Chapter 21
twenty-one
JAY
Calla shouts, “I thought you said we needed more practice!” as she follows me down the packed street. I pause and wait for her to catch up, then take her hand. “This is practice,” I say.
She gives me the stink eye. “I thought that by practice you meant…”
I tease, “…spending hours in bed together?”
“Yes! I mean, not just that, but… yeah,” she laughs.
I pick up her hand and place a kiss on her wrist. “I promise to take you straight home after this and chain you to the bed post. Will that please you?”
Calla shrugs, looking slightly foolish. “Whatever.”
“This is good practice, too. Faking a relationship around my friends is more of a challenge,” I add.
She smiles and replies, “As you wish.” Holding her hand, I start to look around at the parade goers.
I like to describe The Great Couch Potato Parade as Mardi Gras for the terminally lazy. Floats shaped like couches, remotes, and oversized snacks trundle through the square, showering the crowd with free samples of chips and soda. It’s a celebration of sloth, a festival for the indolent, and it’s my favorite day of the year.
Normally I’m pro-exercise, don’t get me wrong. But all of my favorite people participate in the festivities. Every year since college, we’ve pulled out all the stops to make the parade one of the most fun events in Greater.
Today, I put all my health-nut tendencies to the side, and exchange them for terrible habits. I drink sugary soda, I eat meats wrapped in other meats, I pretend that cholesterol isn’t going to one day clog my arteries and attempt to murder me.
Calla and I are standing at the corner of Greater and Church with Ryan, Bennett, Wren, Ellie, and Iris. We’re a motley crew. Each of us clutches oversized foam fingers and inflatable recliners like true parade enthusiasts.
A float shaped like a gigantic TV remote rolls by. Ryan lets out a whoop. “This is the best thing ever!”
Calla nudges me and points to the next float coming down the street. It’s shaped like a huge bowl of popcorn. People on the float are tossing handfuls of the stuff into the crowd. I duck as a kernel whizzes past my ear.
“Catch some for me!” Calla shouts. She holds her inflatable recliner costume up like a shield.
I grab a few pieces off the ground and stuff them in my mouth. “Delicious.”
She wrinkles her nose in mock disgust. “You’re unhinged.”
“Don’t judge me, Lily. Anything goes today.”
“Unhinged!” she declares.
I pick her up and attempt to throw her over my shoulder, letting her squeals of ohmygodputmedownrightthisminuteJayRustin sail right past me. The recliner she’s wearing is bulky but I slap my full hand right on the meat of her ass. It makes a delightful sound that wouldn’t be out of place in a porno.
But today is a family event, so instead of taking the logical next steps, I let her roll off my body and free herself.
She huffs indignantly, but I can tell that she’s trying not to laugh. “You’re the worst.”
“But the best husband,” I add with a wink. “You can’t forget that!”
Wren blows a whistle and waves her hand in the air. “Guys! Look!”
For a minute there, I’d forgotten that other people exist. No big deal. Not a sign that I might secretly have feelings for my fake wife. Definitely not that.
We all turn to see a float shaped like a giant recliner. It’s covered in plush fabric and there’s a big-screen TV mounted on the back. A man in a bathrobe and slippers lounges on the chair, holding a remote and sipping what looks like hot cocoa. The whole thing slowly tilts back. The crowd goes wild.
“That is some next-level laziness.” Ryan sounds almost reverent.
Calla leans in close to me. “Imagine the craftsmanship that went into that.” Her breath brushes my ear.
“Yeah. It’s… impressive.” I focus on the float as it tilts back even farther. The crowd’s cheers grow louder. I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Calla grabs my hand and squeezes. “I’m glad we came.”
“Me too.” I mean it. I wink at her, then turn my head, craning to see the next float in the parade. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something I wasn’t expecting.
Ryan and Wren stand off to the side, looking like a married couple entering their fortieth year of constant bickering. Wren picks at her nails and looks agitated. Ryan stares off into the distance. It’s obvious that they’ve just had words.
“Hey, you two!” I call out. “Why the long faces?”
Ryan shrugs. “Just taking a breather.”
I look at Wren. She won’t meet my eyes. “Wren, what’s up? Why are you being so weird?”
She looks up sharply. “Maybe I’m just tired, Jay. Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe you should mind your own business.”
I’m stunned. Wren has never talked to me like this. She’s my little sister. I’m supposed to know what’s going on with her. “Wren, I?—”
“Forget it.” She walks away. “You two both suck.”
I look at Ryan. He just shakes his head. “Don’t look at me, dude.”
The parade’s cheerful chaos swirls around us. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
“She didn’t mean it.” Calla puts a hand on my arm. “Whatever it is, she’ll come around.”
“I just don’t get why she’s angry at me.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to be mad at someone else than to deal with what’s really bothering you. And maybe it’s not about you at all.”
I see the concern in her hazel eyes. She’s probably right. She usually is. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
After the floats, there are costumed groups to contend with. The Snuggie Squad marches by first. A phalanx of people in matching Snuggies marches by holding remote controls and oversized popcorn buckets. They wave lazily. The crowd responds with half-hearted cheer .
Next come the Sleeping Beauties. They’re dressed in pajamas and sleep masks, with intentionally messy bedheads. They carry pillows and blankets. Some of them yawn and stretch as they walk.
Calla tugs on my hand. “I’m hungry.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea.” I give her a mischievous smile. “The food booths here are amazing. Come on.”
