Stay (29 page)

“He’s not a beast.” I grabbed the OJ out of the fridge.

“He looks feral.” Diane held her hand out, limp at the wrist, to keep it from touching her clothes.

“He’s from Slovakia,” I said, dropping three ice cubes in each glass. “He’s from working lines.”

“So he’s a working-class dog?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

I poured a glass of vodka and splashed enough OJ into it to change the color. I handed her the glass, but she looked at her hand.

“I have to wash up.”

“Upstairs,” I said. “It’s the only door that’s open.”

Diane’s heels clicked across the linoleum until she got to the carpet. Joe followed her and I heard her say, “You leave me alone,” before shutting the bathroom door.

I gave her drink to Charles. He was standing in front of the couch, staring at it like he couldn’t decide if it was safe to sit on.

“Here,” I said. “It’s mostly vodka.” I’d known Charles pretty much my entire life, and I’d never felt comfortable around him. Actually, I didn’t think Janie or Diane did either. He was grouchy and humorless. And even when he was being fairly pleasant, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Charles angry was not a pretty sight, and it was hard to predict what might set him off. Usually, when he left a room, I’d realize I’d been holding my breath.

“Good girl,” he said, without looking at me.

“It’s not going to bite you,” I said, pointing at the couch.

He pulled a cigarette out of a silver case in the inside pocket of his sports coat. “Ashtray.”

“I don’t really smoke,” I said.

“I do.” He looked away from me. He pulled out a lighter. It was slim and silver like a fancy pen. He lit his cigarette and blew smoke at my couch cushions.

I went back to the kitchen and got an old coffee mug. I plunked it down on the coffee table. “Ashtray,” I said. I was flirting with the idea of saying more, thinking that maybe a Charles temper flare might cut the party short, but the doorbell rang.

Joe came charging down the stairs, barking. The hair on his back stood up, and as he barked, he bared his teeth. Charles stepped back. He looked paler than usual, and the hand he held the cigarette with was shaking.

I told Joe to bark, “Štekat’! Štekat’!” but held my hands out and waved them up and down like I was trying to get him to calm down.

Charles was actually sweating. “Aren’t you going to answer the door?” he asked, his voice in a higher register.

Peter’s aunt Agnes pushed her way in as soon as I opened the door. She wore a big red church hat and a purple coat that made her look as wide as she was tall.

“Hi, Vannie, remember me?” she said, in her singsongy voice. “Peter’s favorite aunt.” I was scared she might try to pinch my cheeks.

Joe walked right up to her and sat down at her feet.

“Oh! You precious baby!” she squealed, and bent down. He licked her face. She cupped her hands under his jaw. “Oh, you’re just a lover, aren’t you! Oh, yes you are, ohyesyouare!”

“Oh, Aunt Agnes. Joe sure does love you,” I said with a big smile. For once, I was happy to see her.

Charles scowled and mashed his cigarette into the coffee mug.

“Now, this is for you, Van, dear,” Agnes said, pushing the handle of a shiny red gift bag into my hands. It was heavy. “It’s just a little something for our gracious hostess.” She looked at Charles. “How’s it going, Charlie? I don’t know if you remember me. We met last year at the engagement brunch. I barely saw you at all at the wedding.”

Charles grunted a hello and sat down on the couch. He sank in until his knees almost touched his chest.

“Let’s get this in the kitchen now,” Agnes said, patting the bottom of the bag. She put her arm around my waist and hustled me into the kitchen. “I was so sorry we didn’t get to talk at the wedding.”

“Me too,” I said, feeling guilty about avoiding her at the wedding. Right now, chatting with Agnes was a comfort.

She opened cabinets until she found the right one, and pulled out two glasses. “I always liked you, Van. You’re good to my Peter.”

I was still holding the red bag. Agnes reached in it and pulled out a bottle of Maker’s Mark. Then she grabbed ice out of the freezer in two fistfuls and plunked them in the glasses. She opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. She sniffed it before pouring, filled each glass to about half, and gestured for me to pour bourbon.

I splashed a few fingers into each glass and looked up for her approval. She smiled and raised an eyebrow. I poured a little more in her glass.

