21. Andi
Chapter 21
Andi
I wake up cold, blindly reaching for the covers, pulling them up over my naked shoulder, intent on going back to sleep, but my nose itches and I have to pee. Cracking my eyelids open, I remember last night, Griffin watching me bring myself to orgasm before he did with his mouth. I recall falling asleep, wrapped up in his arms, and the feel of his skin on mine making it so easy to drift off.
But he’s gone. I sit up, my sunshine lamp cloaking my little basement apartment in hazy, fake morning light. Griffin is nowhere in sight, and I check the time. It’s after eight o’clock, and he’s probably been up for two hours already. His unfailing daily schedule is a reassurance as much as it’s a disappointment. Because I’d rather him be here with me in bed.
Even though he was with me all night.
A melody circles my brain, and I hum as I use the bathroom. Try out a few words as I brush my teeth and wash my face. Start to put it together as I toss on shorts and one of Griffin’s hoodies. I’ve pilfered three of them now, not including the zip-up he gave me on the day we met.
Soon, my whole closet will just be his clothes.
I like that line and open up a notebook, jotting down lyrics about refusing to give back his sweatshirt like I refuse to give back his heart. As I strum a few chords, it comes together, a song about making a home with a man. The words flow easily once I get going, and before I know it, three hours have passed, and I only stop at the sound of footsteps on the staircase.
I look up to see Griffin, dressed in navy-blue work pants and polo shirt with the fire station’s emblem on the chest. His eyes soften, a small smile playing on his lips, his voice a low rumble. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I smile back, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. It lingers, and I can feel the promise of more in it, but he pulls away too soon.
“Your song sounds good.”
“Yeah?”
He nods, pride shining in his eyes. “I wish I could stay and listen, but I’ve got to head out. Logan’s in the living room. Grace is in the kitchen.”
I set my guitar down then and stand to circle my arms around his torso, my cheek against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. He kisses the top of my head as he smooths his hands up and down my back. Both of us are quiet for a long time, and I don’t think either one of us wants him to go, but he has to, eventually stepping away from me with his hands around my biceps.
“What are your plans today?” he asks, and I shrug.
“I was thinking about taking the kids downtown to hang out for a bit. I need to pick up a few things.”
He kisses my cheek and then my mouth. “Be safe. Have fun. Text me tonight to check in.”
“Yes, Captain,” I say against his mouth, and he growls with a light slap to my butt before pivoting to head upstairs. I follow him, standing at the door, watching him leave like some 1950s housewife before making myself a smoothie with the chocolate protein powder he specifically bought for me since he thinks I don’t eat enough.
I find the kids, and they agree to do some shopping with me, so we all pile into my Jeep an hour later. I’d taken it upon myself to liven up Griffin’s house. Little by little, I’ve made changes, small as they are. Like adding fun magnetic tiles to the fridge to make words, buying decorative hand towels for the powder room and a cute gnome doormat for the front door. Today, I’m on the hunt for picture frames to place around the house. I accidentally found some old family photos buried in a closet, and I thought it would be nice to have them displayed.
At the request of the kids, our first stop is Sweet Cheeks Bakery, where we munch on the most delicious cinnamon buns I’ve ever had then pop right next door to Stone Ink. Ian greets us and shows me around his tattoo shop, trying to talk me into some ink. I tell him another time and leave with a hug to Griffin’s brother, a testament to how I’ve been accepted by not only Griffin and the kids, but by their extended family as well.
Next, we head over to Chapter and Verse, where the kids separate. Grace goes to the nonfiction section, while Logan doesn’t seem all that interested in books and sits in the corner to pet the store cat, leaving me to browse through the poetry and music books. I pick out Cher’s memoir and a small collection of poetry by a Palestinian woman and set them on the check-out counter as I hear familiar voices calling my name.
I turn to see Marianne and Clara and hug both of them. “How are y’all doing?”
