She purses her lips. “Yes, she has definitely spoken of you. Where were you when she needed a date to my wedding?”
“Bella, please. You know as well as I do that Rory’s making a mistake. Help me out here.”
She sighs heavily. “That girl is hopelessly in love with you. You know that, don’t you?” She shakes her head. “I’m her boss. I can’t give you her address. But you can talk to Kenny. Tall handsome guy who works the register at the Belmont store.”
I grin like an idiot. “Thank you, Bella. I won’t forget this.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she mutters as she wipes the top of the bar clean with a wet rag. “But don’t forget my annual review is coming up.”
I shake my head as I head back outside and hop in my car to go back across the river to the Zucker’s on Belmont. The whole time I’m crossing my fingers and toes that Kenny will be working when I get there. My wishes come true when I find him at register four. The moment he sees me, he freezes with his hand stuck halfway in a paper grocery bag, as if time has stopped.
“Oh, my God,” he squeaks.
“You’re Kenny?”
“Oh, my God. You know my name?”
The elderly woman whose groceries Kenny is bagging looks confused. She tilts her head, examining me, probably trying to determine if I’m a celebrity she should recognize.
“Where’s Rory?” I ask, getting to the point.
Kenny drops the item into the grocery bag as he comes out of his trance. “Oh, crap. I knew this was going to happen. I told her this was going to happen.” He continues scanning and bagging the woman’s groceries, all the while shaking his head in dismay. “But noooooo, she didn’t listen to me.”
“Kenny, can you please just tell me where she went?”
“Nuh-uh,” he replies without looking up from the grocery bag. “She made me promise I wouldn’t tell you and I am not breaking a promise. Even if she did just up and abandon me.”
My stomach clenches as I see my last opportunity to get Rory back slipping through my fingers. I went almost six fucking years without her and now I’m losing her all over again. And I don’t know how to stop it.
I lean back against the check stand at register three and heave a deep sigh.
Kenny looks up as he waits for the woman’s receipt to print, rolling his eyes as he hands it to her. She walks away with her two bags of groceries, glancing at me over her shoulder, like she’s still trying to figure out who I am.
Kenny flicks the light off on his register and stares at me for a few seconds. “Look at you. You look like a kid whose parents became Jehovah’s Witnesses on Christmas Eve.”
I chuckle at the comparison. “Yeah, only I should have seen this coming.”
“Oh, God. I am going to get in so much trouble.” He slips his phone out of his pocket. “She went to California.”
“California? Why?”
He flashes me a sideways glare. “The lumberjack.”
“Liam?” I reply, and just saying his name makes me sick to my stomach. “She moved to California with him?”
He raises his eyebrows and purses his lips at the same time. “Yup. Poor girl is more confused than I was the time I saw Scarlett Johansson naked.”
“I need her address.”
“No, that’s all I’m giving you. And only because I think Rory’s gone a little crazy and she needs a good talking-to. Then maybe she’ll get her gorgeous little ass back here where it belongs.”
I smile because I finally think I’ve finally found someone who’s on my side. I dial Rory’s number on my phone and Kenny smiles when he realizes what I’m doing. The phone rings a few times before her voicemail greeting comes on.
“This is Rory. I’m on a road trip, so I can’t pick up right now. But leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Just hearing her voice speak the words road trip makes me want to throw the phone at the fucking window, watch it shatter the way my world has in the past hour. When the beep sounds, I take a deep breath to compose myself before I begin.
“Rory, I went to your apartment today because... Well, because there’s no one in this world who understands what I’m feeling today better than you do... But when I knocked on your door, your neighbor came out and told me you were gone. Then, I went to the bar and imagine my surprise when they told me you quit yesterday... At first, I was ready to blame myself for pushing you away. Then I tracked down your friend Kenny and...
