CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

HOLLY

 

“Crockpot coming through!”  

I dodged Ben on my way to the cabinet housing the plates Liz only recently started using, since Ben decided to start bringing dinner over a couple times a week.

“It’s nice to have home-cooked meals so often, right, Holly?” Liz smiled, not at me but at her knight wielding the crockpot.

I chuffed at the comment, but bit my tongue as I set the table with the help of my two little sidekicks; Kaylee was on fork duty while Anna had the utmost important task of placing a napkin next to each plate.

“Girls, time to sit down,” Ben said, commanding them both with a fatherly tone, and listening intently, I pulled out my chair and sat myself down. “Very good, Holly. You get dessert.”

“Oh yay!” I exclaimed, and turned to the two little girls still running circles around us and stuck out my tongue. With the mention of dessert, they scrambled to sit down, and proceeded to poke each other in the arm until they were scowling.

“Okay, enough.” Liz sat down to the side of Anna and spooned a heaping serving of stew onto their two plates. “Ben, Kaylee? Stew?” Ben passed their plates to her, and I watched as they were filled, and the four set out to eat without offering me.

Holly freakin’ Hughes. Invisible dinner guest.

“Stew, Holly? Oh, thank you, Holly, I’d love some,” I grumbled.

I had learned over those few weeks that being the fifth wheel was worse than being the third, and truthfully, I had begun to feel as though I were walking in on these private family moments that I never should have been a part of in the first place. There were even times when I felt I should take my meals in my bedroom or at the kitchen counter, like a real member of staff would.

Liz twisted her face into an expression of apology, but before she could say anything, Ben had big news.

“So, guess what came into the office today.” He put his fork down in anticipation of someone humoring him, but Liz, Anna, and Kaylee just looked at him expectantly. “Really? Nobody’s going to guess?”

“Um … A wombat,” I spoke up. His eyes rolled to give me a sideways look from underneath his sandy blonde brows. “No? A platypus then?”

He sighed, and I felt proud that I had already become that annoying sister-in-law, assuming that he and my sister actually did get married, which I was fully expecting.

How many people can say they’ve slept with their brother-in-law?

I cringed, and hoped those occasional thoughts would eventually cease to exist.

“An Irish Wolfhound came in today. Huge dog. Absolutely enormous. I can’t imagine owning one of those things,” he said, rambling on to himself with a shake of his head. He continued to fork his potatoes and meat as he added, “This guy could put his paws on my shoulders. Do you know how big that is?”

“That’s a pretty big dog, hon,” Liz agreed absentmindedly, turning her attention on me. “So, um, Holly … I wanted to talk to you about something. And don’t freak out, because this is nothing that’s going to happen for a little while, but I thought I’d bring it up now so that you can prepare yourself.”

She looked worried and apprehensive, and I had to wonder if people were ever going to stop dropping bombs onto my head, or if they could maybe give me a little bit of time to overcome each explosion before giving me another to deal with.

“Are you kicking me out?” was my first reaction as I put my fork down slowly, looking into my plate of stew. The thin gravy had pooled out near the edges and I regretted momentarily not bringing over bowls instead.

Liz dropped her jaw and turned to Ben quickly for backup. He shrugged, and realizing she was on her own, she looked back to me. “Oh—no! No, that’s not it. You’ll leave on your own before I have a chance to kick you out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” I laughed, relaxing a little.

“No, um, I found a preschool for Anna. She’s starting next year, and this particular school is full-day. Dr. Martin is in the process of hiring another secretary, so I’ll be changing my hours during the schoolyear to be able to pick Anna up afterward.” She watched my face expectantly, waiting intently for an expression change, but all I could do was sit perfectly still as the information made itself comfortable in my brain.

“So, uh, I’m not going to need you to watch Anna after the summer,” Liz quietly added with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I figured,” I finally said, suddenly annoyed at the swirling mix of emotions that clouded my brain, preventing me from having anything productive to add to the conversation. I just nodded with a shrug, as though to say, “It is what it is,” although that’s not at all what I wanted to say, and took a big bite of stew-mushed potato.

