Chapter 9
9
J oan handed her sister a potato to peel. “You know how to do this, right?”
Christine rolled her eyes. “Of course. Though I’ve got to say, instant potatoes are much easier, and they taste almost as good.”
“I agree. I always use the real kind, though. That’s what Mom and Dad like, and I’ve gotten used to it when I make dinner for them.”
Christine leveled a long-suffering look at her. “Are you doing that a lot?”
“Only when they work late and I come over to stay with Ben.”
“I mean, I hang with him sometimes too, but I’m not making them a four-course meal.”
“Well, it’s a nice thing to do, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, Cinderelly,” Christine said as Joan filled up a pot with water to boil.
“Is that supposed to be a joke about my work ethic? If so, it’s not an insult.”
“It’s more about the way you bend over backward for everyone. You’re such a martyr.”
Joan flipped her off. “I don’t mind taking care of people, especially my family. You’re a menace.”
The sound of a masculine voice at the front door interrupted them, a voice that created a swarm of bees in her stomach.
Christine had no such reservation. “Luke!” she cried, heading toward the front door.
He pulled Christine, then Joan, into a hug. He smelled of men’s deodorant and cut grass, and she wanted to sink into the crook of his neck. She had missed him, which was ridiculous given how often they’d still seen each other.
He pulled back. “How’ve you been, Mabel?”
“Christine invited you, I guess?”
He nodded, holding her eye contract. “That cool?”
She smiled. “For sure. Sorry I forgot to tell you about it.”
He accepted that explanation without dispute. She started handing him things to set out on the table. Wyatt was changing clothes, but he’d been cooking a roast in the slow cooker, and Christine had pre-made a salad to bring over.
Christine nudged her as Lucas carried some plates into the dining room. “You guys okay?” she muttered.
“Great,” Joan said. “Just a miscommunication.”
Christine narrowed her eyes but said nothing else.
Joan’s family gatherings were so loud and chaotic that Maria once told her she needed a ninety-minute bath and a good book afterward. Joan hoped she was kidding, but she did coach her family to be a bit less boisterous around her introverted friend. With Lucas, no such prep was needed. He unabashedly loved the Coleman family.
She and her siblings, plus Lucas, squeezed into Wyatt’s dining room. Lucas sat at the head of the table, of course. He loved having the floor. They talked over one another, trying to one-up the others with their stories. Even Ben, who spoke mostly to himself, had his own brand of vocalizing, making clicking sounds against the roof of his mouth in between bites. Her mother always said he was noisy in his own way, just like the rest of them. Despite his autism, he didn’t seem to mind the hubbub of family dinner. He never ate anywhere but the main table, and he didn’t leave until everyone else got up.
A memory arose. She and Lucas were running down the sidewalk in middle school, seeing who could be the first to make it to her mailbox. Their homes were literal feet from each other, so this type of competition was an almost daily occurrence. She had beaten him at running for once, though at the end she was bent over, heaving, and clutching the mailbox as though it were a lifeline. She had straightened up when she heard yelling across the street.
“Hey Joan,” a male voice had said. She recognized it—he went to the same school as she and Lucas then, though he was in eighth grade and they were in seventh. “I saw your brother getting off the bus.” He twisted his face into a mockery of her brother’s most recent facial tic. Then he called Ben an awful slur, and a flash of electric anger stole her breath.
She was ashamed to say that she completely froze, unsure of how to respond. This sort of thing hadn’t happened before. Not only because her brother was five years younger than her, but also because people liked her family. She’d had no idea someone could be so brutishly unkind.
Lucas’s reaction had been more decisive. He’d puffed his sternum out, and she remembered thinking absurdly of a gorilla about to beat his chest. She’d only seen him angry a handful of times. This went beyond anger.
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” he had said. “I’ll kick your ass.” For once, she didn’t giggle when he cursed.
He must have had an intense look on his face, because the other boys did turn and walk away then, at least looking abashed.
She had been crying and swiping furiously at tears as they tracked down her cheeks.
“I should have handled that,” she had said. “I felt like I couldn’t move.”
He had slung an arm around her shoulder. “You don’t have to do everything yourself,” he had replied.
Lucas had been at her side ever since. No one stood up for her like he did, and she did the same for him. She trusted him almost more than any other human being on earth.
