CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX GABRIELLE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
G AbrIELLE
I hate to be the one to admit this,” Cricket says, breezing into Scottie’s kitchen. “But Della—you’re a genius.”
Della bows as if she’s a princess.
Scottie and I laugh from behind the island.
Cricket drops her bag on Scottie’s kitchen table. The sun shines on her through the window, highlighting the blond streaks in her red hair. There’s a glow about her that I used to know personally. I used to have it too. Cricket beams practically as brightly as the new tennis bracelet around her wrist.
“Thank you for moving the monthly cocktail date up so I can fill you all in,” she says, accepting a peachy drink from Della. “It’s so fun to be the one with news.”
“I want you to know it’s been killing me not to ask how things are going with Peter,” Della says, side-eyeing Cricket. “But since his car has been home every night over the last two weeks, and you’ve been missing in action, I’m hoping that means you’re getting some action.”
“Ladies ...” She presses her lips together until they break into a squeal. “I’m having fun sex!”
Della laughs as Cricket bounces on her toes.
“I take it the trench coat worked,” I say, wondering whether it’s too soon to ask for another drink.
Cricket sashays across the room. “Oh, it worked, all right. He was shocked at first. I thought I had overplayed my hand and he was going to wrap me back up in the coat and send me to a priest for confession. I didn’t need confession until after he”—she gives Della a devilish grin—“ fucked me on his desk.”
“My little girl is growing up,” Della says, earning a swat from Cricket.
“I’ve spent the last fifteen days either being ravaged by my husband or trying to prepare for the next round,” Cricket says. “I have no idea what’s going on with you girls. Fill me in. What’s been happening?”
Scottie looks at me to see whether I want to go first. I look away, making it clear I do not.
Every morning, I wake up and think it will be the day that things get easier. I won’t miss Jay as much as I did the day before. I’ll stop looking at his driveway to see when he gets home and stop being disappointed when he doesn’t arrive until well after dark. Maybe I’ll also stop wondering whether the delay is to avoid me and the kids.
How can I miss him this much? How is it possible to have grown that attached to one person in such a short amount of time?
“I’ll go,” Della says, pouring me another drink. “I met this couple last weekend randomly. I was in a store buying a hammer, of all things, and we just started talking. Anyway, it turns out that those two were into some funky shit, and the wife asked me if I would be her husband’s birthday present.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
She shrugs. “He was hot as hell. Six two, six three, and all muscle.”
“Did you do it?” Scottie asks.
“Of course she did it,” Cricket says, snorting. “Do you even have to ask?”
“Of course I did it.” Della winks at Cricket, earning an eye roll. “I went home with them, and the guy fucked my brains out while the wife watched from a chair across the room. She loved every minute of it.” She looks at us. “What? It’s a fetish some people have. I might as well take the orgasms, because someone was going to.”
“This only happens to you,” Cricket says.
“ Thank God. That man had a tongue that could do things I’ve never seen done before—and that’s saying something.” Della laughs. “So that’s my news. Scottie, you’re up.”
Scottie hops on a barstool and grins. “So Della worked her magic and slipped the vet my number and he called.”
“Let me chime in and say the vet is very good looking.” Della tips her glass toward Scottie. “And he was a complete gentleman while he looked over Lark’s dog. Nice catch, babe.”
“I can’t believe you actually took Lark’s dog to the vet to give him Scottie’s number,” I say.
“If a girl won’t help you snag a guy, what kind of a friend is she?” Della asks.
Then help me snag Jay.
The thought alone makes my heart crack a little more, because I don’t want to want him. I wish I didn’t want to snag him. If only I could hold on to the anger and the hurt and stop replaying the pain in his eyes when he ended things between us.
“We’re going to a play on Monday night,” Scottie says. “And he made reservations at a fancy restaurant in Columbus. I’m so excited.”
“I’m happy for you,” I say.
“Thanks.” Her smile slowly fades. “Do you wanna go or ...”
“Yes, Gabby. What’s been going on with you and that hunk of a neighbor of yours?” Cricket asks. The room grows still, and she sets her glass down. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
I take a breath. “It’s fine. Jay and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
Cricket brings a hand to her chest. “What? Why?”
The thought of going into it blow by blow is exhausting. I’ve watched it in my head like a bad movie a million times. I’ve analyzed it, tried to make it make sense—tried to figure out how to punch holes in his arguments so I can march over there and demand he make it make sense. But every replay of the night Jay broke up with me ends the same way.
He doesn’t want to be a part of my life. Plain and simple. And you can’t argue that.
I take a long drink and will the vodka to kick in.
