Chapter 20
TWENTY
Alex
I like this. Okay fine. I more than like this. We’re roaming the aisles of the Robles Safeway, two carts deep. His and hers. Each aisle we go down inevitably leads to questions and then often devolves into laughter. I haven’t even consciously thought of how many exits there are or counted windows once today.
“What’s your favorite movie snack?” I ask her in the candy aisle.
“Sno-Caps.”
I look at her incredulously. “So basically just chocolate chips?”
“They are not just chocolate chips!”
I open my phone and google “are Sno-Caps basically chocolate chips?” The answer is overwhelmingly yes. I hold my phone up for her .
“Fine, what’s yours? And if it’s Jujubes, the wedding’s off.”
I laugh. “Fuck no. It’s just Red Vines. Like a normal human being.” I grab a couple packs of Red Vines…and a couple boxes of Sno-Caps, and she smiles when she sees them in the cart.
“Do you know what time Caleb is coming tonight?” she asks. “Should I cook dinner?” Blanks will be here when Blanks will be here. I stopped asking about estimated arrival times years ago.
“No clue, but I was planning to cook.” I motion down at the wrapped steaks in my cart.
“You’re cooking?” She’s shocked.
“Yeah?” She comes to a full stop mid-aisle. “What?” I ask again.
“You, just…you surprise me. A lot, actually.” I hope it's in the good way, but I don’t ask. Instead, I pull her into me and drop a kiss on her pillow-soft lips.
Eden squeals at the lack of attention, and I separate her body from mine. It’s hard to do.
“Why do you call Caleb ‘Blanks’?” That’s what she’s thinking about? After I kiss her?
“It’s an old Army nickname.”
“Yeah, but why Blanks?”
“Because he’s shooting blanks, and it was when he was like 20 years old, and the nickname just stuck.”
“Oh, like…he can’t have kids?” Not a fan of this conversation. Feels like a betrayal to talk about this behind his back.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. I can’t remember how he found out, something about a delayed growth spurt in his teenage years and his parents took him for testing. It didn’t bother him then. I think it bothers him now, which is why I don’t like talking about it. Also feel like maybe the nickname doesn’t hit like it used to.
“Oh.” She says a bit sadly. It makes me wonder, though.
“Do you want more kids?” We turn onto the frozen aisle, our trip almost complete.
“I don’t know, honestly. I think it could go either way at this point, but if I had to choose right this minute, I’d say no.” Hmm . Okay.
“Do you? Want more kids?” She doesn’t look at me when she asks. She’s busy taking in the frozen fruit. More kids, as in addition to Eden? Or as in addition to Tally? I don’t get the nerve to ask.
“Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.”
She nods, and then we don’t talk the rest of the time. Not until we’re in the car and headed back home.
“Hey,” we both start at the same time, then laugh.
“You go first,” again it comes out at the same time. Jess smiles then uses her hand to zip her lips shut.
I nod. “I just wanted to say, I had fun. Being with you today.” I reach over and place my hand on her thigh, giving her a squeeze. I’m fucking trying. My natural instinct is to not say anything, but I want Jess to know I like this. Because I more than like this. I like this more than anything.
“Oh, yeah. Same. It was nice.”
“Okay. Now what were you going to say?”
She gets a shy smile and says, “I forgot.” Bullshit. But when she lets my hand stay on her leg, slides her fingers in between mine and holds on tight, I don’t push it. I relish the feel of her wanting me .
Eden is still racked out when we pull into the drive at the house, so while she gets E, I work on unloading the groceries, putting some in the outside fridge and freezer and taking things for dinner inside. I’d done a basics run before Jess got here. Flour, ketchup, milk, bread — that sort of shit. But now, without the extra storage, we’d be out of room. There’s a whole flat of yogurt pouches and applesauce taking over shelves, and it’s weird to think this is my life now. This is my life…again.
I get everything put away, but when Jess doesn’t come down, I go in search of her. I listen outside her door for a minute, and I can tell she’s on the phone. I should just keep walking, but call it spidey senses, a gut feeling, I stand at her door and lean closer.
“I’m so sorry, Damian.” The fuck? “Can you come for Thanksgiving? Please?”
“We could probably sneak off for a little bit, at some point. Or maybe you could just stay with us?” I feel like I could light a match and let this whole fucking place burn without an ounce of remorse. There’d just be more rage.
My hands shake as I walk to my room. Are him and her…? I can’t even fucking think it without wanting to send a fist through the wall.
Instead of annihilating the freshly painted walls, I head back downstairs and out the side of the garage to the area where I’ve been splitting and storing firewood. I set a log down and rear back, letting the ax fall far more forcefully than necessary, channeling the frustration I’m feeling into the act of chopping wood.
Thwack . The sound of the ax splitting down the log and ending with a loud crack feels slightly satisfying .
She’s still the same Jess. I might be different. She makes me different, but she’s still exactly the same.
You think you deserve more than this? Ray's voice echoes in my mind, bouncing off my skull painfully. I raise the ax, mirroring the mental image in my mind of Ray raising a hand to me. This is exactly what you deserve. And as the ax falls, so does the back of his hand. Thwack. Crack.
