Love Scars - 3: Stop Page 2

  “J.D.,” Brad said. “Nora is no Holly.”

  “True.” Three times in six seconds. “I’ll be back.”

  I went to get more beers for the ice tub. Hearing Holly’s name was irritating, but I’d been restless since yesterday. After Nora’s place, this place felt sterile. It was over four thousand square feet of perfection, all tile and hardwood floors and Persian carpets. Thanks to Mom and Scarlett, art occupied most of the walls. But something was missing. It wasn’t at home in my own house.

  I was suddenly homesick for the island. I never lived there, but from the start my mom had kept a room for me. It was the one place I could forget about the world and be myself. No expectations. No obligations.

  I took the second six-pack of Pale Ale out of the refrigerator and opened a bottle. The appliances in my kitchen would turn a celebrity chef green. The windows looked out on a greenbelt. I’d bought the house for that view. I would have preferred a place looking over Folsom Lake, but I wanted to be close enough to ride my bike to work.

  Holly. Brad had to go and say her name. I downed half the beer, but the cold liquid didn’t do a thing for me. It flowed right past the knot of resentment in my chest. Shit, I thought that was long dead and buried.

  Buried, maybe. Dead, not so much.

  Pretty Holly, the girl I loved with all my heart my senior year of high school. So out of my league. A scornful laugh escaped me. The cheerleader and the geek, back in the day when no one saw the upside to geekdom. She wasn’t the most popular cheerleader—the cliché didn’t go that far—but she was the one I liked best.

  Holly always smiled at me in the hall, even though the other girls in her mob were watching. When I sold the app that spring, I asked her to the prom and she dropped her football player boyfriend to go with me.

  I was, trite as it sounds, the king of the world.

  Instead of the usual SkyCity prom dinner at the top of the Space Needle, I hired a private jet to fly us to San Francisco to eat and then back to Seattle for the dance. Holly was so sweet and wide-eyed about it. I loved how jealous it made her girlfriends.

  I lost my cherry to her that night, in the back of the limo. Now that was a cliché. I was nervous and eager—and she was relaxed and eager. Far more competent at the business than she should have been. I didn’t think about what that meant until months later. She lifted her prom dress and let her knees fall apart. She wasn’t wearing panties.

  Within a week we were engaged.

  Holly picked out a massive rock for her engagement ring. It dwarfed her delicate hand, but she managed to lift it well enough to wave in front of her girlfriends as often as possible. It cracked me up.

  I’d already bought the house on the island for Mom and Scarlett, and when I brought Holly out to tell them the news, Scarlett raged. You’re too young. She never liked Holly, not even from before the money when I pointed her out among the cheerleaders once at a basketball game.

  But Mom said why not let love have its way. Jaxom can afford it, she said. Some of the best marriages started out young, she said. Not hers, but many did.

  There was only one bug in the bouillabaisse, and that was Brad. Before the money, he’d found Holly slightly irritating. After the money, he hated her. She took up my time, time he and I used to spend brainstorming plans for BlueMagick, the tech company we’d dreamed of starting since grade school.

  There was plenty of time for all that. “Shit, dude,” I told him, “we aren’t even twenty yet. Find a girl and we’ll all party together.” But whenever Holly was around, Brad wasn’t.

  He made an exception for my mom’s birthday. Scarlett invited us all out to the island for dinner, and when Holly and I drove up to the house Brad’s ratty old Land Cruiser was parked in the driveway.

  “I need to buy that dude some new wheels,” I told Holly.

  “A black and silver Range Rover,” she said, not missing a beat. “He deserves something nice.” She was wonderful. I just wished Brad could see it.

  Scarlett met us at the door. “Brad’s with your mom in the garden,” she said. “He’s installing some solar lights, her birthday present.”

  As we crossed the threshold, Scarlett gave Holly a severe look. Holly missed it, but I didn’t. Scarlett raised an eyebrow at me, defiant. She was never going to accept us getting married. To spare Mom’s feelings, she wouldn’t actually say anything, but Scarlett was always brutally honest with me.

