Waking Up to Love (15 page)

This was clearly not the answer she wanted to hear, so she turned to face Scott. He gulped. Ramona Scapizi meant business.

“Uh, Rob,” Scott said, “Ramona has been really hands-on with this whole event. I think it would probably be better if she and I—”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Rob said.

“I'm not going to give in,” she said matter-of-factly.

Rob shrugged. “Me neither.”

“I guess I know what this means,” she said.

“I guess I do, too.”

Staring contest.

Rob and Ramona competed in a minute-long staring match. For a while, Scott thought that his brother would surely win this round, but Ramona wouldn't budge. She was a good head and a half shorter than Rob, so she stretched out her spine and stood on her tiptoes.

Neither blinked.

It was almost comical. The two of them had done these epic stare-downs back in elementary school, but this time seemed a little more life-or-death. Unlike before, bags of gummy bears weren't involved.

Rob looked away first. “I can't be mad at you,” he said.

“Pushover,” she muttered.

Rob touched her shoulder, and his smile faded into something more serious. “Watch out, okay?” he said. “Both of you. I'm not kidding about this. It's not just about Mom. It's about … this family.”

Scott knew his brother meant well.

“We'll be good,” Ramona said.

“Thanks,” Scott added, and gave his brother a bear hug. “Why don't you take Jeffrey to the party store? We need some balloons for tomorrow.”

Rob nodded solemnly. Before things could get even mushier, Scott took Ramona for a walk through the yard. The tents and dance floor were half built. Empty metal poles stuck out at weird angles. All the chairs sat in a flattened pile next to the porch.

“My brother warned you to stay away from me, didn't he?” Scott asked.

“Something like that,” Ramona said.

“He's always doing that.”

“Don't get mad,” she said. “He's just looking out for you. For both of us. In a way, I think he might be right.”

Her words hung in the air. He didn't know how to refute them, so he let them hang.

Ramona grabbed one of the tent poles and swung around it in a circle,
Singing in the Rain
style. If it didn't look so flimsy, Scott would've joined her.

“Either way, I'm glad you stared him down,” he said.

“You know me,” she said. “I don't blink.”

The stereo system was already set up and plugged in. Scott had left it here a few hours ago, safe in the knowledge that this was spring in Farber City, so it probably wasn't going to rain any time soon.

The stereo was all set for tomorrow's party, but Scott hadn't realized he'd be using it tonight, too. He casually walked toward the speakers and pressed the power button. Instantly, a blast of static gave way to a slow pop song.

“Remember this one?” he asked, referring to the ballad.

She listened for a second before her eyes flashed recognition. “I haven't heard this since senior year.”

“It's an oldie but goodie,” he said. He thought this would be the perfect time to test out the dance floor—for strictly scientific purposes, of course. One must be sure the floor could withstand the weight of two dancing adults. He reached out his hand toward her.

She reached hers toward him. Instead of dancing, though, she spun her body into his arms, pulling herself as close to him as possible. Then he dipped her.

They spun around the dance floor for the rest of the song. Scott didn't know the last time he'd lost himself in a song like that. When the music finished, her fingers slipped away from his. “Wow,” he said.

“Wow yourself.”

“You know, you're very … graceful. I like the new you.”

And he did. He hadn't been able to place his finger on it until now. Ramona was the same girl she'd always been, but now she went after what she wanted. She had grown up in her own skin. He liked that. And even though they were destined to be no more than friends, he was glad that she was here for him. He was glad that they'd danced.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Ramona,” he said. He reached forward and pulled her toward him. The next song had already started.

“I've gotta … I've gotta go,” she said. She spun around to leave, but he roped his arms around her waist.

“Not so fast,” he said.

She didn't bother squirming away.

“Am I crossing a line?” he asked.

“No.”

“You sure? I mean, we're just having fun. I don't want you to think …”

She looked away.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“You like the new me,” she said.

He nodded.

“You didn't like the old me, but you like the woman that I've become, is that right?”

He could tell from her tone that whatever answer he chose, it would be the incorrect one. “I've always liked you,” he said. “You know that. You're my best friend.”

“You like the me who's playing a part,” she said. “Because I'm not me. I'm my sister. After this week, I'll go back to being the same ungraceful, unsophisticated Ramona whom you always take for granted.”

“That's not true.”

She pushed herself away from him. It was like she needed room to breathe. Or fume. “You said so yourself,” she said. “You like the new me. I can't keep pretending to be her for your enjoyment.”

“Maybe you're right,” he said. “I never meant to be unfair to you, but I think this whole situation is unfair.” Before she could say anything else, he added, “Tomorrow's the big party. You'll be there, right?”

“With bells on,” she said darkly.

“I'll see you there,” Scott said. That was all he could ask for.

• • •

Like most nights, Ramona stared at the blinking clock next to her bed. One fifteen. All things considered, this wasn't particularly late in Ramona-time. Based on her wacked-out sleep cycle, it was practically daylight.

She had a glass of water right next to the clock. It was sweating. Below that glass, under a slowly expanding water ring, was her borrowed copy of
Anna Karenina
. She still hadn't gotten past page twelve. Normally, she'd speed through the novel like a crazy person, if for no other reason than to see how badly things end up for the title character.

But her heart wasn't in it anymore. Life was too crazy to focus on studying, or reading, or thinking at all. Well, life was too crazy for her to think about anything other than Scott McInney.

A few hours ago, they had danced together. And everything felt so right, until she realized that she wasn't even there. Nessa was.

She made a resolution to stop thinking about Scott. Whenever his handsome, rugged image came into her mind, she would push it out. Tonight, she would fall asleep on her own terms.

One twenty.

She struggled to keep her mind blank, but every few seconds it wandered back to the McInney front door.
Great,
she thought.
Another sleepless night.

