’s fine, Mom.”

  “No, it isn’t.” She set her mug down with a thud, and I sat back in my chair. I’d never seen her look so determined. So angry. So . . . full of regret. “We asked you to stay, but it wasn’t supposed to be forever.” She sighed as she looked me over, and I fidgeted a little in my chair. “You were such a happy child.”

  “I’m still happy, Mom.” The response was a reflex, an automatic reassurance to my mother that everything was fine.

  “No, you’re not. I’m your mother, Stacey. I know you better than anyone. I know when your smile is real, and when it’s just for show. But that boy—”

  “Daniel,” I supplied.

  “Daniel.” She nodded. “He put your real smile back on your face these past few weeks. And now that he’s gone . . .” She shook her head. “I’ve watched you fade, the last couple years. I figured you needed a kick out of the nest, but I didn’t know how to do it. Especially since I was the reason you stayed in this nest in the first place.” She reached across the table for my hand. “But don’t let me stand in your way again, honey. If you have something—someone—worth leaving home for, don’t miss that second chance.”

  Her squeeze on my hand was strong. Once again I flashed back to her, so weak in that hospital bed, and for the first time it really sank in how long ago that was. Mom wasn’t weak. Not now, and probably hadn’t been for a long time. I’d stayed in Willow Creek to help take care of her, to be there for her, but she didn’t need me anymore. She hadn’t needed me for a while.

  Somewhere along the way Mom’s health had stopped being a reason and had become an excuse. I thought back to that night, Daniel and I wrapped up in my sheets, when he asked me to come with him. I should have said yes. Why hadn’t I?

  * * *

  • • •

  Mom wasn’t the only one who noticed my inner turmoil.

  Saturday night, there was a knock on my door. I was a mess, scrolling through Instagram on my phone while wearing leggings and a tank top, but since I was expecting it to be my mom I opened the door without thinking about it. To her credit, April didn’t comment on my slovenly appearance. She just peered past me into my apartment.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” I squinted at her. April was one of those people whose sarcasm was so dry that it was impossible to tell if she was serious. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waved her in.

  “No, I mean it.” She walked a slow circle through the main living space, and when she turned back to me her smile was genuine, if a little shy. “This is exactly the kind of apartment I’ve always wanted. When I was younger, you know? I pictured myself living in the city—New York or Chicago—in a cute little place like this.”

  “Be kind of crowded though, with you and Caitlin.”

  She snorted. “Well, I gave up on that dream when she came along.” She shrugged. “I got Caitlin out of it though, so I call it a win.”

  “I would, too.” And I meant it. Even though kids weren’t high on my list of priorities, I liked Caitlin. She was a good kid with a solid support system in her mom and aunt. Anyone who said that a child needed both parents in order to thrive was going to have to fight me.

  “Anyway.” April looked me up and down, assessing. “Come on. Get some pants on.”

  I looked down at my ensemble. “Leggings are pants.”

  “Nope.” She leaned down to give Benedick a scritch under his chin and he closed his eyes in contentment. “I mean real pants. We’re going out.”

  “We are?” Were we at a solo hangout level of friendship? I hadn’t realized.

  But she nodded, so apparently we were. “It’s Saturday night, and you’re, what, surfing Instagram in your pajamas?”

  “These are not pajamas.” That was a weak defense, and I knew it. She knew it.

  “Look. I don’t know what went down with you and Daniel, but something did, and now you’re wallowing.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Emily had a feeling that something was up, and she asked me to check up on you while she was gone.”

  “She did?” That brought a sting of tears to my eyes. I’d been so careful to not say anything, but Emily had still known.

  “Yeah. But honestly, after book club I think I would have been over here anyway. You need a distraction that’s not a badly symbolized women’s fiction novel.” April looked to the ceiling, then down to the floor, shifting her weight a little. Reaching out wasn’t something she did much, obviously, and that made it even more meaningful. “So come on. Let’s go to Jackson’s, have some pizza, and watch Mitch hit on girls. That’s always a good time.”

  That brought a smile to my face. “You’re on.”

  My hair was a disaster, so I threw it into a ponytail before trading my leggings and tank for jeans and a hoodie. My makeup could have used a refresh, but I didn’t know how long April was willing to wait, and I wasn’t planning to flirt with anyone tonight. So I put on some lip gloss and called it good enough.