“We’re good,” Marianne says, waving to the woman behind the counter, who begins to ring me up. “How’ve you been?”
“Great,” I answer honestly.
Clara beams and motions to the kids. “Everything working out well with the job?”
“Yeah.”
“And our favorite fire captain?” My cheeks heat at Clara’s question, and she teasingly knocks my arm. “Ooh, I knew it! I knew you two would be good together.” She puts her hand on the side of her mouth, stage-whispering in booming surround sound, “In more ways than one.”
Marianne puts her arm around her wife, quieting her. “What she means to say is we’re happy you’re happy.”
I am so happy. Because of Griffin, the kids, and the kindness of the local community, it’s all more than I could have ever hoped for.
“What about you?” Clara asks the woman who hands me a paper bag with my books. “How’s that husband of yours?”
I step to the side so Marianne can pay for her book as the woman turns red. “Oh, you know…”
Clara leans in, suspicious. “Haven’t seen him around in a long time.”
“He’s really busy.”
Clara nods sarcastically, but I don’t think the woman notices, her eyes cast down as she punches a few buttons on her computer keyboard.
“Well, you know if you ever feel like treating yourself, maybe giving your husband a little something to…motivate him, you can stop over to Lux any time. Friends and family discount,” Clara tells her and then winks at me. “Same goes for you.”
I laugh and thank the woman, following Marianne and Clara out of the door, Logan and Grace trailing a few steps behind, and now that I’m one of them, I need the tea.
“What’s the story there?” I ask Clara, and she lowers her voice, slipping her hand around my elbow.
“That’s Nicole Kelly, so great. So lovely. Has a bit of a grown-up Rory Gilmore vibe.”
I nod. “Yup. Got that.”
“And her husband has a bit of a grown-up Logan vibe.”
I jerk my head back. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Logan was the best boyfriend.”
Clara pulls her hand away from me like I’m covered in slime. “We can’t be friends anymore.”
I laugh. “So, what? He’s rich and hot?”
“Definitely not rich. He’s good-looking in a beige sort of way. He’s a professor at the college and treats Nicole like…”
“Like she’s disposable,” Marianne fills in, and I shake my head.
“That’s too bad.” Especially because I know what it feels like to be put first. And not for the first time today, I smile simply because I’m thinking of Griffin.
“We were going to get some sushi for lunch,” Marianne says. “Do you want to join us?”
I turn to the kids, who wandered off to the corner. “Hey, you want sushi for lunch?”
Clara holds out her hand to Logan, and he immediately walks to her so she can wrap her arm around his shoulder, and I have a feeling he’s got a bit of a crush on her from the way his cheeks turn ruddy. “Yeah, I could eat sushi.”
Grace shrugs and takes my hand when I offer it as we all walk down the street, spending an hour yapping and laughing.
Later that night, with Logan and Grace in their rooms, I’m spread out on the living room floor, surrounded by photos and frames, when my phone rings. I answer the FaceTime call, propping the phone against a pile of books on the coffee table, and Dahlia’s face fills the screen, her smile wide and eyes sparkling.
“Hey, I?—”
“I got a record deal!” my best friend screams without preamble, and I scream too, jumping to my feet.
The kids race down from their rooms, Logan with a hairbrush and Gracie wielding a textbook. I laugh when I spot them, ready to protect me with their weapons of choice. With tears in my eyes and emotion swirling in my chest, I pull them to me.
“Are you okay?” Logan asks, squirming away from my hold, checking me over in a pretty good impression of his father. “You’re not hurt?”
“No, I’m not. Just excited.” I turn my cell phone so they can see the screen. “This is my best friend, Dahlia. She called to give me some really exciting news. She signed with a record company. Dahl, these are my kids, Logan and Grace.”
“Hi.” Logan is unimpressed, his shoulders dropping now that he doesn’t have to go to war with anyone.