“Rory, please don’t do this. Running away is not the answer. Trust me, I tried it for more than five years. But I’ll never be the same person I was before I ran into you in Jamie’s office, or before I took you in six years ago. I’m forever altered by you… We don’t need more distance between us, Rory. We need truth. And that’s all I’m offering. Just give me a chance to show you that nothing else matters to me anymore except you and the truth… You don’t love him, Rory. You still love me… Let me convince you this is not how our story ends.”
Four hours into our road trip to California, Liam stops off to gas up the truck because, according to him, the gas I’m holding in is not enough to get us there. He insists I’ve been holding in my farts since we started dating after the Halloween party, and this long road trip is the test of just how far I’ll take this charade.
The argument is ridiculous, but it makes me think of the first time I passed gas in front of Houston. It was just a week after we’d moved in together. If that wasn’t bad enough, it happened while we were having sex. After hiding my head under the pillow for a few minutes, Houston managed to convince me that it was completely natural… considering I’d been holding that one in for a week.
Liam pulls the truck into the gas station in Medford and he waits as the attendant fills up the tank while I take Skippy and Sparky for a short walk to do their business. Afterward, we head down the block to the Real Deal Café.
I slide out of the passenger seat and plop down onto the asphalt with a crunch. The sky is a dark marbled gray, covered with clouds amassed in brilliant silver swirls. The rain must be taking a midafternoon break, but it will surely start up again by the time we’re done stuffing our faces with greasy diner food. Despite the lack of rain, the air is cold enough to siphon the hot breath out of my lungs within seconds. Reaching into the cab of the truck, I grab my coat and pull it on for the short walk to the restaurant.
“You stay in here, Skip,” I say, patting Skippy on the head when he whines to be let out. “We won’t be long.”
Sparky tilts his head as his shepherd ears perk up, but he makes no attempt to sit up or get out of the truck. He just lies there waiting for my command. Skippy, on the other hand, continues whining and pawing the back of the passenger seat. His black fur and playful Labrador temperament shine through even on the gloomiest of days.
“Sit tight, buddy. We’ll take you to the park after we eat.”
I shut the door and Liam flashes me a gorgeous smile as I cross my arms across my chest and hunch my shoulders against the cold.
“You’re such a sucker,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and rubbing my shoulder to generate some heat. “They’ll be fine in the truck for another couple of hours. That’s all it’s gonna take to get to Redding. Then we’ll make another stop.”
With his arm locked around me, we walk awkwardly, our bodies bumping against each other, until we reach the front door of the Real Deal Café. He opens the door for me and I rush toward the warmth that blasts me in the face. The door closes softly behind us as a skinny waitress with dark hair pulled into a low bun walks by with plates of food balanced on her forearm.
She nods at us. “Sit anywhere you want.”
Three of the six booths are open in this tiny restaurant that, according to the maximum capacity sign on the wall, only seats forty people. But the air smells of coffee and bacon and my stomach growls at the sight of the large stack of pancakes being consumed at the table nearest us. I take a seat in a booth and raise my eyebrows w
hen Liam sits next to me on the same side of the table instead of across from me.
“Just in case you need help staying warm,” he says with a wink.
I reach up and tug his beard and his eyes widen with surprise. This has naturally evolved into my signal to him that I want to be kissed. It all started with the first time he kissed me on Halloween and it’s continued from there.
Liam dressed up as an old-timey-outlaw-slash-hipster for Halloween, complete with a handlebar mustache, suspenders, bowler hat, and antique pistol. I dressed up as a librarian-feminist-hipster in a dowdy ankle-length skirt, Birkenstocks, faux hipster eyeglasses, and a dreadlocks wig. He had offered to pick me up at my apartment and take me to the party, but I insisted on driving to his brother Jared’s house in Tualatin. It was my way of making sure I didn’t drink too much and make a fool of myself on our first official date.
