Chapter 50

 

Gabriel

 

I pull up to the building at nine thirty in the evening. There are cars lined up and down the main street, but I find a spot only a block away.  Stepping out of my car, I adjust my suit coat and button up the front. A gust of wind whips down the street tousles my hair. I need a haircut.

Checking to make sure I’ve got my wallet, I stride to the front door. Loud music and raucous voices can be heard from the sidewalk. It must be quite a nice celebration.  I still don’t know what she’s celebrating. A class reunion? An anniversary? Cammy wouldn’t tell me and I’m not sure why. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

I open the door and the scent of beer and fried foods hits me square in the jaw. Stepping inside, I see that the place is, in fact, packed with people. There are so many, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to the bar without bumping into people as I go. 

“I’ve come this far.” Using my body to work through the crowd, I make it to the bar with only one pant leg and my right sleeve drenched in beer. It’s okay, beer washes out of wool, right? When the bartender sees me, she ignores everyone else waving cash at her and makes a beeline for me. She’s cute in an Iowa farm girl kind of way. She’s even got braids in her dark hair, a flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off and ripped jeans. The part that doesn’t fit my notion of a farm girl is the array of tattoos she’s got on her left arm.  “Well, you’re new,” she says in a flirtatious tone. “What can I get you, handsome?”

I look down at the worn bar top and the stools covered mostly in foam and little else. I’d love to ask if they have 12-year-old Macallan, but I’m guessing they won’t have that. “Beer.”

“We’ve got Bud, Coors, Busch, an Iowa micro-brew called Blonde Fatale, and another called Red Rambler.”

“Red Rambler, please.”

“Right on. Be right back.”

Setting the beer down, she leans forward rewarding me with a view of her chest. They look like fine breasts, but they’re small and, well, they don’t appeal.  “So, what’re you in town for?”

“I heard this was a Cartwright party of some sort.”

Her face changes in seconds. What was once a smile has turned sour. “I guess you could call it a party. It’s more a celebration of life.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s the guest of honor?”

“Lexie’s mom.”

“Oh, yeah? Where’s she?” I say looking around the interior of the bar. “Lexie?”

“No, her mom.”

She doesn’t answer. Her face reddens, and I see her eyes start to water. “You’re an asshole.”

“Huh?” Okay, I know I’m an asshole on a normal day, but I didn’t mean to be just then. What am I missing?

“Yo! Assface?” says a drunk guy next to me.

“Yes?” I say warily.

“Lexie’s mom is dead.  One year ago, today. This is a celebration of her life. Her dad threw this party. Thought it’d be cathartic or some such bullshit.”

“She died?” I’m going to kill Cammy.

“Car accident. She swerved to avoid a deer and rolled her car. Died instantly.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

“Lauren Cartwright was an amazing woman. Well-respected in the community, doting mother, devoted wife. She had a wicked sense of humor and cooked the best fucking chili. She won first place at the state fair four years in a row.”

“She sounds incredible.”

“Damn straight, she was. Broke that little family to bits when she died like that. Rick hasn’t been the same since. Turned to the bottle. Luckily, little Lexie left to follow her dreams of living in the big city and doing that marketing shit she went to school to study.”

“How do you know all this?”

He blinks at me. “I live here.”

“So?”

“It’s a small town. There are only about six thousand of us which makes us big enough to be the county seat, but we’re small enough to know what’s what. The Cartwright’s are good people. When Lauren died, it impacted everyone.”

“I see.”

“So, why are you here with your big-city duds on?

“I’m Lexie’s boyfriend.”

The man scoffs. “If that’s true, you’d have known about Lauren.”

“Not necessarily. Lexie is very private.”

He scoffs again and takes a swig of beer. “You’re not good enough for her.”

“I know.” But, I’m here for her none-the-less. On that note, I step away from the bar in search of my girl. Weaving in and out of people, I look at every table and booth. There are a number of women here who seem to have taken an interest in me, so I use that to my advantage. “I’m looking for Lexie.”

Each time I ask, I’m told things like, ‘Oh, I just saw her at the bar.’ Another woman tells me she went out back. I search the bar and out back but still no Lexie.  When I ask a third woman if she’s seen her, she tells me Lexie was taking this night hard, so she was hiding in the storage room.  Now, that I can believe. 

I locate the storage closet and wait a moment. I don’t want to catch her off guard, but I don’t think that can be avoided. Without knocking, I turn the knob and enter the dark room.  When I hear sniffling, I know she’s nearby. “Lex?”

The sniffle turns to a gasp. “Gabriel?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here? This is a pr-private party.”

“I needed to see you.” I follow the sound of her voice until I’ve narrowed down her coordinates to the back corner of the room. I really should have turned on a light, but this is probably better. 

