CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Here’s the birthday girl!” Dan pats my shoulder and then freezes as my mom looks up at him with wary hazel eyes.
“Meredith.” He reaches for her hand and she lets him take it, squeezing it gently. He pulls a little and she stands, her shoulder-length brown curls falling into her face as she stares at his shoes. “I am so, so glad to see you.”
Dan wraps my Mom in a hug. At first, she’s limp like a rag doll but then she responds, pulling him close and hiding her face against his neck. Their reunion is so intimate I have to look away.
Finally I peek and see tears shining in my mom’s eyes as they ease their hug and look at each other. Dan bends and gives her a soft peck on the cheek, then reaches for her chair at our table, holding it for her as she sits.
“Beryl just told me you were coming. It was quite a shock,” my mom mumbles. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.”
“In Eugene? It’s forgiven,” Dan waves his hand as if it were nothing. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d want to protect Beryl, but the truth is she’s doing a pretty good job protecting herself.”
Dan and I exchange looks and I shake my head slightly, trying to covertly signal him not to bring up what happened with Peter.
Whether Dan sees my hint or not, his eyes refocus solely on my mom. “So can we try this again? It’s been too long, and hearing about you from Beryl isn’t as good as seeing the real thing.”
“Beryl said you’ve been really good to her. Thank you.”
“What about you? Are you OK on your own?” I see genuine concern in Dan’s eyes but the question makes my mom’s expression slam closed.
“I’m fine. I’ve been fine.” My mom’s voice rises. “For nine years and three months, everything’s been fine. I can take care of myself. Can we talk about something else?”
Dan recoils. “Mer, please don’t shut me out. It kills me that we lost touch after Clint died, but I can’t change the past. I can only change the future. That’s why I’m here. I want to know you again, to be part of your life.”
Dan looks pained and I can see that he’s struggling, but I don’t know how to help him. He coaxes one of mom’s hands from her lap and wiggles his fingers between hers.
“I’m fine on my own,” my mom whispers. “I can’t do this again.”
“Do what?”
“Get involved. Risk what’s working.”
Dan pulls up my mom’s hand up and brushes her fingers with his lips. I see her neck flush and I squirm. I’m tempted to make a run for the bathroom but I’m dying to know what’s next.
“Meredith, it’s not working. I miss you so much it hurts. I’ve thought about how to ask you to let me back in to your life a million times. This is my shot, and I’m asking you to trust me. Take that risk. I won’t let you down.”
“But what would Clint think? How can I get close to you after everything that’s happened?”
“Mer, you can. Because of everything that’s happened. Because even when someone dies, you have to go on living. I loved you when we were sixteen, and I loved you even when I stood up as best man at your wedding. I loved you so much I wanted you to be happy with someone I knew would be good to you. And he was.”
My mom’s head is bowed and I see her shaking, crying silently as she absorbs the shockwaves of what Dan’s saying. I’m shocked, too, but I feel like Dan needs me to be here to bear witness. Maybe he needs an ally, someone to give my mom permission that it’s OK to do this. To be with him.
“Mer, will you give me a chance? Will you let me in just a little?”
She raises her head and locks on his gaze. “Do you still?”
“Still what?”
“Love me?”
“I never stopped.”
I let out my breath in a whoosh as Dan pulls my mom into his arms, an awkward hug around the corner of the table. I stand up quickly and excuse myself to the bathroom to give them space.
Their reunion makes me ache for Gavin, wishing desperately that I could feel the certainty between us that I just saw between my mom and Dan. With each conversation I feel like I know him more, trust him more deeply. Love him.
That thought electrifies and terrifies me. I love Gavin Slater. The crazy, reckless, sexy, totally out-of-my-league Gavin, the rock star and bad boy incarnate. The scared, sweet guy who encourages me and finds a way to embrace me, if only with a T-shirt, from the other side of the world.
Which Gavin is real? When he comes home, I’ll know for sure.
I return to the table and Mom and Dan are smiling and talking softly. They’ve ordered wine and I see that their fingers are still linked under the table.
I’m stunned. I can’t remember my mom going on more than a handful of dates since Dad died. Now she’s holding hands like a teenager.
We order food and I try another new thing—gnudi, a firm pasta ball surrounding a pillow of ricotta cheese, with brown butter and crispy fried sage leaves on top. It’s ah-mazing.
Dan and Mom do most of the talking, catching up on each other’s work and life. I let them chat and I relax in my chair, content being a sort-of chaperone so that Mom doesn’t feel so far out of her comfort zone.
“So what are your birthday plans?” Dan asks me. “Are you seeing friends later tonight?” I raise my eyebrow; Dan’s as subtle as a theater marquee.