New social settings and I went together like sandpaper and condoms, so I was very pleased when Liam went out of his way to make sure I felt comfortable in my new environment. He waited outside until I arrived, so I wouldn’t have to search the house for him. Then he introduced me to everyone he knew, which was almost all of the thirty-some guests. Though I felt a bit like a first grader being introduced to my classmates, it was cute.
Anytime I began to feel awkward, he could sense it. He would excuse us both, then he’d pull me aside to chat, just the two of us. When one of Liam’s female college buddies recognized me from our days at the University of Oregon and asked if I was doing okay, he rescued me by answering, “She’s definitely not okay. Look at her! She hasn’t cut her hair in five years. Why do you think she’s wearing such a long skirt?”
I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. And, as seductive as a joke about ankle-length pubic hair can be, I managed to keep myself from ripping his clothes off and blowing him right there. Though I was quite content when he later pulled me aside into a dark hallway to ask if I was truly okay.
I reached up and tugged the two-inch-long beard at the base of his chin. “Pretty soon you’ll need a long skirt to cover this.”
His eyes locked on mine and a beautiful smile curled the edges of his mouth. “Two steps ahead of you. Already put one on layaway at Walmart.”
The kindness in his eyes turned into a dark hunger, and I gulped down my nerves in anticipation of his next move. His head tilted slightly as he moved in. The curve of his smile disappeared as I let go of his beard. Then I closed my eyes, waiting for the first contact.
I could feel his breath on my mouth, soft and warm. Then he pressed his lips to mine and my body froze.
I hadn’t kissed anyone other than Houston in a long time. I’d seen other guys after Houston and I broke up my freshman year, but I hadn’t dated anyone in a long time until we ran into each other in Jamie’s office. Still, when Houston kissed me for the first time in five and a half years, it was as if no time had passed between us. As if the universe had imploded and exploded in a single instant, scattering us across the sky like the shimmering stardust where we were created. Houston knew how to use his mouth to tease me unlike anyone I’d ever known. Part of me was terrified of kissing Liam. I didn’t want to compare him to Houston.
As soon as Liam opened his mouth, his beard brushing over my chin, I grasped the front of his shirt to hold myself steady, so neither of us could escape. His tongue parted my lips and glided into my mouth slowly. He tasted like the candy corn punch we were both sampling a few minutes earlier. I tried to kiss him the way he kissed me, tilting my head and moving my tongue and lips in sync with his, but something felt off. Was he using his tongue to explore the roof of my mouth? This thought made me burst into a fit of giddy laughter.
I pushed him away and took a step back. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry,” I said, covering my mouth to stifle the lingering giggles. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”
He scratched his beard and cast a handsome smile in my direction as he reached into his pocket and withdrew his pistol. “That’s okay, little lady. I reckon we should rustle up some grub and head on out to rob us a Starbucks before you turn into a pumpkin patch at the stroke of midnight.”
I laughed again. “I reckon you oughta put away that pistol and pick up a book, mister. You’re mixing up your children’s stories.”
“Figures a librarian feminist like you would say somethin’ like that.”
I stepped forward and tugged his beard again. “Say librarian feminist one more goddamned time.”
“W-w-w-what?” he stuttered.
I smiled, knowing he’d understood my movie reference to Samuel L. Jackson’s famous scene in Pulp Fiction. Then I kissed him. It was much better the second time. And after that, a soft tug of his beard was all Liam needed to shut up and kiss me.
We stuff our bellies with omelets and fruit at the Real Deal Café, then we head back to the truck to continue our journey to California. Tonight will be the first time Liam and I sleep in the same bed. We’d fallen asleep on my couch last week while watching a documentary on honey badgers, but we didn’t have sex. When I woke up at six a.m., Liam had turned the ringer off on my phone and sent me a text thanking me for an awesome movie night. I assumed he turned the ringer off because I didn’t have to work that day and he wanted me to sleep in, but I hadn’t asked him to do this so it only served to annoy me.
