DAVENA’S FUNERAL HAD BEEN like every funeral before it. I’d sat in the pew, staring forward as Bill clasped my hand in his. At some point I had looked over to find him in tears, but my hands were lifeless in my lap, and I didn’t have the words, so I returned my eyes forward. My only moment of reality had been when her husband, Mack, hugged me. He’d squeezed the breath from my lungs, holding me too tightly. And when he’d let go, I felt nothing again.
She was predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life or in death. I wondered how she didn’t even look vulnerable from that position; I wouldn’t have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she’d invited me out for a cocktail at Sunda.
But she didn’t. And eventually they eased the coffin closed and took her away. Back at their place, Mack did his best to turn the reception into a celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes was searing. It was unavoidable, even when I looked away. We left early.
Although I was dubious in my belief of an afterlife, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything; that I was a sinner, an adulterer and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.
“Did you look at the article yet?” Lisa, my least favorite coworker, glared at me from the doorway with crossed arms.
Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back into reality. “Which one?”
She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”
“It’s on your desk already.”
“Oh.” She pivoted and stalked away, revealing Serena behind her.
“She’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a warm smile. “And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . . You get the idea.”
“Where did your hair go?” I asked.
“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut. What do you think?”
“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.
“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”
I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me ‘boss’ since her promotion from intern to assistant editor.
“The wedding?” she asked uncertainly.
“Yes. Lucy has been planning her wedding for as long as I’ve known her, so it should be impressive.”
“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just like, so happy to be there. And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean – ”
“Serena, I’m really swamped here.”
“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.
“It’s about the Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes issue – ”
“What?” I froze mid-keystroke.
“Well, um – I think we should do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m sure the people we featured like, went on dates and stuff. Maybe some even found relationships because of the article. We could even do, like, a teeny-tiny article in the mag next month.”
I shook my head rapidly. “No, that won’t work. Let’s try and come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”
“Oh, okay, cool. I like that too.”
She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn’t meant to shut her down, but I couldn’t risk a run-in with David. Bachelor number three, I thought. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
I had gotten lucky at the launch party for the Most Eligible issue two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event, the best in the magazine’s history. Except for David Dylan. I’d overheard Lisa say that he accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though she’d begged him. Knowing he was out of town was no more painful than knowing he wasn’t right next to me. He was gone forever, and the physical distance wouldn’t change that.
I couldn’t ignore his presence at the party, though. Despite his non-attendance, his smiling photo, which far outshone the other attendees’ pictures, was everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over David’s segment for me, and the way she’d styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear designer. He was all teeth and hard muscles in the three-piece suit Lucy had sold him. Clutching his jacket casually at his side, he was the definition of roguish businessman.
I’d given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing David’s spread. The wounds were too fresh. Even now, I still hadn’t had the heart, or the guts, to read about David Dylan: wealthy, charming and handsome Chicago bachelor. Every girl’s dream catch.
I got up and locked my office door, allowing myself a minute to lie down on the couch. I was thankful for my weighty sweater to block the blasting A/C unit above.
I’d told David I was black inside, but I was wrong. I hadn’t known it, but I was empty. And for one stolen moment, he had filled me with himself, physically and emotionally. Now I was black. Now I was poisoned. I was so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should have felt, it only came in fleeting waves.
I recalled his hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between my breasts . . . . Just fucking stop, I pleaded with myself. I have to forget, please, I can’t do this anymore.
The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. Already the guilt constantly dripped into the cracks of my interior.
The ringing of the office phone shredded through my thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that never let me down, never judged or condemned me. I returned to my desk and hit the speakerphone button.
“What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s voice filled the office.
“Seven o’clock,” I said, wiggling my mouse to wake up the computer. “When is Andrew’s?”
“Same. Think you can get off a little early? I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.
“Yeah, can you?”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of backed up here.” I rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen.
“Please? I’m really excited.”
“All right,” I relented. “I’ll skip lunch.”
“I’ll pick you up downstairs at four, k? Love you.”
~
I waited downstairs for Bill on a street-facing concrete bench, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. When the car arrived at the curb, I could hear Bon Jovi on full volume: that was a good sign.
“Hey,” he said when I climbed in. “Ready for your surprise?”
“Yes.” Because I had promised myself to try harder, I took his hand.
He squeezed it. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit back and relax.”
As we discussed our impending parties, it became evident that we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It was when we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.
“Don’t get any grand ideas,” he warned.
Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause after Davena’s death. Now we were on the block of the last house we’d seen over three months before. I recalled the afternoon with our realtor Jeanine; the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery and the ensuing argument where he’d tried to convince me that I was ready to have children. That house had sold though, he’d told me bitterly back in June. Unless it had fallen through, and . . . Oh, no. Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?
He pulled up to the same spot we had parked with Jeanine months before.