  Once at Jackson’s we secured a booth in the back, ordered an obnoxiously large pizza, and settled in for some people watching. The great thing about Jackson’s was that even though it was a local hangout, it was close enough to the highway that there were occasionally new faces in the mix.

  “So.” April reached for a second slice of pizza. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Nothing to talk about. You’re the one who said that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, and I don’t think
there’s anything I can do to make you see the light.”

  “There really isn’t. It’s a useless pizza topping and I’m gonna stand by that.” She took a bite and chewed. “But that’s not what I asked and you know it. Emily filled me in on . . . well, on what she knew, but there have obviously been some developments in the Daniel situation.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “And no. I don’t want to talk about it.” What was there to say? He’d fucked up, but after his email I was pretty sure I forgave him. But I’d fucked up too, and now it was too late. No, there really wasn’t anything to say, but I pulled up Daniel’s final email and pushed the phone across the table. April picked it up, squinting at the screen. For an excruciating few minutes we were quiet. I looked around the bar and watched Mitch get turned down by a woman who clearly wasn’t good enough for him anyway, while April ate that second slice of pizza and read about my broken heart.

  A cough from April brought my attention back to her. “Jesus.” She blinked rapidly and pushed my phone back across the table to me. “And you haven’t answered him?”

  “No . . .” Just as the word came out of my mouth, Mitch plopped down in our booth next to me.

  “What the hell are you girls doing back here? No one’s going to notice you here.”

  “That’s kind of the point.” April’s eyes narrowed as Mitch took a slice of our pizza. “No, really. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks, Mama.”

  “Mama?” April sat back against the booth and crossed her arms. “Wow. What a sexy nickname. Thanks a lot.”

  Mitch raised one slow eyebrow. “You want a sexy nickname?”

  For a second they locked eyes, and I was momentarily distracted from my own drama by the new potential drama unfolding in front of me. Finally April blinked. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t.”

  “Good.” He took a big bite of pizza as his gaze traveled down to my phone. “What’s this? Did that guy stand you up again, Stacey? I swear I’m gonna . . .” He blinked at the phone, then looked up at me, his brow furrowed. “Daniel MacLean?”

  Even hearing his name hurt. “Yeah.” My voice sounded rusty, so I cleared my throat and took another sip from my water glass.

  “No.” Mitch shook his head. “You mean Dex. You were banging Dex MacLean, weren’t you?”

  “What?” April said, just as I said “No,” and Mitch looked back and forth between us, not sure who to answer first.

  “Yes, you were.” He scoffed. “Last summer. Summer before that too, I think.”

  April folded her arms over her chest. “How did you know about that?” She sounded put out.

  Mitch shrugged. “You want to know the Ren Faire gossip, you gotta join the Ren Faire.” She snorted in response, but I wanted to get back on topic.

  “I didn’t think you knew,” I said. “We were pretty discreet.”

  He scoffed. “Please.” But he didn’t elaborate. He looked down at the phone again. “So what’s with Daniel? I mean, I saw you dancing with him at the wedding, but I didn’t realize there was anything . . .” He made a hand gesture that I couldn’t even begin to interpret. “You know. Going on there.”

  “Well, there’s nothing going on there now.” I sighed. The black mood was back. “We broke up. It’s for the best. He travels too much and wouldn’t want to live full-time here in Willow Creek anyway.” I trotted out the same argument I’d used with my mom.

  “Okay . . .” Mitch dragged the word out into about four syllables as he swiped another slice of pizza, taking a bite before setting it down onto my plate. “I mean, that makes sense. You’ve got a lot keeping you here. Like your career.”

  “My career?” My eyebrows shot up into my forehead. “I work in a dentist’s office. Not exactly my life’s dream.”

  “Hmm.” He chewed thoughtfully. “So that’s not it. Is it your house? A mortgage can really tie you down.” He snapped his fingers. “No. Wait. You live above your parents’ garage.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yes, I do. You know that.”

  “Yeah,” April chimed in. “That tiny place of yours, you practically live like a minimalist. You could probably fit everything you own in the trunk of your car.”

  “Or the back of someone’s pickup truck,” Mitch added with a significant nod. “What does Daniel drive again?” He posed the question to April, who shrugged with a smile.

  “I just don’t like having a lot of stuff. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Why were they making me feel so defensive? “You know, you two are not doing the best job of cheering me up right now.”

  “And your mom’s doing okay these days . . .” Mitch still sounded unconcerned as he reached for his beer.