“Christine,” she said, drawing herself back to the present. “Do we know anything about Ben’s day-program funding?” She looked at Ben, though she was never sure he cared to be included in conversations, even when he was the subject.
Lucas watched Joan closely.
“No,” Christine said. “I haven’t heard anything.”
“It’s stressing me out,” Joan said. She touched Ben’s arm, knowing his day program offered much-needed routine for him.
“I think Mom’s been too worried about Mimi to think about much else.” Christine tore off a piece of her roll.
Lucas turned to her. “What’s wrong with Mimi?”
Joan waved a hand. “She was in the hospital with pneumonia.” At his alarmed expression, she continued. “She’s home now, and she’s completely fine. When I visited Friday, I had to talk her off the stepladder she was using to put up her ‘summer decorations,’ whatever that means. You know how she is.”
Lucas set his fork down and turned to her. At that moment, Christine and Wyatt took a break to dig into their food, so his wounded facial expression seemed even louder and more accusatory in the brief silence.
“You never told me she was in the hospital.”
“Sorry. She really is okay, though.” She grimaced. “I meant to mention it to you.”
Another silence descended, but her family tended to move on from awkward pauses with lightning speed.
“What do you think of the team’s chances this year?” Wyatt pointed a fork in Lucas’s direction.
“Best group I’ve ever had,” he said, apparently forgetting his irritation. “And I don’t just mean on the field. They’re good kids. Work together well. My best pitcher’s got a heck of an arm, too.” He stopped to shovel a bite of carrot into his mouth. “This is delicious, guys.” He gulped some of his soda.
He then proceeded to introduce perhaps the worst subject change ever. “Hey Wyatt,” he said. “Where are Jenny and the boys?”
Everyone stopped again. Jenny was Wyatt’s wife, and “the boys” referred to their four-year-old twins, Harrison and Samuel.
“We’re, uh…” he stammered. “We’re taking a bit of a break.”
Lucas paled. “Oh my gosh, I really didn’t mean to?—”
Wyatt held his hand up. “It’s okay, man. It’s the truth.” He eyed Joan, who had returned to conspicuous eating. “It’s been hard, though.”
“Yeah,” Lucas said, swallowing. “I would imagine.” He shot Joan an almost dirty look, though he could never quite achieve that.
Christine broke the tension. “I think maybe we should just go back to baseball,” she said, and they laughed uncomfortably.
Lucas leaned over to her. “You have lots to catch me up on, Gertrude,” he said, and she averted her eyes.
“Need a ride to your apartment?”
They stood on the front porch as they all said their goodbyes. Joan started to wave him off, but Christine spoke up before she could.
“Actually,” she said, fishing her keys out of her purse, “that would be great if you could take Joan. I need to make a quick stop at the grocery.” Christine looked back at Ben. “You okay with riding home with Wyatt?”
Ben nodded just a little, an almost imperceptible movement.
Resigned, Joan walked with Lucas to his vehicle. They had buckled in and started down the road before either of them spoke.
“I’m not going to get all irritable here.” Lucas slid a grin in her direction. They were riding in his truck, the same one he’d driven for years, and Joan had forgotten how nice the leg room was. “But what the fuck? Mimi’s sick? Wyatt’s on the verge of divorce? Ben might not have a program to go to? Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
“Mimi’s doing well now. In her own words, she’s not that old. Not even eighty yet. And I think Wyatt and Jenny will be okay. They had an enormous, screaming fight about where the boys are going to go to school. Which sounds silly when I say it that way, but then some other stuff came up. She accused Wyatt of being a bulldozer and always getting his way, which is honestly kind of true, and then he said some stuff he regrets. She’s staying with her mom while they sort things out. She called me to talk about it.”
“Your sister-in-law called you? Even though she knows you’ll take Wyatt’s side?”
“You know I don’t always take his side. But yes, it seems I’m in high demand. Nurse, counselor, taxi driver, et cetera. Not that I mind doing that for my family.” She gnawed at the edge of her lip. “Ben’s situation is more complicated.”
Lucas traced his fingers along the steering wheel, a habit he’d developed as a teenager. She watched the movement, a little frisson of sweet nostalgia zipping up her spine.