“The stew is really good, Ben,” I mentioned casually, dismissing any talk of my employment situation.

“Oh, thanks! It’s actually my Mom’s recipe, but I like to add a few of my own special ingredients to it …”

Few things in life would have made me happier than listening to Ben’s riveting babble about his mother’s stew recipe. I wanted nothing more than to know where it originated from and what it was exactly he did to give it that peppery kick. Anything to keep my mind from spiraling into panic, but although I smiled and nodded with invested intrigue, I wasn’t listening to a freakin’ word he was saying.

I can’t say I had expected to be Anna’s babysitter forever. I mean, that would have been pretty ridiculous to assume—she wasn’t going to need a babysitter forever, for crying out loud—but I had gotten comfortable and I enjoyed doing what I did, even if it wasn’t the most exciting or prestigious job. I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of never going to Story Time again and not having a reason to watch annoyingly chipper toddler TV programs.

I smiled, making Ben believe I cared about his endless knowledge of peppercorns, but I was thinking about how I had initially hated watching Anna and had strictly accepted the position—or favor, really—out of necessity. The smile didn’t leave my face as I thought about how much I had grown to love waking up every day knowing I was going to spend it with a fun little kid who had only once stuffed poop up her nose.

I remembered then what Brandon had said back at the diner months earlier, when he had scolded me for talking poorly about my job and insisted that enriching the life of a little girl was far more admirable than answering questions for a stupid magazine. I smiled morosely at the memory, finding that I missed him more with every passing day, but I allowed that memory to put an idea into my head, and I let myself relax with the kindling of a new hope.

 

***

 

After dinner was eaten, the table was cleared, and the dishes were washed, I excused myself before the little probable family unit jumped into making ice cream sundaes. Not because I didn’t care for ice cream, because Lord knows my thighs depended on it, but because I was feeling more like an intruder and less like a member of the family as the night had gone on.

I didn’t think they had made the conscious decision to ignore me, but the night felt more or less doomed the moment they began to discuss their Friday night plans of taking the girls out to the movies. This spiraled into Liz and Ben talking over me about what seemed like an intimate weekend together spent at Ben’s house, and all the while I wondered if there was any possible way they’d notice if I just stabbed myself in the eye with my fork.

And I understood. Really, I did. They were a new couple and were trying to make their budding relationship bloom into something beautiful and long-lasting. But I also couldn’t help feeling as though I didn’t belong—because, well, I didn’t.

I threw a sweatshirt on and headed over to Esther’s house with a Tupperware of beef stew. Her grass was winter brown, lying dormant until spring when Ricardo would revive it to its usual lively green. I couldn’t begin to imagine how annoyed that must have made her when she looked out her window every day.

“She comes bearing gifts,” Esther said, throwing the door open.

Startled by her intuition, I stopped in my tracks at the first step and narrowed my eyes. “How did you know I was coming over?”

“Harry told me,” she said so matter-of-factly that my jaw came unhinged and I thought that maybe it was time her son placed her in a home. A hand flew to her mu-mu clad hip and she hung her head, shaking it slowly. “Holly, take a fucking joke. I was sitting in my rocking chair and I saw you coming up the walk. Christ almighty, lighten up.”

Inside the house, I smiled and waved at Harry’s picture before heading into the kitchen with the Tupperware. Esther followed close behind, peering around my shoulder to see what it was I carried with me. “Beef stew,” I said, putting the plastic container on the counter. “Ben brought it over in his crockpot.”

She caught the unintentional bitter tone of my voice and poked me in the arm. “I thought you liked him. You said he was good for Elizabeth, and I’m inclined to agree, so what’s your problem?”

I shook my head, instantly regretful. “I do like him,” I insisted as Esther looked at me with a slight tip of her head and a pursing of her pruned lips. “But everything is happening so quickly,” I blurted out. “Everything is changing. Anna is starting preschool next year, so I’ll be out of a job again, and I feel like it’s only a matter of time before Ben’s moving in or Liz is moving out, and I just don’t know if I’m ready to deal with all of that again so soon.”