  “She really is,” April said, talking to Mitch instead of to me. “I see her at Emily’s book club once a month. She’s had some health issues in the past, right? But she seems to be doing great now.”

  “Yeah.” I thought back to my conversation with her last night. “She’s doing really well.”

  “So.” Mitch looked down at my phone again. “Daniel. You love the guy?”

  I caught my breath as tears stung the corners of my eyes. “I mean it. Your cheering-up technique really could use some work.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Do you or not?”

  I threw up my hands. “Yes! I do. I really do. But it’s too late. He’s gone, remember?”

  “I don’t think so.” He gestured to the phone. “Not according to this. What’s keeping you here, exactly? It’s not your job. It’s not your mom. Why aren’t you out on the road with him right now?”

  “I can’t do that.” But it was an automatic denial, and even as I said the words there was a thrill in my chest. What if Mitch was right? What if my mom was right? What if I threw everything I cared about into a few bags and just . . . went for it?

  April could see that I was wavering. “Does he make you happy?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t even have to think about the answer.

  “Would you want to travel with him? Live that kind of life?”

  I took the time to think about that. To consider living out of vehicles. Traveling from faire to faire. Living that life, speaking their language.

  Being with Daniel.

  It sounded perfect. Like the kind of life I’d always wanted, even when I didn’t know it.

  And I’d said no, because I was too chickenshit. I’d turned him down and let him go.

  I groaned and let my head fall into my hands. “God. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

  April whistled. “When did you get such a potty mouth?” But when I looked over at her, she was smiling. Why was she smiling?

  “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s too late.” I picked up my phone. It was still displaying Daniel’s goodbye message, and I traced his name with my fingernail.

  “Nah.” Mitch drained the rest of his beer. “They’re over at the Maryland Ren Fest, right? That’s like an hour away, maybe two. They’re not going anywhere for a while.”

  “No, but Daniel is.” April’s eyes went wide as she looked at me, and I knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Oh, no!” I threw my phone into my purse. “I have to go!” I started to scoot out of the booth but Mitch blocked my progress like a brick wall.

  “Go where?” Mitch looked from April to me in confusion, not getting the hint at all.

  I punched him on the arm. “Scoot over, I need to get out!”

  “Hey, cut it out! What’s the hurry?” He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. And maybe I had. I didn’t care.

  “I have to get over there. He’s gonna leave, and I don’t know where he’ll be after that.” Had he even told me the Kilts’ schedule after this next gig? My mind was blank with panic.

  “What the . . .” Mitch stood up so I could scoot out behind him. “I just said they’re gonna be there f
or a while.”

  “But Daniel won’t be,” April said. “He’s only staying the first weekend. He said so, in the email.” She squinted up at me. “You know, you could send him an email. Let him know you’re coming up, maybe?”

  “Okay. Yes. You’re right.” I fished in my bag for my phone before I remembered. “He doesn’t check his email during Faire weekends.” I let my head fall back on my neck with a groan. “He was only doing that because I was emailing him, and . . .”

  “. . . And he doesn’t think you’re emailing him anymore.” April finished the sentence with a sigh. “You could text him, then. You have his number?”

  My only answer was another groan. I was so sick of my phone. I was sick of all of it: of emails, of social media, of texts. Of words on screens. I wanted tangible reality. I wanted Daniel’s smile, warming me from the inside out. I wanted the feel of his skin against mine. The way he threaded our fingers together when he held my hand. I needed him. Craved him.

  Something must have shown on my face, because April nodded. “Okay.” She looked around. “Where the hell is our waitress? We need to pay and get out of here.”

  She slid out of the booth to find the waitress, but Mitch was still watching me. “The first weekend . . .” Understanding dawned on his face. “That’s right now.”

  “And I’ve already blown Saturday, so that just leaves tomorrow!” Panic rose again in my chest as I scrambled for my keys. I’d been here before. Last time I’d put off my future for my mom, and I lost it all. I couldn’t put it off again. Now that I knew the life I wanted, I couldn’t wait one more minute for that life to begin.

  “Okay.” Mitch’s large hand closed over mine, both of us holding fast to my keys. “Listen. Take a breath. You’re not going out there tonight. You don’t know where he’s staying, do you?” Off my head shake, he nodded. “So he could be camping, or he could be at a hotel. You’ll never find him if you drive out there in the middle of the night. Go home. Send him a text, let him know we’re on the way. Get some sleep, and we’ll head over there in the morning.”