Elvis Takes a Back Seat (23 page)

“No.”

I laugh. How could a teenager
not
think of using her cell? It seems a bit ironic for a teen to be checking up on her dad using the same tool he's often used to keep tabs on her. “Well, why don't you try?”

She walks back into her room, and I hear the familiar beeping of her cell phone as she punches in the numbers.

Rae looks intently at me. I feel a slight bobble in my equilibrium. “You sure you're all right?”

“We should think of dinner,” I suggest.

“Did something happen between you and Ben?” Rae asks.

Her question makes my skin contract, my face burn. “Aren't you hungry?”

Rae narrows her eyes at me, then says, “Why, of course. Our last night in Memphis should be grand.”

I don't think it should be a big celebration but more perfunctory—something we have to do, especially with Ivy in her condition. It feels awkward, considering all the things I suddenly know about my companions. I find myself staring back at Rae, watching her move, studying her nose and chin, wondering if she's simply an older version of myself and if I carry any of her traits that I've never noticed before.

“Are we alike?” I ask, putting voice to my questions. I've often caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, triggering memories of my mother. I don't want to lose that.

“What?” she looks up from the magazine.

I fling my hand outward. “Are we alike? You and me?”

“In appearance or behavior?”

“I don't know. Both maybe.”

“Sometimes I see myself when you turn or walk, when you speak or use your hands a certain way. Other times I see Beverly. A good case study for genetics, right?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“Mostly Beverly comes through in your speech, the way you respond to others, always watching and waiting. I'm not one for waiting.”

And yet I realize she waited a long while before telling me the truth. “Why … why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“There were many factors. I've told you of your father's request. But also … I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” I ask, having a hard time imagining Rae afraid of anything.

“Yes, afraid. You could have kicked me out of the car. Never wanted to see me again. I feared losing the relationship
we shared … not knowing what would be on the other side.

I still don't know.”

“Neither do I.”

“It's enough that we're talking.”

“It's going to take me a while—”

“Of course.”

“—to get used to all of this.”

She touches my arm. Her hand is warm, soft, undemanding. “Everything has changed, yet nothing has. You'll see. Only your eyes have been opened to the truth.”

Nothing has changed, yet everything has. Forever.

My gaze turns to Ivy's doorway where she has appeared. “Dad said for us to meet him downstairs when we're ready for dinner.”

A lump lodges in my throat. I wonder if I'll feel awkward around him, if we'll act like kids in junior high, knowing one has a crush on the other. But he's a man, not a boy. Could his love be called a simple crush?

Will he try to date me? Court me? I cringe. Will he be standoffish? Act irritated. Angry even? Make me wonder and worry about our friendship, maybe even my job? Will he pretend he never spoke those words? The words that confounded, confused, irritated, aggravated, and amazed me.

And how will all of this affect our working relationship? I don't want to think about that now. He joked that I could sue him. Even though I know it wasn't sexual harassment. I'd never seek litigation against Ben. I know his heart. Still, it's awkward. I will have to take one step at a time and see how tonight goes.

I walk into the lobby, dragging my feet behind Rae and Ivy. My gaze searches the odd assortment of colorful and oddly shaped chairs and couches. A cardboard cutout of Elvis driving a red sports car, a girl by his side, stands beside a small, old-fashioned television. I'm hoping to see Ben first. Maybe I can get an early reading on how he's going to respond to our kiss.

Suddenly I feel a hand at the back of my waist. Although the touch is soft, gentle even, I startle. But it's Ben. Maybe all the ghost talk has me skittish. Or maybe it's that around every corner a secret seems to jump out at me.

He whispers in my ear, “Are you okay?”

I nod, turning only enough to see his face. “Are you?”

“Of course.” Now he sounds like Rae. “Ready, ladies?”

Nothing in his words can be construed as anything. I'm not sure what I want to find. Hidden meanings? Suggestive remarks? I don't want to read things that aren't there either. But at the same time I'm fully aware of a tingle that ripples down my spine at the touch of his breath on my neck. As quickly as he touched me, he moves away and greets the others with a casual smile and quick hug for Ivy. I'm left standing alone, watching him as he moves with ease. Is he too festive? Too animated? No, he seems normal. Just Ben.

But what does that mean?

He leads us out the doorway and into the sticky-warm heat of the night. He drives the Cadillac, and fifteen minutes later we arrive at a yellow, rectangular building. Bars cover all the windows.

“What's this?” Ivy asks.

“Neely's is supposed to be the best barbecue in Memphis.”

Ivy, Rae, and I glance at one another. “Okay,” I say, “I'm game.”

Is there something to read behind his smile? His eyes contain the same spark, nothing more, nothing less. It makes me wonder if the spark has always been there and I have only been ignorant of the facts.

Nothing has changed. Except me. I have become aware. Aware of him. Aware of my own reaction to him. It makes me edgy. Even those stupid glasses I bought him look good as he studies the menu. Although Ivy complains about them. Still, I question everything I think, say, and do around Ben. I don't want to lead him on, not when I have nothing to offer. Not when I don't know my own feelings.