  We had dinner together on the lanai. The view of the water and the sea breeze created a sense of tranquility, but toward the end of the meal I realized Mom and I had been doing most of the talking. Scarlett had contributed a few mm-hmms and ain’t that the truths, but Brad and Holly barely said a word.

  “That was great, Scarlett. Thanks.” Brad finally spoke. He laid his napkin down. “If you all don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself. I want to finish up with those lights before it gets dark.”

  Holly’s eyelids were lowered, her attention fixed on her plate. I realized she was blushing, and it dawned on me then. Brad loved Holly too. I felt like a shit. All this time the poor guy had tried to keep his distance, and I’d been pushing the two of them together. It must be hell for him to be around us.

  “You go on, honey,” Scarlett said said to Brad. “I’ll bring you something cold to drink.”

  If he worked until dark, he wouldn’t have time to get in line for the last ferry. Holly and I had been planning to stay the night, but I wasn’t going to do that to him. We’d take the ferry back and come for a longer visit some other time.

  While Scarlett showed Holly some of Mom’s sculptures in the living room, I helped clear the table. In the kitchen, Mom was scrubbing out a pot. “When Scarlett cooks, I clean.”

  “Not on your birthday,” I said. “Let me do that.”

  “Thanks, Jaxom. I love her spaghetti sauce because she cooks it all day, but she always burns the bottom of the pot.”

  “I didn’t know Brad was going to be here,” I said. “I think Holly and I will go back on the late ferry.”

  “I think that’s wise,” Mom said. As usual, her voice was gentle but strong, making nothing sound full of meaning.

  “It’s funny. I thought he didn’t like her,” I said.

  “He doesn’t like her for you,” she said.

  Because he likes her for himself. The idea hit me with a jolt of anger. The dude was thinking of stealing Holly away from me. But this wasn’t like before the money, when the chicks always looked at him first. I finished drying the pot and slammed it onto the hook on the rack.

  The living room was empty. Scarlett must have taken Holly to see Mom’s studio. I took in a breath of air and blew it out. I wasn’t going to be an ass about this. Brad was still my best friend, and Holly had obviously chosen me.

  I headed across the lawn toward the garden to tell Brad we were leaving. I’d just say goodbye and leave it at that. Take the high road. I wouldn’t tell him I was on to how he felt. By the time I reached the maze that led to the garden, I was over it.

  Holly loved me. She had my ring on her finger, and I couldn’t see her taking it off. I wasn’t mad at Brad. I felt sorry for the poor bastard.

  As I walked through the hedge-lined path, Holly’s voice filtered through the vegetation. “I’ll marry J.D. and then divorce him in a couple of years.”

  I stopped moving. I couldn’t have heard that right.

  “I’ll be rich after the settlement—he’s so in love, he’ll never think about a prenuptial agreement. Don’t you see, Brad? Then we can be together.”

  I felt socked in the gut. A gigantic rhododendron hid me from their view, and the conversation went on.

  “Holly, you’ve got it all wrong,” Brad said. “I don’t love you. In fact, you pretty much disgust me.”

  “But Brad…”

  “I never told J.D. how you’re always coming on to me because for some crazy reason the dude does love you, and he’s my best friend. I just wish he’d figure you out before it’s too late.”
<
br />   “No, Brad. You love me. I know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

  My chest was a mass of pain where my heart had been ripped out.

  “You’re embarrassing yourself, Hol,” Brad said. “Go away now. Please.”

  I didn’t go back through the maze. I crashed through the hedges and made a straight line to the house. I stood on the lanai for a few minutes to catch my breath. A seagull flew over, and its scream sounded like mocking laughter.

  All the way back to Seattle Holly didn’t talk. She was lost in her own thoughts with no awareness I’d already cut her out of my life. She seemed a bit surprised when I dropped her off at her folks’ house. She’d been spending most nights with me at my high-rise condo on Union Street. But she didn’t argue. At the door she raised her lips for me to kiss her.

  I wanted to vomit. I forced myself to kiss her on the forehead.

