These Are the Moments (25 page)

Chapter 66

Then

They were fighting about fighting.

It was a rare talent that Simon and Wendy seemed to possess, this ability to create arguments out of arguments, and they were competing for the gold star.

The facts were simple, mostly. Simon had brought up
old stuff
, merely mentioning the time they fought before prom, and Wendy rolled her eyes.

Mistake.

“You’re never going to let this go,” he said.

“Let what go? Lizzie? Sarah? Sorry, it’s a bit hard to keep track.”

Shouting.

Stomping.

Huffing. Puffing. Blowing all the houses down.

He stormed out of the apartment for class, leaving her alone with too many thoughts and a black hole of quiet. Reese was in Paris for three more weeks. Vivian and Owen spent every waking hour just staring at each other’s faces and talking about rainbows.

Wendy was lonely. Simon knew it. She knew it. It was the demanding kind of lonely, the kind that tugged at the collar of her shirt and tucked her in at night, laughing when she cried.

Wendy loved Simon. She didn’t question that for a second. But she did question
the reality
of that love. The way he would storm out of the room when things got too complicated. The way she would start a fight just out of the sheer need for something to happen.

They were never boring, but for whatever reason, she found herself being bored. Not with him, but without him.

Wendy was lonely. It was as simple as that.

“I’m sorry,” she texted him.

It was already dark outside, and the rain started to come down outside his window.

He answered quickly, “It’s okay. Be home soon.”

Home.

He’d never called it that before. Not in the inclusive sense, at least. They had a home, kind of. Even though it was built on a cliffside, made of popsicle sticks held together with silly string, it was still a home.

A safe space.

She wanted to do something nice for him. She wanted him to know that she loved him. Wendy never wanted to fight. It just happened organically.

Making her way through the apartment, she cleaned up a little. Picking up clothes, making the bed, straightening out the couch cushions. Then, she opened up all of the blinds and dimmed the lights.

Outside, the rain fell perfectly.

When he walked through the door, he set his backpack down beside the couch. A single candle burned on the coffee table, and Wendy, in his t-shirt, her hair loose at her shoulder, was waiting for him.

“What’s this?” he asked, a relieved smile on his face.

“Want to watch the rain with me?” she asked.

She’d washed her face, brushed her teeth, and felt clean, like the rain was dripping down her body.

He pulled the sweater over his head and let it fall to the floor. His hair was speckled with water, his face damp and shiny. When he walked up to her and scooped her face into his hands, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m more sorry,” she said. “Can we just not talk about it?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

Simon kissed Wendy breath by breath, pausing to look into her eyes, pausing to hug her close to him.

“You’re perfect,” he told her. “And this. This has always been and will always be exactly what I want.”

Wendy curled her hands through the loops of his jeans, pulling him closer to her.

Then she was pulling him further, moving his body toward his room. Outside, there was so much rain. Rain that beat down from the black sky like a pulse.

Together, they fell onto the mattress. She pulled the shirt off of his body, so she could feel the warmth of his chest against her.

“Wendy,” he said softly into her neck, “I love you.”

As sudden as lightening, she wasn’t scared anymore.

“Always,” she answered.

And without any more words, they blurred together, with only the rain to keep them down.

Chapter 67

Now

This was Vivian’s bachelorette party.

There were pink, glittered wine glasses and bright gold tiaras. There was a punch bowl and wedding-themed quizzes, premade on beautiful stationary. There were girls Wendy knew well and ones she’d never met before. It was more like a very extravagant coming-out party. More pink. Fewer gloves.

The plans were to go to the piano bar first, via limousine. Limos seemed outdated these days, but Vivian insisted.

They still weren’t talking. Not really. So Reese had pitched in on the planning part of the deal.

“I’m better with parties, anyway,” she’d said.

Vivian was being unreasonable. Dodgy. All she could focus on was her own wedding, her own life, her own future. Everything else was secondary.

Wendy didn’t want to be there, but she showed anyway.

Twenty minutes in, before the move to the karaoke bar, Wendy said, “Okay, am I done here? Am I good to bail?”

“No, absolutely not,” Reese said. “You’re still the maid of honor… aren’t you?”

Was she? She hadn’t exactly established that yet. Viv wouldn’t cut her out like that, could she? She wouldn’t just swipe her out of the wedding without telling her. Right?

She was still the maid of honor. So she damn well better start acting like it.

“I should apologize, shouldn’t I?” Wendy asked.

Reese sighed. “I don’t approve of groveling, especially when she sure as hell doesn’t deserve it, but yeah. Yeah, you should apologize. She’s the bride, and even though she’s being unreasonable, you’re her friend.”

Reese was right. Vivian was the bride.

Vivian was the romantic lead.

Not Wendy.

All of the girls circled around Vivian, ordering her more champagne and gushing about the dress and the save-the-date’s and
god, aren’t you so lucky?
Were women this pathetic now? Did everything important boil down to the eternal question of rock or no rock?

“Hey, bride girl,” Wendy said, cutting into the conversation.

Vivian, poised, said, “Hi there, MOH. Having a fun time?”

“Sure,” Wendy said. “You?”

“Well of course, I am,” she said, bubbly. “
I’m getting married!
”

The chorus of women cheered and clinked their glasses.

“Listen,” Wendy said, leaning in close. “I’m sorry. About everything.”

“No need,” Vivian said, waving her hand in the air. “Besides, you were right.”

“I was?”

Vivian, smile glued in place, said, “I’m a freaking joke.”

It was eerie, the way she said this, trying to save face under the spotlight.

“We’ll talk later,” Wendy said, leaving her to the group.