She stared out her window rather than look at him. A wooded park slid by, verdant with spring growth. The dusky sky framed Eastern redbuds boasting purple flowers. Kentucky was a beautiful state, as a whole, with its abundance of gentle slopes, mountainous eastern half, and miles of running water. She often thought privately that Lexington, where she’d gone to college, was a prettier city with its rolling hills and vast horse farms on the outskirts, but she was glad she’d moved back home after. She loved how much there was to see and do in Louisville, and she didn’t like being far from her family.
She shouldn’t be shutting Lucas out, she knew. It wasn’t kind, especially since he’d been her best friend for so long.
More memories flickered through her mind. She landed on one in particular—her and Lucas in their senior year of high school, back when they made a sport of pretending not to be scared by whatever horror movie they were watching. They had been lounging in his basement. His huge, hairy feet were in her lap.
“Move it, Bilbo,” she had said, attempting to dislodge his legs from their position on the couch. He had planted them even more firmly, locking his ankles together in protest. She’d been glaring at him when his own gaze softened.
“You’re my favorite friend,” he had said. “Honest to God.” Then he grinned, as though he’d surprised himself. “Never thought my best friend would be a girl.”
Things were so much easier then, before their adult problems arose. Sometimes she wanted to crawl into that memory and live in it.
“Aren’t there other day programs Ben could attend? If his closes, I mean? Or doesn’t have enough funding or whatever?”
“That’s an option,” Joan said. “It’s just that lots of them are full or understaffed. And my parents haven’t been paying the whole thing out of pocket.” She scribbled her name in some condensation on her window. “I’ve been trying to look for other places.” She turned back to Lucas. “Options are slim once you no longer have a high school to attend.” Ben was the youngest Coleman sibling at twenty-three, and he’d been able to stay in public school until twenty-one.
“You guys will figure it out, I bet,” Lucas said. “He can stay with me during the day some if you need him to. I mean, if he needs something to occupy his time. But I know he likes his regular routine.”
Joan’s skin warmed. This was the sort of thing Lucas offered without hesitation. Some of it was his impulsivity, sure, but mostly he was just that sort of person. Her resolve faltered even further.
“I don’t know if I would say Ben ‘likes’ his routine. More like he needs it. But I appreciate the offer. You’re a good man, Lucas Malcolm.”
He smiled. His white teeth gleamed in the shadows of the cab’s interior.
“You know I would do anything for you. You’re like family.” He shifted on the bench. “What about you, though? Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“I’ve gotten better about it, actually. I’m taking steps toward it. New job and all. Plus taking other…measures.”
“The treatment you were talking about?” His casual tone seemed at odds with the tightness in his jaw.
She hesitated. They’d never taken a step into this territory, despite being best friends. She chewed at the edge of her lip.
“You trust me, right?” he said, sounding a little wounded again.
“Of course. It’s just that this is very personal. I’m not even sure you want to hear about it.”
“Okay,” he said. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want, and I won’t force you to. But I promise that whatever it is, I won’t judge you or make it weird. You know that.”
“I will tell you at some point. I swear. I just need a little time. It’s not something I can easily share with a male friend.”
“Ah.” His body sagged. “Lady problems.”
“I mean, kind of? And please don’t say ‘lady problems’ like that. You sound like a meathead.”
He laughed. “Sorry. Perils of being a former jock.” He shot another smile in her direction. “So are you, for that matter.”
“Yes, but I’m way more cultured.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Nancy.” He moved in his seat again and aimed a sidelong glance at her. “Hey,” he said softly. “Are we okay? I’ve been really worried here.”
She laid her head against the window. “We’re fine. I mean, we’re twenty-eight. You get to a point where you don’t see your friends every single day.”
“Joan,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
They were pulling into her apartment complex parking lot, but she knew she couldn’t get out of this conversation.
He turned the truck off, and they sat in the dim light, listening to the engine tick. He turned toward her expectantly. She put her head in her hands. When she looked up, she made a split-second decision.
She took a deep breath. No turning back if she talked about this now.
“Alright.” She nodded. “I’ve never told you why Chet broke up with me. Or why anyone has, actually.”
She could feel Lucas’s stillness next to her, but she didn’t look at him as she continued.
“I decided to take a step in my life. I’m getting treatment for something I’ve had for a long time. A condition called vaginismus. It’s kept me from—” She swallowed. “Oh God, I actually don’t know if I can talk about this with you.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.”