  “Goodbye, Holly,” I said.

  I got all the way to the car before she said, “J.D., is something wrong?” I didn’t say a word. I didn’t turn around. I opened the door of my Corvette and smiled. I know the smile was bitter.

  The next morning I bought Brad a black and silver Range Rover—a late birthday present, I told him—and that night he drove us to the Seahawks’ opening game. I told him I wasn’t going to marry Holly after all, that I’d caught her sexting with Mike, the football player she’d thrown over to go with me to the prom.

  “Jeez, dude. I’m sorry,” Brad said.

  “Yeah, well,” I said. “Good riddance.”

  I never told Brad what I’d overheard on Orcas Island. There was no point. I look back on it ten years and countless women later, and I laugh at myself.

  But I don’t laugh at the pain. Maybe being so young made it worse. I was so fucking vulnerable then. I never wanted to feel that pain again.

  “Dammit!” Brad’s editorial comment reached the kitchen from the TV room.

  Poor bastard. I knew what he must be going through now with Lisa. And worse because that Frank guy didn’t deserve her. Everybody loved Frank. Maybe it was just loyalty to my friend, but I suspected Frank was secretly an asshole.

  I brought out the rest of the six-pack and some more chips. The Mavs racked up eight points in three minutes in high-definition gorgeousness on the ninety-inch screen. It was as bad as being there.

  “What’s Nora’s story, anyway?” I said. “Has Lisa ever told you what happened to her folks?”

  “Not Lisa,” Brad said. “Stacey. The kid told me about it when I was showing her some Toasty stuff in her Mortal Kombat collection.”

  “The niece,” I said. “They act like she’s made of rice paper.”

  “She’s stronger than they think. Way stronger than her Aunt Nora. And they haven’t noticed, but she’s not a kid. She’ll be eighteen on Wednesday.”

  “But you’ve noticed. What happened to your mad passion for Lisa?”

  “It’s not like that, dude. Stacey’s my sister’s age.”

  “Veda would be eighteen now?” I said. “I didn’t realize.” Brad’s little sister had been killed in a car accident five years ago.

  “Yeah, well,” Brad said. “Maybe it looks weird that I take an interest, but it’s like having Veda around again. And Stacey needs a big brother figure to balance those clucking hens that overprotect her.”

  “That’s cool, Brad. Really. So back to my question,” I said. “What happened to Nora’s folks?”

  “Not just her folks,” Brad said. “Her entire family except for Stacey. Her mom and dad and little brother, and Stacey’s parents—Nora’s older brother and his wife. All murdered.”

  “Shit.”

  “They were at their cabin in the foothills for the weekend. Everybody was outside around the campfire when the dog got away. Nora and Stacey went after the dog, and while they were gone they heard the screams and gunshots. Some guy with a semi-automatic was spraying everybody with bullets. Somehow Nora got Stacey up into a tree house without the guy seeing them. She made Stacey cover her ears and close her eyes. You can imagine how that helped.”

  They’re all dead. That’s what Nora had meant. She must have been having a flashback or something. I couldn’t stand it. Every part of me cried out to go to her and hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right.

  But it would be a lie. Nothing could ever be all right after something like that. “So she watched her family die.”

  “And the dog.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “I told you it was horrific. The dog raced into the middle of the carnage to attack the gunman, and the asshole killed it too.”

  “Jesus God.” Compared to that, I had no right to carry the damaged chip on my shoulder. I had to stay away from Nora. The last thing she needed was a lying asshole adding his petty grief to her life.

  “Hey.” Brad looked at his iPhone. “Speak of the devil and my angel appears.” He grinned at me. “A text from Lisa reminding me about Stacey’s birthday dinner Wednesday. She says to bring you.”

  Chapter 3

  Stacey called from her friend’s house in Fair Oaks. They were home from Disneyland but exhausted, and could one of us go pick her up? Good old Frank volunteered since Lisa and I were busy doing another run over the yard, still cleaning up after Friday’s party.

