“We have to talk to Mike Stone’s girlfriend, Serena,” Gray says and points at me. “This is her sister.”
“The pregnant one?” the bartender says with a knowing nod.
“She could go into labor any second,” I warn him. “You could say we’re her ER team.”
The bartender grabs the cash and nods to a door behind the bar. “Go for it,” he says and pockets the cash.
Gray
Before Dylan opens the door, I get around her and block her way. She looks up at me and her eyes are confused. I know she wants to go flying through the door and jump into her sister’s open arms. She probably thinks Serena will cry with happiness and they’ll leave hand-in-hand, skipping away together under the starlight. I know how her daydreaming mind works. But I’m the practical one.
“Wait,” I say. “Has it occurred to you Serena probably won’t be happy to see you right now?”
She blinks up at me but her mind isn’t registering the warning. “No,” she says. “We’re family.”
“Yeah, and people can really hate their families sometimes. Most domestic violence is family related,” I say. “Even homicides.”
“Gray, can we earmark this conversation because it’s fascinating, but now is not the time.” She pushes me away.
I reluctantly step back and Dylan opens the door. Serena is standing directly across the room from us, in front of a green velvet couch. I only assume its Serena since it looks like a balloon is stuffed under her black sweater. She looks nothing like Dylan, other than being tall. Her hair is as black as crow feathers. Her skin is ivory white and smooth. I can’t see a single freckle. Her dark brown eyes widen in surprise and her mouth drops open when she sees Dylan.
“What are you doing here?” Serena asks.
A guy standing next to Serena turns around to look at us and I can only assume it’s Mike. He’s different than I imagined. He looks like a hipster-nerd, with shaggy hair spilling into his eyes and his jeans fit tighter than any man’s should legally be allowed.
I shut the door and stand next to Dylan, assuming my best body guard pose.
“I came to talk to you,” Dylan says. She takes a step forward but then she hesitates.
Serena stays planted in place. She covers her arms over her chest and they rest on the bulge of her stomach. There’s a coffee table between us, littered with open pizza boxes and cans of Coke.
“Oh, so now you take a sudden interest in my life?” Serena asks Dylan.
“What’s up, I’m Mike,” Mike says and crosses the room toward us. He extends his hand and Dylan keeps hers pressed to her side. I offer my hand instead.
“I’m Gray,” I say. He gives my hand a confident shake and his brown eyes have a clever edge to them.
“Gray,” Mike says. “So, your mom was depressed when you were born?”
Dylan puts her hands on her hips. “He’s named after the coast of Oregon,” she states.
“Oh, I see,” Mike says. “So, your mom was stoned when you were born?”
I start to smile, but then I look at Dylan’s expression and cough into my hand. It’s been a while since anyone’s made fun of my name.
“Gray?” Serena says, and her eyes widen. “Wait, you’re Gray?”
I nod and she eyes me up and down.
“You’re a lot hotter than Dylan described,” she says. “No wonder she traded in her v-card for you.”
I raise a single eyebrow. And we were smart enough to use birth control, I want to add. My wiser half tells me the joke could dangerously backfire right now.
Serena’s eyes snap over to Dylan.
“What’s going on? What is he doing here?”
“We ran into each other in Nebraska,” Dylan says.
“You were in Nebraska?” Serena asks.
“Yes. I’ve been driving across the entire country trying to find you. To talk some sense into you.” Dylan pauses, probably waiting for Serena to thank her and offer her the hug she’s been waiting for. Serena only glares at her from head to foot.
“You prance in here with your skinny little waistline and perky boobs to tell me what to do with my life?”
“Um. Not exactly,” Dylan says. Her hands start to fidget at her sides.
“Oh, ow.” Serena half squats, half falls down onto the couch.
“Are you having a contraction?” Dylan asks and runs up next to her. She sits down at her side and reaches out for her hand but Serena pulls it back.
She shakes her head and winces. “It’s just kicking my spine at the moment.”
“What if you went into labor?” Dylan asks. “Do you have a birthing plan?” She looks at Serena. Serena looks at Mike. Mike looks at me, as if I have any input.
“How hard can it be?” Serena says. “Women have been delivering babies for centuries. It’s what we’re biologically designed to do. Our bodies haven’t changed. Women used to do it in caves next to fire pits and bite on sticks.”
“What are you saying?” Dylan asks. “You want to perform a cave birth?”
“That would be awesome,” Mike adds. “We can start a new birthing trend. Cavernous births. Slip out of one cave and into another. Talk about a natural transition.”
Serena winces again. “I swear he’s kicking my throat.” She massages her stomach. “Simmer down, Luke.”
“Luke?” Dylan asks, her voice rising in excitement. “You’re having a boy?”
Serena nods. “Despite the rumors, I have seen a doctor.”
“Well, as long as you don’t name your daughter Leia, then it’s alright with me,” Dylan jokes. Backfire. Serena’s eyes fill with a surge of rage. I’m waiting for fire to blow out of her mouth.
“You haven’t spoken to me in months and you walk in here and critique the name of my kid?”
“I was just jok—”
“Do you know the hellish torture that pregnancy is?” Serena cries. “Did you know that your feet and your ears and your nose grow? Did you know you get moles?”