I glance repeatedly at Liam as the truck carves its way through the winding mountain roads, wondering if he can see how nervous I am about sleeping in the same bed with him tonight. Maybe I’m hiding it well. Or maybe he’s just as anxious as I am.
Maybe I’ll just sleep with Skippy.
December 4, 2008
Rory and I cut a dark path through the fresh dusting of snow as we head across campus toward Lot 42, where I parked my truck. Hallie’s letter calls to me from my pocket, begging me to read her final message to the world, but I don’t know if I’m ready to see her last words. Maybe I can just burn the letter and pretend this day never happened.
When we reach the truck, I open the door for Rory to get in, but she just stands there looking like a zombie. Her fair skin is taut with dried tears and her nose is pink from the cold, evidence that she’s alive and hurting, but her vacant stare appears lifeless, like Hallie’s eyes when I was trying to revive her today.
I place my hand on Rory’s elbow to help her inside and she looks down at my hand for a moment, confused. I don’t know what to do, so I do the first thing that comes to mind. I scoop her up in my arms then place her down gently in the passenger seat. As I step back, her eyes are locked on mine. She presses her lips together, probably trying not to cry. Then she reaches for the door handle and I move out of the way so she can close the door.
The whole drive to my apartment, she rests her head on the inside of the window. Her eyes are closed, but I can still see an occasional tear slide down her face. My apartment is less than ten minutes from campus, but when we get there she doesn’t sit up or make any attempt to get out of the truck. I reach over and my hand hovers an inch above the top of her thigh, contemplating whether I should tap her leg to wake her. If she’s really asleep, I don’t want to disturb her rest. God knows how difficult it will be to try to get to sleep later, when the reality of what happened today really starts to sink in.
I pull my hand back and quietly slide out of the truck. Shutting my door softly behind me, I open the passenger door slowly so Rory doesn’t fall out. When the door is open a couple of inches, she sits up straight and looks around, appearing dazed. I scoop her up in my arms again. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and buries her head in my neck as I carry her to my apartment. She almost looks drunk when I set her down to unlock the door. Then I scoop her right up again, and by the time I lay her down on my bed and step back to look at her, her eyelids have fallen shut and she’s asleep within seconds.
I’ve never seen anything like it. The emotional exhaustion must be too much for her mind to deal with right now. I pull a folded blanket out of the linen closet in the hallwa
y and lay it over her, tucking it snugly around her body, then I head to the bathroom.
Pulling the envelope out of my pocket, I push the shower curtain aside and sit on the edge of the tub. Seeing my name on the envelope again hits me almost as hard as it did when I first saw the letter clutched in Hallie’s stiff, lifeless fingers.
Why me?
The paper feels warm from being in my pocket, especially against my cold skin. I lay my hand flat over the envelope, covering up my name and hoping the warmth will seep into my hand. Taking a long, deep breath, I turn it over and rip it open with one swift swipe of my finger. I yank the folded sheets of paper out and toss the envelope onto the floor like a discarded piece of Christmas wrapping. Then I read.
Just seeing the words Dear Houston in Hallie’s precise handwriting has me trembling. But the first paragraph confuses me.
Dear Houston,
First of all, please don’t show this letter to anyone else. Not Mom. Not Dad. And especially not Rory. And please forgive me for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do.
There was a reason she wrote my name on that envelope. She doesn’t—didn’t want anyone to read this except me. My gaze scans to the bottom of the page, then I turn it over and count the number of pages: five. I lay the letter facedown on the edge of the sink without reading another word and try to imagine what kind of secret my sister is about to tell me. What kind of confession takes five pages, front and back?
My mind wanders to horrible things. Maybe my father sexually abused her and that’s why he hardly speaks to us anymore. Maybe she was sexually assaulted at that Halloween party she went to in October where she got completely wasted. Or what if…? What if she was in love with Rory?
Holy shit. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want me to show the letter to Rory. And what if that’s why she was always so excited to spend the night at Rory’s house? What the fuck? Are Rory and Hallie more than friends?