Chapter 19
Gabriel
The family is no sooner out the door when Mom calls.
“Hi, Mom,”
I say. There’s a certain sense of relief that we can get this over with. “River’s here and you’re on speaker phone.”
My mom hesitates. “Hello, River.”
Her voice is cautious, yet warm. “Well, Gabriel, I have to say, I’m surprised that you’re . . . married! I wouldn’t have chosen this for you . . . to rush into it . . . but I understand that you have to live your life and do what you need to do.”
I sink back down into the love seat, and River curls up next to me. We’re not touching anymore, as per our agreement. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind having my arm around her again.
Mom’s next thought is not surprising. “We’ll have a reception, of course,”
she says. “Am I planning it or are you two?”
“I—uh—River? What would you like to do?”
“I haven’t thought enough about it.”
River chews on her lip, and then says, “When would you be available for one . . . Celine?”
She blinks several times and then stares at her hands in her lap.
“Well, we can’t wait too long. You wouldn’t want to have it too close to Halloween or Thanksgiving. Oh, we could get the chef at The Summit to cater but the question is, do you want it in Denver or there in Longdale? I guess, River, you might prefer Longdale because you grew up there. At least, I think you did. My land! I don’t even know that basic fact about my new daughter-in-law.”
“She did, Mom.”
“Oh, well then, we’ll have it in Longdale. Maybe at the resort? Or I think there’s a little church on Main Street that has an outdoor area we could rent.”
“We don’t need anything fancy,”
River says.
Does River care about having a nice reception? I’m assuming since we’ll be divorced in a year, she doesn’t too much.
As strange as the idea that we’re married is, it’s even worse to think of it ending.
“Listen, Mom, let’s have something small.”
No use throwing a big bash for something that’s ending. “That’s part of the reason we got married so quickly. No fuss, no muss.”
“Well, if you’re sure. River, is that what you really want?”
“Yes, something simple would be great.”
“Oh, and what are you thinking for food?”
Mom asks. “Of course, I need to know your colors. In the photos your bouquet has lots of golds and pinks and greens. Should we go with that? Your dress is beautiful, River. I can’t wait to see it in person.”
There’s another pause and when she starts speaking again, her voice is husky. “You do make a cute couple.”
“My head’s sort of spinning with possibilities,”
River confesses, leaning towards the phone in my outstretched hand. “I’m not sure about the food and colors and such since we hadn’t planned on this. But it’s great. I’m thankful you’re willing to do this for us.”
Her gaze meets mine with a pleading as if asking, What have we gotten ourselves into?
“Let’s go out to lunch, you and me,”
Mom says. “How about Friday? Can you take a lunch break at noon? I’ll come to Longdale and we’ll discuss everything then.”
It’s as if something occurs to her at that moment. “I don’t want to step on toes or make assumptions. You know how I like to throw a good party.”
“It’s great. We appreciate it,”
River says.
Mom tells us she’s happy for us before saying goodbye. I can barely say anything around the lump in my throat.
I don’t want to disappoint my mom. But maybe this will all be okay in the long run. If I can prove to my father and the board that I’m settled and trustworthy, that I’ve learned from my mistakes, then I’ll get the company. Mom will definitely be thrilled with that.
This is a means to an end.
The rest of the workday goes by surprisingly fast and nothing about the events of the morning are even mentioned at all. There’s a business as usual vibe in the air. River’s on her computer perched on a pillow in her lap on one of the loveseats and I’m at the banquette doing my freelance work. Little is said, but I’m aware of it all: the way she absently wraps her hair around a finger, her low chuckle at something on her phone, the way she can’t sit still to save her life, always wiggling and moving and changing positions.
We eat leftovers from last night. I wash the dishes, and she takes out the garbage.
Right before five, she sets her laptop on the coffee table and stands. “Jana’s picking me up now. We’re going to spend some time with Skye and help her get her room set up.”
She’s in and out of the bedroom, dressed in a sweater, jeans, and boots, and I’m still sitting there at the banquette, trying to figure out what to do or say. Do I give her a hug goodbye?
I stand to walk her to the door, and we end up doing an awkward high five again. This time, it’s not just an “air”
one, it’s the real deal.
Wow, look at us. At this rate, we might be kissing regularly in, oh, a couple of months.
An hour after she leaves, she texts me.
River: Jana will bring me home. Don’t wait up.
It’s going to be a little hard not to since my bedroom is the living room, dining room, and kitchen combined, but it should be okay. It’s after eleven when I hear the key turn in the lock of the mudroom door.
It’s obvious she’s trying not to wake me since the door closes slowly and her footfalls are light, like she’s tiptoeing. I hear the soft thunk of one of her shoes hitting the floor, a little groan, and then she must set the other shoe down much quieter because I don’t hear that one. She reaches the kitchen floor, and her keys drop straight to the tiles, making a splat-like sound. She swears in whisper form, and I can’t help but smile. I lace my fingers behind my head. It’s fun listening to her bumble around.
I should tell her I’m awake and she’s free to flip on all the lights she needs, but I don’t know if me suddenly saying something would startle her. And I can’t just get up and turn the light on because that could scare her, too.
I hear her bump her knee on something, probably the banquette seating since it sticks out a little, and she swears again.
“For pity’s sake . . .”
I hear her whisper to herself, causing a muted chuckle from me.
For pity’s sake? Her choice of words has me clamping a hand over my own mouth to stifle my laugh.