“Perfect!”

She lifted her glass and held it up. I did the same.

“To Pete,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said, and clinked my glass against hers.

“So, does Pete know that Joe is a dog yet?” Agnes took a sip of her drink and looked up at me. The sparkle in her eyes seemed magnified by the crow’s-feet that framed them. I knew Peter called her constantly, but I couldn’t believe he’d told her that. It was a new level of weird, even for Peter and Agnes.

“Did you do it on purpose, or was it just convenient?” she asked.

“He told you about Joe?” I took a big gulp of my drink. I didn’t think I’d be able to get away with acting like I didn’t know what she was talking about. The milk cut down on the burn of the bourbon, but I could still feel it.

“Sweetheart, that boy is leaking all over the place right now. I don’t know what to do with him!” She took a healthy swig of her drink. “He thinks he’s being sly, telling me you picked up a boyfriend like it’s nothing. But you know how he is.” She looked me straight in the eyes like she was signaling to me that there was more meaning to her words. Her eyes were the same gray-blue as Peter’s. “He’s very protective of you.”

“I- It just happened,” I said, disarmed by her candor, and her Maker’s Mark. It was the first time I’d ever admitted to something involving Peter. I’d always kept all the pieces jumbled up and hidden, but I’d just shown Agnes a corner piece. One piece would click into the next and then the whole picture would be there for all to see.

“Oh, sweetie, after all this time, it was bound to,” Agnes said, patting my arm.

I wasn’t completely sure what she meant, or if we were even having the same conversation. I took another gulp of my drink. My stomach was warm and getting warmer.

“Now what can I do to help, Van?” Agnes asked.

“Um, there’s nothing that can be done. That’s the problem.”

“Well, surely there’s something.”

I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. I didn’t know what my options were. Was she going to be my evil ally and bust up their marriage? Was she going to smack Pete upside the head until he chose me? Did I even want that anymore?

“Oh, see Van, here. You don’t have your main dish out yet. I can help you with that.”

My face blushed so fast and so hard I thought I could feel the blood vessels in my cheeks bursting. Luckily, Agnes was oblivious, bustling around the table, moving plates, tearing a piece of salmon off and tasting it.

“Oh, oh yeah,” I said. I could tell I was talking too loudly, but I couldn’t seem to turn down my volume. “My main dish.” I opened the refrigerator door like I actually had something in there.

“I saw that casserole in there. It looks great. I didn’t know you were such a cook!” Agnes reached past me for the milk and started making herself another drink.

“Casserole.” I saw the stockpot full of Joe’s food on the top shelf. “Oh, yeah.”

I pulled the pot out of the fridge, took the plastic wrap off the top, and wadded it into a ball. The condensation from the wrap dripped down the leg of my jeans.

Agnes found a baking dish out in the cabinet and spooned Joe’s food into it. She preheated the oven.

“Have a drink with me while we let that heat up.”

Before I knew it, there was another glass of Maker’s Mark and milk in my hand.

Diane walked into the kitchen, her heels clicking sharply on the linoleum.

“Your dog is terrorizing my husband, Van,” she said. “Maybe you should put him away.”

“Charles?” I asked. “I think it would be better if you put him away. I’m scared he might bite.”

Agnes giggled into her drink and winked at me. Diane huffed out a big sigh, turned on her toe, and walked out of the kitchen.

“You burnt the toast,” she snapped, as she left the room.

I had no idea what she meant.

It wasn’t until the smoke detector went off a few minutes later that it registered. Joe tore into the kitchen, barking.

I opened the oven door and got a mouthful of charred- bagel smoke. I grabbed one of the bagels to pull it out. It burnt the palm of my hand, but I couldn’t think. I couldn’t let go of it.

Agnes came running over with a dish towel, grabbed the bagel out of my hand, and threw it in the sink. I could see a red ring forming on my palm. My eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, you poor child,” she said, smoothing my hair, and tucking a piece behind my ear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the bagels like that. I didn’t know they were in there.” She handed me her drink. “Take this, sweetie. It will help.”