“You look amazing,” Dylan tells her and places a hand on her arm. “You’re seriously glowing.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Serena replies. She lays her head back against the couch and groans.
I bite my lips together. Okay, no jokes and no compliments. Maybe Dylan should have researched how to handle hormonally unstable pregnant women before she entered into this conversation. Maybe the trick is no talking at all.
Dylan looks over at me with surprise, as if some alien being has entered her sister’s body and she doesn’t recognize her anymore.
Mike senses the problem.
“Here’s the trick to talking to a pregnant woman,” he offers and we all turn to look at him. “It’s a lot like talking to a sea animal. They don’t really understand what you’re saying, but they respond well to hand gestures and food. I carry powdered sugar donut holes with me at all times and toss them at Serena to reinforce positive behavior. It works really well.” He nods at the coffee table. “Cheetos would probably work, too.”
Serena tries to get up but she’s wedged to the couch. She points in our direction. “That is it. GET OUT!” she screams.
I willingly take the exit cue and follow Mike outside.
“Can I buy you a beer?” he asks me as the door closes behind us, and I nod.
“Definitely,” I say.
Dylan
I turn back to Serena. She has some rage to spill, and I’m going to stand here and take the assault. I’m the target and she’s throwing the darts. Here we go.
“What are you doing here, Dylan?” she asks. “Are you here to make me feel even fatter?”
“I’m worried about you,” I tell her truthfully.
“Why? You’ve never worried about me before.”
“That’s not true,” I tell her.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she says. “You left home years ago and hardly looked back. You barely talk to Mom and Dad. You hardly ever call. You come back and visit once or twice a year with your scrapbook
s and your insane stories and we never know what to believe. You’ve missed out on a lot.”
Her face is hurt and angry and I wish I would have listened to Gray. I should have prepared myself for this.
I raise my arms. There’s only one thing to say. “Well, I’m here right now.”
Serena runs her hands over her stomach and sniffles. Her mouth starts to tremble. “You don’t know what this has been like. Do you know that my bladder is as flat as a pancake because it’s smashed under a bowling ball? Do you know that every time I sneeze, I pee myself?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t aware.”
“All I can wear are pants with elastic waistbands. Do you know how degrading that is?”
I think about the image. “Actually, that sounds really comfortable.”
“Oh, you would say that.” She wipes a tear out of the corner of her eye. “What do you want, Dylan?”
“I want you to come home,” I say.
She laughs at my suggestion. “Home?” she says. “Where’s home? With Mom and Dad?” She shakes her head. “That’s not my home anymore. Home is with Mike. I belong with him, I can’t just leave him.”
“But—”
“What am I supposed to do?” she interrupts me. “Follow your example? Fall in love and then run away and make the guy suffer while I ‘figure myself out?’ Is that the way it works?”
I shake my head and step around the attack. I don’t want to fight with my sister. That’s not why I came here. I take a deep breath and sort out my thoughts, choosing my words carefully as if I’m gently poking a fire, trying not to make any sparks fly.
“You know I love you Serena, even if we haven’t been living in the same house the last few years. A lot of people leave after high school. Most people move away or go to college. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you guys. It doesn’t mean I don’t think about you and Mom and Dad all the time and carry you with me everywhere I go.”
“I know,” she says. “And I’ve always respected you for leaving. I’ve always looked up to you.”
“You? Looked up to me?” I ask.
“Of course I did. A lot of people say they’re going do these crazy, wild things. But hardly anyone does. You follow through with everything you say you’re going to do. You never let anyone try to hold you back.” She meets my eyes. “But then let me do the same thing. You’re not the only one who wants to be independent.”
“It’s different, Serena,” I say gently. I pick up a bag of Cheetos on the table and hand her a few. She accepts them, swallows a mouthful and then grabs the bag from me and digs her hand inside. Her eyes lose a little of their guarded hostility. Maybe Mike was right.
“I didn’t have another life depending on me,” I say. “Sure, I was independent, but I also wasn’t nine months pregnant driving around the country.”
Serena looks down at her basketball-sized stomach.
“Do you have any idea what you’re going to do when he’s born? You’re going to need a doctor. You’re going to need to stay put for a while. Let me help you get settled.”
Serena stares at the wall in front of us. Her lips are tight.
“I know what I’m doing.”
That’s not the point I’m trying to make. I choose my next words carefully. “You need to think about Luke. This isn’t just about you anymore. Please don’t be selfish about this.”
She looks over at me. “You should talk. What about Gray?”
“What about him?”
“You’ve never considered Gray. Yes, I have a baby to consider, so it’s not just about me. But a relationship is the same thing. It shouldn’t have to take having a baby to understand that it’s not all about you.”
I narrow my eyes.
“You’re right,” I admit.
“So don’t call me selfish, Dylan. I’m actually trying to make this work with Mike because I love him. We’re figuring it out. I didn’t want to stay home and have Mom and Dad tell me how to raise my kid. I don’t like being told what to do either.”
“But you’re going to need help, Serena. Just let us help you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want your help.”
My stomach starts to knot. “So, that’s it?” I ask. “What about Mom? Would you let her fly out here?”