River is like trying black licorice ice cream for the first time. I didn’t want it, but one of my brothers convinced me to get it at the shake shop here in Longdale one time. The first bite? Not what I was expecting. But I couldn’t even explain what I’d been expecting. The second and third bite? Same thing. Just sort of weird. Then the next few bites were an exploration of How come this works? And what even is that texture? Until, finally, I realize I’m halfway done with the thick, over-the-rim shake, and I want to polish this one off and order another one.
That’s River. Always unexpected. Complex. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to be done.
I feel before I hear a jolt to my bed and an audible gasp. Then the groan of the plastic of the air mattress and suddenly, she’s right on top of me.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!”
she says, and in the dark I can see her wide eyes. Her soft body is pressed on me. She clamors for something she can put her hands on to get up from this embarrassing scenario, but everywhere her hands go just makes things worse. She’s pawing at my chest and trying to get up from on top of me, but I pitch a hard right, taking her with me. The mattress squeaks.
We roll, in slow motion, my arms around her waist, off the mattress and onto the floor.
“Gabriel!”
she screams as she gets some solid consistency with her hands now that they’re on the actual hardwood floor instead of the puffed plastic marshmallow.
As soon as she’s off me and kneeling, I sit up. “What an entrance!”
She scowls in the moonlight filtering through the high windows. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make my way without any lights on.”
“Obviously.”
She only scowls deeper and places a hand on my knee. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nah. I’m all good.”
And I am. Something about having my new fake bride fall on me has invigorated me wide awake. “Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride,”
she says. “We spend our first night together going to sleep early and the second night, I fall on you and probably break your bed. Not a good track record.”
“I like it. It keeps me on my toes. And the language? Who knew this marriage would be so funny?”
“I’ll give you something funny.”
She brandishes a small fist, offering a shy smile before dropping it.
I ease over so that my back is against the front of the sofa. “How’s Skye?”
A faint bubble of laughter comes up. “Giddy.”
She tells me about how they set up her room and that Jana brought the dog and how excited Skye was to see her.
“Lunch Lady Liz. Not me. She wasn’t excited to see me.”
She hides a yawn behind her hand. “What if I broke your air mattress?”
I lean over and press my hand on it. “It’s totally fine.”
She palpitates the mattress, too. “I hope it stays that way.”
She reaches over to squeeze my upper arm before she gets up off the floor and pads to the bathroom.
It was an arm squeeze. Barely anything.
But from River? That little arm squeeze feels significant.
I wake at two a.m., my back flat on a hard surface. Great. The mattress has completely deflated. I should have had a back-up plan, but I’ve been a little busy getting married and introducing River as my bride to half my family. And I couldn’t have predicted that River would topple over on me.
It was worth a flattened air mattress, hundred percent.
Thoughts of her give way to thoughts of my family again. How they stared at us throws me, jabbing at my consciousness through the impossibility of sleep. I’m going to have to introduce her to my dad, as my wife.
I can’t stop thinking about River, asleep in the bedroom. So close, yet so far away. Did I miss hanging out with her tonight? How is it that I’ve already gotten used to being with her, and when she’s not here, I’m wishing she was?
This wasn’t supposed to happen, especially not so soon in the process.
I move from my flat position on the floor to the bathroom but that’s even more uncomfortable. I decide to sit on the sofa, lean my head back, and hope for the best.
“Gabriel?”
River’s voice is soft and unlike earlier, I didn’t hear her coming. Maybe I’d dozed off. A glance at the wall clock tells me no, as it’s only been a few minutes since I woke up the first time.
“Hey, River,”
I say, watching as her sleepy form comes into view. She’s got the comforter wrapped around her. “What are you doing up?”
“I heard some movement. Which I guess is karma for how I fell on you earlier.”
“Falling on me was not a big deal. And I apologize, I didn’t realize I was being that loud,” I say.
“It was probably because I had to go to the bathroom.”
I laugh. “Maybe that’s been my problem, too.”
“We should turn the fountain off. The trickling water can’t be helping that situation.”
“Stop,”
I say. “Saying the words, trickling water, is going to make me have to go again.”
She giggles like a song from nursery school. Playful. “Now I have a weapon I can use against you: trickling water, trickling water.”
I spring from the sofa like I’m going to tickle her, and she squeals and jumps back. “Bathroom!”
River insists and she flings her comforter toward me. “Here, I wanted to see if this made your bed more comfortable or not, but . . .”
She gasps. “It’s completely flat!”
I catch the comforter, but I’m waylaid by the fact that she’s put that same purple bathrobe on from before. She seems to notice where my eyes land because she folds her arms. “We have to come up with a solution for the bed situation, Gabriel.”
She shakes her head and holds up a finger. “But hold that thought for a moment.”
In my mind, beyond my control, comes images of our wedding yesterday. It wasn’t much of a wedding, just Milo saying a few words and us signing the papers. But I remember how she felt in my arms as we posed for pictures. Standing behind her, I not only got to see the smooth, tan skin of her neck and cheek, but I was so close I could feel the warmth under my fingertips. As it was, I did absorb the texture of the fabric of her dress on her waist, and how she felt through it, soft and strong.
River is not skinny. She’s curvy in such a way that I just want to . . .
Stop, I tell myself. This is not smart. I jam my fists into my forehead, forcing myself to breathe through my nose. When she comes out of the bathroom, she kicks the dead mattress with her foot.
“Okay, we have to talk about this. This won’t do.”
“I’ll go get another one in the morning.”
“Well, what will you do in the meantime? You can’t just sit here all night. I know that couch isn’t doing you any favors.”
I shrug. “It won’t be for very long. I’m okay.”
She huffs out a breath. “No, you’re not. You’re coming to bed with me.”