Calla and I stroll through the gaps in the parade. We weave between clusters of people in costume, eventually catching up with Ryan, Bennett, and Wren. They’re standing in line for a food truck.
Ryan is poking fun at Wren for something. She fidgets with her glasses, looking anywhere but at him. I brace myself for another explosion, but she just mutters something and shrugs. Ryan lets it drop.
“Hey, remember the time Jay tried to start a food truck?” Bennett’s eyes light up with mischief as he catches sight of me.
I groan. “Oh, come on. Not this again.”
Calla looks at me, curious. “You had a food truck?”
Ryan laughs. “’Had’ is a strong word. He rented one for a week, thinking he could make a killing selling goji berry smoothies.”
“Goji berries are good for you.” I sound defensive.
Bennett smirks. “But they taste terrible. That’s okay, though, because in order to find out how bad they taste, someone would have had to actually buy one from you. You sold this many.” He makes a zero with his hand and holds it up to his face.
“They weren’t that terrible. Just verrrry sour. I figured I could just skip adding sweetener and I’d be fine.”
Bennett grins and jabs his thumb at me. “ This guy, am I right?”
I can see Calla trying to picture me as a failed food truck entrepreneur. She’s probably wondering why I never mentioned it. The truth is, it’s one of those stories that’s more painful than funny. At least for me.
“So, what happened?” Calla tilts her head.
Ryan grins. “One guy tried a sample and spat it out. It was all downhill from there.”
Calla laughs softly. It’s sympathetic. I can tell she’s holding back, trying to gauge how I feel about the whole thing. It’s weirdly comforting.
We order some snacks. Nachos, corndogs, and something called a “deep-fried couch cushion” that turns out to be a massive, pillow-like piece of dough filled with cheese and bacon. We find a spot on the grass and sit down, forming a loose circle.
As the banter continues, I notice that Calla is fitting right in. She rolls with the punches, even throwing a few jabs of her own. When Ryan and Bennett gang up on me, she doesn’t pile on. Instead, she watches. She’s learning our dynamics and our history.
“Remember when Jay tried to run a marathon without training?” Ryan’s grin says he’s winding up for a punchline.
“Oh god.” I cover my face with my hands. “Please, no.”
Bennett takes over. “He made it to mile five and called us to pick him up. He was crying like a baby.”
“I was not crying.” I sit up straighter. “I was sweating from my eyes.”
Calla looks at me, then at Ryan and Bennett. “You guys are really mean to my husband.” Her voice has a playful edge. “I hope you realize that.”
Ryan waves it off. “It’s all in good fun. Jay knows we would walk through fire for him.”
“Would you?” Calla raises an eyebrow. “Because it sounds like jealousy to me. Maybe you’re just envious of his goji berry empire and his marathon medals.”
There’s a moment of silence as Ryan and Bennett try to figure out if she’s serious. I hold my breath, wondering the same thing.
Bennett laughs. “She’s got us figured out.”
We inhale our treats and Calla insists on seconds. As we make our second pass through the food booth offerings, I’m struck by something. Calla is in the middle of describing a funny anecdote to me. I’m not listening to her, not precisely. Instead, I’m thinking about how easy it is to talk to her. There’s a rhythm to our banter, a natural flow that feels… good. She’s not as guarded as she usually is. She’s goofy and funny and sweet. I like this side of her
We stop at a booth called Marshmallow Mound, which is selling sweet potato pie loaded with torched marshmallows. I hesitate. "This might be overkill," I say as I eye the gooey mess.
"Come on." She nudges me. "You’re not eating the whole thing anyway. Just two bites."
"Two bites?"
"It’s a technique." She gives me a mock-serious look. "Two amazing bites of each thing. That way, you get the full experience without turning into a stuffed potato."
I raise an eyebrow. "Stuffed potato, huh?"
"Trust me. I’m a professional."
I hand over my money and grab a serving. When we head to find a seat, there are an insane number of people trying to squish into the tables set up for food booth customers. Ryan and Bennett are sitting at the very end of a table occupied by a group of people dressed in colorful inflatable hippo costumes. Wren is nowhere to be seen.
Ryan seems deep in conversation with Bennett, so I lead Calla to a table way on the other side. A group of people are just leaving and I snag a seat. Calla sits beside me, digging in with an enthusiasm that’s honestly kind of adorable. She takes her two bites, closing her eyes like she’s savoring some deep, existential truth.
I take my two bites. The pie is warm, gooey perfection. "Okay, I get it now. The two-bite thing is genius."
"I know. It really is."
The moment stretches into silence. It’s not awkward, though. Just… quiet. Comfortable. I find myself watching her, the way her face softens when she’s relaxed. She’s stunning. Not in an overdone, magazine-cover way, but in a way that feels real.
I nudge her with my elbow. "You’re not what I expected." The words come out before I can stop them. "You’re real, Calla. My ex... she was all about appearances. But you? You’re something else entirely."
She toys with the small gold cross around her neck. "Oh yeah?"
“Absolutely.” I smile. It’s not my usual ridiculous grin. It’s softer. "You’re full of surprises. You know that?"
She brushes it off with a faint smile. "I’ll take that as a compliment."
"Good." We start walking again. The silence between us doesn’t feel like something missing, but like something shared. For once, I don’t try to push it away. For the first time in a long time, I let the moment linger.
Stranger things have happened.