Afterdinner was eaten, the table was cleared, and the dishes were washed, I excusedmyself before the little probable family unit jumped into making ice creamsundaes. Not because I didn’t care for ice cream, because Lord knows my thighsdepended on it, but because I was feeling more like an intruder and less like amember of the family as the night had gone on.
Ididn’t think they had made the conscious decision to ignore me, but the nightfelt more or less doomed the moment they began to discuss their Friday nightplans of taking the girls out to the movies. This spiraled into Liz and Bentalking over me about what seemed like an intimate weekend together spent atBen’s house, and all the while I wondered if there was any possible way they’dnotice if I just stabbed myself in the eye with my fork.
AndI understood. Really, I did. They were a new couple and were trying to maketheir budding relationship bloom into something beautiful and long-lasting. ButI also couldn’t help feeling as though I didn’t belong—because, well, I didn’t.
Ithrew a sweatshirt on and headed over to Esther’s house with a Tupperware ofbeef stew. Her grass was winter brown, lying dormant until spring when Ricardowould revive it to its usual lively green. I couldn’t begin to imagine howannoyed that must have made her when she looked out her window every day.
“Shecomes bearing gifts,” Esther said, throwing the door open.
Startledby her intuition, I stopped in my tracks at the first step and narrowed myeyes. “How did you know I was coming over?”
“Harrytold me,” she said so matter-of-factly that my jaw came unhinged and I thoughtthat maybe it was time her son placed her in a home. A hand flew to her mu-muclad hip and she hung her head, shaking it slowly. “Holly, take a fucking joke.I was sitting in my rocking chair and I saw you coming up the walk. Christalmighty, lighten up.”
Insidethe house, I smiled and waved at Harry’s picture before heading into thekitchen with the Tupperware. Esther followed close behind, peering around myshoulder to see what it was I carried with me. “Beef stew,” I said, putting theplastic container on the counter. “Ben brought it over in his crockpot.”
Shecaught the unintentional bitter tone of my voice and poked me in the arm. “Ithought you liked him. You said he was good for Elizabeth, and I’m inclined toagree, so what’s your problem?”
Ishook my head, instantly regretful. “Idolike him,” I insisted asEsther looked at me with a slight tip of her head and a pursing of her prunedlips. “But everything is happening so quickly,” I blurted out. “Everything ischanging. Anna is starting preschool next year, so I’ll be out of a jobagain,and I feel like it’s only a matter of time before Ben’s moving in or Liz ismoving out, and I just don’t know if I’m ready to deal with all of that againso soon.”
“You’llbe fine,” Esther said. She shuffled her slippers along the tiled floor of thedated kitchen, reaching towards a cabinet to retrieve two mugs. “Tea?”
“Yeah,sure,” I muttered, turning to lean my back against the counter. “IknowI’ll be fine. I’m already thinking of what I’m going to do about work, so I’mnotreallyworried. Or not much, anyway.”
“Okay,”she said impatiently, filling the kettle with water from the faucet. “So, I askagain, what’s your problem?”
Ishrugged, scrunching my face. “It’s just … I guess I’m just a littleresentful.” Esther remained quiet, turning her back to put the kettle on.Assuming she was listening, I continued, “Iamhappy for her. She’s beenalone for a long time and especially after everything she’s done for me, I wantsomething good to happen for her, but I’m just tired of waiting for somethinggood to happen forme.” My cheeks puffed out with a sigh. “I’m such aselfish bitch.”
Estherturned back to me and shook her head. “You’re human, honey. You’re allowed towant something good for yourself. It doesn’t make you a bitch to be jealous ofsomething your little sister has.” She dropped two tea bags into the mugs. “Butlet me tell you something. You’re never going to let yourself have anythinggood if you keep holding onto thinking you’re not good enough for anybody,okay? You’d still—”
Thesound of my phone ringing interrupted her lecture, and we both stared wide-eyedat each other with the same hopeful assumption that it was Brandon. The magicof perfect timing and all. She urged me silently to answer it, her handsflailing wildly with girly giddiness, and I reached for it anxiously only tosee the number of the last person I ever expected to hear from. My fingerplayed over the “Answer” button, stumbling over the decision to commit tohearing the voice I never thought I’d hear again, and without allowing myselfto think any further, I accepted the call and rushed to the living room.
“Hello?”I asked, sitting timidly on the couch as though he were there in the room withme.
“Holly?”His voice was so distant and foreign to my ears.
“HiStephen,” I said, surprisingly calm. “How are you?”
Mymind raced with all of the reasons why he might’ve been calling. Maybe he hadfound a box of my crap somewhere in the back of a closet and wanted it out ofhis life. Maybe he had only three months to live and needed to make peace witheverybody he had wronged—who knows. All I knew was I hoped to God he wasn’tcalling to ask for Camille back because dammit, she was my last hope of anysort of future. Even if that future involved a little shack in the woodssurrounded by feral cats.
“Uh,good. I’ve been really good. Actually … I, um, I got engaged. I sent you anengagement party invitation, but you never responded, so I assumed it got lostin the mail.”
Eyeroll. “Oh, yeah, it must have gotten lost,” I said flatly, and then not wantinghim to think I really caredthatmuch, I changed my tone and added,“Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”
“Oh,yeah, um … Thanks.” He sounded unsure of his words, and then his sigh came as agust of wind through the speaker, and I can’t say I expected what he then said.“Holly … God, I’m so sorry for everything that happened between us. I thinkabout it every damn day, and I just—fuck, I’m just so sorry.”
Istared unblinking at Harry’s picture above the TV. The old man in the tweedjacket seemed to smile encouragingly at me while my heart thrummed in my ears.How long had I longed to hear Stephen apologize for putting me through anemotional hell? How long had I wished for that little slice of closure? Andafter all that time, I hadn’t thought once about what I would respond with.What was there to say, really? I couldn’t just say, “It’s okay, Stevie,”because fuck, itwasn’tokay, but if not that, then what?
Stephenkept talking, sounding more pained as he continued. “I was so stupid, Holly. Sofuckingstupid. You were my best friend and I never wanted to hurt youand cause you any pain, but fuck! Icheatedon you! There was no wayaround hurting you after that. I just …” He released an angry noise, derivingfrom somewhere deep. “I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose mybest friend.”
“Whyare you only callingnowto tell me this?” I asked finally, twisting myfingers around the tassels of an old throw blanket.
“It’sso stupid,” he said, and I pictured him gnawing on his fingers the way he alwaysdid. “Anthony and I were going through our guest lists for the wedding. I keptlooking at mine and I couldn’t shake the feeling that you should be on it.Anthony suggested that maybe it was time to … patch things up or some shit.” Helaughed, although nothing was funny as far as I could tell. “I actually didn’teven think you’d answer the damn phone, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
Iwas surprised to find I didn’t feel angry, but I did feel something I neverthought I would have felt when talking to him again; I feltsorryforhim. I actually felt sympathy for the man who cheated on me for half of ourrelationship, and I wanted to comfort him and tell him that if he had told mesooner, things would have been different. But I knew that was a lie.
“CanI ask you something?” He encouraged me to go on, and with my eyes squeezedtight, unable to look at Harry’s face, I asked, “Were you always gay?” I feltridiculous for asking, and I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
“Yes.”