Gracie exhales heavily and waves to Dahlia. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, honey. I’m so happy to meet you.” She’s grinning so wide I fear her face may never go back to normal. She has a huge extended family, super comfortable with kids, but with her floating off on cloud nine, I’m surprised she’s even having this conversation. “Andi’s told me so much about you.”
Grace clings to my side when I sit on the couch, and I motion for Logan to join us. With the kids on either side of me, I set the phone back up and tell her to give us the rundown.
She informs us of all the shows she’s been playing the last few weeks, the growth of her social media after one of her songs went viral, and finally, how she’s been talking to an executive at Blue Note.
“She came to see me at the gig last night and then asked for a meeting today,” Dahlia explains, and I press my hands to my cheeks.
“I can’t believe it. It’s finally happening.”
“Finally!” she agrees with a laugh.
“What’s Blue Note?” Logan asks, and I loop my arm around his shoulders.
“This record company with a really great track record for signing amazing artists. They’ll produce Dahlia’s album and then hopefully put her on tour.”
Gracie leans forward, pushing her hair behind her ears and fixing her glasses. “What kinds of songs do you sing?”
“A little of this, a little of that,” Dahlia says, and I butt in.
“Folk-rock with a bit of a Mexican influence.”
Grace has no idea what I’m talking about.
“I’ll play you some later,” I promise, and she nods.
Dahlia goes on. “They want to start recording next month.”
“Next month?” I echo, surprised. “That’s so soon.”
“I know, right?” Dahlia laughs. “But they’ve got a whole plan mapped out, and I’m not about to slow them down.”
I can’t help but feel a pang of envy. She’s made it. She’s found the yellow brick road. Meanwhile, I’m nowhere close. Even if I love the life I’ve found here in West Chester, I still wonder what it would be like if my time in Los Angeles had been different for me. It feels like a punch in the gut to miss out on what could have been.
And I hate myself for it.
I try pushing all those bothersome feelings aside. “This is incredible, Dahl. I’m so proud of you.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you. Without you, there would never be me.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet as the kids ask questions about the music industry and what it’s like to perform onstage. Dahlia answers them patiently, her passion for music shining through, as hopelessness takes root in my stomach. Hard as I try to rip out the weeds, they immediately grow back, so fast that I can’t keep up with the conversation, my mind too busy imagining Dahlia’s success and my dreams dead. Flattened in the middle of the road. Crushed by the foot of an ogre. Smashed under hooves at a ranch.
Soon, Dahlia is saying she needs to go because Vic is taking her out to celebrate, and I think I promise to talk later, but I can’t be sure. I press the red button to end the call before looking to Grace and Logan, who both watch me with matching questions in their eyes, eyebrows pinched.
“Are you mad?” Logan guesses, and I shake my head.
“Happy?” Grace guesses, and I nod.
“But you look a little sad,” Logan adds, and I shrug.
Then, moving together, they both hug me.
Grace lays her head on my shoulder. “It’s okay to be sad. That’s what you told me the other day when I was crying.”
I rub my hand on her back, blinking at my tears. “You’re right.”
Logan loosens his grip around my waist to back away, meeting my gaze. “Last year, my friend got to be point guard even though I really wanted to be that position. But I got really good playing forward, and this year, we won almost every game.”
I sniffle. “Yeah, sometimes our friends will be better than us at things we love. We just have to realize that doesn’t make us any worse, or let it get in the way of our friendship, right?”
They both nod and hug me again before I send them back off with kisses to their heads. I follow them to the bottom of the staircase. “Sleep good.”
They turn over their shoulders, and I swear with how they act now, I never would have guessed they’re supervillains because they both smile at me, saying together, “We love you.”
I press my hand to my chest, right over where it cracked open. “I love you too.”
Once they’re upstairs with their doors closed, I bend over, letting the tears flow. Love and heartbreak. Guilt and pride. Gratitude and anger.
It all comes pouring out of me, and it’s not until a long time later that it stops.