I’ve worked hard to keep that voice at bay. The one that tells me I’m nothing. I’m worthless. I’m deserving of the hurt and pain. Once the memory finds me, though, it's not enough for it to play just once through my mind. It’ll be stuck on replay until I can work it out of my system. So I commit to working through the wood before me. It’s a lot. That’s okay. Perfect even.
I raise my ax, I see a hand. I fell a log, I see 8-year-old Alex fall back. Again and again and again. I hear the voice: You’re stupid. You’re a fool. Again and again.
The memories would come when I was with Amy, too. Except back then it was near constant. The only way to get it to stop would be to disengage with the outside world, or to be engaged at work. On occasion she could pull me out of it, but then something would trigger me, and I’d retreat again.
When my long-sleeved shirt gets soaked, I shed it. When my hair won’t stay out of my eyes, I walk and get my hat out of my Jeep.
She’s gonna make a fool of you. Thwack. Crack. The voice is still there.
You think someone like her could ever love you? Thwack. Crack.
Shoot, boy, she seems pretty shitty herself. Maybe the two of you actually deserve each other. Thwack. Crack .
I yell out at the last words that are a blend of Ray’s voice and my own. And I hate that. I fucking hate that I could ever think something he would. That I could ever be like him. I slam the ax down with a massive crack, lodging it deep into the stump.
“You wanna talk this out?” Blanks says from where he’s leaned up against the garage. My face softens slightly. When he’s out of New York, he’s the Blanks I’ve always known. Humble. Small town boy. Orphaned at 17. Only child, but still a positive outlook on life. He also stops dressing like a tool bag, too. He’s got on a plain sweatshirt, jeans, and boots. Normal shit.
I nod over at him, but don’t say anything. He knows the drill.
“Alright, then.” He pushes up his sleeves. “You wanna fight?” Yes .
“No.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
“Alright,” Blanks says, meeting me in the semi-clear area where I chop. We circle each other like we used to, trying to take one another down. “Is it family drama?” He circles me and makes a swipe that I lean away from to avoid.
“No,” I say, circling him, then taking my own swipe that he escapes.
“Ahh, woman drama.” I don’t say anything, and he swipes my leg out from underneath me, laying me out. Instead of advancing, he hovers over me. He doesn’t have to say it, it’s there in his look. Man the fuck up. Whatever it is, it’s been long enough that you need to get over it so you don’t fuck this up .
He offers me a hand as he says, “Don’t fuck it up.” Echoing the already clear sentiment. If I were in a better mood, I’d pull his ass to the ground and get him in a headlock, but I don’t.
As I’m standing up, I realize the chatter in my mind has quieted back down. My blood has lowered from a boil to a simmer, and I’m ready to go have a conversation with the woman who officially owns me completely.
“Hey.” I nod at her from the bathroom entrance, then throw on a fresh t-shirt from my closet. She’s unpacking her toiletries, setting her toothbrush on my bathroom counter. She’s wearing the same baggy jeans and sweater as she was at lunch, but seeing her barefoot, in our bathroom, looking entirely at home, comfortable and happy — it makes me want to curl in on myself and die.
“Hi,” she smiles back at me. A smile that damn near brings me to my knees.
“I need you to be honest with me, Jess. You’re about to come to my family’s Thanksgiving tomorrow. We’re either doing this or we aren’t, but you have to be honest with me.” I can see she’s surprised by my tone. I’m not saying it harshly, though a part of me wants to. It’s just that the subtleness of the Alex I am with Jess has sloughed off. This is the voice of the man who’s hated her for years. And that’s what surprises her, I think. That that person who’s been tucked away is still here. I don’t want this version of me to exist at all, but then I overhear her talking to Damian a certain way and I revert easily .
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Her smile falls, and her tone chills. It’s in the same tone as the woman who has hated me back, and not the woman I’m probably completely in love with now.
“You don’t have to be, is the point. Do you want to be here? With me?” My tone is even harder than it was before.
“I mean, no one else is offering to help…”
Ouch. That’s all this is then? I knew that’s probably all this was.
“Are you fucking Damian? Because if you are, honestly, ask him for help.” I don’t wait for her to answer, I just turn around and leave. My chest feels like it’s being ripped apart. All over again.
Blanks is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, hands in pockets, a sorry look on his face that I’m back so soon.
“Let’s head to Brit’s. She’ll be excited to see you.” My hands fucking tremble as I grab my keys to the Jeep. Blanks doesn’t say a thing. He just follows behind me looking slightly sorry he ever came here. Same, bro.
They never lock their fucking doors.
“Hello!” I push open the large front door to a house that looks like a modern-day Norman Rockwell scene. Liam’s in the living room reading the newspaper and Brit is trimming an oversized Christmas tree. Elodie is playing with their puppy while Caroline threads popcorn onto string to hang on the tree.
The sight makes my jaw clench. Hate this fucking feeling. It’s jealousy .
“Hey!” Brit says, looking briefly over her shoulder, then back again in a quick double take. “Alex! You didn’t tell me Caleb was coming! Oh my god!” She gets off her step stool and rushes over.
