186 Miles (13 page)

I
buried my head in his neck. 
What if he tired of me before I was ready? 
What if he found someone else that would say yes?
  The thought made my
stomach twist.

He
whispered in my ear, “I can’t wait to wear your ring on
my
finger.”

A
moment later, the doorbell rang.  I looked at Vince.  “Are you expecting
someone?”  Generally, people didn’t make a habit of dropping in.  I rarely had
visitors.

“Who
do
I
know here?” 
He had a point.

I
pulled on the sundress I wore the night before and grabbed a cardigan to throw
over it.  I couldn’t find my bra.  Vince fastened his jeans and stretched an
old Pixies t-shirt over his head.  I hurried down the steps and unlocked the
door.

“Oh,
wow… Linda!”

Ryan’s
mother.

Was
this really happening?

“My
precious girl,“ she crooned.  “I’ve missed you so.  You look so beautiful… and
you got a new haircut.”  I touched my head instinctively, nervously.

“Yeah…
and I’ve missed you too.”  I hugged her hard.  I
did
miss her.  Ryan’s
family was close.  They were the reason we moved to Indianapolis.  He grew up
in Carmel, about twenty minutes north of our house. 
My
house now.

“I’m
so sorry to barge in on you like this.  I should have called, but I didn’t know
if you would answer.”

“Of
course I would have answered.” 
I wasn’t positive that I would have.

“I
know, honey, but we all suffered a tragedy and I know how people are.  They
hide away and I just didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see you.”

Vince
appeared in the stairwell.  He had to know by now that Linda was our visitor. 
It’s not like he could hide up there. 
Could he?

“Hi,
Mrs. Stephens.”  He paused and walked towards her.  “I don’t know if you
remember me…”

She
cut him off.  “Vincent...  Of course.”  She looked over to me and back to him. 
“What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Well,
I recently relocated to Indianapolis for a job and Rachel was nice enough to
let me stay here until my rental is ready.  I move in next Friday.”  His answer
was practiced.

“Oh
my goodness, how delightful.  Well, we must celebrate.  Why don’t the two of
you come to our house tonight for dinner?  Walter would love to see you both.”

“No,
Linda, that’s okay.  We couldn’t.”

“I
insist.  We need to celebrate Vincent’s new job and catch up.  We can order
in.  No cooking.”  She smiled at me, her lips painted a bright coral shade
against her white teeth.

Linda
Stephens was a wealthy woman and, thanks to monthly injections, a beautiful one
at that.  She wore her thick bottle-blonde hair in a chignon at the nape of her
neck.  Her scent was Chanel No. 5.

I
looked to Vince for guidance. 
Help, help, help.

“What
time?” 
What?  What was he doing?

“Why
don’t we say 7:00?  I am just delighted that you can come.  And, Rachel?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m
sorry it took so long for me to visit… Walter and I have been coping in
different ways, but that’s no excuse.  I should have been here with you every
day.”

Do
not cry.  Do not cry.  Do not cry.
 
A few tears dropped to my cheeks.  I wiped them away, carefully, trying my best
to mask my emotion.  “It’s okay, Linda.  We’ll see you tonight.” 
She needed
to leave.  I wasn’t ready for another breakdown.  Didn’t I just have one of
those yesterday?

She
walked to me and wrapped her arms around my back, placing her chin on my
shoulder. 

“My
little girl.” 

She
squeezed and rocked me gently.

Oh
God.  Just go.  Just go.

Linda
pulled away, clearing her throat and brushing her hands to her hips.  “Now
then… much to do.  Vincent, what do you drink?”

“Whatever
you have, ma’am.”

“Well,
I’ll just get a little of everything, then.”  She walked over and placed a
light kiss on Vince’s cheek.  “Oh, my, you
have
grown up into a lovely
man.  And Ryan was so envious of you.  You were always quite the charmer.”  She
winked at me. 
Did she know something?

“Au
revoir, my sweet children.  See you in a few hours.”

I
closed the door and clicked the lock behind her. 
What the fuck was I
supposed to tell her?

*

The
car ride was silent.  I didn’t have much to say to Vince. 
Why would you do
this to me?  Why are you sabotaging this?

He
lay his hand on my thigh.  I shrugged it off.  “Don’t.”

“What’s
the matter?”  He ran a hand through his thick hair.  “She doesn’t know about
us, babe.”

“Are
you so sure?  You tell her that I was ‘nice enough’ to let you stay with me?  I
wanted to die.”

“Don’t
say that.  She’s
one
person, Rachel. 
One
.  She
was
your
mother-in-law… but not now.”

“She
will
always
be my mother-in-law, Vince.”  I was quiet.

“Just
trust me.  I’m not trying to ruin your life.”  His eyes were straight ahead. 
“This isn’t a ploy.  Jesus.”

“God,
Vince, don’t be such a drama queen.”  I folded my arms across my chest.  I was
pouting.

“Me? 
You’re the one that has been fiddling with your fucking fingernails for the
last ten minutes… not talking.  You’re making a way bigger deal about this than
we need to.  So
what
if his parents want to host us for a dinner?  It’s
one dinner.  They’re just
people
.”

“They
were
my
people!”

“
Were
,
Ray. 
Were
your people.  She said it herself, she hasn’t called you or
come by once since Ryan died.”

“Her
son
died.  Think she’s been sitting around wondering what everyone else
is up to?”

“You
were his
wife
.  So, yeah, I would have thought she would have bothered.”

