Steph raises her chin and looks to Penny. “We’ve never hooked up. I do have some standards, you know.”
“Ouch.” I grab my chest dramatically. “Cuts like a knife.”
“I love Bryan Adams,” Aaron remarks, because of course he would.
“Maybe you’re just not his type, ever think of that?” Nadine says snidely. Steph’s mouth drops open briefly but to her credit she manages to shake it off. I’m all for my girlfriend sticking up for me but there was an undertone to her words that bordered on bitchiness.
“I am completely not his type,” Steph says smoothly before taking an everlasting gulp of her wine, as if she’s trying to bury whatever else she wants to say.
I catch her eye for a moment and something passes between us, something along the lines of an apology from me about Nadine. I also wish I could tell her that she is my type. My only type. But I focus on the deck of cards instead. “Well, that could have been potentially awkward.” James snorts but I ignore him. “So, why not make it more awkward and play strip poker?”
“No fucking way,” says Nadine. “We’re all adults here, we shouldn’t be playing board games.”
“Just because you’re an ‘adult’,” Steph says, making quotes in the air with her fingers, “doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. Hell, I don’t feel like I’m thirty. Granted, I just turned thirty, but still. I feel like I’m twenty-five. Actually, no, I feel like I’m some indiscriminate age. And that’s okay. I would hate to feel my age if that means I can’t have fun anymore.”
“You’d probably sing a different tune if you had children,” Nadine points out with a tilt of her head.
Steph laughs. “I wouldn’t. Just because I’m one of the few among my female friends that doesn’t have children, doesn’t mean I’m any less – or more – mature than they are. Age doesn’t really mean anything these days anyway. Thirties are the new twenties, forties are the new thirties and so on and so on. We’re all still just human beings on a learning experience that I don’t think will ever end.” She catches herself and pauses, taking a breath. “I’m a lot different from the person I was ten years ago and yet there are so many things that stay the same. My brain is the same, my thoughts can be too. I’m sure in twenty years I’ll look back on my thirties and feel like I haven’t grown up in some ways and in others I’m sure it will seem like I was nothing but an overgrown child.”
“We all feel like that,” Penny assures her. “I’m thirty-three and I don’t act my age. So be it. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I don’t have kids or I’m not married.”
“And it’s not like you have children,” I say to Nadine, pointing out the obvious and feeling bad that she seems to be picking on Steph.
She gives me a level look. “Not yet.”
Oh, fucksticks.
“Okay, now things are awkward,” James says, almost gleefully.
I couldn’t agree more. We all reach for our drinks and it’s thanks to the obliviousness of Aaron (who won’t stop humming “Cuts like a Knife”) for breaking up the tension when he says, “Okay so are we playing Monopoly or what?”
For once, I find myself saying that Monopoly is an excellent idea and soon we’re all being greedy wankers fighting for the best real estate. Like most games of Monopoly, this one drags on for hours and hours. Penny is the first one to lose everything so she just turns to drinking and trying to strategize on behalf of everyone.
Nadine is the first to give up.
“I’m going to bed, it’s late,” she says as she stifles a yawn and gets out of her chair.
I eye all the houses she has lined up on the properties and the giant wad of colorful money. “But you’re winning. You’re totally Donald Trumping it.”
“I’m tired,” she says sharply, yawning again. She does look tired, her hair even more coppery red against her pretty pale face, and I guess it is eleven at night.
“Can I take over your holdings? I mean, if this was real life…”
“This is real life. You’re coming to bed. Now, Linden,” she shoots a look at Steph as she emphasizes that last word.
It still really bothers me when she orders me around and especially in front of my friends. I know it’s a bit caveman-esque and maybe stupid to have so much pride in such small things – like the way you’re spoken to – but I guess there is a wee bit of my father in me after all.
I can feel everyone staring at me, wondering if I’m going to get up and follow my girlfriend. I swallow hard and then look her in the eye. “I’m not tired. Think I’ll stay up for a bit. I won’t be too late.”
I hold her gaze because I’m not a man who backs down. But damn, she makes it hard. Her lower jaw is so tense I’m quite certain she’s going to take a bite out of me if not grind her bottom teeth right out.
“Fine,” she says and she whips around heading to the bedroom. To her credit, she doesn’t slam the door.
James is watching me with a “what’s up her ass?” expression on his face. Lately Nadine and I haven’t been hanging out with him all that much, so he hasn’t been a witness to the current downfall of our relationship.
This is the downfall, right? Fuck it, I don’t know anymore. I wait until the game resumes until I put my head in my hands and try to think.
I’m too drunk to think.
When I look back up, I see Steph watching me. She doesn’t look away. I can’t seem to read her eyes, even though they are so big and blue that they beg me to try and understand her. It could be that she’s pitying me, feeling sorry for me, that I’m with someone like that. It could be that she can see just how damn unhappy I really am underneath it all.
Or it could be something else. It could be regret. Her own regrets for me and for herself.
I know that’s wishful thinking, but that’s what I want to see.
I want her to realize we’re both not with the people we should be.
And if she already knows that, I want her to know it’s not too late.
