19. Willow
NINETEEN
Willow
W hen I awake in the morning, my head is pounding, predictively. "Aspirin," I groan. My roommate doesn't wake, and I slip out of the room after a quick teeth brushing, heading downstairs to the communal bathroom where there is a first aid kit I spied yesterday when I changed out the toilet paper roll. Gotta be some kind of pain meds in there. I avoided looking at the couch on my way in, tiptoeing my little heart out, But now there's no avoiding looking at Ben when I leave the bathroom empty handed, because he is sitting up and rubbing his gorgeous face, greeting me with a frown, “Morning.”
“Good morning, Ben,“ I reply with a shy smile. “Aspirin?”
I jump at the sound of Sylvia in the kitchen, "I have some. Brought it down with me." She pokes her head out, hand holding the coveted bottle everyone will partake of, I'm sure of it. Except probably Ben since he drank so little. And he’s so big.
"Oh you're up, Sylvia! Good morning." I take the offered relief and follow her to a brewing industrial-sized coffee maker. "I think I'm in love with you right now." The words fall out of my mouth, and it's everything I can do to not look over at that sofa. But when I hear his huge feet hit the hardwood, heavy footsteps following, I look behind me and offer a smile. "How did you sleep?" After we kissed and I ran out on you…
"Not good."
Sylvia's eyebrows raise and she directs her question at him. "You didn't sleep well? Oh no. Is the couch not comfortable?"
He flicks a glance my way, then back to her. "A lot on my mind."
"I can relate to that." I say before I realize I'm talking out loud. To be less conspicuous I joke, "Feels like I've got a railroad riding through my brain. I mean, a train. Can't think straight.”
"Well, coffee will help that,” Sylvia says, “And I'm going to make some eggs and hash browns. They should soak up some of what we did last night." She laughs, stops, and holds her head. "Ouch."
I smile, “We are definitely paying the price for all that fun."
She agrees, "We really are. But I haven't danced like that in years. Oh, you know what, I forgot to brush my teeth. I'll be right back." Covering her mouth as she passes me, Sylvia hurries up the stairs and disappears .
Alone with Ben, I quietly ask him, lest anyone else is heading down and could overhear, “Did you sleep badly because of me?"
"There's a lot going on in my life right now."
Feeling guilty I lean against a counter, head dropping to stare at my bare feet, toes polished cherry red. “I didn’t mean to add to your problems. I’m sorry I came back down here. That was my fault. Or the booze’s. Can I blame the booze?”
Ignoring my apology he continues, “And you're the best part of it."
I raise my gaze to meet his. “What?"
“I don't want an apology from you.” He pauses. “Last night was the most fun I've had in a long time, confusing as it was. I don't mean to say that you caused the confusion. It's just that,” He rubs his head, gaze dropping to the floor while he frowns. “I’m not sure how to say this… so I'm just going to spit it out.”
We hear footsteps coming down the stairs, silencing our conversation immediately, and Maggie and Pete appear, both in the same shape I am in. Wanting desperately to hear the rest of what Ben had to say, I greet them by holding up the aspirin bottle. Maggie declines and says that she had some in her bag, holding it up as an offer to me. "I brought this down for everybody."
"I took some. But thank you. Good thinking."
When everyone joins us, the room filling up fast only minutes afterward, the coffee is ready and only the Brooklyn girls and Dax seem hardly affected by last night’s activities. They must've built up an immunity out there in their real lives.
Steve says, “At least I was stretching out during that chaos. My body feels amazing. My head? Not so much."
Marco smiles, Italian accent thick, “For the first time, I didn't think about my ex-wife. It was a relief. Shit, I just thought about her.”
Eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast do their best to stave off the fog of our beaten up brains. We’re all around the dining table, scarfing the yummies down as quickly as our tender stomachs will allow, some eating faster than others.
Laura, a slow eater, smiles, “This is delicious Sylvia, thank you,” just as Rachel walks in the front door looking freshly showered, unlike the rest of us.
"Good morning everyone!”
She receives a return of well wishes from our group, a combination of “Morning!” and hungover nods, with Sylvia adding, “We saved some breakfast for you."
"Oh thank you!” She touches Ben’s shoulder before heading into the kitchen. "How did everybody sleep?"
There's a collective grumble and not much else, with many rising to put dishes and glasses in the dishwasher, then go clean up properly and get out of pajamas.
I joke, “Anybody wanna dance?" There's laughter and several massive objections as response from Marco, Steve, Dax, the Brooklyn girls, Maggie and Pete as they disappear upstairs. I smile and catch Ben staring at me. He looks away. What was it he was going to say before we were interrupted? I’m dying to know! But it’s not possible until we’re alone. I glance to a clock on the wall, not even seeing the time, a reflex reaction as I wonder when we’ll have a moment alone.
Sylvia and Rachel invite Laura and I outside to enjoy some sunlight on the front porch — after New Hampshire says she’s not ready to shower just yet. The four of us make sure we’ve got full coffee cups, and head out, Rachel carrying her full plate. She invites Ben, “Why don't you join us?"
"No, thank you. I’m going into the arts and crafts room…for something.”
Dax pokes their head down the stairs like the room’s mention was a homing device designed to alert them of pending creativity, "I'll join you in a second!” Dax disappears upstairs, presumably to change clothes. Maybe shower quicker than it’s ever been accomplished in the history of bathing. My curiosity is piqued something awful — our conversation last night, the kind embrace while I cried, is on my mind. The two of them alone together in a room? What’s going to happen? I wish I hadn’t committed to going to the porch.