She looks down at her feet.
“Whenever I have a problem Mom just hounds me. She tells me what to do. She’ll make everything worse.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. I’m reaching for anything to make her change her mind. “Maybe it feels like she’s smothering you. I guess love does that sometimes. But isn’t that better than no support at all?”
Her eyes start to tear up.
“When I’m ready, I’ll call you. I promise. When I’m ready. But I don’t want you here right now. If you really want to help me, leave me alone.” Her stubborn eyes tell me the debate is over.
I breathe out a sigh.
“Fine,” I say.
Gray
Dylan silently slides into my car and shuts the door. I climb in and start the ignition. She’s scaring me. She hasn’t spoken since she walked out of the green room. I can only guess at the verbal shrapnel that’s cutting her up inside. I don’t want to say the usual stupid catch phrases. What’s wrong? You okay? What can I do? Do you want to talk about it? So, I just stay silent.
The stereo’s loud and I reach over to turn it down and Dylan catches my hand.
“Will you put in some music?” she asks, and I nod. I can always handle the job of musical supervisor. I can sense the feelings flooding her mind and I look through my CD’s for something that might help. I slide in an album by The Lumineers.
We drive through downtown Flagstaff, passing historic hotels with brick facades and welcoming green awnings. We’re over seven thousand feet high, but I don’t think Dylan has ever felt lower.
I keep my eyes alert for the nearest highway sign out of here. I haven’t been to Flagstaff in four years. The last time I was here, I was at a hospital with my parents where we found out from a room full of strangers that my sister was dead. And we didn’t get there in time to say goodbye. She died before she went into surgery. They warned us before we saw her—she had head wounds from the accident and she wouldn’t look the same. I can still see her purple-gray lips and pale skin. I remember how cold the room felt and how I saw black spots behind my eyes before I passed out.
I vowed I would never return to this place again.
My foot pushes down on the accelerator when I see a highway ramp.
I wouldn’t have come here for anyone except Dylan. I realize I never stopped loving her. I was in love with her the moment I saw her face in Omaha. Because I didn’t say no to her. It’s not very often you agree to revisit your demons. People don’t normally welcome back their worst nightmares.
My eyes start to blur. I don’t even know if I’m entering the right highway. But I need to put some distance between us and this town and the driving helps. It’s a small amount of control in this world so out of my control. I like how the highways bend and turn out here. It forces you to focus on driving, not just zone out like you can put life on auto pilot.
While I drive, I watch Dylan out of the corner of my eye. She sits back in the seat and her eyes are locked on some point in the distance. I turn the music up louder and I understand how she feels because I’ve been there.
I see a motel off the road and I slow down. It’s hardly visible behind a thick wall of pine trees. The parking lot is on a narrow side street, and I like that it’s hidden. Sometimes, when life slams a door in your face your only defense is to shut it out for a while. Dylan doesn’t understand this, her mind doesn’t go that dark. She never feels the need to hide, so tonight I can show her how.
I park and look out at the moon and the stars. They glow above us like a chandelier, suspended by invisible chords. I wonder what keeps them from crashing down.
I turn off the motor but the music is still playing around us, surrounding
us and we are just surfaces for sound to bounce of off. Dylan shifts in her seat and her eyes look over at me and they focus on mine. I can tell the windstorm in her head is starting to settle.
“Thanks,” is all she says.
I get out of the car and walk across the parking lot to the lobby but my mind isn’t in my body. It’s floating with the starlight, looking down on my precarious situation. My movements are in slow motion, or maybe I’m simply trying to stretch time out and make it last. I know this might be my last night with Dylan.
The hotel manger hands me a room key with a plastic handle. When I find our room, Dylan heads for the bathroom and I bring in our bags. In the side of my duffle bag is a box of condoms I bought at a gas station this morning. I doubt Dylan will be in the mood, but it’s better to be safe than, well, in her sister’s situation.
I sit on the end of the bed and look around the room. The carpeting is dark green, like seaweed, and the walls are hung with generic ocean prints. I feel like the bed is an anchored ship.
I hear the shower running in the bathroom and I scroll through channels on the TV. I have a feeling Dylan will want to crash after all the drama today. I hear the water turn off and a few minutes later the door cracks open and a puff of steam lazily spills into the room. Dylan walks out in her bare legs and the green over-sized t-shirt. She’s combing her wet hair with a brush she bought earlier today and it falls straight and dark, touching the tops of her shoulders. I look at her legs and her wet shining hair and I remind myself to behave, but the ways she looks at me, like she’s looking inside of me, makes it hard.
“Good news.” My voice cuts through the thick silence. “Sleepless in Seattle is on. Our favorite movie stars.”
Dylan doesn’t respond. She keeps her eyes on me and narrows them a little.
“Okay, you’ve said seven words in the last hour,” I say. “That’s a record for you. And it’s really freaking me out.”
My eyes follow her as she walks over to the edge of the bed. She stands in front of me and takes the remote out of my hand and turns off the TV with a buzzing snap. My hand still lingers there, hovering in the air, in the space between us. I have strings and they are connected to her hands and she’s playing me. And she knows it.