One forty.

Ramona focused on the darkness inside her eyelids. If she opened them—even a little—she'd see moon glow invade her bedroom, car headlights roll across her wall. Darkness. Blackness. It was as simple as that.

Don't think about Scott,
she told herself.

Don't think about Scott.

One forty-one. She drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, she saw Scott. And he saw her, the real her. They were in the McInney backyard. All the party decorations were already up, but no one was there. Red balloons floated in the air, but otherwise everything was still.

She followed Scott through the chairs, across the dance floor, and straight toward the old treehouse. He pointed up.

“You want me to go up there?” she asked.

He didn't answer. Instead, he started climbing.

Dream logic was a funny thing. In dreams, you could do the most nonsensical things, but it made complete sense in the moment. Right now, though, Ramona felt strange climbing up to the treehouse. She hadn't been inside in years. It was a symbol of her childhood, nothing more. It wasn't a place she was meant to revisit.

Scott disappeared through the trap door.

Ramona had no other choice but to follow. She climbed up the tree, which seemed to stretch on and on, way up into the sky. She pushed the door open, and crawled inside.

“I thought you'd never come,” Scott said. And he closed the door behind her.

For the rest of the night, Ramona had a huge smile on her face. It was the best night's sleep she'd had in years.

A single red balloon bobbed over Scott's head. There were dozens more where that came from, but he focused all his attention on that one red balloon.

Not because it was a particularly special balloon.

Not because he was interested in where it would end up.

He stared at that one red balloon so that no one would notice him gawking at Ramona Scapizi when she made her grand entrance.

He still gawked, though. He couldn't help it. Besides, it didn't matter what anyone thought. Right now, she was his wife.

Ramona stepped through the crowd, wearing white, oozing confidence. Scott had no clue why all the other men at the party didn't instantly drop their champagne glasses and gawk too. She was stunning. And she walked directly toward Scott.

As she passed that stupid red balloon, she poked it with her finger. It somersaulted through the air.

“Looking good,” he said.

“Back at you, Scott Boy,” she said. “I don't know if I've ever seen you in a tie before.”

“Sure you have,” he said. “Elementary school. My catechism. You were there. Oh, and I wore a tie to graduation. And the wedding … I …” He instantly wished he could take back that last part, the part about the wedding. He knew how much Ramona hated that word.

But this time, she didn't react at all. She smiled and readjusted his tie. “Listen,” she said, “I'm sorry I was weird last night. I figured if I'm going to be your wife for one more day, I might as well make the most of it.”

“Great,” Scott said. “Once this party's over, things can finally get back to normal.”

“That's all I ask,” she said. “After all this lying, I'm starting to get worried about my eternal soul. Is it too late for me to go to catechism, too?”

“I think you have to be Catholic for that,” Scott said.

They looked at each other for the longest time, neither knowing what to say. It was comfortable silence, but it was clear they both had a sense that there was something important, something left unsaid.

“I'm a little sad to see this end,” Ramona admitted. “But at the same time, thank God.”

Scott shrugged, but deep down, he agreed. On both counts.

“You ready to do this?” she asked. “One more time? As man and wife?”

He hooked his arm around hers, and together, they walked out into the crowd. And even though Ramona was still posing as her sister, Scott didn't feel like he was hiding anything. Not anymore.

• • •

Debra stood at the center of the party and raised her champagne glass into the air. “Attention, everybody. Attention. It's toast time!”

Rob switched off the music. The rest of the guests took the hint and quieted down.

Debra looked stunning in an emerald green dress and all her favorite jewelry. Her long honey-gray hair cascaded down her neck in waves; only Ramona and Dave the barber knew that extensions were involved. She leaned against a nearby table—not for support, Ramona knew, but just to look good.

“Will everyone please raise their glasses?”

Ramona looked all around her for the champagne glass she'd just set down. When she couldn't find it anywhere, she grabbed a (hopefully) unclaimed glass from the nearest table.

“I think I'm supposed to stand next to her,” Scott whispered. Before Ramona could object, he ran off to stand next to his toasting mom.

“As you all know,” she said, “I've been sleeping for a long time now. A very long time. I finally woke up this month, thanks to the tireless doctors at Farber Memorial. I'm still not 100 percent yet, but I'm damn close. And I invited everybody here to say ‘Good morning,' and to show off how amazing I look.”

The crowd chuckled.

“Now, I couldn't have done this without the help of my two sons, Rob and Scott; my grandson Jeffrey; and, of course, my beautiful and talented daughter-in-law, Nessa McInney.” She waved her champagne glass in Ramona's direction.

Ramona felt her face flush with heat. She'd never been good at accepting compliments. She'd much rather be insulted, because at least then she didn't have to act gracious about anything. What did they want her to do? Bow? She waved awkwardly.

“A few weeks after she joined the family,” Debra continued, “I fell asleep. But now I'm finally able to spend some time with the newest McInney. Nessa, thank you so much.” She raised her glass high into the air. “Everybody, cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Ramona gulped.

• • •

Confetti littered the ground. Red balloons bobbed in the air. Streamers stretched across the sky from tree to tree. So far, Debra's waking party was a huge success.

Ramona casually leaned against a tree trunk and drank her half-cold bottle of Coors Light. Terry and Miguel, the two youngest BLM workers, stood on either side and lobbed questions her way:

“So what are your intentions with Scott?”

“Are you anything like your sister?”

“You do know his heart is broken, right?”

“Do you come from a good family?”

“Are you a registered voter?”

Ramona tried her best to answer each one as earnestly as possible, but they kept throwing more and more questions her way. It was obvious they just wanted to catch her off guard. Maybe they thought if they spoke fast enough, she'd crack and say, “Okay, okay. I did murder that guy. But he had it comin'.”