“Caleb!” she squeals, hugging him. Or trying to hug him as best she can with her pregnant belly. Blanks pulls her in tight, picking her feet up off the ground, a stupid grin on his face. Liam sees the exchange and sets down his newspaper to stare at the new guy.
I clear my throat. “That’s enough, Caleb,” I say under my breath and he releases her.
“It’s been like eight years since the last time I saw you.” Brit looks at him the same way you would a long lost friend. He looks back on her the same.
“Seven years, actually. Almost to the day,” Blanks says, giving her a wink. Then Liam is standing up from his chair. Here we go.
“Cough—cool it—cough,” I get out under my breath and Brit laughs at me.
“Hey, aren’t you sick or something?” I ask Brit and her cheeks turn rosy.
“Yeah, I’m better now.” My ass.
“Still pissed then?” I ask.
She shrugs, but brushes it under the rug by grabbing Blanks’ hand. She quickly introduces him to Liam and the girls, then drags him to the kitchen.
“You have to meet Carly.”
“Why’s that?” Blanks follows her like a puppy.
“Well, for one, she’s hot. Two, she’s probably the best chef in the world. And three, she’s gonna love you.”
Blanks laughs at Brit. “Well, alright then.” And with the southern twang he only l ets out when he’s with his people, he sounds and looks like a dark-haired Matthew McCounaghey.
Liam glares at me. “Who the fuck’s that?”
“Best friend from the Army. Also my business partner.”
Liam nods, then grunts. “He’s a handsy little shit.”
I actually laugh. It was the right call coming here. I can decompress. I can help the girls with something and feel useful. Liam will probably pour me a drink.
“Happy early Thanksgiving! You want a glass?” he asks me right on schedule with a pat on the back, and I nod.
“Hey, C.” I ruffle her hair as I pass her in the living room to take a seat by Elodie who’s playing fetch with their golden, Luna. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Hey, Al. Look what Luna just learned!” Elodie proceeds to show me the dog's astounding capability to roll over on command.
“Wow, would you look at that?”
“Where’s Jess? And Eden?” Caroline looks up from her threading project to ask.
There’s that guilty feeling. I didn’t even tell her where I was going, but she also didn’t say anything when I asked if she was fucking their dad. Not that I gave her a ton of time to answer…
“Eden’s napping.”
Caroline nods like she doesn’t believe me. And she shouldn’t, so I’m oddly proud of her for that.
“Where’s your dad?” I ask both girls and they exchange strange glances. “Girls?” I ask again when they don’t say anything.
“Summer dumped him.” Elodie whispers it like it isn’t widely known. Well, of c ourse Summer did. And fucking of course he’s single.
“Why are we whispering?” I ask back.
“Because mom doesn’t know and Dad said not to tell her. He wants to do it.” I roll my eyes. The Damian ship sailed a long time ago for Brit. I don’t know what the fuck he’s playing at other than maybe he’s ashamed at how it all turned out. He left Brit for Summer. So Brit went out and found the love of her life. And now she’s having Liam’s baby, and Summer is dumping him. I don’t want to say karma, but… if the shoe fucking fits, you know?
Caroline notices my eye roll and says, “I know, right?” Then rolls her own eyes. I think Caroline tolerated Summer. At best.
Liam sets a pair of glasses down on the coffee table, sliding one in front of me, then clinking his glass against mine in a cheers.
“Cheers, brother.” Liam and the Scala clan have folded me into their brO-therhood. Well, most of the Scala clan. Last I heard Matt still has a chip on his shoulder about his broken nose.
“Cheers,” I say back.
“She love the house?” Jess . Pang of guilt. Again, fucking hate this.
“Yeah, man. I owe you.”
He shakes his head. “It’s what family’s for…but also if you could not bring over your centerfold, billionaire best friend to regale my wife with tales of his latest excursion to Everest, that’d be great, k?”
“Wife?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Wife,” he says smugly, holding up his left hand, showing me the gold band. Jess i s gonna be pissed. And hurt. Me, on the other hand, nothing but happy for Brit. Hate that I think about Jess’s reaction first, though. Huh .
“Well, congrats.” I say it sincerely and we clink glasses once more. I look at my nieces wondering if they’re good with it, and Elodie takes it as permission to launch into a spiel about how she got to be a maiden of honor with Caroline. I’ll ask Caroline later if she’s fine because she’s still just working away at her popcorn garland like the rest of us don’t even exist.
I stand up once Elodie is finished, and sit beside Caro.
“Teach me?” She nods, then pulls out another string and a needle and we sit in total silence, both of us getting lost in the monotony of stringing popcorn. It’s exactly the thing I need to take my mind off the fact that I’ll probably go home to an empty house later. And maybe this was my last chance at a family and I still can’t make it work. Probably didn’t deserve the last 24 hours, let alone a happily ever after.
Tally would be almost the same age as Caroline. They’d look similar, too, because Tally looked like Brit. It’s the exact reason I stayed away for so many years. Fucking painful to see what could have been.
Could have been my Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving.