Chapter Ten
Will woke up before his alarm clock. The early morning light peeking through the blinds illuminated Elizabeth sleeping peacefully in his bed, blonde hair streaming across his pillow. He slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb her with the almost overwhelming urge to whistle.
Heading for the shower, he reconsidered waking her up so he could ask her to join him. But she probably needed her sleep. They’d worked each other over pretty good last night. Maybe he’d go get bagels and coffee and surprise her with breakfast in bed.
He walked back into the bedroom, towel slung around his hips, to find Elizabeth sitting upright in his bed, blinking owlishly. It would have been funny except the covers had fallen to her waist, leaving her bare-breasted. His body tightened at the sight. Screw bagels, she could be his breakfast in bed.
She looked over at the clock. “I’m going to be late!” She dashed out of bed, just a pale streak shooting past him.
He followed her into the living room where she was wiggling into her jeans.
“Can’t believe I fell asleep,” she was muttering to herself.
“Coffee?” he asked.
She looked at him for the first time and swallowed. “That’s not fair,” she said. She made a waving gesture at his body. “All of that.” She dashed out the door before he could respond.
“I guess morning sex isn’t happening,” he said to himself.
The list of party venues sat on the coffee table where he’d dropped it last night. He snatched it up. Today would be a good day to finish the party planning. It would give him something to distract himself with while he was counting down the hours until he saw her again.
He found himself whistling as he got dressed. Because last night had been so much more than just sex. Last night had been real.
* * *
Elizabeth hadn’t woken up in someone else’s bed since super low-rise jeans were still in fashion. She rushed from Will’s apartment in a panic that she wasn’t sure was all being late for work related. The ticket on the windshield of her car for parking overnight without a resident sticker seemed like a judgment from the universe. Not for being slutty, because she didn’t play that shame game, but for not being strong enough to take her pleasure and then take her leave.
Thankfully, she’d worked enough night shifts to have extra scrubs, deodorant, and a toothbrush in her locker. She changed quickly and booked it to the nurses’ station. Cindy was sitting behind the desk when she got there. They chatted while Elizabeth got herself situated. She was only half paying attention to the conversation when something Cindy said caught her.
“You’re taking a whole month off after your wedding?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’ve got the time saved up. We’re going do some traveling. I haven’t had a vacation since I went to visit my mom in Florida last December.”
Elizabeth had taken Megan to visit colleges before she’d decided on UMass last year. But other than that, she couldn’t recall the last time she went anywhere. She’d wanted to travel, to have adventures. That’s what she should be doing.
She pushed the thought of taking Will with her out of her mind. He’d become too important too fast. She should get away now while she still could. Within a few days, she probably wouldn’t even remember his name.
“I’ve been thinking about taking some time off, too,” she said to Cindy.
The rest of her shift was crazy enough that she didn’t have time to think about Will even if she wanted, which she definitely didn’t want to. She didn’t look at her phone until she was safely home that night, wearily stirring a pot of chicken noodle soup from a can simmering on the stovetop. She shifted her weight from one sore foot to another and checked her missed calls. One from Megan. No one else.
She stirred her soup too hard and a few drops spilled on the burner and hissed. Maybe her initial fears about Will had been true. He was a player, but now that he’d won, he didn’t want to play anymore. She told herself that it was a relief to just get it over with instead of still worrying about when it was going to happen. She stirred her soup harder, liquid sloshing over the sides of the pot, before abruptly snapping the burner to off. She wasn’t hungry.
Instead, she called Megan. “Hey!” she said brightly when Megan answered. “How’s school going?”
“You sound weird,” Megan said. “Did you drink too much hospital coffee?”
“Can’t I be in a good mood? Just tell me about how school’s going.”
“I’ve got, like, my first chemistry test on Monday, so I’m going to study with my lab partner this weekend.”
“You’re making a friend. That’s great.”
“Whatever,” Megan said. “Don’t get all overly enthusiastic. It’s kind of sad.”
“I’ll stop being overly enthusiastic when you stop being too cool to care.”
Megan gave a put-upon sigh but then added, “I did start hanging out with some girls on my floor. They’re okay.”
Megan was beginning to build her new life. These next four years would transform her from girl to woman. Elizabeth’s job was done. She’d always be Megan’s sister and love her, but Megan wouldn’t need her as much anymore. She’d succeeded.