The words he spoke earlier encircle my heart, tighten with the truth. I know he's right—I can't just push people away. I have to open my heart to possibilities. But how? Is faith the key? Have I already taken the first step?

I try not to look at Rae during dinner, or Ben either, which leaves few options except Ivy, who finally says, “What?”

“Nothing.” I dab the napkin to my mouth, trying to cover my confusion.

“You're staring at me. Do I look funny? Fat?”

“No, no, you're fine.” I glance from Rae to Ben, then back to Ivy. “It's just been a long day. My mind's drifting, and I didn't realize I was staring. I'm sorry.”

She grabs another roll out of the basket in the middle of the table. “It's been a long weekend. I'll be glad to get home.”

“You will?” Ben asks.

“I miss my friends.”

I almost laugh but catch myself. I'm not sure how she can miss them when she's been on the cell phone to them half the time. But I understand, too. After all, I was young once. Her need to see her friends is actually a good sign; it means she still wants to be a part of that crowd.

I remember making friends during college. I didn't meet Stu until I became a sophomore. Once we'd started dating, he'd taken me to his apartment off campus, and there I saw Ben again. I hadn't seen him since that one date we shared. I don't remember much about him then, just a sweaty guy coming in from football practice and downing a whole container of Gatorade in several gulps.

After that first visit to Stu's—when I also met the Elvis bust for the first time—I got to know Ben in bits and
pieces, mostly when Stu had to run out to the 7-11 to get snacks and other essentials. I'd sit on the couch waiting for Stu.

“How ya doin'?” Ben asked, flipping the channel to a
M*A*S*H
episode. He'd broken up with his girlfriend, … or she'd broken up with him. My memory is blurry on the details.

I crossed my legs, then stood and moved to a brown chair. Elvis made me nervous. So had Ben. “Okay. And you?”

“Ready for football season to be over.”

I noticed then he had scabs on his knees and elbows.

“Y'all are doing well, aren't you?”

He laughed. “Been to any of the games?”

Embarrassed, I ducked my head. “Two.”

“I bet you watched Stu taking pictures of the game.”

A shy smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Of course.”

Rae's laughter pulls me back to the present, to the restaurant table. I'm not sure what she finds humorous, but Ben and Ivy join her, so I give a lifeless chuckle that seems out of place. Rae's laugh is full and robust, as if she knows how to enjoy herself. I remember it from way back in my childhood, as if it's always been there, a part of my life. My mother's laugh was more reserved, more self-conscious, more like my own.

My life spins around inside my head, making me question every memory. What all have I missed, been oblivious to? If I'd been paying closer attention, would I have known I was missing a mother before today? Would I have sensed Ben's interest? Suspected Ivy's pregnancy?

My head begins to throb, and my vision blurs from unshed tears. I realize I've been focused on my own pain rather than others'. I've turned inward, locking up my heart. It's not that I can't feel empathy for others, but I've been so overwhelmed by my own grief that I gave no time to anyone else's. I stopped looking outward, searching, seeking God. I tried to control events, tried to handle Stu's death, my grief, myself. And I failed. Maybe that's the key: Faith is simply reaching out to others, to God. No guarantees. Nothing promised in return. It just starts with hope.

“You don't like?” the waitress's nasal voice penetrates my fog.

“Huh?”

“Your chicken? Didn't like it, honey?”

“Oh, no.” Rae and Ben stare at me with concern. “Uh, it's fine.” Each bite tasted like cardboard, but I don't think it has anything to do with the food, the seasonings, or the way it's been roasted.

“You can order something else,” Ben suggests.

“Oh, no. I'm, uh … full.”

“But you've hardly eaten!” Ivy seems genuinely shocked since she's all but licked her plate and has scarfed down all the rolls.

“Let her be,” Rae says. “She's tired. Overwrought. She must figure out what to do with Elvis.”

“Elvis,” I whisper. I almost forgot about him. “There's nothing wrong with keeping him. In fact, I think he'd look pretty good on the coffee table. At Christmas I could stick a red ball on his nose, like Rudolph.”

A frown creases Rae's brow. Ben narrows his eyes. Ivy tilts her head to the side, her mouth open.

“I'm kidding. That's a joke.”

Obviously relieved, they all laugh, but it isn't full throttle, and I realize how concerned they all are about my mental stability.

“I'm okay, really. Just not hungry.”

“I should have chosen a different restaurant.”

“No, no. Really. This is fine. Very nice. It wouldn't have mattered where we went tonight …” I can't explain my feelings, which seem to bounce from sorrow to panic. I twist my paper napkin in my lap.

“Those were the best baked beans I've ever had.” Ben leans back in his seat. “Dessert?”

Everyone groans.

The waitress has already cleared most of the dishes off the table when she asks me, “Want a to-go box?”

“No, thanks.” Guilty, I glance at my full plate. “We're traveling.”