“You’ll be fine,” Esther said. She shuffled her slippers along the tiled floor of the dated kitchen, reaching towards a cabinet to retrieve two mugs. “Tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, turning to lean my back against the counter. “I know I’ll be fine. I’m already thinking of what I’m going to do about work, so I’m not really worried. Or not much, anyway.”

“Okay,” she said impatiently, filling the kettle with water from the faucet. “So, I ask again, what’s your problem?”

I shrugged, scrunching my face. “It’s just … I guess I’m just a little resentful.” Esther remained quiet, turning her back to put the kettle on. Assuming she was listening, I continued, “I am happy for her. She’s been alone for a long time and especially after everything she’s done for me, I want something good to happen for her, but I’m just tired of waiting for something good to happen for me.” My cheeks puffed out with a sigh. “I’m such a selfish bitch.”

Esther turned back to me and shook her head. “You’re human, honey. You’re allowed to want something good for yourself. It doesn’t make you a bitch to be jealous of something your little sister has.” She dropped two tea bags into the mugs. “But let me tell you something. You’re never going to let yourself have anything good if you keep holding onto thinking you’re not good enough for anybody, okay? You’d still—”

The sound of my phone ringing interrupted her lecture, and we both stared wide-eyed at each other with the same hopeful assumption that it was Brandon. The magic of perfect timing and all. She urged me silently to answer it, her hands flailing wildly with girly giddiness, and I reached for it anxiously only to see the number of the last person I ever expected to hear from. My finger played over the “Answer” button, stumbling over the decision to commit to hearing the voice I never thought I’d hear again, and without allowing myself to think any further, I accepted the call and rushed to the living room.

“Hello?” I asked, sitting timidly on the couch as though he were there in the room with me.

“Holly?” His voice was so distant and foreign to my ears.

“Hi Stephen,” I said, surprisingly calm. “How are you?”

My mind raced with all of the reasons why he might’ve been calling. Maybe he had found a box of my crap somewhere in the back of a closet and wanted it out of his life. Maybe he had only three months to live and needed to make peace with everybody he had wronged—who knows. All I knew was I hoped to God he wasn’t calling to ask for Camille back because dammit, she was my last hope of any sort of future. Even if that future involved a little shack in the woods surrounded by feral cats.

“Uh, good. I’ve been really good. Actually … I, um, I got engaged. I sent you an engagement party invitation, but you never responded, so I assumed it got lost in the mail.”  

Eye roll. “Oh, yeah, it must have gotten lost,” I said flatly, and then not wanting him to think I really cared that much, I changed my tone and added, “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

“Oh, yeah, um … Thanks.” He sounded unsure of his words, and then his sigh came as a gust of wind through the speaker, and I can’t say I expected what he then said. “Holly … God, I’m so sorry for everything that happened between us. I think about it every damn day, and I just—fuck, I’m just so sorry.”

I stared unblinking at Harry’s picture above the TV. The old man in the tweed jacket seemed to smile encouragingly at me while my heart thrummed in my ears. How long had I longed to hear Stephen apologize for putting me through an emotional hell? How long had I wished for that little slice of closure? And after all that time, I hadn’t thought once about what I would respond with. What was there to say, really? I couldn’t just say, “It’s okay, Stevie,” because fuck, it wasn’t okay, but if not that, then what?

Stephen kept talking, sounding more pained as he continued. “I was so stupid, Holly. So fucking stupid. You were my best friend and I never wanted to hurt you and cause you any pain, but fuck! I cheated on you! There was no way around hurting you after that. I just …” He released an angry noise, deriving from somewhere deep. “I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose my best friend.”

“Why are you only calling now to tell me this?” I asked finally, twisting my fingers around the tassels of an old throw blanket.