While I had no plans other than dinner with my mother and Dan, I decide to give them space. “I’m going to a club with Stella to see a new band. I’ll be out pretty late.”
“I can take your mom home, so you can go straight there,” Dan offers. He’s getting rid of me, but I let him. “Meredith, I’d love to take you up to see the city from Rockefeller Center. It’s really quite spectacular at night.”
“I’d love to.” My mom is grinning and I’m happy for her. She’s endured too much heartache in her life to be trapped without love for the rest of it.
I text Stella that I’m going to show up wherever she is. She texts me back immediately with an address and the command, “Wear something saucy.”
I figure the short jersey dress I have on now is good enough, so I hail a cab and head straight there. It’s early and the club is pretty dead, so Stella’s easy to find, standing at the side of the stage chatting with a musician while the opening act sets up.
“How’s your birthday so far?” Stella steers me to the bar to order a couple of birthday shots. Tequila. I’m in for a rough morning tomorrow.
I lick my hand, sprinkle it with salt and down the shot in unison with Stella, grinning behind the lime wedge I stuff between my teeth.
“Better already.” I do the second shot with her and explain that Dan whisked my mom away for a reunion.
“That’s cool,” Stella says. “I remember my first serious boyfriend. He could give me a look that would melt my panties.” She sighs melodramatically. “I probably still have the hots for him.”
I have the hots for Gavin, but I’m not sure I’m ready to spill.
“What?”
“Huh?”
“That look you just had. You’ve got it bad for someone. Who?”
My eyes widen in alarm and I’m caught—Stella knows I’m holding out on her. Given her sharp interviewing skills, she’ll have it out of me in T-minus ten, nine, eight…
“It’s not Anthony,” she guesses.
The look on my face confirms it.
“Is it someone in New York?”
“No.” But my voice squeaks, and she catches the half-lie.
“It’s Gavin! He’s not in New York, but he’s the one, isn’t he?”
I nod.
“Oh my God, girl, you know how to pick ’em. A filthy rich rock star? Get in line. You are nuts.”
“I know. But he doesn’t seem so distant when we talk.”
“You’re talking to him?”
“Chatting. Text and email. We haven’t talked on the phone because he was in Africa and Indonesia, but I think he got to Sydney today.”
“Let me see!” Stella grabs for my phone and opens my email before I can stop her. At the top of the string is a new message from Gavin, one I haven’t even opened yet.
We bonk our heads together trying to read it at once.
I made it to Sydney and it’s cool and showery. A nice change from the heat. I’m staying at a hotel with a real shower and a real phone, so I’m hoping to talk to you tonight in person rather than on chat.
I’ll call you on my apartment line a little before midnight your time, OK? I want to say happy birthday before it’s over.
In the meantime, check out what I wrote in Bali. I hope you like it.
I hit a button to open the attachment and a video pops onto my phone’s screen. “Hey, Beryl. This is for you,” Gavin’s grin fills my phone screen and I swoon a little. “It’s called ‘Wilderness.’”
The video shakes as he puts the camera down, still recording. I see a hotel room and Gavin comes back into view wearing holey jeans and a T-shirt. He settles on the bed, throws a guitar strap over his shoulder and starts playing.
Found lights/ found fame
Found her/ and I’m lost again
Wilderness of solitude
I’m floored. It’s just his clear voice and a guitar, but the song arrests me. It’s nothing like Tattoo Thief, not the hard rock or driving ballads I’ve heard on his CDs.
Got fire/ got blood
Got a bolt from above
Inspiration unlocked/ the key to what I crave
The muse
Inwardly, I cheer. Gavin’s telling me he got his music back! I’m not sure what the “bolt from above” is, but it’s clear he’s found new inspiration.
So I’m homeward bound/ and broken
And finally open/ and hoping
For you
The song continues but I don’t hear the rest, letting tears flow, blowing my nose in a bar napkin as Stella keeps watching the video. It shakes me to my core—Gavin’s open expression, his easy posture, the passion in his voice.
My connection to him so far has been in black and white. Now it’s Technicolor.
I leave Stella at the bar, fleeing to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face even if it wrecks my mascara. I’m a mess.
When I get back, Stella’s got us two more shots.
“Drink up, girlfriend. Looks like you got a pretty killer birthday present.” She slips my phone back in my purse.
I smile weakly but follow her lead as she presses the shot glass into my hands. “That was a shock.”
“No kidding. A rock star writes you a song? I’d be a basket case.”
“I am.”
“So let’s go. I’m going to blow off this show for a different story. And you’ve got to be home when loverboy calls.”