Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
With the lights low and the lively energy of the girls absent, Casey’s house feels smaller and less alive, like returning to your kindergarten classroom as an adult.
“Relax,” he says, motioning to the couch. His voice sounds different. Formal. He must feel it too. “I’ll get the drinks.”
I take my usual seat on the overstuffed sofa. How many nights have I spent in this room? Watching movies and sharing popcorn, my crush on Casey warming my cheeks every time our fingers touched in the bowl.
And before that, playing Nintendo with Ally when her hospital bed lined the wall.
“Do you think it’s too depressing for everyone, me being in the living room?
” Ally had asked, a Biore strip on her nose and a controller in her hand.
Fuzzy tufts of hair—the few patches chemo didn’t take—poked out from her knit beanie, framing her face.
“I look like shit. The UPS guy saw me yesterday, and I swear he cried in his truck afterwards.”
“He was probably just masturbating,” I said to comfort her. She laughed, and I tried not to notice how big her teeth looked, now that the rest of her was shrinking.
“Yeah, poor guy probably has a cancer fetish.”
“Please, dear god, tell me that’s not a thing,” I said, reclined on the seat nearest her hospital bed, my own Biore strip on my nose as we played Super Mario Bros.
“Oh, it’s a thing. My DMs are insane right now. It’s a shame I’m not single.” Her eyes slid over to me, considering. “Maybe you should shave your head.”
I touched my tight chignon, secured by an oversized bobby pin. I’d taken to wearing my hair that way ever since Ally lost hers. It didn’t feel right, having my hair down around her.
“It’s worth a shot.”
Our attention was pulled to the kitchen, as Sheila chased Zoe with a half-eaten sandwich.
“Clean your plate, dear, or no dessert,” Sheila said. “Wasting food is a sin.”
Next to me, Ally rolled her eyes, whispering, “I swear to god, if that woman ruins my girls’ satiety signals and condemns them to a life of Weight Watchers—”
“Sheila,” I said from the couch. “Zoe knows how big her stomach is. If she’s done, she can come play video games with us.”
Ally gave me a grateful look as Zoe grabbed her iPad and clambered onto the bed with her.
Sheila looked around the room uneasily. I imagined what she was taking in: IV bags dripping, machines beeping, and Ally’s palliative care nurse dozing in the corner.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in the downstairs bedroom, dear?” she said, wringing her hands. “Then we could shut the door when you nap.”
Ally looked around at the medical detritus taking over the living room, her eyes heavy.
“No,” I said, sharply dismissing the idea. “We’re all quite happy out here, aren’t we, Zoe?”
Zoe cuddled up closer to her mother, settling in to watch slime videos on YouTube.
“Apparently, you’re the boss,” Sheila said, slipping a beige purse on her arm. “I’m off to the market. There are no basics in this house. How am I supposed to cook anything?”
“Oh, if you’re going out,” Ally said, wincing when she sat up, “could you please pick up my facewash? I’ll text you the brand.”
“You can borrow my cold cream. It’s still a quarter full,” Sheila said, putting on her scarf by the door.
Ally stared at me, deadpan, then grabbed her morphine button and started clicking.
“Sheila, she doesn’t want to smell like camphor. She wants to smell like Jessica Alba,” I said, twisting on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just order it on Postmates. Ooh, we could get sundaes delivered too. Zoe, do you want some ice cream?”
Sheila murmured something about the problem with this generation as she fussed with her oversized winter coat. There was only a mild drizzle falling outside. Finally, she closed the door.
“How your perfect husband came out of that woman I will never understand,” I said when she’d gone.
“Thank you.” Ally reached over and gave my arm a little squeeze. “You’re so good at handling her.”
“Only because she isn’t my mother-in-law,” I said, starting a new life on Super Mario Bros. “It’s easy when you don’t have to worry about being polite.”
“No, it’s more than that. You’ve always been this way. Fearless.”
I turned to look at her, saving Princess Peach forgotten. Fearless? Is that how Ally sees me? Because that’s always how I’ve seen her.
She rested her head back on her pillow and stroked Zoe’s hair. Emma woke up crying from her baby swing, mighty sobs heaving from her chest. I brought her to Ally with a warm bottle.
“Formula,” Ally said, accepting her newborn and wrinkling her nose at the bottle. “She’s going to suck at fractions.”
“Yeah, well. You suck at them, too, so she would have anyway.”
Ally closed her eyes, both girls in her arms, a gentle smile spreading across her features. She sighed in abject bliss.
“I’m so lucky, Lauren. I’m the luckiest woman alive.”
I smiled, too, despite the emptiness growing inside of me. It got bigger and bigger as Ally’s illness progressed.
“Enough love for a hundred lifetimes,” she said as her eyes opened and rested on me. Her meds were kicking in; her voice went a bit breathy. “Love them back for me when I’m gone, OK?”
I nodded, my insides caving in with sadness. It wasn’t fair, Ally dying just as her babies were starting to live. Just when her family was complete.
“Enough love for a hundred lifetimes,” I whispered back.
In the present, Casey returns to the room with stemless glasses full of red wine. I swallow three mouthfuls before he even sits down.
“It’s so quiet when the girls aren’t here,” I say, not knowing where to look. Casey is looking directly at me.
“I don’t want to talk about them.”
My fingers tighten around the glass. “Oh?”
“We need to be brave and talk about the thing we never talk about.”
“Religion or politics?” I say to lighten the mood. To lead him away from the tender spot he’s headed.
“The night we slept together.” He tilts his head, giving me a contemplative gaze. “That was the night you told me we should just be friends.”