Her eyes watered when she started talking again. She couldn’t believe she was sharing this with him.
“I can’t insert anything into my vagina,” she said. “Or at least, I haven’t been able to at all until very recently. It’s a muscular condition. It causes me to have involuntary pelvic floor spasms when anything comes near me.” She demonstrated this by closing her fist, and he glanced at it, apparently trying to comprehend. “Mine has had a pretty significant impact on my life, and I’ve had it since I was a teenager. Not everyone has the same experience with it, but for me it’s been…I don’t know, intense is maybe the right word. It’s been a real confidence killer.”
The car was silent for a few moments. She could imagine his thoughts racing, tumbling over one another to make sense of it, rearranging his profile of her in his mind.
“Wow.” He carved his fingers through his hair again then stopped. His eyes widened. “So you’ve never…?”
“Engaged in the magical, apparently life-altering experience of having a penis in my body?” He laughed, and her cheeks dimpled. “I mean, I have, kind of. I’ve tried several times. Sometimes it doesn’t work at all—like literally, it doesn’t go in—and other times it has worked, but it feels like shards of glass invading me, so I don’t even try anymore. But I’m hoping this treatment will change that.”
He cleared his throat. When she glanced at him again, she would swear that in the dim light she could make out a blush creeping up his neck.
If she were being completely honest with herself, she had wondered if Lucas ever thought of her as a woman. She’d had a tiny—minuscule, really—crush on him as a teenager that she’d moved past, but he’d never indicated that he’d felt the same thing for her at any point. She had the sort of tall, sporty thing going on that some guys didn’t like, so she never took it personally, and in many ways she was glad they’d ended up being friends instead. But his reaction gave her a little unexpected thrill, like maybe he wasn’t immune to her.
“I'm glad you told me,” he said. She could almost hear the blush in his voice. “You could have told me sooner, you know.”
“We’ve never talked about our genitals before,” she said. “So now you’ve got to tell me something about yours.”
He made a choking sound.
“I’m kidding, obviously. Thanks for being so cool about it.”
“Well,” he said as he pulled into her driveway, “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I’m glad I did.”
“I can see now why you told your girls before me,” he said. “That makes total sense.” He cleared his throat again. “And that’s all it is? That’s been bothering you, I mean?”
She shrugged. “It’s a huge part of it. I’ve been hoping to meet someone, and this problem is getting in the way of that. I really have felt kind of adrift, though. I shut you out a little, and I’m sorry for that. I just didn’t know how to talk about how I was feeling without bringing up the root cause. So, yeah.”
Neither of them said anything for a few moments.
“I have some things I need to chat with you about, too,” Lucas said.
“Okay.” Her breath stuttered. “Now you’re making me nervous.”
“Well, nothing’s a done deal. But I got a call from an acquaintance, a head coach of Crescent College up in Northern Kentucky. One of his assistant coaches is retiring after next year, and he wants me to consider the position.”
Ice dropped into Joan’s chest. “What the hell? You’re leaving?” Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears.
“I wanted to tell you. We haven’t talked a lot, though.” He directed a challenging stare at her. “Plus, it would be well over a year before I have to move.”
“Are you going to take it, then?” Her stomach churned.
“I don’t know yet. I have several months to decide. The assistant coach will still be there next season.” He leaned his forearms on his steering wheel, looking glum despite the good news. “I’ve always wanted to coach at a college level, though. This feels like a way in.”
“I mean, it’s not that far, right? Just an hour or two away? I’m sure everyone else would think we’re silly for getting upset over this.”
He brushed nonexistent dust off his dashboard. “I just wanted you to know first. I’m going to think about it, but this would be a great opportunity for me.”
“I know. And, uh, congrats. I’m sorry I wasn’t more excited at first. It just took me by surprise.”
A subdued smile stretched across his face. “Thanks, Jo. And you’re right, it’s not that far. No reason we still couldn’t see each other a lot.”
She knew how that went, though. She had friends in Lexington she hardly ever saw, and that was only an hour away. Her mind spun at her sudden change in attitude, from wanting space to needing closeness.
“I don’t want you to leave.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “But I want the best for you, too. We’ll just have to hang out a lot for the next few months.”
“See? I knew you’d come around.” He looped an arm around her, and they stayed that way until her cheek went numb.