16. Sixteen
Sixteen
LENA
D ot, Cherry, and I nestle into our usual spots on Mrs. Moore’s front porch, our white rockers creaking in unison.
We sip on what Cherry affectionately calls “wine spritzers”—a mix of wine and Sprite.
It’s our post-church and lunch ritual when our schedules allow—not often enough for me.
In the yard, Ruthie trails behind Mrs. Moore, a basket of freshly clipped blooms in her hands.
Mrs. Moore’s love for fresh bouquets is well-known.
“You should’ve talked to him before signing,” Dot says for the hundredth time. “I told you.”
“I thought it’d be a big romantic gesture, you know? Like Ben’s fireworks.”
Cherry cocks her head. “Remind me… what’s the fireworks story?”
Memories rush in, bringing a wide smile.
I love telling this story, and though I’m sure I’ve told Cherry it before, it spills anyway.
“It was the shittiest day. I lost what I thought would be my dream job because of the pandemic, ruined the deal to sell the house to the Harveys, the living room ceiling was practically caving in, and I was panicked about my future and Lucas’s because his husband Drew had Covid, and I couldn’t be there to help.
Everything had gone to hell. And then, Ben showed up—”
“And Lena attacked him,” Dot laughs.
Warmth rises to my cheeks. “Yep, I did. I’ll never forget our rainy first kiss… or what happened after.”
Cherry coos. “Ooooohhhhhh. Give me all the sexy details.”
Dot and I share a grin before I say, “We didn’t do that , Cherry.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Dot added. “Lena basically played musical make-out spots all through the house before ending in the barn, unable to… close the deal.”
Cherry gapes. “Why the hell not?”
“I couldn’t relax,” I admit. “Not in that house, the way it was. Not with myself, either. My anxiety took over, and I fell apart. I broke out crying.”
“So, things were getting all hot and heavy, and you cried ? What’d Ben do?”
“He held me.” My hands drift up my arms, remembering the feeling.
Not that it’s hard. The same comfort warmed me last night when he fell asleep molded to me like icing on a cake.
For a while, I lay there, confused and hurt.
After the things he said, it’s a wonder he wanted to touch me at all.
But soon, I let go of my thoughts for the reality of his actions—he loves me and must’ve felt sorry.
“He held me as long as I needed… and later surprised me with real fireworks over the pond. Fireworks for fireworks, he said. He turned the worst day into the best night. It was the first time I imagined my family home could be something more… that he and I could be something more, too.”
Cherry sighs. “Damn. I take back what I said about him having no game.”
“As you should,” I smirk. “No one had ever done something so beautiful for me. That’s what I thought the movie deal would be for him—a way to show him everything’s okay. I thought he’d feel loved, not pissed.”
“Men are thick, anyway,” Cherry decides. “If it doesn’t involve food or sex, it takes time for them to get it.”
“Ben isn’t thick. He’s just… hurting. I haven’t been there for him.” I take a deep breath as if sucking in confidence from the warm air. “That’s going to change.”
“I’d be more worried about Lauren,” Cherry says. “Dot said she was the hottest woman she’s ever seen.”
“Not the hottest,” Dot corrects, extending her hand submissively. “Top five, maybe.”
“Oh, where does Jaye fall on that list?” I laugh.
She bites her bottom lip in deliberation. “Jaye, Jaye, Jaye… she’s the hottest. She’s fucking brilliant, too. The other night, we spent an hour on the phone just talking about alien excretions.”
Cherry and I share a grimace. “Well, it must be love when you can talk alien excretions,” I say. “Have you asked her out yet?”
Her shoulders bounce. “Eh, I’ve got time. The movie deal may not be a big romantic gesture for Ben, but it is for me—I’m going to romance the hell of out her.”
My head tilts in skepticism. “What will that look like, Dot?”
“Yeah, stalking her and tugging on her ponytail?” Cherry giggles.
“I have serious game,” she says. “You’ll see.”
“Oh, please tell me you’re making her a mix tape,” Cherry goads.
Dot blushes. “It’s a playlist, grandma… but yeah. I’m creating soundtracks for her graphic novels. She’ll love it. Assholes.”
I laugh. “Well, you’re welcome to steal Ben’s fireworks idea. That was definitely the most romantic thing anyone’s done for me. What about you, Cherry? Do you have a most romantic gesture ever story?”
Her red fingernail taps against her chin. “Brian Kennedy, fifth grade. He always had KitKats in his lunchbox—my favorite candy bar. One day, he brought an extra one for me.”
“He gave you a break, huh?” Dot laughs. “That’s sweet.”
“He kept bringing them, too. We’d sit together, giggling over our chocolate fingers. He was shy. Sharing his chocolate bars broke the ice, I think.” She shrugs, her grin wide with the memory. Bringing her phone to her face, she says, “Wonder if he’s on Facebook.”
“There you go, Lena babe. Just bring Ben his favorite candy bar.”
“Well, you’ve already given him a Baby Ruth,” Cherry laughs, “so I bet his next favorite is Mounds for those muscles. Or a bag of Kisses. He’ll like that.”
“Oh, a bag of Kisses,” Dot says. “I’m stealing that for my romance list for Jaye.”