“You see me all the time. You could have waited.”

“No. I couldn’t wait.”

“Why not?” she sounds so sad, so small.

“Because I came to make sure you were okay. I came to check on you. I came to kiss you and hold you.  I came to tell you how wrong I was.”

“When?  When were you wrong?”

“Every time I disappointed you. I was wrong. I was wrong about your animals.”

She lets out a sob.  “Yeah, you were. Cy’s wing was caught in the hinge. You’d squawk too if your arm were caught in a damn door.”

“I’m sorry about that, baby.”

When Cammy told me how she rescued each one of those creatures from sure death, I listened.  Cyclopes or Cy for short was first owned by a sadistic bastard.  He scarred and disfigured the bird even cutting out one of his eyes out for fun. Thankfully, one of the man’s children took the bird to an animal shelter to keep him from being killed by their father.

When no one wanted to adopt the bird, he was slated to be euthanized until Lexie spotted him on a visit to the shelter.  She took him home immediately. The turtle, Shelly, has only three legs. As for the guinea pigs, she found them in their cage in a dumpster behind her building. Someone just threw away the entire cage with animals inside. They were malnourished and dehydrated when she found them, and she nursed them back to health. After hearing the sad tales of those animals, I understood Lexie a little better.

Lexie, the woman who has every co-worker’s favorite candy in her candy dish––even mine. Lexie, the woman who knows every single co-worker’s birthdays and gives them cards on their special day––even mine. When she gave me a card, I thanked her and tossed it in my desk drawer without opening it. I’ve read it since. It was sweet and thoughtful just like the woman who gave it to me.

I need to keep going. I’ve got so many more things to apologize for. “I was wrong when I said you were simple.”

“Uh, huh. That too. I graduated summa cum laude from the University of Iowa.”

“Good to know.”

“I was wrong about Katya. I fired her.”

“You did?”

“Absolutely. I also saw the list of events from last week and her note for you to ‘show your true colors.’ She set you up that night.”

“I still don’t know why she hated me so much.”

“I don’t know either other than to say she was probably jealous of your popularity around the office.”

She snorts. “Popularity? I’m not popular.”

“You most certainly are. When the rumor started spreading that I fired you, I received more than one death glare when I walked through the office.”

“Oh, geesh, they were doing that before. That had nothing to do with me.”

“Wow, thanks.” I chuckle.  “Well, trust me, it was worse this time.”

“What else were you wrong about?”

“I was wrong about your fashion sense.”

“My fashion sense?”

“Your clothes. I can’t imagine my day without seeing what you’ve chosen to wear.”

“You can’t?”

“No. I can’t. Plus, I miss your garters.”

She laughs then. “You never got to see my garters.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Or my satin demi bra and matching Dominique Tap panties.”

“Oh, Jesus, Lexie.” I reach my arms out until I touch something soft. “Come here. Please?” When I feel her move her body into mine, placing her head on my chest, and her arms around my body, I shiver.  “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m glad you’re here. This night is hell.” She releases a shaky breath. “My mom was everything to me, Gabriel. She was my be-best friend.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“What else were you wrong about?”

I must be helping her keep her mind off of the sadness of the night. “I was wrong to pretend my feelings for you weren’t real.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I think I’ve had feelings for you for months.”

“You have?”

“Yep. I think it started the day you wore that little yellow dress.”

“The one with the butterflies all over it?”

“That’s the one.”

“But, you hated my clothes.”

“No, not that dress. It’s short. I got a great look at your gams.”

“Gams?” she giggles. “That’s very 1950s vocabulary, Mr. Parker.”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” I say in a terrible James Cagney impersonation. At least I think it’s James Cagney. “Seriously, Lexie. I want to start over. I want us to date, officially. I want you to kick my ass whenever I say something arrogant, selfish, self-centered or insensitive.”

“Geesh, that’ll take me all day every day. When will we have any fun?”

“Hardee har har.”

When she giggles again, I wrap my arms around her tightly. “Do you want that too? Do  you want to go steady with me? Officially?”

She laughs again. “Yeah. I’ve got a crush on you.”

“You do? Gee, that’s swell.”

She laughs into my jacket and gets quiet again.

“Are you ready to go back out there?”

“No.” she sighs. “But, I need to. My dad isn’t doing well either. He’s pretending, but I fear he’s going to relapse into a worse depression than a year ago––if that’s even possible.”

“Let’s go check on him then.”

“Wait.” She says placing her hand on my chest. “What else are you sorry about?”

“Oh, babe, the list is so damn long. What if I continued it in bed tonight.”

“In bed? Where are you staying?”

“I’ve got a hotel in town. Super 8. But, we can sleep at your house. I just want to be with you. I must repent.”