“It’s a long story,” I say, realizing Cricket isn’t moving on until I give her a satisfactory answer. “Basically, he doesn’t want to get wrapped up in the kids’ lives, and I can’t blame him.”
Cricket takes a moment to digest this. “That’s surprising. It’s not like he didn’t know you have kids.”
“I just think it was a lot different when he had to engage with them, you know? When things got real.” I sigh. “And when Dylan turned into a shithead.”
“Oh, Gabby,” Cricket says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Truly.” Liar. “The kids obviously come first, and if he can’t accept them, then he can’t have me.”
“I’m just so surprised,” Cricket says. “I didn’t get that vibe from him.”
Scottie puts her arm around me and pulls me into her side. The human contact from someone other than Carter crawling over me, asking me why he can’t go to Jay’s, is nice.
“Della, give her advice,” Cricket says. “You saved my marriage. Save hers.”
I lean off Scottie and laugh. “We were barely boyfriend and girlfriend. This isn’t a marriage to be fixed. It’s probably not even something that will work in anyone’s imagination—even Della’s.” I know. I’ve tried.
“Try the trench coat. It works.” Cricket shrugs. “Here’s a tip: use lingerie that can be torn off your body easily. But don’t use the expensive stuff because it just gets obliterated.”
“Look at you,” Della says. “You’re slowly turning into me.”
Cricket points at her. “I will never do such a thing. Don’t even joke about that.”
We all laugh.
Everyone busies themselves getting our meal together. Scottie takes a platter of sandwiches from the refrigerator, lamenting that she had to order them because we didn’t give her time to plan an actual meal. Della whips up another pitcher of the peach drinks, and Cricket sets the table. I take the potato salad and sandwich toppings to the table and set them next to the chips.
We chat about nothing as we work, keeping the conversation lighthearted. I weigh in occasionally, but my mind is mostly on Jay.
Once again, I consider writing him a letter. But what good will it do? Until he changes his view of dating a single mom, nothing I can do or say will help. And that’s what sucks.
Scottie peeks out the window as a truck goes by. “Was that Kyle?”
“Ah, yes.” Cricket sighs happily. “Kyle got a new girlfriend, an adorable little thing named Matilda. Well, it turns out that Matilda loathes the sound of his truck as much as I do. And Kyle quickly took it to the shop and had it fixed.”
“You didn’t pay her off, did you?” Della asks.
“No. But I’m not above it.”
“How are your boys doing, Gabby?” Scottie asks. “Are they getting settled in at school and everything?”
We all take a seat around the table and begin making our plates.
“Carter loves it,” I say, taking a small turkey sandwich from the tray. “He has three birthday party invitations next week. His popularity is starting to get expensive.”
Everyone laughs.
“Dylan is ...” I scoop a bit of potato salad next to my fork. “Dylan is doing okay. His grades are very mediocre. He’s not enthused to go to school in the morning. But I must admit that I haven’t gotten a call from the principal in over a week, so that’s a plus.”
“What on earth could he do to warrant a call every week?” Della asks.
“Oh, having gum in class when you’re not supposed to. Not having your computer charged. Not having a writing utensil. Throwing an apple across the lunchroom to see if you can make a basket but hitting a kid in the side of the head instead.”
“Ouch,” Scottie says.
I sigh. “There’s a list. And at some point, they stop just handing out detentions and call the parent every time. I suppose they think we’ll get tired of hearing it and will do something about it. But I try. I ground him. Take his phone. Have long talks until I’m out of breath.” I shrug. “I don’t know what else I can do.”
Della holds a forkful of potatoes in front of her mouth. “If a week has passed since the last call, maybe he’s starting to pull himself together.”
“Let’s hope.”
Despite Dylan’s attitude toward Jay, he hasn’t been nicer since Jay left. I thought he’d be relieved, that he might even gloat in his perceived victory. But nothing has shifted. If anything, Dylan seems more upset. More withdrawn. Sadder. I even found Carter in Dylan’s room, sitting on his bed and talking to him, this morning. If that’s where we are, it might be worse than I thought.
There are times I feel like I’m failing on all fronts with that boy. This is one of them.
The conversation shifts to Taylor from Betty Lou’s. She won a beauty pageant at the state level, representing Alden as Miss Coal Festival. My friends brainstorm ways they can donate to the fundraiser to help her attend the national contest. I smile and nod when necessary or prompted. I try to engage myself in what they’re saying. But my mind keeps fading back to my neighbor.
My heart pulls, and I wish I could find him and tell him we’ll figure it out. I wish I could turn back time and erase our fight from existence. But neither is an option. I’m left with only one.
Try to forget the man next door.
And hope I get my heart back.
After all, it’s not the first time I’ve lost it, so I know I can do it again.
Eventually.