Chapter 23 Audrey #2
Jasmine is very popular tonight, especially in that dress.
She doesn’t want people to think of her as anything like her mother.
That’s why she works so hard in school. She got an A- on a paper the other day, and she was crying in the bathroom because she was afraid it would hurt her GPA, and she needs it to be perfect.
I said she should talk to Mrs. Lanouette and see if she could do some extra credit.
Poor Jasmine. Not everyone is as lucky as I am.
Wait. No. We’re in the high school, but we’re not high school students.
Shit. The fog is coming back. It’s too loud in here, too many people. Stephen is talking to someone, and I inch a little closer. He puts his arm around me and pauses.
“Audrey!” the woman says. Her teeth are so whitened they almost give off light. “It’s so nice to see you! What’s going on with you? You look wonderful!”
“Oh, you know,” I say, fumbling for her name. Alexandra? Allison? I don’t remember her face, either. “Just life, I guess.” I’m fairly sure she didn’t stay local.
“Married? Kids?” Her smile looks feral now, and I’m a little afraid.
Stephen jumps in smoothly. “She’s given me the prettiest niece in the world, and her husband is a master carpenter here in Stafford.”
“That sounds very impressive,” the woman says.
“Thank you,” I say. “How about you? Where do you live now?”
“Texas, believe it or not. And let me tell you, coming back to Vermont in the fall was a bad idea. I don’t know if I can stand the thought of going back to Houston after this weekend!”
“The weather sure has been gorgeous,” Stephen says. “Hey, Alice, great catching up.”
“You, too,” she says, starting to turn away.
Then she catches herself and looks back at us.
“By the way, if I never said it back then, I’ll say it now.
We were all jealous of you two, how well you got along.
I mean, who really adores her little brother in high school?
And you still do, don’t you, Audrey? It’s lovely.
So nice to see you both.” She drifts away.
Stephen looks down at me, his eyes suspiciously shiny.
“We really are the best,” I say, and he smiles.
“We are,” he says. “Hey. I visited Nurse Jane today. Remember her? She worked with Mom. The APRN?”
“What does that stand for?” I wave to a man who’s making eye contact. “Do you know that guy?”
“I don’t think so,” he says.
“Sorry. You were talking about something else.” I can’t remember what, though.
“A conversation I had with Nurse Jane. It can wait. How about some water, sis?”
“Sounds great. Thanks.” I sit down at a table and watch him head toward the bar.
It occurs to me that I’ll probably never be at another event with Stephen, my funeral aside.
The woman—Alice Forneau, now I remember—was right.
And while he’s always had a wide circle of friends and colleagues, I know I’m his best friend.
Beck sits down next to me.
“Will you check on Stephen after I’m gone?” I ask her.
Her eyes flood with tears. “Of course,” she whispers.
“Did you love him?”
She gives a little smile. “I did. First love, you know? It packs a punch.”
“But you can be his friend? Make sure he’s not too lonely? You guys always got along great.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Beck says. “He’s . . . he’s easy to talk to. We’ve already said we want to stay in touch.”
“Thank you.” My throat is tight, and my eyes sting.
The first night my brother came to us, Mom let me sleep on the floor next to his bed so he wouldn’t be alone.
In the morning, my arm was asleep. I’d reached up to hold his hand sometime during the night, because he’d woken up, confused about where he was.
I remember how he’d grin up at me, back when he was shorter, his brown eyes so pretty, those curly lashes.
Whatever I suggested we do—make a fort, play in the stream, pretend to be cats—he always thought it was the best.
Beck hands me a napkin because I’m crying. “Get it together, Porter,” she says, and I laugh-cry and blow my nose.
Jasmine and Micah are heading for our table, a blond man between them. He looks familiar. Micro-memories flash in my head—a white couch, a school hallway, a kiss on the cheek.
Derek Shields.
Feel like I’m in love.
I want that again, that swoosh of attraction, the thrum of energy and coiled lust. The way I felt when Clay and I were dating, before living together and parenting drowned whatever feelings I’d had for him. Before I realized he’d married me to fill a role, not necessarily because of who I was.
“Derek!” I say, standing up as he gets to the table. “Oh my gosh!”
“Audrey Porter. You look exactly the same. Still so pretty.”
He looks better. He was a handsome guy at eighteen, but at forty-three, he’s gorgeous.
He hugs me, and yes, there’s the whoosh, like a seedling bursting from the earth and reaching for the sun.
He smells wonderful, and it is not at all unpleasant to be pressed against his solid chest. We part, and he asks if he can sit with us.
“Of course, of course,” Jasmine says. “Your name may have come up in conversation this weekend.”
“Talking about me? I love it,” Derek says.
“You guys had a thing, didn’t you?” Micah said. “I swear, you were always sneaking looks at each other.”
“Well, I was definitely always sneaking looks at her,” Derek says, and there’s some gallantry in that statement.
I stare at him happily, half listening as the other three pepper him with benign chatter .
. . Where does he live (Boston and the Vineyard), marital status (divorced), children (two), job (who cares).
He keeps glancing at me, smiling, and even covers my hand with his.
“It’s so good to see you again. I can’t believe it’s been so long.
” He does not bring up my mother, and I’m grateful.
I want to remember instead the tremor and heat he caused those last few months of our senior year, the thrill of him saying hello to me, the full-body flush a half smile could give me.