T
he smoke detector was still blaring, the oven was still on, and the bagels were still smoking. Agnes was putting a plastic grocery bag full of ice in my hand when all of a sudden, Alex came running into the kitchen, holding a Christmas tree in one hand and a Wegmans bag in the other. Joe ran over to him, barking and wagging his tail. He tried to take the tree from Alex like it was another present for him.

The tree was small, but perfect. And Alex was perfect, standing there in his gray wool jacket. The gust of air he brought in with him was cool and it felt good. I wanted him to just pick me up and carry me out of the party like my knight in shining armor. I wanted to be done with the party and the drama and everything else and just move on.

“Are you okay?” he said, resting the base of the tree on the floor.

I nodded. My hand was pulsing and my head was spinning.

Agnes opened the kitchen window and fanned the towel at the smoke detector until it stopped beeping. Joe tried to bite the towel as she waved it.

“What is this?” Alex said. “I thought you were sick.” He held up the grocery bag. “I brought you soup.” He shook the tree a little. “You said you were sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, quietly.

Agnes squeezed past us to get to the oven. “I’m Peter’s aunt, Agnes,” she said over her shoulder as she used a towel to push the bagels into the garbage.

“Who’s Peter?” Alex asked.

“Well, this is under control here,” Agnes said, shoving the garbage pail back under the sink. “I am going to check on the rest of your guests. I hear more people.” She winked at me and scooted out of the room.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Alex.

“You hung up so quick. I was worried.”

“About me?”

“Stop being coy,” he said.

“I’m not coy. I’m drunk,” I said. Tears started dripping down my face. “I’m so drunk.” I buried my head into his chest. He stiffened.

“Look,” he said, pulling away from me, “if you didn’t want to go to the market with me you should have just said so.”

“But, I did,” I said. “I wanted to. It’s just really complicated, Alex.” I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him. I wasn’t sure I could hold it together if I did. I took the ice off my hand and stared at the red ring on my palm. It was so red it almost glowed.

“So, explain,” he said. “I’ll listen.”

I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell him that this was the last little bit of my old life following me, that it was almost over and then things would be simple. But I heard heels clicking on the kitchen floor again, followed by dog nails.

“Savannah Leone,” Diane called as she walked over to us, “don’t you want to check in on your guests?” She pulled a cigarette out of her clutch and lit it off the stove.

“It’s not a good time,” I said to Alex.

“What am I supposed to do then?” Alex said. “Sit around waiting for it to be a good time? I don’t understand what’s going on here, Van. I thought- I trusted you.”

I thought about him, in my bed, holding my hand. I thought about how badly I wanted things to work with him. And I knew I couldn’t let Diane get in the middle of it.

She was just standing there, leaning against the counter, puffing away on her cigarette, watching us. She had ways of making a mess of everything and I didn’t want her to mess this up too.

“I didn’t ask you to come,” I said to Alex. My head was swimming, and I was panicking. I just needed him to leave. “I didn’t ask you to bring me a tree. I can’t talk about this right now. It’s complicated.”

Alex picked up the tree. “I’ll make things a little more simple for you,” he said, and walked out of the kitchen. His big heavy shoes made the floor shake as he walked past me.

“Alex! Wait!” I said, but he didn’t even turn around.

I was going to follow him. I should have followed him, but I didn’t want Diane to see me beg for Alex to forgive me. I didn’t want Diane to know anything about Alex. I wished taking Diane’s payoff had freed me from caring what she thought about me, but it hadn’t. I didn’t want her to see how alone I really was.

Diane coughed lightly. “Can we talk about your guests now?” she said. “There are ten people- Look at me, Van.”

I looked up, staring at the middle of her forehead so I didn’t have to look her in the eye. My palm throbbed like a drumbeat. I could almost hear it.

“That’s better.” She gave me a smug smile. “There are at least ten people standing out there in their coats with nothing to drink. And Janie will be here any minute. You need to hustle.”

“You need to hustle,” I said. The words bunched up in my throat for a second before I spit them out. I stared at her shoes. They were black leather with a flash of red on the inside of the heel. I hadn’t seen them before. There was a time when I’d known every shoe in Diane’s closet by heart. But she’d had plenty of time to take plenty of shopping trips without me.