Chapter 24 Audrey
Audrey
Sunday morning, reunion weekend
The sun creeps over the horizon, the light slipping into my bedroom like a stealthy cat, nudging me into awareness.
I’m on the left side of the bed, staring at my closet.
I’m here. No fog, no dead zone. It’s the end of reunion weekend.
Today, Beck and Jasmine will leave. Micah will go back to her bakery and life.
Kylo will come home from her weekend at Everest’s house and be pissy and remote.
I remember having dinner last night—Everest and Kylo joined us, for some reason.
I remember glamming up, going to the reunion with the Core Four and Stephen.
I remember talking with a woman who had very sharp incisors .
. . Alice Forneau. And Derek Shields! Yes, I remember dancing with him, his nice smell, his solid shoulders and excellent flirting.
And there was another guy . . . or maybe it was Derek.
His voice had been familiar, but I couldn’t place him, and I’d been too embarrassed to admit it.
I’ll have to ask the girls, because I got all the feels.
The tightening in the stomach, the tingling in my joints, that slow melting feeling. Utterly delicious.
But the rest of the night is smudgy, as if I’m trying to see it through a greasy window. I can remember shapes and snatches of music, but not much else. I don’t remember coming home or staying up late with the others.
Then my legs rub together, and I realize I’m not wearing pajamas. I always wear pajamas. I glance down at myself, my arms, my breasts.
I’m naked.
Holy shit. That guy I danced with . . . I left with him.
I brought him here. We had sex, which explains the nakedness.
Also, my body is languid and taut at the same time, my muscles heavy, my girl parts still tingling.
Slices of memory flash at me . . . Kissing in a car.
His hand under my dress. Stumbling upstairs because we couldn’t stop kissing, our mouths urgent.
Laughter and whispers and meltingly wonderful sex.
I sit up abruptly. The creature next to me is not Gracie. Nope, there’s a man next to me, lying on his stomach, his face turned away. He’s naked, too. His shoulders are muscled and gorgeous.
It’s Clay.
The man from last night was Clay. The one who said I was beautiful, who wanted to stop time as we slow-danced to Aerosmith, the one who kissed me in public. The one who made me feel safe.
My eyes flood with tears. I didn’t know who he was last night, but apparently, some part of me remembered that, once, I loved him.
I lay back down and inch a little closer to him, hoping he won’t wake up.
It’s been years since we had sex. Actual years.
Tears prickle, then slip out. I don’t want him to say anything that would sully this moment .
. . “Guess I had too much to drink last night,” or “Shit, I’ve got a lot to do today. ”
He stirs, turning his head to look at me. “Hey,” he says with that little half grin I remember well.
“Hey.”
We look at each other for a minute or two.
“I sure had fun last night,” he says, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. He used to do that a lot.
“Me, too,” I whisper.
“I wasn’t sure if this would be, uh . . . welcome,” he says. “You know. Since the diagnosis. I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”
“It was very welcome,” I say.
Years of tension, of benign neglect, of disagreeing about Mathilda, of the gap that grew between us . . . all of that falls away.
But there is one thing I have to ask. “Clay . . . please be honest about this. Did you . . . are you seeing someone?”
“What? No! Why would you think that, darlin’?”
I look at his chin, his throat, so familiar. “I found a dating profile on your computer. Not in an app, just typed out on the screen. Widower, father of teenage daughter. That kind of thing.”
“I haven’t even thought about dating, Audrey. Not for one second.” He gives an irritated shake of his head. “It’s probably somethin’ Mattie did to get your goat. Wouldn’t put it past her, tryin’ to get us to fight about something.”
“She doesn’t know about me, right? You haven’t said anything?”
A softness comes over his face, and he cups my cheek with one hand. “No, baby. You asked me not to, and so I didn’t. I’m tryin’ to be whatever you need these days. Whatever that is.”
I swallow. “You’re doing great,” I whisper.
It may have been that Clay really did love me. Not the perfect, shimmering love he had for Caroline, but real love even so. And maybe that love isn’t dead yet.
It’s so horribly bittersweet that I don’t know what to do with it.
But Clay wraps his arms around me and holds me close, kisses my head and says nothing.
I’m glad, because I don’t have the words to describe this feeling of loss and love.
It doesn’t change anything. I’m still going to die soon, if I’m lucky, or melt away and linger in confusion and fear if I’m not.