  I picked up another empty Heineken from the lawn and tossed it into a black plastic garbage bag. “Next time, no green bottles,” I said. “It’s too easy to miss them in the grass.”

  “There isn’t going to be a next time.” Lisa was up on the deck. She poured a little vegetable oil on a paper towel to use to light the charcoal in the grill. She learned all kinds of neat tricks like that working at the restaurant. “I’m ready for a new phase. Small dinners and sophisticated people.”

  “Sophisticated. Right,” I said. “Aren’t we barbecuing hot dogs tonight?”

  “You know what I mean. The kind of people who don’t top off a party by barfing on the lawn.”

  “I’m all for that.” I picked up a blackened banana peel and added it to the bag. “Seriously. A banana peel.”

  Lisa got the fire going with the charcoal and brought another garbage bag down to the lawn to help search for missed crap. We worked in silence, moving toward the garden path.

  After a few minutes she said, “Do you ever regret not going to Stanford?”

  “What? Where did that come from?”

  Lisa was the only one who knew about Stanford. Not that I wanted it to be some big secret. I just never talked about it, and as the years went by it had become just another piece of trivia about my life: I was once accepted to Stanford University.

  “What you said about Stacey’s SATs got me thinking. I wondered if you regretted giving it up for her.”

  I’d been thrilled when the email came the first of April my senior year, and when the official letter arrived later with the information packet, my mom framed it. She was even more excited than I was.

  “I don’t regret keeping Stacey out of foster care,” I said. “That’s what would have happened if I’d gone.”

  “She’s been lucky to have you,” Lisa said. “You gave up more than Stanford for her.”

  “She doesn’t know about that,” I said. “And I don’t want her to. It was my choice. I do regret getting rid of the acceptance letter. It would be nice to have it now, proof that I made the cut.”

  “Why don’t you have it?”

  “Remember when I swore off sex and purged all my stuff?”

  “After the shower creep. Of course I remember,” Lisa said. “We had that big bonfire we had when I moved in.”

  “I threw the letter out in the purge,” I said. “I took it out of the frame, and it went into the fire. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  We finished cleaning the path to the gardens, finding only a couple beer bottles and plastic cups in the driftwood. The veggies were already put to rights. Lisa had taken care of that yesterday. The topiary bunny was gone, but the alpa
cas were basically upright and stable, and the ivy was more or less evenly redistributed.

  The fountain in the flower garden was running, and I squatted down behind the iron fairy to switch the water off. I thought of the rose left with the fairy, and again J.D.’s voice came to me: You’re an American Beauty.

  Gah! I sat down on the bench. I had to stop feeling sad every time I thought of him. In fact, I had to stop thinking about him. He made it clear he wasn’t interested in me. Why torture myself wanting something that was never going to happen?

  Lisa dropped her garbage bag next to the bench and sat down. “I talked to my manager at work last night,” she said. “I can get you and Stacey both on at the restaurant.”

  “Oh, god.” My stomach turned at the thought.

  “What? It’ll be fun. We can give Stacey a hard time while we both keep an eye on her.”

  “I don’t know…” Lisa’s restaurant was always busy from the minute they opened their doors.

  “You would never work at night because of Stacey. Fine and good—but she’s done. Baked and browned, out of the oven. You did a good job, Nor. Now you’re free.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “The truth is I don’t think I can handle the people and the noise.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” Lisa said.

  “I should have majored in accounting,” I said. “Something where I could work walled off in some cubicle away from people. Why did I pick humanities? What was I thinking?”

  “You were looking for the big answers.”

  “There are no big answers. And now I have an unmarketable degree, unless I go on for a PhD and try to get a teaching job.”

  “We’ll have two doctors in the house,” Lisa said. “Dr. Frank, and Dr. Nora.”

  “And neither of us real doctors,” I said.

  “Yikes! Don’t ever say that to Frank.” Lisa grinned. “He hates it when people find out he’s a vet and they say Oh, then you’re not a real doctor.”

  “It must be irritating, after all that work.”

  “A lot of things irritate Frank,” Lisa said. “So you’re still going to do the internship?”