Or is it?
***
The next morning we’re all greeted by piercing sunshine and the promise of a better day.
It had turned out more promising for me, especially when Nadine woke me up with a morning blow job to say she was sorry for the way she was acting the night before. It’s hard to say no to a good BJ and even harder to ignore a heartfelt apology. She hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming with them – we both have a lot of pride to contend with.
Unfortunately, though the fog has been whisked away and by noon the sun is blazing on the all mighty Pacific, the good vibes don’t last. Stephanie and Penny want to drive up to Gualala to get some groceries and I say I want to go with them. It’s a nice drive and I guess I’m a bit overprotective of the girls, even though I shouldn’t be.
Nadine doesn’t want to go and there begins the problem. She doesn’t want to go and by default thinks I shouldn’t go either.
“Why are you always wanting to be around her?” she asks, barely keep her voice to a hush as Steph and Penny head out the door.
“It’s not like that,” I tell her, ignoring the stab of guilt. It feels like its spearing my kidneys.
“You know most guys aren’t friends with girls like that.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Like what, exactly?”
She stares at me for a beat and then looks away. “Nothing. Go, have fun.”
I get behind the wheel since I’m the one most used to driving James’s Suburban while Steph takes shotgun. Penny is in the back, her head hanging out the open window like a sun-happy dog.
There is a brief, shining moment where I look over at Stephanie and feel like it’s just her and I against the world. I can pretend that Penny isn’t even here. It’s just Steph’s beautiful face and those large, searching eyes as she takes in the rolling, wild hills around her. In another life, in a dream, I would have pulled the car over and fucked her in one of those fields, letting the feral coast take hold of us and bring all those hidden desires out into the
open.
But this isn’t a dream and my fantasy has to stay just that.
We stay longer than we mean to in Gualala. There’s nothing to the town, just a bunch of buildings on either side of Highway One, but it possesses that quaint, tired, windswept quality that most hamlets on the coast do. We get enough groceries for a dinner, a breakfast and two lunches, plus all the beer and snack provisions, then poke around at the stores. Most are closed for the upcoming winter.
I barely ate breakfast considering all we had was a loaf of bread and some leftover butter so when Penny starts grumbling about how starved she is, we head into Bones’ Restaurant to get a quick bite of the smokiest brisket and drink a few beers. Even through dirty, salt-sprayed windows, the view over the houses and cliffs leading to the ocean is staggering and before we know it time is slipping through our fingers.
When we get back to the cottage I can tell the atmosphere has shifted a little. Though the bags of groceries and booze we plop down on the counter seem to satisfy Aaron, who digs into them like a ravenous squirrel, James and Nadine are pissed off.
“What took you so long?” James says. I thought he was talking to Penny but he’s actually looking at me.
“We had a bite to eat,” I explain with a shrug, not sure why he’s being so pissy. Is it because I had his girlfriend and his car?
“You could have called.” He’s squinting at me, like he thinks I’m lying.
“Okay, mum,” I tell him. “There was no reception out there. Jeez. We brought you food and drinks, how about you have some and chill the fuck out.”
He raises his hands and grabs a beer out of the box, as if he wasn’t acting irrational. “Just asking.”
Nadine, meanwhile, is silent, which is a terrifying thing. I know at any minute she’s going to blow. I also know it won’t happen while we’re around the others, so I also grab a beer and pull up a bar stool, planning to never leave this seat for as long as I live.
I put up with her silent treatment for the next hour while Aaron fries up some hot dogs for him and James but then I have to go to the bathroom. I’m two beers in and at the breaking point. I wait until I see Nadine talking to Penny outside on the patio, their faces turned to the sun, then I get up and go.
I can piss real quick. You learn that sort of thing when you grow up with a brother like Bram who would preen the hours away in the bathroom and torment you with the toilet plunger if you tried to get in the way.
I’m zipping up as soon as I’m out the bathroom door but there she is, hand on her hip, plaid white and pink shirt knotted at the waist, red hair scooped up off her face, showcasing the line between her brows and the slight sneer to her lips.
“Hey babe,” I tell her, giving her my easy smile.
It only rankles her more. She lays into me, rather loudly, that I’m avoiding her and acting like she’s a burden to have around and that I never show her any respect. I’m not sure which parts of that aren’t true, but one of them has to be. And because of that, I kind of feel like an ass. And I don’t protest too much either.
“When we get back home, we need to have a talk,” she says before she storms away, her ponytail nearly slapping me in the face.
I can’t argue with that. We do need to have a talk, I just don’t really know how it’s going to go or what I’m going to say. I wonder how long I can coast through life on nothing but denial.
What I do know is I need to get away from the situation for a moment. I grab another beer and walk out the door, my feet leading me down a gravel path, through bleached fields and dying wildflowers until I’m knee-deep in dune grass and the wind is nearly lifting me off my feet. I’m on the wide, seemingly endless expanse of sandy grey beach that fades away into the ocean mist, like it’s nothing but an apparition.