Outside, I relax as the ladies easily chat, and soon I’m joining in, sharing praise of the beauty around us, sunlight illuminating the curves of the hills, dancing on the long grass and bright array of sunflowers. Questions prompt us all to share stories from our lives, and each of us admits that none of us have danced in way too long. Last night was absolutely worth the pain. The aspirin has begun to kick in, thank God for it.
It gets my mind to a nicer place, hanging out with all of this friendly estrogen, until Rachel asks me point-blank, “How long have you and your boyfriend been together?"
At the raised eyebrows of her and Sylvia, the silence of Laura, I sigh and tell them what happened, that Jaxson overheard my relationship with Brady wrong. “I just believe that we should still keep our exes in our lives if the ending wasn't terrible. Brady and I ended amicably. We just didn't love each other anymore, and we had become roommates. For both of us, that wasn't enough. But we still cared about each other,” I add more for her than the others, thinking of Ben, “just as friends, that’s all . We always said I love you at the end of phone calls because he lost his parents in a car accident and he said I love you before they left the world, which he was so grateful for! So I told him that we should continue saying it, just in case. Morbid?"
Sylvia smiles, “I think it's sweet. When my mother left the world I was upset that the last conversation we had hadn't been a good one. She was telling me that I should be married again. I was tired of hearing it from her. It was a broken record, always with the, You should find a man! I was married, for a number of years, but it didn't work out. It didn't end at all well, unlike with you and Brady, so we will not be doing what you both are,” she laughs.
Mysteriously Rachel mutters, “No, you will not.” mopping up the last of the bright yellow yoke with her toast.
Laura and I sip our coffee, waiting, hoping for more information on the demise of Sylvia’s marriage, but I don’t want to pry. After a few silent seconds, New Hampshire can't help herself. "What happened with you guys?”
Sylvia exhales. “He cheated on me with somebody from his church. I stopped going because it wasn't my thing. I'm spiritual but not religious. But I told him to keep going if that made him feel good. Turns out it made him feel too good. He went religiously and then did other things that weren't so religious, like infidelity for example. The asshole.”
"I'm sorry," Laura says, adding “I shouldn't have asked."
“No no, that's OK. I don't mind talking about it. Especially among us girls. Feels good to air it out.”
I sip my liquid magic, then ask, “Did he live with you here?"
"Yes, unfortunately. I would rather not have the memory of him."
Rachel tilts her head. "You never told me that."
With a shrug, Sylvia says, “What would it matter? It's just something I deal with."
"What about if you changed rooms? "
Sylvia looks at Rachel as if she's never thought of this. "That might help."
"Which room would you want?" After a brief pause where Sylvia thinks about it, Rachel smiles, “It's so funny to be talking about this in front of our guests. This has been the most unusual retreat we have ever had, by far!”
Sylvia's mind is on the question and she sips her coffee thoughtfully. We wait until she sets it down on the table. "I've always liked the rose room best." The one Dax and I are in so she looks at me to share, “It used to be blue, but every half-a-dozen years or so, we give the place an overhaul to freshen it up for ourselves and our guests. Time wears down paint jobs."
Rachel adds, “And furniture."
"When we completed the rose room, I just thought it was absolutely lovely."
"We can move a queen size into it, to keep it spacious since yours is a king. Plus we need to get rid of that bad bed. I can’t believe we never thought to!” Rachel reaches over and touches her friend’s hand. "You can start over."
Sylvia thinks about it. "Two beds could fit into my room, for the guests.”
"Will you miss the bigger bathroom? That tub."
"Not even for a second."
"Then it's decided." Rachel claps and all of us wince. "Where do you live, Willow? Do you have a roommate?"
"No," I answer, very aware that this is the second question directed solely to me about my personal life. "I live on my own. I've got a condo on Washington Boulevard. Oh, you don't know where that is. Of course you don’t.” Gesturing with my hands I explain, “It's one of the main strips that leads right up to the beach. I'm just two streets away. Almost directly across from this amazing Mexican food place called Baja Cantina that's our favorite. Mine and Gemma's. Hugely popular with the locals. They've got sand on the floor even though they're not right next to the beach. Great happy hours. Delicious food. Fantastic vibe."
"That's one thing we need up here," Rachel nods. "A Mexican restaurant. The nearest place serves American food. Burgers, fries, things like that. It has pizza but not as good as the one we had last night." She smiles, “If I may say so myself. I'm speaking for me and Sylvia, of course."
“What we lack nearby,” Sylvia explains, “we’ve learned how to cook ourselves." Straightening her shoulders she adds, "I make some pretty tasty empanadas."
"True that," Rachel smiles. "Oh, we should make those for this group!"
"Why not? Everything else on the roster has changed. Well, almost everything. We did end up painting at least some of the mason jars." They laugh, not knowing they just brought my thoughts squarely back to Ben.
What he's doing in the arts and crafts room? After what happened last night, I have to know! "Will you excuse me?" I add the hasty explanation, "I'm going to get the coffee pot for us." There’s a smaller pot made for transport, and I needed the reason.
Rachel starts to rise, “Oh, I can get that."
"No, you sit down. Since none of us paid for this, you're not allowed to wait on us."
Sylvia balks, "I don't know about that."
I laugh, acting casual, "It's just coffee," and walk inside without further interruption.