She kept her voice cheerful as tears stung the corners of her eyes. “That sounds great. So, what would you say if I went away for a little while? I’m thinking about taking a road trip. Since you’re going to be busy with classes and I’ve got lots of vacation time, I thought now would be a good time.”
“Is this some On the Road Jack Kerouac thing?”
“You know my stance on the Beat writers.”
“Yep. Bunch of posturing male chauvinists. That feminist diatribe did not help my English grade.” Without pausing, she calmly asked, “Does your road trip have anything to do with the half-naked man in our kitchen?”
Elizabeth’s smile was beginning to hurt. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.” After Will left that night, Megan hadn’t brought it up again.
“As you’ve always told me, silence does not equal assent. I didn’t agree. I’ve been waiting all these years to finally have something to hold over your head.”
Elizabeth cracked, unable to maintain the cheerful façade one second more. “I love you, kid.” She gripped her phone tight.
“I love you, too,” Megan replied and, even though Elizabeth couldn’t see her, she sensed Megan wasn’t rolling her eyes when she said it.
* * *
Will had spent the entire day on the phone, party planning like a motherfucker. Of course, the fact that Elizabeth had basically done all the legwork for him made the whole thing a lot easier. Still didn’t mean he wasn’t taking charge like a badass, though.
He stood in the center of the community center hall, usually the home of bingo and square dancing nights, and swung his arm out. “Look at this space,” he said to Brian and Emily. “Wicked cheap to rent and we can fit a ton of people. We’ll roll a couple kegs in, get a few party platters, a big-ass cake, and Cousin Greg can DJ. I think Mom and Dad will have way more fun than if we did something fancy.”
Emily did a slow circle. “I didn’t realize they rented this place out.”
He shot a triumphant look at Brian. See, I can try.
“This can work,” Brian said. “We’ll actually be able to fit the whole family, too.”
“Is that a good thing?” Emily asked with a wry grin.
“Okay!” Will clapped his hands. “It’s settled then. Now pony up. I need to run the deposit by tomorrow. And it’s only three weeks away, so you two are in charge of invites. I’ve done my part.”
“I’m impressed,” Emily said.
“Don’t be,” Brian said. “How much of this was Elizabeth?”
Emily’s head swiveled around so fast she had to be part owl. “Are you holding out on me? You have a lady friend?” She stabbed a finger in Brian’s chest. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“And you wonder why I never introduce anyone to you,” Will said.
“You’d have to get a date first,” Brian said with grin.
He ignored Brian’s attempts to bait him. “I’ll bring her to Mom and Dad’s party. You can meet her there,” he told Emily. He held out his hand. “Now free up some cash, losers.”
“I think I liked you better when you were lazy,” Brian said.
“Not lazy. Chill. Easy like Sunday morning.”
“That’s what it says on the bathroom wall at the Rusty Nail,” Emily said.
All in the past. He couldn’t wait to get home and call Elizabeth. Maybe she’d be able to stay over tonight. He wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms. After they’d wrecked each other, of course. And then he wanted breakfast the next morning. And maybe get her to sit for him so he could do a real portrait instead of some scribbles in a notebook.
“You coming?” Brian called. He and Emily were already walking to the door while he’d been daydreaming.
“We’re going to get burgers at Mr. Bartley’s,” Emily said.
What time did Elizabeth’s shift end? Maybe she’d want to meet them. Although, having their first official dinner with his sister and brother was a lot to ask of anyone. “I’ll meet you over there,” he said.
He dialed her number, but it went straight to voice mail. He shrugged. She must still be at work. He’d try her again after dinner. He was working all weekend, which meant spending the night at the station, so if she wasn’t able to come over tonight, it would be another three whole days before he could touch her again. Three days suddenly seemed like a lifetime.
* * *
Elizabeth couldn’t sleep. Her whole body was rigid with tension and her eyes snapped open every time she attempted to close them. At midnight, she gave up the fight and sat upright in bed. Her phone was on her nightstand. She fumbled for it without turning on the light.
He’d called her twice and texted her. The text simply said, Come over. When she’d received it, she’d almost jammed her feet in a pair of shoes and jumped in her car. She’d stopped herself, one Converse dangling from her fingers, and said out loud to the empty house, “What the hell am I doing?” She’d slept with him once and now he thought he could just snap his fingers and she’d come running like some lovesick puppy? Not happening.