“You have a list?” I ask, brow perched.
Her cheeks redden as she types into her phone. “So? It wouldn’t hurt for you to have a list for Ben. Your romance game needs help, right?”
“Ugh, I guess so, if Ben was open to it. Candy and playlists aren’t going to cut it.”
Still tapping her phone, Cherry says, “Sending you both links from some influencers with ideas for romancing your significant other. Talk about game, though… that nurse I met at the hospital? Amazing.” Her eyes go wide with the word. “He really knows his way around—”
“Hey, Ruthie!” I chime in as she approaches. Cherry clamps her lips shut. “Done collecting flowers?”
She nods, barely holding the wicker basket with her bounty.
Mrs. Moore smiles. “Ruthie’s decided that hydrangeas are her favorite.”
“They don’t have petals, Mom. They have sepals —Aunt Barb told me. They’re leaves that turn pretty.”
“They start green but discover their true colors as they grow,” she explains.
“Kinda like us,” I grin, and Mrs. Moore gives me an affirming wink, flashing me back to her high school chemistry class.
“They’re big and poofy,” Ruthie says, “like lollipops.”
“Oh, never eat them, though,” Mrs. Moore says, holding up her finger. “Poisonous.”
Ruthie salutes. “Aye, aye, captain.”
“Now, let’s get these in water.” Mrs. Moore guides Ruthie inside.
“How’s Mrs. Moore doing?” I ask Dot. “She looks a little…”
“Slow.” Dot leans up in her chair and pulls her vape pen from her pocket. “She says she’s fine, but I don’t know. Sometimes, she needs a shot, and sometimes, she doesn’t. I’ll talk to the nurses when we go on Friday.”
Six months ago, Mrs. Moore turned eighty, and her yearly bloodwork revealed blood cancer.
She goes in for a cell-boosting shot weekly but receives it only if her white blood cell count is low.
Often, it isn’t. Otherwise, the cancer has barely affected her.
She keeps up with all her Bible studies, charity work, and gardening.
But Dot worries. Watching Mrs. Moore slow down worries me, too.
“So, let’s get back to Ben and your plan. I know a great little shop, very boutiquey, for some ooh-la-la lingerie,” Cherry offers. “Avery, the owner, is like my new gay best friend. I could get you a little discount.”
“Hold up.” Dot raises a hand. “Lena shouldn’t have to doll up her sexy bits just because Ben’s in a mood. This ain’t the fucking fifties.”
“Oh, I know that,” Cherry says. “It’s more about her confidence than his enjoyment. It’s like wearing lipstick always makes me feel more powerful. Uplifting lingerie uplifts.”
Dot nods her reluctant approval. “Lena could use the confidence.”
“And the sex,” Cherry adds.
“Thanks, but that’s not what this is about.”
“Connection is connection,” Cherry says. “If you want to be close with him, that’s one way to do it. Bonus—reminding him of what he has may keep him from looking elsewhere.”
“Normally, I’d say don’t project your bullshit on her,” Dot says to Cherry, “but considering the Lauren factor, she makes a point.”
“Ben’s no cheater,” I say sternly.
“No guy is… until they are,” Cherry says.
“Ben’s not a cheater, but Lauren Riley seems keen to make him one.” Dot blows out a long cloud that dissipates in a breath. “She was making mad come-hither eyes at him the other morning.”
“His eyes are the only ones I care about.”
“Oh, he didn’t look happy,” she agrees. “But they have unresolved history… and there’s that job offer.”
“He’s not taking it.”
Dot gapes. “Damn girl, you dodged a bullet there.”
“Absolutely!” Cherry agrees, sipping her wine. “Him working there every day… around her… protecting her… the bodyguard and the former fiancée, eesh. It sounds like a bad second-chance romance that won’t end in your favor.”
“What have I told you about reading those?” Dot snaps.
“Probably the same thing she says about my self-help books,” I say to Cherry. “Not to read them.”
“What’s the harm?” Cherry coos.
“The harm? Oh, only that you’ll have unrealistic expectations, either of yourselves or your significant others. No book will tame your insane schedule or give you more time in the day, and no guy’ll live up to your book boyfriends,” she says, motioning from me to Cherry.
“Oh, I know,” Cherry says. “But see? That’s the trick. I drop them before they ruin my fantasy, so real guys, book boyfriends… they’re all the same to me. Temporary .”
Dot and I share a glance that’s a mix between poor Cherry and dang woman .
“Anyway,” Cherry says, before we can argue, “Ben taking that job would put you in a state of constant panic.”
“It’s a relief, I admit. One less thing to worry about… and fight over.”
Dot leans over and rests her hand on my knee. “It’ll be okay.”
Cherry twists in her rocker, laying her soft fingers on my good hand. “She’s right. You and Ben are one of those annoying couples that… belong .”
“You’ll get through this and be a stronger couple for it.”
“And you have us.” Cherry shrugs her bony shoulders.
“Thanks, you guys,” I say, feeling better.
Cherry’s pink manicure slides away from my hand. “How can we help?”
“Just this… your support means so much to me. The next two months will be all reconnecting with Ben. More lace won’t hurt. Let’s go see Avery.”