I sit down on a log and pry the cap off the beer on the edge of the wood. My mind sort of goes into this quasi-meditative state as I watch the waves pound the beach over and over again. The sound, the force, it all makes me go numb, to a place where I want to be.
“Am I going to get in trouble for talking to you?” a familiar voice eventually breaks into my nonsensical thoughts.
I look up and see Stephanie standing to the side of me, the sun lowering on the horizon behind her. She’s backlit and glowing like an angel and I can’t help the easy grin as it slides across my face.
“Probably,” I tell her and then nod to the log. “Sit down. What are you doing out here?”
She lifts her hand and I notice she’s has her phone out. “Taking pictures. You know, for the shop. Like, inspiration for future displays and stuff.” She sits down beside me and starts flipping through it. I watch as some artsy shots of shells and tide pools and driftwood flicker across the screen, then I’m staring at the profile of her face as wisps of chocolate hair constantly move around her cheeks. I’m dying to reach out and smooth them behind her ears so I can stare at her more clearly.
She’s such a beautiful woman. And such a woman. In a way, it’s weird to think like that because I’ve known her since we were twenty-one. We were just kids back then, her with her blue hair and me with my assholeness. Now she’s filled out, like with real curves you just want to grab and squeeze and play with and a face that’s more chiseled and at peace than it ever was before. Every day, every year, feels like an evolution to the person she is now, the woman sitting beside me, especially when you scroll back to where we all started.
I can’t believe I’ve been a part of her life for this long.
She looks up at me, squinting against the light. “What do you think?”
I know she’s talking about the pictures but I say, “I think I’m lucky I’ve known you for so long.”
She jerks her head back slightly then smiles. “Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s surprising,” she remarks.
“Why?”
She raises a shoulder. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if you know how lucky you are.” I frown at her and she goes on. “I don’t mean about me. I mean, you know, with your life. Everything.”
“And girlfriend?” It’s a weighted question.
She rubs her hands together and leans over to start playing with the sand, running it through her fingers. “Maybe. If you’re happy, then you’re lucky.”
“And if I’m not happy?”
She pauses, thinking that over. “Then you can change that.”
“I’m not sure that I can.”
She looks up at me. “I know Nadine doesn’t like me. But I also know that I rarely get to see the two of you together. And you and me…well, I’ve been busy. So have you. I don’t really know what’s going on in your life. I don’t know how she treats you. We used to talk about this kind of thing…but now I don’t know anything about your relationship. I just know that you can’t make snap judgements about people. Some people seem like total bitches to everyone else but they can be extremely compassionate, kind and loyal to the ones they love. If Nadine is like that with you, I wouldn’t know about it and it would explain why you’re still with her.”
When she’s done rambling she stares back out at the ocean. “Or maybe I’m just talking out of my ass.”
“No,” I say slowly. “That makes sense. But…I don’t really know what to say. I’m just hoping that this is a little phase of hers, you know? A rough patch. And we’ll get out of it. I feel like…at this point in life, you have to be ready to stop the games and get serious. That each person that comes into your life, you have to know if they are going to be there in the long run.”
She seems to freeze at that. “Are you serious about her? Marriage and all that?” she asks softly.
“No,” I find myself blurting out. And I can’t take it back because it’s completely true.
“Even if you do find out it’s just a rough patch?”
I take in a long, hard breath as the weight of a million decisions topple on me. “I don’t know,” I tell her and I get to my feet, feeling the need to turn away f
rom her and where the conversation should be going. “But I do know, that things would be better if they had worked out differently.” I swallow and look her in the eye. “For both of us.”
Then I leave her there on the log, on the beach, the wind in her hair, before I do something I might regret.
CHAPTER TEN
STEPHANIE
“Penny for your thoughts?” Aaron asks me before he suddenly bursts out laughing. He looks at Penny, nearly keeling over on the picnic table, and says, “Sorry Penny, you must hear that a lot and think people are talking to you.”
“Not as much as you would think,” she says wryly and from the look on her face I know she thinks Aaron is a total moron.
I wish I didn’t agree with that half the time.
We’re all sitting on the picnic table just outside of the cottage, in front of a fire pit we have roaring. It’s dark outside, the beer and wine are scattered about, as are the messy ingredients for our half-hearted attempts at S’mores. The wind only whips up every now and then and though it’s toasty in front of the fire, the moment you step away you can really feel that late autumn chill rolling in off of the Pacific.
I should be completely relaxed and in my element. I love being by the ocean. I love the soothing, regenerating qualities of the waves, the way they seem to cleanse you with each break. I love the wind in my hair and fresh air in my lungs and that happy, almost surreal sense of freedom that you get when you’re outside and staring up at that dark, star-filled sky.
But I’m not relaxed, not even in the slightest. I had thought that this whole weekend I would be distracted by work, by the guilt of closing today and the money I’d lose. But that hasn’t even entered my headspace for more than a second. Well, barely more than a second.
Instead, my mind is all over Linden. Literally, crawling over every single glance and touch and word he’s thrown my way. This is exactly why I would never give Aaron my thoughts, whether they be in exchange for a copper penny or a wad of thousand dollar bills. It’s wrong and it’s bad but I can’t help it.