Chapter 42
SAWYER
This was Brie’s Saturday night idea, I remind myself as we drive to the bowling alley in silence so thick that, for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m drowning.
The worst part is I have no idea what the problem is.
If I knew, we could work through it. I keep telling myself all she needs is time, but as time goes on she gets farther away.
I’ve tried coming up with new activities for us, thinking maybe the problem is my undivided attention, I was putting pressure on her without realizing it.
I thought if I could just get her out, she’d loosen up.
I’ve taken her to Moo Crew for ice cream, the April’s Fool festival, the farmers market, but it’s like I’m using the wrong playbook. She only grows more distant.
“We have a few minutes,” I say after I park at the bowling alley.
We’re meeting Dev and Tess. Even though I’m mere days away from a finished cabin, I jumped at the opportunity to spend tonight with Brie.
The cabin’s stifling. Every time I enter the living room, glance at the kitchen, look out the damn window, I think of Brie, laughing and beautiful and happy.
Although she’s anything but those things right now, I’d rather be here trying than there wishing.
Even if my determination is wearing thin.
“We can go ahead and find a lane, order some appetizers,” I say.
She nods.
Neither of us moves. I look straight ahead, racking my brain for how to bring some lightness to the evening. Nothing comes to mind. The tone is all wrong, anything I’d try would seem forced. Because it would be.
I look at her one more time. She’s staring out the window. My gut twists. I open the door and step out.
As we cross the parking lot of Soup’o’Bowl, the doors open to an outburst of families with younger children, heading home for a reasonable bedtime.
“Ms. Casey!”
Maeve Dragan, a student in Brie’s class, runs across the pavement, her two burly, leather-clad dads plodding after her. It’s a testament to Brie that Maeve, one of the shyer kids in third grade, is comfortable enough to barrel into her and wrap her arms around her waist.
“Hi, Maeve,” she says, squeezing back. Brie’s smile is warmer than I’ve seen it in weeks, but even now there’s something wistful about the way she looks down at the girl.
“Wow,” Bosko says, “the Ms. Casey.” He’s the larger of Maeve’s two grownups. A scraggly beard covers most of his tan face, eyes bright with energy.
“Brie, this is Bosko,” I say.
Bosko shakes her hand. “You’re famous. And not just at home” —he winks at me— “but around town, too.”
I grin, knowing the parents have spread the word about how great the third grade substitute is. But when I look at Brie, she’s ashen and wide-eyed.
“I’m Maeve’s father,” Bosko adds unnecessarily.
“One of,” Stan interjects. He’s clean-shaven with short-cropped salt and pepper hair.
Bosko rolls his eyes.
“This is Stan,” I say.
Brie smiles politely. “Let me guess.” She eyes them both, pointing first at Stan. “You’re daddy.” She transfers her point to Bosko. “And you’re papa.”
Maeve jumps up and down and yells, “How’d you know?!”
“Because I pay attention.” She boops Maeve’s nose like I’ve seen her do to Lizzie, and Maeve giggles.
Stan says, “Maeve loves your class.”
“And I love having her,” Brie says. “She always has something insightful to contribute.”
“Maeve’s gained a lot of confidence these past couple months,” Bosko says to me, quietly so his daughter can’t hear. Then, as he tips his head toward Brie, he loudly adds, “Y’better keep this one.”
That’s what I’m trying to do. He has no idea how hard I’m trying.
I look meaningfully at Brie. “I intend to. She’s a shoo-in for the full-time position we need to fill next year.” I put my arm over her shoulders.
Brie stiffens beneath my touch. I immediately take my arm back.
Fuck.
FUCK!
Brie coughs out a goodbye to Maeve and her dads, and we head inside.
It’s busy. Every stool at the bar is taken, a steaming bowl in front of each diner, and half the lanes are in use.
I get all my waving and Hey how you doings out of the way.
With every one, I can tell Brie’s annoyance with me grows.
I imagine my voice like nails on a chalkboard for her.
I knew it would take time for her to open up, but she’s going in the wrong direction.
I don’t get it, why spend time with me if she can’t stand me?
When we put on our rental shoes, I don’t know what to say. I’m growing impatient. It’s clear we need to have a real conversation and she’s not going to start it, so I will. But Soup’o’Bowl with her friends is not the place or the time.
On cue, Dev and Tess walk in together, chatting like old pals—a direct contrast to me and the woman I’ve spilled my heart to and had in my bed.
They bring their own rentals to a narrow bench across from us.
Dev spreads out in the middle, and Tess body checks him to make room.
Dev being Dev, I can’t tell if there’s something to his doting smile or not.
Blue Ridge is small enough I’m not surprised they would know of each other, but Tess never overlapped with us in school.
“How do you two know each other?” I ask after we’ve greeted one another.
Or, rather, after I’ve greeted both of them.
Brie stands off to the side pretending to peruse the menu, which I can attest is not that interesting.