She nods and removes my plate. With her other hand she leaves the bill, which Ben accepts. Both Rae and I protest, but he insists, saying, “It's the least I can do for all the help you've given Ivy.”

Yeah
, I thought,
we let her run away!
But I keep my guilt to myself. Maybe faith is letting go of that, too, releasing my failures and mistakes. Letting go of my relationship with Stu, the pain and the joy.

When Ben pays, we leave the restaurant, gathering together on the sidewalk outside, feeling the warm night air drift over us.

“Rae,” Ivy says, walking toward the car. Rae pairs up with her as Ivy continues, “I wanted to ask you …”

I decide it's a private conversation and hold back.

Ben waits with me. “Ivy likes her.”

“Doesn't everyone?” I ask.

“I don't know. But I think she's good for Ivy right now. They've been through similar things. Different times maybe, but still …”

“Yes, I know.” But I don't want to think about Rae as a young woman facing an uncertain future, her belly ripening with me. She had a tough decision to make. I wonder if she considered telling one of the men she'd been seeing or if she hadn't wanted to be tied down.

Ben's presence beside me makes me tense. I twist my watch around my wrist. “Rae will give her solid advice.”

He nods, still quiet though. I cross my arms over my chest.

“She's wise,” I say, feeling awkward. “She is.”

I glance at Ben beside me. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. He stares at the uneven sidewalk, lost in his own thoughts.

“She'll be okay. She can go to school. No one will—”

“I know all that.”

“Oh.”

“It's you I'm worried about.”

“Me?”

He meets my gaze. “You.”

“Oh.”

“I know you're not ready. I'm not asking for anything. I just want you to know that.”

“Okay.” I didn't expect he'd be so blunt, so straightforward about all of this. Feeling awkward, I glance over at the car, wish we were inside it and headed back to the hotel. I don't want to have this conversation. “What if I'm never ready?”

“Then you'll be giving up a lot in life.” He laughs suddenly, startling me. “That sounded conceited, didn't it? I didn't mean
me
specifically. I meant, if you don't open yourself to love, to whomever it might be, then you'll be missing out.” Looking down, he shakes his head. “I'm bungling this, aren't I?”

“No.” I smile sympathetically, wanting to help and yet unsure of myself. “I think you're handling this better than me. I keep thinking back on things … things you've said or done … and it makes me wonder—”

“If I'm just a big jerk?”

“No, I didn't mean—”

“Believe me, I've questioned myself. I didn't want to do anything for the wrong, sleazy reason.”

“When did you, uh, know?”

“College. Finals before I graduated. Just hit me one day.”

“Really?” Stunned, I feel flattered and unnerved at the same time.

“Yeah.”

“So what did you do?”

“I studied harder than I'd ever studied to get you off my mind. You were my best friend's girl.” He shrugs, looking as if his well-starched shirt suddenly doesn't fit. “I knew that wouldn't change. You only had eyes for Stu.”

“Is that why you married—”

“No. I loved Gwen. We met the year after I graduated. I'd accepted my feelings for you by then, pushed them away as much as possible. When Gwen left, it took me a long time to get over her.”

He glances over his shoulder at Ivy and Rae talking beside the Cadillac. “When you came to me, applying for the
position in my company … I thought long and hard about it. Probably gave you a harder study than others I hired. I didn't want to hire you with a secret agenda. I didn't want to love you and have to look at you every day. So I examined my heart. And really, back then, I didn't feel anything. I couldn't feel anything. My heart had been shattered by Gwen. It had no feeling. Like when I got hit in football and cracked my cheekbone and I couldn't feel half my face for a year.”

“Oh, Ben.” I remember those years after Gwen left, the silence of his grief.

“Over the years, working closely with you … I don't know. I just knew. I knew it wasn't time. Might never be. Knew you weren't ready. You were married to my best friend. You might never want me the way I wanted you. So I tried to forget, focused on other things.” He pauses. “But I won't fight a ghost. I won't fight Stu over you. That's a battle I can't win.”

“He wasn't perfect,” I say, touching his arm, feeling his muscles tighten beneath the fabric of his shirt, solid and warm. I know I idealized Stu in my mind during the last year, martyred him. But he wouldn't have wanted that.

“I'm not either.”

Touching his arm was a simple, friendly gesture I've done for years. Now I question if I should have. Reluctantly, I let go.

“It's okay,” he says. “I won't read anything into what you say or do.”

I laugh as we begin walking toward the car. “Good. Because I am.”

He laughs, too. “I know. You'll get used to it.”

I'm not so sure about that.

“And,” he says, his tone deeper, more serious, “I won't believe anything, think anything … until you tell me your feelings have changed. Until you kiss me.”

I stumble. Literally, over a crack in the sidewalk. He catches my arm, steadies me, then releases me. I know he'll always be there for me, ready to catch me before I fall. I give a terse nod, understanding. His terms are clear, precise. I can't help thinking about the warmth of his kiss, the curling need inside me. My gaze shifts to his mouth, then away.

“Okay.” I doubt I'll ever be ready or able to take that kind of a step.