“I only said what we both were thinking.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head, “you didn’t. You kind of broke my heart.”
Casey rubs one eye, looking down and smiling like this is an admission he’s held for some time.
“You never said anything,” I say softly.
“Because you hurt my pride. I’d never been dumped before.” He exhales a little laugh, shaking his head and taking a sip. “It was brutal.”
I slide my fingertip across the rim of my glass, not meeting his eye. “OK. If we’re sharing about that night, then I guess I have something to admit too. You were my first.”
Casey’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, really? That night in the travel lodge was your first time? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was shy. Embarrassed. Part of me wanted to just get it over with, but I didn’t know how strong my emotions would be afterwards. It was all way too much for me. So I said we should just be friends.”
Casey takes it all in. “I just wish I’d known. I would have done a way better job.” He grins.
“You did just fine,” I say, blushing and bumping him with my shoulder. “Anyway, it all worked out the way it was meant to. You and Ally fell in love. It made me so happy, seeing you guys create this whole life for yourselves.”
Casey nods, sipping his wine, and we sit for a moment in thoughtful silence.
“It was probably good for me, you knocking me down a peg like that. It turned me into a nice guy.”
“You were always a nice guy, Casey,” I say. “Look how good you were to Ally.”
“Well, she must have thought so”—he shrugs—“if she still agreed to marry me knowing I slept with her best friend first.”
My head snaps up. “But Ally never knew about us. We agreed not to tell her.”
“She knew,” Casey says, his hand running through his hair. “Because I told her.”
The walls seem to dip toward me as I grip the couch. Ally knew?
“When?” I manage.
“Lauren, she was my girlfriend. And she flat-out asked me. I wasn’t going to lie to her.”
College graduation. Their wedding. The babies being born.
She knew. Ally always knew.
Sadness falls on his features like ash. “Look, I don’t want to talk about Ally tonight. I just …” He caresses a strand of hair behind my ear with long cool fingers, “I just … wanted to pick up where we left off.”
The air between us becomes thin. Harder to breathe.
“You look nice with your hair down,” he says. “And your new clothes.”
I adjust my shift dress. Helena was right. Dresses are just as effective at reducing decision fatigue as turtlenecks.
Casey leans in slowly. “You look … beautiful.”
I’m aware of the sound of the fabric cushion moving beneath us, and the slight stretch of my legs still up on the coffee table. His breath reaches me first, hot and grassy with alcohol vapor.
He’s centimeters away now, his eyelids at half-mast. An uneasiness ripples through me, like when you see something you aren’t meant to. The wires of a levitating magician, or the sausage being made. I close my eyes and lean toward him, too, meeting him halfway. Then our lips touch and—oh.
That’s what this feeling is.
It’s seeing the amorous side of someone you love—like a brother.
I pull back. “Casey, I think we should just be friends,” I say for the second time in our lives.
Casey leans back on the sofa, confused.
I set my glass down on the coffee table and shift so I’m facing him. “I know the mixed signals I’ve been throwing lately have been insane.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I’m not the only one. You’ve thrown a few yourself.”
“Maybe a few,” he admits, exhaling. “In my defense, that slow lift of the rain jacket hood is my best move.”
I smile. “It was a good move.”
“Then why didn’t it work?” He looks at me earnestly. “Whenever I’d try anything, you’d run away.”
I nod, looking down at my hands. That’s exactly what would happen.
But how can I explain it so he’ll understand?
“I think wanting you made me feel closer to Ally somehow. Like, if we fell in love, we could recreate what you two had and she wouldn’t really be gone.
” Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I knuckle them away.
“It’s pretty messed up, when you think about it. ”
Casey reaches forward and squeezes my hand. “We both leaned on each other. It wasn’t wrong.”
“Not at first,” I say. “But we let ourselves get so comfortable leaning on each other, we stopped growing.”
“Maybe that’s true. But it wasn’t our fault. We needed each other.”
“We did. But not anymore.” My eyes slip to the side, and I take a deep breath. “And while I do love you, I’m afraid I might be in love with someone else.”
His eyes grow wide. “Now that I wasn’t expecting.”
I wince. Casey is my best friend. The last thing I want to do is hurt him. “Are you mad at me?”
“No!” He sits up and sets his glass down too.
“Lauren, I’m happy for you. You’re right, we were there for each other when we needed to be.
But if you have the chance to be in love, you need to take it.
Even if it means rejecting me. Again.” He pulls me close to him, and we both lie back on the couch, his arm securely around my shoulder. I rest my head on it, my body relaxing.
“Thank you.”
“Like I said, we take care of each other. It’s what we do.” He kisses my head and then reaches for the remote to find a movie for us to watch. “I love you, Lauren. Like Ally used to say, enough for a hundred lifetimes.”
I take his hand in mine and hug it tightly to my chest. “I just want to really thank you for your service. And now, I release you,” I say, throwing his hand out from me with jazz hands.
“Did you really just Marie Kondo me, a whole person?”
“Yes. It was Maya’s idea,” I admit sheepishly.
“Now you’re free to go have a new life And you should do it quick, because Helena’s not the type of woman to put up with this situationship bullshit for long.
When she gets back to Seattle, you should give a real relationship with her a chance.
And when your mother comes to visit, set some boundaries for how she treats the woman in your life, because I won’t be there to do it for you. ”
Casey rolls his eyes. “Back to being my best friend for one second, and you’re already micromanaging my love life.”
“Yep,” I say, leaning forward to grab our wines. “You’re just lucky I’m so good at it.”