“Bill – ”
“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with Jeanine for a while.” He wasn’t looking at the house we’d visited last time, though. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Grey stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw. The same endearing character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it.
“The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told her they’d be willing to sell it for a good price because of the poor shape. Since they rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”
I looked from Bill to the house. He had remembered my comments that day. To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is so thoughtful.”
“It would be a lot of effort, and we’d probably have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can’t stand to see you this way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes, then we’ll do it.” His voice was laced with sadness. I’d been punishing both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he was hurting.
I loved what he’d done for me, so I took his hand. “Let’s go see the inside.”
The interior was almost empty with the exception of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as Bill. The main room’s greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive, central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall.
The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step, and it was cold inside, but I could tell it must have been very warm once. Dust caked the surfaces and dead insects were scattered on the floor. I stepped into a decent-sized backyard that was overrun with weeds and in dire need of some attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rose bushes, a small fountain . . . .
When I reentered the house, Bill was standing with his hands in his pockets. I watched as he inspected the stairway railing and kicked at a loose floorboard. The corners of his mouth tugged, suggesting a frown. I scanned the room around him. Honey-colored flooring would complement the warm light that flooded from antique lamps. Heavy, earthy furniture made of oak and aged leather would fill the open floor plan.
And, yet . . . something felt off, though I wasn’t sure what. The house had potential, and I was already wondering what it looked like in the early morning when the light was just starting to filter in. Still, I struggled to complete the picture.
“What do you think?” he asked.
I froze, and seconds passed; I could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe once we’d overhauled it and made it into the beautiful place I knew it could be, things would be different. They had to be. Bill had been right all along. It wasn’t going to be perfect right away or maybe ever. It would take time for it to feel like home. I took a step backward and pointed to the second floor. “Upstairs?”
I followed as he carefully climbed the noisy steps. The master bedroom, located at one end of the hall, was spacious – bigger than any others we had seen, which I knew would appeal to Bill. It had a large, unobstructed view of the backyard and a corner window on the opposite wall that faced the street.
He reported that there were two more rooms down the hall. I nodded, taking his words in but still studying him. “Can we afford it, really?”
“No,” he said honestly. “The house, yes. But I have no idea about the remodel. It’s outside our budget, I’m sure. It would mean cutting back on some things for a while.”
“Is this what you want?”
He squinted his eyes and his tongue ran over his front teeth. “I don’t know how I feel about taking on a project like this when we’re both so busy. But I really want to get out of the city, and I want you to love your new home.”
It was undoubtedly the nicest thing he’d ever done for me. I shifted, and a floorboard groaned beneath me. The bedroom was growing dark, and I blinked at his disappearing silhouette. “Okay,” I said. “Yes. Let’s do it.” I crossed the room and hugged him close for an overdue moment of intimacy. We walked to the stairs arm in arm before separating to descend.
~
“Open mine next.”
Lucy squealed with delight as she accepted the overstuffed party bag from Bethany, who had a playful gleam in her eye.
“Oh, my,” she groaned as she pulled out a pink, feathered tiara with the word ‘Bachelorette’ branded across the front. We were ten girls at a noisy restaurant downtown, egging Lucy on as she unwrapped gifts between sips of her pink Cosmo.
“You’re wearing that now, and you’re wearing this too,” Dani said, placing a necklace with mini phallic-shaped candies around Lucy’s neck.
“Dani! It’s definitely inappropriate for my little sister to be draping me in penises.”
“It is perfectly appropriate,” Dani retorted, clearing a mass of brown, glossy ringlets from her shoulder.
I picked up a green gummy penis and popped it in my mouth before scrunching up my nose. “Sour apple,” I lamented. “Yuck.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Olivia Germaine. You will swallow that penis,” Gretchen scolded, waving a finger at me.
I laughed and gulped the candy down exaggeratedly before chasing it with my Cosmo.
I sat between Lucy and Gretchen as Dani, maid of honor and official party planner, stood to raise her glass. “There will be no toast tonight because between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, I’m running out of material. Lucy is too good, and there aren’t enough naughty stories to go around. There’s only one decent one from high school, involving her bedroom window and a football jock named Jack, but I’m saving that for the big night.”
“Dani, no! You wouldn’t!” Lucy cried, her face a veritable bright red.
“I’m teasing, sis. That one isn’t nearly good enough for a wedding toast. Anyway, please raise your glasses for my non-toast, and let’s get this party underway.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married in two days,” Gretchen said to Lucy, leaning into my lap.
“Me neither. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll be glad when it’s over. It’s been so much work.”
“Yes, it has, but you’ve done an amazing job,” I reassured. “Sunday is going to be beautiful.”
“It had better be,” she said. “What are you doing about a date, Gretch? You RSVP’d plus one, so you must bring a plus one.”
“Actually, I’m just going to bring John. Is that cool?”
“Of course! I love your brother.”
“Why don’t you have a date?” I asked skeptically.