When Wendy walked back to Reese, Reese was using her finger as a stirrer in a stranger’s drink.

“Umm, hi,” Wendy said, walking up.

“Oh, Wendy,” Reese said, licking her finger. “This is Jeff. He’s got a motorcycle.”

“Motor bike,” the guy corrected.

“Whatever,” Reese said, gazing up at him. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Wendy asked.

“Two seconds,” the guy said, heading to the bar, most likely to close out a tab.

“What’s happening to you?” Wendy asked, taking the drink and setting it away from Reese.

Reese hiccuped. “I’m going on a ride with Jeff. Do you think I could get an olive for that?”

“Okay, your barfly bit is getting old,” Wendy said. “I can only deal with one crazy at a time.”

“Who else is crazy?” Reese asked, big-eyed.

Vivian was due for a bridal breakdown. All of the teeth whitening, all of the priming, all of the hairspray in the world couldn’t fix pre-wedding jitters.

You needed a moment of hesitation. You needed a parting moment with your past, the idea that you’re done with being alone, done with options, done with the single life.

But Reese was an entirely different problem.

“Karaoke time!” Vivian announced, making her way out to the limo.

Reese slipped her purse over her shoulder. “Motor bike time.”

Wendy latched hard onto Reese’s wrist. “Absolutely not.”

“Ready?” Jeff the creeper said.

“Make other arrangements, Jeff,” Wendy said, tugging Reese out to the limo.

The karaoke bar was only a couple blocks away, but somehow, it was enough time for a champagne bottle to pop, a glass to crack, and a girl to stand, attempt to dance, and topple over.

“Pull it together,” Wendy said to Reese, who hadn’t said a word since boarding.

Every time Vivian looked over, Wendy was all smiles. Maybe they were fighting, sure. But this was her bachelorette party. This would be memorable. In one way or another.

Inside of the karaoke bar, there were hordes of people. Artsy cool people, with tattoos and gaged earlobes. Frat boys and sorority girls. Immediately, a cluster of the party took to the stage.

“Need a drink?” Wendy asked Reese.

It wasn’t that Reese was drunk. She wasn’t, which meant there was something deeper going on. Something that needed to be addressed . . . eventually.

“Tequila sour.”

“Got it,” Wendy said, adding, “Wait here, okay?”

Vivian followed behind Wendy. “Still having fun?”

“You throw quite the party,” Wendy said. “You should get married more often.”

“Don’t joke like that,” Vivian said.

Wendy slipped her arm through Viv’s. “So, what was that back there?”

“I just…” Vivian trailed off, “I just think this whole thing is crazy. Right? Getting married?
For forever.
I can’t even do laundry properly yet.”

Wendy laughed. “That’s normal. Just remember your colors and whites.”

“I’m serious,” Vivian said, letting her head settle on Wendy’s. “I’m crazy to do this. I’m crazy to say I do, when I don’t even know what the hell that means.”

Wendy rubbed her hand over Vivian’s arm. “You’re not crazy. You’re in love. And that’s practically the same thing.”

“Maybe I should blow the whole thing off. Head out of town. Set up a tent on a nice beach somewhere. Get one of those nice women to braid my hair so I won’t need to wash it all that much.”

“Well, that is the dream,” Wendy jested. “You’re going to be fine. You know that, right?”

“Sure. Maybe.”

They were almost to the bar. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Again. I know that you would never hurt me. Never on purpose.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve been at the show. I can’t believe I actually missed it,” Viv said, slipping her elbow onto the bar. “And this Simon stuff. It just feels like a waste, you know?”

“Me and Simon?”

“Yes. It doesn’t make sense. I guess I thought it would be good wedding karma if you two found your way back. Like if I could fix you, then I’d have a better shot.”

“I’m not the one who needs fixing,” Wendy said under her breath, then rethought. “Just because ten years of my life is stacking up to a no-reward finale, doesn’t mean that you’re headed down the same road.”

“Do you know what your story says to me?”

Wendy shrugged.

“It says that two people can love each other, steadily, whole-heartedly, with every fiber in their being, and still, it ends. What makes me think I’m so special? What makes me think it’s going to work out for me?”

Those were fair questions. It seemed like more people were getting divorced than married recently. It was an imperfect system. An abused institution.

But you don’t say that kind of thing to a bride-to-be. And the truth was that, through all the stormy years, Wendy wasn’t cynical. Although, it would be a hell of a lot easier.

So she meant it when she told Vivian, “You’ve got that thing, Viv. The forever thing. A love that can withstand the growing apart phase, the
I really can’t stand the sight of you
years. You’ve found someone who isn’t going to leave. Simon couldn’t be that, no matter how much he wanted to be.”

They got their drinks and headed back to the group. She was making her way over to Reese, who had found herself with yet another guy, when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Then kept vibrating. Slipping the phone from her jeans, she saw his number on her phone, calling.

“Hello?”

There was a loud noise in the background. Booze and music and girls. Owen’s bachelor party.

“1262 Richmond Street,” Simon slurred.

Wendy covered her free ear with her palm. “What’s that?”

“Come over,” he said. “1262 Richmond Street.”

He was drunk. That was the only explanation. And Wendy went from calm to pissed in a flat fifteen seconds.

“Why? Why should I come over?”

His voice slurred. “Because . . . I want . . . I need to see you.”

“No, Simon,” she said. “You don’t get to call me, and you don’t get to drunkenly ask me over. I don’t care if you’re sad or lonely. Leave me out of it.”

She hung up the phone and placed it back in her jeans, promising herself that the next time he called, the next time he reached out, she’d give him what he deserved.

Nothing at all.