The three laminated pages are almost exclusively soup.
There’s one stew and a chowder, but they’re watery, almost like they’re embarrassed for being off-theme.
Brie lifts her hand in a poor imitation of a wave, then furrows her eyebrows as if she’s concentrating on whether to order the broccoli cheddar or the French onion.
“Dev’s sister was one of my best friends in school.” Tess smiles affectionately up at him.
“Sana, my youngest sister,” Dev adds with his trademark smile, and I remember Dev’s the oldest of five or six kids.
“We were roommates in college, and Dev helped us move every year.”
“I was always pack mule and chauffeur for those two anyway. Moving was just another version of that.”
He squeezes her shoulder, and pink tinges Tess’s cheeks. I look away, feeling as if I’ve intruded on an intimate moment. My gaze finds Brie, who’s missed the whole thing, concentrating on a spreadsheet on her phone.
Deflated, I go to the counter for something to do, opting to order the bar food I know is off menu.
“No soup for you?” Lois asks.
“Not today, thanks.”
I join the others at our lane, dropping a round of drinks on the table. With another glance at Brie, I make a show of stretching my arms.
“I’m already embarrassed for all of you,” I deadpan. “I don’t wanna brag, but I think it’s important you know I’ve bowled exactly twice” —I hold up two fingers— “in the last decade. So, I’m pretty good.”
Tess laughs, but it’s Brie I’m focused on. I don’t know if she even heard me as she busies herself with picking out a ball.
I rub the back of my neck, trying to come up with some way to bring her out of whatever funk she’s in. But if it’s me that’s upsetting her, anything I do will only exacerbate things.
“Step aside, old man,” Tess jokes back. “I wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle.”
“Look at the man,” Dev says, “the only thing he’s pulling with those guns is the ladies.”
Man, Dev really is that nice of a guy. But the only lady I want is Brie, who might as well not be here.
Tess walks up to the lane with her ball, hingeing at the waist. Dev’s eyes immediately go to the ceiling, but they drop again at the sound of the ball hitting pins. A strike. Tess shimmies in celebration.
“Nice one!” he tells her with a broad smile, and I whistle cheerfully.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. My gaze cuts to Brie. She’s already looking at me. The second I catch her, her eyes widen then dart away. My intestines are in knots now.
When I reach for my beer, I grip the plastic cup so tight it cracks, and I have to pour its contents into a fresh cup before it seeps out everywhere.
Brie stands and walks to the ball return.
She bowls a split. I pull my lips upward into what I hope is a casual smile as I walk toward her for my turn.
“Not bad,” I say, holding my hand up for a high-five.
She eyes it as we get closer. Her palm feathers over mine in the slightest of touches.
It’s enough to almost make me wish we were back to before my confession in the cabin.
At least she felt something for me, even if it was sheer loathing.
But this? She’s shutting down completely. Building an impenetrable wall.
Why?
All at once, my frustration at Brie overwhelms me. I pick up a ball, weighing it in my hands, wanting to hurl it across the lane just to see what it feels like. Just to see if she’ll notice.
But I force myself to take a deep breath in, then a long breath out, and I bowl a spare.
Then, as Tess takes her turn, Dev says something that nearly floors me. “How’s your job search coming along, B?”
Tess gasps, guttering her ball. “Wait, what?! What job search? Brie, you’re staying here, right?”
The knot in my gut tightens. It’s April. The feeling of an impending doom scatters through me.
No. She can’t leave yet.
How could I have been so stupid? Here I’ve been, thinking I have all the time in the world for her to open up, to grow to love me, when there’s been a ticking clock all along.
How do I show her this is where she belongs? She’s so loved here. By her students and their parents, her friends, her family. Me.
I stand and walk to where she’s sitting, two seats over. “Brie, I need to talk to you.”
“We’re bowling,” she says, looking anywhere but me.
“Brie,” I say again, more insistent this time.
She looks up, and she’s completely indifferent. That wall is firmly in place, the last brick laid. I see no way through.
And I’ve had enough.
“Why did you even invite me tonight?” I grit out.
There! A small break in her facade. Her mask slips for just a second, but it’s enough.
“Why did you come tonight?” I press. “You clearly don’t want to be here.”
She looks down at her hands. “I don’t know.”
Talk to me.
“If this is about a job, I told you, the district is in charge here. It’s all very small-town and informal.
” I can’t stop myself from rambling. “The members on the committee rotate, there aren’t any set meeting times, it’s casual.
I’m sure they just haven’t gotten around to the hiring process yet.
I wasn’t named principal until a week and a half before school started. ”
She holds her hands up and shuts her eyes. “You’re right.”
For a split second, I think we’re getting somewhere.
“I don’t want to be here.” Her voice has a tinge of helplessness in it, but when she looks up, it’s with her flawless mask and impervious wall.
That knot in my stomach? It’s burning in a pool of acid now. But I can only watch as she walks past me, exchanges her shoes, and leaves.