“It’s so stupid,” he said, and I pictured him gnawing on his fingers the way he always did. “Anthony and I were going through our guest lists for the wedding. I kept looking at mine and I couldn’t shake the feeling that you should be on it. Anthony suggested that maybe it was time to … patch things up or some shit.” He laughed, although nothing was funny as far as I could tell. “I actually didn’t even think you’d answer the damn phone, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

I was surprised to find I didn’t feel angry, but I did feel something I never thought I would have felt when talking to him again; I felt sorry for him. I actually felt sympathy for the man who cheated on me for half of our relationship, and I wanted to comfort him and tell him that if he had told me sooner, things would have been different. But I knew that was a lie.

“Can I ask you something?” He encouraged me to go on, and with my eyes squeezed tight, unable to look at Harry’s face, I asked, “Were you always gay?” I felt ridiculous for asking, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

“Yes.” 

The breath of relief whooshed out of me and into the speaker. “Oh, thank God I didn’t make you gay,” I laughed nervously. “How the hell was I with you for that long and not realize it?” I shook my head at the irony of my life. “I have a really bad habit of not seeing the shit right in front of me.”

“Listen, that’s my fault—not yours,” he insisted. “I had been suppressing my feelings for a long time. You were the first and only woman that I felt any kind of attraction to whatsoever and that made me feel like you were The One, and I went with it. But obviously, it didn’t last, and I couldn’t control the urge to be who I truly was. But I should have broken things off with you before … before …” He coughed, dislodging the words from his throat. “Anyway, I’m so sorry that I put you through all of this, Holly. I can’t say it enough. I hoped so badly that you were somewhere out there, living the fucking life after I was out of the picture. Have you been seeing anybody, at least?” 

I felt my walls crumble, and I spilled every last bean I had. I told him about the loss of my job at the magazine, my life at Liz’s house, my friendship with Esther, the dates I had been on, my brief relationship with Ben, and then, I laughed in disbelief at the short something with Brandon who just so happened to be B. Davis. Stephen had remained more or less a silent listener until I mentioned the name of his favorite author, and he broke out in a fanboy frenzy.

“Holy shit, you’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding,” I laughed, shielding my eyes with a hand as I flopped against the pillows.

Holly freakin’ Hughes and Stephen freakin’ Keller. Best friends forever.

“Oh … my … God,” he breathed. “Anthony!” I giggled like a nerve-stricken teenager as Stephen ran to gush to his fiancé about my whirlwind romance with a celebrity, and one the two of them apparently lusted over in the most surreal way. “Holly, you need to spill those details and you need to do it right now. But I have to warn you, whatever you say will be used in our bedroom later on.”

I laughed as my cheeks were set on fire. “Stop it! I’m telling you nothing!”

Anthony spoke up, revealing that Stephen had at some point put me on speakerphone. “Would it help at all if we came over with a nice big bottle of Pinot? I don’t mind a little train ride if you’re going to paint me a very pretty picture of that man’s body.”

“Ooh, did you take pictures? Pictures would definitely be worth the trip,” Stephen chimed in, sounding downright giddy.

“Okay, there are no pictures and as tempting as the Pinot sounds, this is still a little much for me to handle right now. Baby steps, guys,” I finally said, putting a stop to the playful digging into my personal life. Too soon.

“Okay, fine,” Stephen sighed, taking me off speakerphone, “but when this is all a very natural thing for you, you will share with the class. But anyway, you have to come to the wedding. Please let me put you on the list,” he begged, and I thought about declining, regardless of the all-around good conversation we had been having for over an hour. I considered telling him, “You know what, I wouldn’t mind the occasional phone call but watching you exchange vows with the man you cheated on me with? No thanks.”

But it was as though our romance had never happened, leaving only the friendship that was always there, and I couldn’t imagine hanging up and not anticipating the next time I would see him.

“Stevie, you don’t even have to ask.”

He sighed happily. “Good. Now, please, do whatever it takes to get B. Davis as your plus-one.”

And with that, we said goodnight. Dropping the phone into my lap, I noticed Esther standing in the doorway with a mug in wrinkled hands. I apologized for taking the call and she shook her head with a limp wave.

“Some things are more important,” she said with a solemn nod. “Now, thank Harry for making that little miracle happen.”