Chapter Twelve Randall
Walking away from Elise’s bedroom, throat filled with sand and pants too tight, is a form of sweet torture. The smell of her hair as I moved it to the side, the silky slope of her neck, the submission of her body as I wrote on her back. Marking her with my name felt good in all the worst ways. I didn’t trust myself not to take things further. Much further than any two people who promised to be friends without benefits should go.
Good thing I don’t need to worry about keeping up my end of the dinner conversation, because Elise and her friends can talk nonstop about everything under the sun. Conversations went from world politics to modernist drama to the history of James Bond. Elise tries to include me, but I barely keep up. It’s dizzying how smart all these people are.
There are other things I can do with my mouth. Mostly stuff it, because Geraldine made a feast. There are potstickers and tofu cubes, some kind of noodles with vegetables and sesame seeds, as well as stir-fry chicken that reminds me of restaurants with those big open grills. But way yummier.
“What’s your favorite dish?” Elise asks me. “Of all time.”
My usual meal involves a version of grilled meat, but that doesn’t seem worth saying.
“I’m really loving this tofu dish,” I answer honestly.
“The mapo tofu?” Geraldine asks. “That’s Elise and Lily’s favorite as well.”
My eyes are drawn to Lily who is expertly using her chopsticks with one hand and holding Naomi with another.
“What did you eat growing up?” Woody prompts, his arm slung over Lily’s chair possessively when he catches me looking in her direction.
It’s the baby that’s caught my eye. Naomi is hilariously milk-drunk, head lolling and eyelids drooping.
I remember him now. Woody was the guy who tried to talk Gordon down when my teammate was arguing with Lily. What a caveman.
You made the girl beside you wear a shirt with your name on it, you hypocrite. Well, shit.
“Um, a lot of salmon I guess.” Too much, if my current aversion to fish is any indication.
“He grew up in a fishing village,” Elise explains to her friends.
Wow, she’s really stuck on that detail.
“Where?” Sienna follows up.
I go into the usual spiel about the location of Steveston Village, but since I haven’t carried my part in the conversation so far, I dig into trivia.
“You know the television show Once Upon a Time? It’s a redo of fairy tale characters who end up in a town during present day. Well, they filmed it there.”
“Really?” Amber says. “That’s so charming!”
“You never told me that.” Elise nudges me with her elbow.
“Do you watch the show?” I nudge her back.
“No,” she says with a chuckle. “But I’ve seen snippets.”
“You look like the guy who played Prince Charming,” Hailee comments, pointing her chopsticks in my direction.
“Thanks, I guess?”
“Do you go home often, when you’re not playing hockey?” Geraldine asks and I hear something in her voice. Not cold, exactly, but assessing. Like she’s going through a checklist in her brain and my answers will tick the right boxes. Or they won’t.
“I, um, as much as I can.”
“Do you know what you’re wearing tomorrow night?” Elise asks her mom casually.
I feel her hand squeeze my leg. She could tell I didn’t want to say more about where I’m from. It isn’t shame or anger that makes me pause. Nothing that dramatic. But talking about the family I left behind makes me feel…small. I’m grateful for the change of subject.
“I showed you today,” her mother answers with a puzzled expression.
“Oh, right! I won’t wear my black dress; it looks too similar. I was thinking the red dress with the neckline?” Elise moves her hand in a sawing motion across her chest.
“Red looks good on you,” I blurt.
“Yeah?” she turns my way and I catch the flush of her cheeks.
“The off-the-shoulder one?” Sienna asks. “I love that one on you!”
“It’s gorgeous,” Lily gushes. I don’t doubt it for one second. “I’ll put your hair up.”
“Thanks, hon,” Elise says to Lily.
“What’s the occasion? It sounds formal.” Getting hair done is for formal parties, right?
Suddenly, the thought of Elise in a fancy red dress creates a log jam in my throat. I take a big gulp of beer so quickly, the fizz goes up my nose. Smooth dinner manners are clearly not my specialty.
“It’s the annual YMCA fundraiser. My mom has helped with the silent auction for years. That’s the big draw.”
“Great. Awesome.” I sound like a dork, fighting a new surge of insecurity and inadequacy. I’m out of my league, having dinner with generous people who serve the community, have exciting careers, and say super-smart shit.
Meanwhile, I’m wondering how hot Elise will look tomorrow when the whole point of the event is charity. I can’t help it, though. The thought of Elise dressed up for a party without me feels like a fish bone in my throat that I’m forced to swallow.
“Can I make a donation?” I ask.
“You don’t have to,” Elise says.
“I want to. I can Venmo money or whatever.”
“You can do that any time. It doesn’t have anything to do with the silent auction,” Woody says with a smirk.
Not helpful, man.
“Although…” Geraldine’s voice lingers. “If you’re serious about helping, event tickets always do well. We don’t have anything that represents the Mavericks. Maybe you can donate tickets to a game?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” I nod.
Elise whines, “Oh, c’mon, Ma!”
“What? He wants to help,” Geraldine says with a smile. “It is for a good cause. You know the YMCA offered the first theater camp Lily and Elise ever attended? They aren’t just for after-school sports, which is what most people think.”
“Count me in. We’re in the playoffs now, so it’ll be worth a lot to some people.”
“What if it’s sold out?” Elise asks. “I don’t want you to call in favors.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. If there aren’t any seats, I can swing tickets to the player family box. They do this sort of thing for charities all the time. How do I get the tickets to you?”
“You should come to the event,” Sienna offers.
“Can he get a seat at our table, then?” Elise asks her mom and then looks at me. “If you want to. I mean, you might be busy.”
“Coach doesn’t want us around town between playoff games, but I’d love to stop by and offer the donation,” I explain regrettably. “I’ll bring the tickets tomorrow night, if you’ll have me.”
Even if I can’t stay, I want to see Elise in her red dress and with her hair up.
“That’s wonderful!” Geraldine says while clapping her hands. “Thank you, Randall.” Her smile is warm.
Maybe I checked at least one box tonight.