She’d white knuckled it the rest of the night, trying to resist calling him or even texting. Instead, she curled up on her couch and watched television programs she couldn’t remember the plots to and ate popcorn that tasted like sawdust in her mouth. She’d turned the volume up high on the TV, attempting to drive away the oppressive silence, but the house still echoed with stillness.
Now, sitting in the inky darkness and unable to sleep, it crossed her mind that maybe she could sell the house. Megan was gone and it was too much space for one person. The thought immediately produced a sick pit in her stomach of guilt. Like she was betraying her parents. This was their house.
She remembered being young and helping her mother dust the china displayed in the enormous glass front hutch in the dining room. Her mother’s voice cautioning her to be careful because pretty things could be more fragile than they appeared.
That china and that hutch still sat in the dining room. Was she just supposed to get rid of them like they weren’t important? Was she supposed to just pretend her parents hadn’t existed?
She got out of bed, and even though there was no one there to wake up, she still tiptoed down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. She pushed the door open. The queen bed was neatly made up and still topped with the bedspread they’d slept under. She walked in and, sitting down on the bed, picked up the book on her father’s nightstand. A Tom Clancy novel, bookmark still in it marking his place, as though he’d be back to finish reading it.
She came in here a couple of times a month just to dust, but never stayed very long. As far as she knew, Megan never came in at all. There were still clothes hanging in the closet that she’d never brought to Goodwill like she kept telling herself she would. Why hadn’t she done that one simple thing? They were gone and never coming back. The past was never returning.
She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms them, wanting her mother’s arms around her, stroking her hair, telling her everything would be all right. The dam constructed from every ounce of loneliness she’d shoved back down, every time she wanted to give in to loss but held back to be strong for Megan, every time she spackled on a smile when she wanted to scream, finally shattered. Thick hot tears tracked down her cheeks as she rocked herself back and forth like a child.
* * *
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Will, who’d spent the weekend on call at the firehouse, was sure of two things. One, he was tired of listening to dudes snore and two, Elizabeth was ghosting him. She hadn’t responded to any of his texts or returned any of his calls. It was just plain rude was what it was. If she didn’t want to see him again, then she could damn well pick up the phone and tell him. It wasn’t like it had been a one-night stand, at least not for him.
After leaving work, he managed to distract himself by keeping busy the rest of the day running around dropping money on deposits. At least the party was on track to be a success. But when he returned to his apartment that evening, he couldn’t avoid thinking about it any longer.
He could just let it go. Que sera, sera. Accept that something real with Elizabeth wasn’t going to happen. It would be so easy to just let the current carry him where it would, to not fight, to just float away from her and the frustration of banging himself against her rocks.
Or maybe it was time he began swimming.
As much as he hated to admit it, Brian was right. He was so used to things just working out for him that he never even tried to fight. Just shrugged his shoulders and moved on. He’d never experienced real pain or loss, just a charmed, carefree existence as the youngest child of a loving family.
Not like Elizabeth. Everyone she’d ever loved had left. No wonder she was skittish.
He was giving up too easily. And he hadn’t just given up on Elizabeth. He opened his bedroom closet door. Canvases stacked up against each other. Some he’d recycle and paint over, but some...maybe he should at least try to see if they might have value to another person. What was the worst that could happen? He’d end up with a closet full of unwanted paintings.
He opened his top dresser drawer. He’d shoved the gallery owner’s business card in the back behind his socks. The cardstock felt substantial in his hand and the lettering was embossed. He traced a finger over the writing. Karen Shelby, Owner, Newberry Art Gallery.
He found his phone and dialed the number. “Hi, is this Karen? This is Will MacGregor, Emily MacGregor’s brother. I’m an artist.” It felt weird to say that out loud. Almost like he was trying on a jacket that he wasn’t sure would fit him. “Emily mentioned that you might be interested in viewing some of my work.” His heart was racing faster than when he’d kissed Brianna Sullivan behind the bleachers back in eighth grade.
Karen’s voice was professional but warm. “As I told Emily, I’m happy to view your work. I can’t make promises, but if you have any pieces I’m interested in, I’d like to put them on consignment in my gallery. I’m always looking for new local artists.”
They agreed on a time for Karen to check out his work and Will hung up feeling as though something more significant than the possibility of selling a few paintings had just happened.
And maybe he owed it to himself to hash things out with Elizabeth instead of just drifting away. If she didn’t want to talk to him, then he’d be no worse off than he was now.
Because now was like someone had punched a hole in his chest and was squeezing his heart in their meaty fist. Now sucked.