We don’t have the future to fix things. The dead zones and fogs are coming more frequently, and if I want to go out on my own terms, I can’t wait much longer.
But we had last night, and we have right now. I wanted to feel like I was in love, and right now, I do. I am. That’s worth something. It’s worth a lot.
I kiss my husband, wriggle on top of him and let my hands wander through his hair, alongside his face. I trail my fingertips down his neck and along his collarbone and explore his chest, and I bend to kiss him. We might be crying a little, because we both know this could be the last time.
Clay pulls on his clothes from last night and says he’ll meet me downstairs before our guests leave. I watch him walk across the lawn to the guesthouse above the barn, bemused. Then I shower and dress and swallow the lump in my throat.
It’s over now, this weekend. I asked them to come back, and they did. For me. For the Core Four.
As I come into the kitchen, coffee and laughter and a huge platter of muffins greet me. “Here she is!” Jasmine announces. “The walk of shame, and look how radiant she is! Auds, you’re glowing.” She hands me a cup of coffee, and I feel myself blush as I add cream and sugar.
“Hooking up with your own husband,” Beck says. “So subversive. Derek Shields was really disappointed, I think.”
“Hush, you guys,” I say, grabbing a muffin. “Did you have fun last night?”
“Not as much as you,” Micah said. “I sent my husband home so I could hang out with my friends, like a normal person. So how was it? And listen, none of us heard anything this morning, hand to God.”
They burst into laughter, and I smile and feel my cheeks warm. Mr. Littlejeans leaps onto my lap, and I pet him.
Then Stephen comes in. “How you doing, sis?” he asks. “Clay took you home early . . . Everything okay?”
“Oh, everything is more than okay, Stephen,” Micah says, and I choke on my coffee. “Clay took good care of your sister. How about you? How many women made a pass at you last night, not counting Beck?”
“Hey! I was very well behaved,” Beck says.
“Yes, but how many?” Jasmine asks.
“Six,” Stephen says. “Including Hattie Miller, who informed me she’s no longer a racist.”
“Wow, that’s so hot. How could you resist?” I say, feeling so much myself right now.
Clay comes in a few minutes later with Gracie and accepts the teasing about stealing me away from the dance.
He grins and takes it well, his eyes meeting mine.
It occurs to me that he’s never seen me like this before, surrounded by friends, more confident and cheeky because of their presence.
But then his phone chimes, and he looks down at it.
“If y’all will excuse me, I gotta take a call,” he says, and goes outside.
Quiet falls gently around the table my grandfather made. We’re all aware that things are winding down.
“What time do you have to be on the road?” I ask after a minute.
Jasmine glances at her watch. “Pretty soon, actually. My oldest has a lacrosse game this afternoon, and I’d like to catch at least part of it. Beck, I can take you to Stamford and you can grab the train from there.”
“That’d be great,” Beck says. Her eyes go to Stephen. Will they get back together? Will I be alive to see it?
“So,” I say, and the nerves start prickling my feet, moving upward.
“I . . . I don’t think I’ve got a lot of time left.
” I can’t look at Stephen. “The episodes have been happening more over the past month, and I don’t want to miss my, um, my window of opportunity.
So I probably won’t see you three again. ”
“Don’t be stupid. I live right here,” Micah says. Her eyes are full of tears. “I’ll come by every day.”
“Right. Well.”
Jasmine leans forward and puts her well-manicured hand on mine.
“Audrey, please think about this more. There could be plenty more good days ahead, days like this. You’ll be taking those away from your family and yourself if you go ahead with your plan.
My brother and I got so close those last few weeks.
I’d have given anything for another month or two. ”
“But this isn’t cancer,” Micah says gently.
“Jasmine has a point,” Stephen says, and his face is so sad. “You know I’d take good care of you, sis.”
“I’m the big sister,” I whisper. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“And you did. You did that brilliantly. So maybe it’s my turn.”
“We would all help,” Beck says, tears sliding down her cheeks. “We’ve got you, Auds. We’ll help Stephen and Clay, and—”
I close my eyes. “Please. I’ve done the reading and watched the documentaries where family members say how hard it is to lose someone before they’re dead.
I don’t want that. When Mom died, it was awful.
But we got to keep the memory of her the way she was.
Not some lesser version of her. She’ll always be the perfect mom because of that. ”