I
sat silent.  We were close now; the house was coming into view.  It seemed so
cold from the outside.  Long driveway, white brick, thoroughly manicured garden
that started just past the black wrought iron gate.  I shifted in my seat,
rubbing the top of the bottle of wine I had brought for them.  It was an expensive
choice for me, over twenty dollars.  Now, it just seemed cheap.  I debated
leaving it in the car.  We parked my small, ten year-old Volvo and sat for a
minute.

He
reached over and held my hand in his.  “I could fake the mumps or something.” 
He smiled.

“I’m
pretty sure people don’t get mumps anymore.”  I rubbed his thumb with mine.

“You
look so beautiful.”  His eyes drifted down to my short, yellow skirt.  It was a
high-waisted A-line style and had a layer of crinoline underneath.  I could
feel it scratching the backs of my thighs.  He moved his thumb to my waist,
gently rubbing the side of my white tank top.

I
pulled at my long necklace.  “Let’s go.”

Linda
answered the door and placed her hand to her heart.  “Babies,” she cooed.

“Hi,
Linda.”  I handed her the wine.  “I brought this, but it’s probably not very
good.” 
Did I need to vocalize every thought?

“Oh,
I’m sure it’s wonderful.  Shiraz.  My favorite.”  She paused.  “And you both look
so lovely.  You
match
!”

We
did.  It wasn’t on purpose.  Vince was wearing a white fitted t-shirt and black
jeans with low top butter-colored Chuck Taylors.  They were the same shade as
my skirt.  I laughed, uncomfortably.  “Oh, yeah, I guess we do a little.”

“It’s
sweet.  Now, come see Walter.  He’s at the grill.”

“I
thought you said we weren’t cooking.  You went to too much trouble.”

“Nonsense. 
I’m
not
cooking… Walter is.”  She gave me a sly smile.  “Who wants
drinks?”

Oh
God, did I.
  We
both nodded in unison.

“Rum
and pineapple?  Jack and Coke?  Wine?  Beer?  We’ve got a little of
everything.”

I
rubbed my hands together, contemplating.  “Um… rum and pineapple.”

“I
knew
it.  Your favorite.  I picked up fresh pineapple juice today from
that organic place.”

I
nodded my head.  “Mmm.”

“Vincent?” 
She turned to him.

“Oh,
I’ll just have a beer.  Whatever you have.“

She
disappeared into the kitchen, leaving us standing awkwardly in the sitting
room.  I kept quiet.  Vince lightly touched the inside of my hand with his
fingertips, brushing my palm.  I pulled away and started heading towards the
kitchen.  “Linda?  Can I help you with anything?”

“No,
darling.  Go see Walter.  He’s been waiting for you.”

I
looked out the glass window, seeing my father-in-law busying himself at the
grill.  People always told Ryan that he was the “spitting image” of his
father.  This man
looked
like my husband.  I used to think it was cute. 
Now, it was painful.  I would never see the man that Ryan would grow into.  He
would never rub my back again or kiss me on the neck while I cooked dinner.

“Walter.” 
I stood there, my feet planted.

He
turned and faced me.  “Ray.”  He walked over slowly, opening his arms.  He
squeezed me into them and held me tightly.  “Oh, we have missed you, kiddo.” 
My eyes started to water.  I stared at a crack in the patio, willing the tears
to dissipate.

I
pressed my face into his shirt, effectively using it as a tissue.  Pulling
back, I peered up at him.  “It’s so good to see you.”  Vince appeared in the
doorway.  “Walter, do you remember Vince Conti?  He and Ryan went to
Northwestern together.”

“Oh,
yes,” he bellowed.  “From ‘Kiss Me Till Midnight,’ right?”  He laughed aloud. 
Vince blushed.

I
turned to him.  “Kiss Me Till Midnight?”

Vince
rocked on his heels, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.  He was
embarrassed.  “Yeah, that was the band’s name.”

I
smiled.  “Ah.  How is this literally the first time I’ve ever heard that?  Ryan
never told me the name.”

“I
guess you never asked,” Vince replied.  He was right. 
I should have hung on
every word.  I should have told Ryan every day that I wanted to know
everything.  I should have forgiven him.

Walter
walked over to Vince and extended a hand.  Vince took it and gave him a hard
grip.  “Good to see you, sir.”

“How’s
that brother of yours?  I saw him at the thing.” 
He couldn’t say funeral. 
“But
I didn’t get a chance to say hello.  I hope you’ll send our best to him.”

“I
will, sir.”

“And
cut out the ‘sir’ shit.  It’s a barbecue.”  He smiled and went back to the meat
on the grill.  “I hope you like steak, Vince.  It’s Rachel’s favorite.”

“Is
that right?”  He glanced over at me, giving me a bright, crooked grin.

“Oh
yeah, this girl likes her meat.”

Vince
shot me another look and mouthed a laugh at me without making a sound.  I
rolled my eyes.

“Steak
is great, Mr. Stephens.”

“No
‘sir’ and
definitely
no ‘Mr. Stephens.’  Just ‘Walter.’”

“Okay,
Walter it is.”

Linda
walked outside and handed us our drinks.  A Mary Pickford for me and a wheat beer
in a tall glass for Vince.  I took a sip and winced.  As usual, Linda made a
strong drink.

We
sat and ate, catching up on their lives.  Walter’s work and Linda’s social
calendar.  They asked about my work and Vince’s new job here.  Linda inquired
about his new rental.  They were both surprised to hear that it was just up the
road from mine.  I could feel a trickle of perspiration beading on my neck. 
They knew we were too familiar.