“Well,” His voice is quiet, “You are speaking from experience.”
I bite my lip. Jack again. How long do I have to wait before he stops coming between us? I have to think of a way to communicate that Jack means nothing to me now, that he’s meant nothing for a long time.
“Give Laurie my best,” Landon says abruptly.
“I will.” My voice is low. “Do you know when you’ll be back?”
“Weekend, at the latest.” He pauses. “Why don’t you go to bed now, we’ll talk some other time.”
Later, after I’ve switched off the TV, I go to join Laurie in her room, sighing as she cuddles against me before I fall asleep.
THE NEXT day, I try to convince Laurie to call in sick, but she is adamant that she won’t. She leaves for work even before I shower, with her eyes dry, though slightly swollen from her crying.
The days that follow are more of the same. She cries herself to sleep at night while I try to comfort her. Landon calls me every night before I sleep, it becomes kind of a ritual. On Friday night, we get a delivery of chocolates and a bottle of red wine, with a DVD of a stand-up comedy show. It’s from Landon, and while we eat the chocolates and get buzzed on the wine, I’m glad to see Laurie laughing at the jokes about mundane things like work, traffic, movies and children.
On Saturday, my mother insists that we come to the house. Laurie’s parents will be there, as well as my brother, who is spending the weekend at home. I suspect that Aunt Jacie has told my mom about Laurie and Brett, and she thinks spending time with family will make Laurie less miserable.
Even though I’m worried that she might not want to go, seeing as only last weekend she was there with Brett, Laurie doesn’t argue when I tell her, instead she even seems excited at the prospect.
After the one-hour taxi ride to Huntington, we walk down the short drive to the front door of my parents’ two-story brick house. They’d moved away from the city as soon as Dylan started college, joining Uncle Trent and Aunt Jacie, who’d left earlier.
“There are two beautiful young ladies at the door,” My dad teases, when he opens the door for Laurie and me. “I think I recognize this one,” he says, kissing me on both cheeks after giving me a hug, “though I’m not sure what her name is.” He hugs Laurie too, “this one looks like Lauren, but she’s prettier than I remember.”
“Ha ha, Uncle Trent,” Laurie says, but she’s smiling.
He steps aside so we can enter. My dad is still fit. He’s tall, with graying hair, and gray eyes that always look amused.
“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” he tells us. “Apart from Dylan. He’s blowing things to pieces in his room.”
I’m not surprised. My brother plays computer games with zeal and passion. How he finds the time for his studies, I’ve never been able to deduce.
Inside the kitchen, Uncle Taylor is cooking, which is a relief, as he’s a much better cook than any of the other adults. He looks almost exactly like my dad, and telling them apart, for me, is more a matter of instinct than actual facial characteristics. He’s calmly preparing grilled sandwiches while my mother and Aunt Jacie slice vegetables for a salad.
“Look who’s here,” he exclaims when he sees us at the door. He leaves the kitchen island as we walk towards him. “Hello Tweedledee,” he kisses my cheek, “and Tweedledum,” he hugs Laurie, who leans into his embrace, looking for a moment as if she’s going to burst into tears.
Our moms are next. After a series of warm, perfumed hugs, and earnest ‘how are yous,’ Laurie escapes upstairs to my brother’s room, leaving me alone with the parents.
“How is she?” Aunt Jacie asks, her beautiful face a picture of concern.
“She’s still crying a lot.”
“You think it’s only temporary?” my mom asks.
“I don’t know. It’s lasted longer than any other fight.”
Uncle Taylor sighs. “I always liked Brett, but now I want to beat the shit out of him.”
Aunt Jacie pats his shoulder. “How’re you doing?” she asks me.
I shrug. “Okay. I’m going to check on Dylan too.”
My mother follows me out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. Her hair is piled high on her head with tendrils drifting down her face, and even in a plain cotton blouse and loose pants, she still doesn’t look her age. “When are you planning to tell me about your new boyfriend?”
I stop at the foot of the stairs. “Did someone tell you I have a boyfriend?”
She manages to look shamefaced. “Laurie may have mentioned that you’re still seeing that hotelier you went to San Francisco with.”
I sigh, wishing Laurie wasn’t in so much pain so I could beat her or something. “Mom, I’m not going to talk about it with you, not right now.” Not ever.