Everything We Ever Wanted

The metaphorical elephant had been lingering the whole drive to Maryland. First Scott volunteering to take his car instead of hers, then following Joanna back to her house, then Joanna climbing into his car, and Scott speeding the whole way down I-95 in the passing lane for the pure, aggressive enjoyment of it. The unanswered question hung between them. Had Scott gone to the meeting at Swithin today, or was he missing it by coming with her to Maryland? He’d answered the door dressed in khakis that almost fit. His hair looked different, and after a moment, Joanna realized it was clean. Clearly going to the meeting had crossed his mind. Scott’s phone had rung a few times on the drive, and Joanna saw Sylvie’s name in the caller ID window. Scott had clapped it shut, expressionless.



Scott gazed across the barroom. There was an empty dartboard directly opposite them, a chalkboard beside it, and a Miller Lite schedule of the University of Maryland football season. Another bartender, a ropy-armed woman with stringy blonde hair that hung in her eyes, yanked down the tap and shoved a smudged beer mug underneath.



“Actually,” Scott said in a faraway voice. “No one has asked me. You’re the first.”



Catherine pressed her lips together. “Oh.”



Scott looked at Joanna. “Can you believe no one has asked me directly?”



Joanna sat back in her chair. “Well, I …” She swallowed. “Yes. I guess I can.”



“So were they beating up one another or not?” Catherine goaded. Scott’s face clouded. He took a breath as if about to speak. Then there was the sound of breaking glass from across the bar. Everyone looked over.



A sausage-biceped man in a sleeveless shirt lunged toward another man in a plaid button-down. “You didn’t just say that,” the first man said. He had a burly beard that concealed most of his face. “Tell me you didn’t say that, you piece of shit.”



“You’re the piece of shit,” the plaid-shirted man spat. “You and that bitch you live with.”



“Oh dear,” Catherine said under her breath. “Not again.” Now the men were shoving each other. One bumped into a stool, sending it flying. More glass broke. The karaoke ceased, and the girl on the stage—as well as everyone else in the bar—turned to stare. The men shouted more, and then the guy in the plaid shirt hit the bearded guy in the jaw. It made a cracking sound, louder than Joanna would have imagined. The bearded man in the sleeveless shirt clutched his face for a moment, but quickly began swinging again. He groped for a dart on the dartboard and raised it into the air, his eyes loony and enraged. Everyone on the opposite side of the bar moved out of the way. “Let’s just calm down now!” called an anonymous voice. The room began to smell pungently of spilled beer.



“We should get out of here,” Scott said. Robert materialized from out of nowhere, quickly whisking Catherine toward the door. As they made a beeline for the exit, Joanna stared at Scott’s back. What had he been about to say? A denial? A confession? She wondered, suddenly, how she’d feel about Scott if he actually did indirectly abet in this boy’s death. Would her attraction for him instantly vanish?



They could still hear the shouting from the gravel parking lot. Robert helped Catherine into the back seat and patted the hood in farewell. Joanna swung into the driver’s seat. Her ears rang from the loud music. The image of that man’s face as he held the dart swam before her eyes. “Are there a lot of fights at that bar?” she asked, feeling out of breath.



Catherine wrapped her leopard-print scarf tight around her neck. “Oh, some, I suppose.”



“What are you doing going to a bar like that, anyway?” Joanna cried.



“It could’ve gotten dangerous,” Scott added. “Someone might have had a gun.”



Catherine tittered. “A gun? Please. Those two boys that were fighting are best friends. They’ll be drinking together in a half hour!” She leaned forward and touched their shoulders. “You two are so sweet to care.”



Everything was the inverse of what it should be. Joanna rolled the windows down and started to back out of the lot. The night was sticky and unusually warm, and she could smell the salty, swampy Chesapeake a few blocks over. As Joanna peered out into the darkness, she saw the round, glowing eyes of a nocturnal animal staring back at her.



She held its gaze for a moment in silent communion. The animal’s eyes shone like silver. A few seconds passed, and then, given an invisible signal, the animal whipped around and disappeared into the darkness.



Even though it was only 9:30 p.m., Catherine went to bed as soon as they got home, saying she needed to rest up for her big appointment. Joanna sat on her mother’s tiny screened-in porch drinking a glass of V8, the only nonalcoholic beverage Catherine had in the house. In the distance Joanna heard the steady beeping sound of one of the low bridges rising to let a tall-masted boat through. She could smell the rancid, brackish creek just beyond the trees.



Joanna’s phone rang, startling her. It was Charles. She stared at it, her heart thrumming. After the third ring, she answered.



“How’s your mom?” he asked.



“She’s okay,” she answered automatically. She cursed herself for saying it so nicely. What would happen if she continued to feign ignorance about Bronwyn? Would he admit it on his own? Crack under the guilt and come clean?