“No reason,” she responded with a shrug.
“Hey, whatever happened with Brian?” I was embarrassed that I’d never asked about the date they’d gone on months ago.
“Who?”
“Brian Ayers. I introduced you at the magazine’s Meet & Greet.”
“Oh, that guy, no, yuck.”
“Yuck? He’s hot. He’s like freakin’ Hemsworth hot, if you’re into blonds, which you are.”
“Agreed, but he’s a pretentious prick.”
“Oh,” I said with surprise. “I don’t think so at all.”
She shrugged. “Then you fuck him.”
Her roommates, Ava and Bethany, giggled from across the table, but I gave Gretchen a reproachful look.
“Who are you bringing, Dani?” Ava asked.
“This guy I’ve just started seeing,” she replied with a half-smile.
“He’s coming from Milwaukee?” Bethany asked.
“He lives here,” Lucy interjected. “You guys know him from my engagement party. David Dylan.” For the first time, our end of the table was silent, and I was sure they could all hear my heart drop. “It’s still new, which is why I didn’t mention it.”
Ava looked confused, but Bethany reminded her that he was ‘that tall, gorgeous hunk from that one restaurant’s soft opening’ before declaring that she was supremely jealous.
I fielded a sidelong glance from Gretchen. She and I hadn’t discussed David beyond the night I’d confessed my feelings to her. I hadn’t let our conversations go that way again. She didn’t know about what I’d done, but I hated that she knew anything at all.
“You . . . You lucky bitch,” Gretchen joked awkwardly. “I’ve had my eye on him for a while. How did that happen?”
Dani’s eyes brightened. “Well, I was in town last month for some wedding planning, and Lucy set us up. He took all of us on his sailboat, no big deal,” she said with a giddy grin.
“Can you imagine having David Dylan as a brother-in-law?” Lucy asked. “I’d never stop staring!”
“Hands off,” Dani kidded.
“I’m trying to convince Dani to move to Chicago, and this is part of my plan,” Lucy said proudly.
Dani rolled her eyes. “She acts like Milwaukee is another country.”
“You’re here all the time anyway,” Lucy pointed out.
I was spinning my wedding ring at the same pace that my mind was whirring. I glared at the girl across from me. She was Danielle officially, but insisted on being called Dani. She had Lucy’s dark brown hair and green eyes like mine. I had always been worried about Gretchen catching David’s attention with her blonde curls and Windex-colored eyes, but now David’s words rang through my head: ‘I prefer brunettes with big, green eyes . . . .’
“I’ll be honest, I thought David was something of a womanizer, but they’ve been out twice, and he hasn’t made any moves,” Lucy revealed.
“He’s such a gentleman,” Dani boasted.
Gentleman. My insides tightened at the term, and I gripped my thighs. He was no gentleman. He was rough and harsh and callous but tender and sweet and considerate. The adjectives flowed through me, and I bit my lip. He deserved someone like Dani, who was cute and spunky and most importantly – available.
“He’s flying back just to take her,” Lucy said, and everyone twittered.
“Where is he?” I asked hoarsely before I could stop myself.
“New York,” Dani answered as though the information was nothing. “He’s an architect, and he’s working on a project there. Originally he said he couldn’t make it because of work, which I thought was weird because it is Labor Day weekend, but he changed his mind all of a – ”
“Excuse me,” I said, standing.
“Do you want company?” Gretchen asked, moving to get up.
I sighed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to run away and cry, but my self-preservation instincts kicked in. “No. I’m fine,” I said with a big smile. “I’m going to call Bill and tell him I miss him.”
The table cooed harmoniously. Lucy nearly melted in her chair.
“What can I say, all this wedding talk has me feeling romantic.”
I made a show of retrieving my phone and went to stand outside in the warm night. Warm, yes, but I was cold. I was always cold to the bone lately. I didn’t call Bill as I had said but took a moment to collect myself. Dani. And David. Me. And Bill. It made perfect sense. I wondered if he had even considered how it might hurt me to hear that. Surely, after all this time, he didn’t consider my feelings anymore. Why should he?
And would it matter if he did? In the end, things were as they were supposed to be. Who was he to me? A mistake. A mark that could never be erased for the entirety of my marriage. Long after I will have forgotten him, he will remain a part of my past.
Long after I’ve forgotten him . . . . When will that be? How much longer until I forget?
It felt like a lifetime had passed already since that night. But though I worked hard not to think of him, the way he’d made me feel persisted. When I was near him. When I watched him watch me. Kisses, whispers, sensations in the dark.
I looked up at the night sky for a long time. In moments like these, I longed to be back in the suburbs of Dallas, where I could lie in the backyard and blanket myself with millions of stars. Tonight there were few. So this is how it goes.
When a prick of light shot across the sky, leaving a faint silver streak in its path, I didn’t bother making a wish. I just turned and went back inside.