She looked through the screen door to the house. Scott was standing over the kitchen counter, pouring himself a drink. Probably Dewar’s Scotch; it was Catherine’s favorite. She hoped he wouldn’t come out. She hoped he didn’t hear her talking.



“So did someone give you a hot ride to Maryland?” Charles asked.



She sat up, horrified. How could Charles know? “W-what?”



“Because your car is still in the garage. You took the train, right?”



The air left her lungs. Right. He was joking. “Yeah. The train. And I called a cab from the house. It was easier than finding parking.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hating that she was lying.



“I guess Scott had his meeting today,” Charles said.



Joanna watched as Scott turned and shut the cabinet. Don’t come out, she silently willed, but he swiveled and headed for the screen door. She balled her fist.



“I don’t know how it went, though,” Charles was saying. “I tried to call Mom, but she was on her way to some party.”



“Huh.” Scott slid open the door and looked at her. She put a finger to her lips, and he nodded. You’re on the phone. I got it. But he didn’t leave.



“I don’t know if she’s talked to him, either,” Charles was saying. “She probably would’ve called me if she did.”



“Uh-huh,” Joanna said. She stared out at the dark backyard. Hank and Carla, the neighbors, kept a parrot’s cage on their back porch; she could see its curved shadow. The parrot often babbled when they left it alone, screaming out Hank and Carla’s names.



“Are you all right?” Charles asked.



Joanna jumped. “I’m fine. Why?”



“I don’t know. You sound … not altogether there.”



“I’m fine. Just … you know. My mom.”



“Do you want me to come down there?” Charles asked.



“W-when?”



“Tonight. Tomorrow morning. I don’t know.”



Her pulse beat so strongly she could feel its steady pace in her fingertips. Did that mean he’d called Bronwyn and canceled tomorrow’s meeting? Or had they met today, and he now had some free time?



She wound a piece of hair around her finger so tightly that it pulled at her scalp. Scott was sitting on the glider, staring. Why didn’t he just leave? Why couldn’t he understand she wanted to be alone?



“I thought you had your work interview tomorrow,” she finally said.



Charles paused. She paused. Neither said anything. She wondered if he knew that she knew. Maybe Bronwyn had called him and said, We’ve got to call it off. I called your house and she answered.



“It’s okay,” Joanna said when it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything more. “I don’t need you here. I’m holding up all right.”



There was a sigh on his end. “Well, okay then,” Charles said.



“I should go,” she said quickly. She clapped the phone shut and sat still for a few long moments, a sob building in her chest. She thought the phone might ring again, but it remained silent.



The distant beeping started up again; the boat must be through, and the bridge was coming back down. Joanna stood up, padded into the kitchen, poured out the V8, and replaced it with Dewar’s. Then she went back outside and slumped down on a plastic chair. Scott was smoking a cigarette, making the whole screened-in porch smell of it.



“Was that Charles?” he asked after a moment.



“Yes.”



The wind knocked the long chimes hanging from the porch roof together. A dog barked a few houses down. Catherine’s porch was so small that Joanna and Scott’s knees were almost touching.



“So are you going to tell me or not?” Scott said quietly.



She whipped her head up. “Tell you what?”



Scott’s face was hidden by the shadows; she could only make out the outline of his jaw, the tips of his hair, and the whites of his eyes. “Where Charles’s out-of-town trip has taken him, of course,” he said. “Where he was calling from. What he’s writing about.”



“That just came out. I had to tell her something before she asked.” Scott swirled his glass. She bet he was smirking.



“My mom needs an explanation. Every time she thinks she’s got something, I come down here. But she doesn’t get that not everyone can just drop everything and come. Charles always has something going on, but she doesn’t understand that he just has to work.”



Scott moved slightly, shifting his weight to his left side. She listened as he raised his glass to his lips, pulled the liquid to the back of his throat, and swallowed. “So Charles is working.”



She wanted to hit him. Why bother answering, if he already had it all figured out? “Of course,” she said stiffly.



But then her face started to tremble, first just a little, then a lot. But she wouldn’t let herself cry, not here. She swallowed. “Did you know I grew up not that far from you?”



“In Parkesburg?”



“Lionville.”



“Right.”



She’d never told him this before, so it was curious that he knew this about her. “When I was little, maybe in like third grade, there was a big announcement about the Kimberton Fair. Do you remember the Kimberton Fair?”



“I’ve heard of it. I’ve never been.”



“I got really excited about this fair. There was going to be an amusement park as part of it, and I thought, This is going to be great. An amusement park right down the street from my house! I’ll go every day. I’ll wake up and ride a roller coaster. There wouldn’t be any lines or crowds, it would just be me running free and alone through this enormous park with workers ready to attend to me.”