We stare at her.
“So I found a house to rent—month to month for when he’s ready for me to—” She clears her throat but the smile doesn’t waver. “And there’s a short-term opening at the elementary school for a librarian.”
We are mute; she continues. “Mom will need help after the surgery. Rue and I can tag team it. Until I go back home.” She clears her throat again. “Surprise.”
She’s calm and smiling, but I know beneath her ribs, Remy’s romantic heart is shattered. I wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Rems.”
There’s the slightest bit of moisture in her eyes when we pull apart, but she blinks it away. I get it. She’ll start and never stop, just like me.
“Fuck Darren,” Mom says, shocking us all. Our jaws drop and she shrugs. “Darren deserves that, Reese’s job didn’t.”
She pulls Remy into her chest—hugging her with silent words the way only a mother can. Reese and I join in, our heads resting upon theirs.
“We should jump in the pool,” Reese says, slipping her phone out of her pocket and tossing it on a chair. “Like a baptism or something. Wash all life’s shit away.” She pauses to look at me in that bitch way she does. “Not that I’m trying to get rid of you.”
She’s the worst, yet I grin.
Then, hand in hand, fully clothed and with laughter-laced screams, that’s exactly what we do. Four grown women covered in life’s shit, swimming like children though we’re anything but.
One by one, the kids fall asleep on blankets covering the living room floor as a movie plays on Nash’s jumbo TV. The rest of us are out on the patio around the table littered with remnants of dinner and the glow of flickering citronella candles.
Nash is next to me, randomly blasting into his harmonica, and Cap is next to Mom; everyone else fills in the spaces between.
Reese is mid-telling of a very Chicago story when Danimal steps out of the bushes and makes us all fall silent.
He’s casual, like this is just the sort of thing he does, and takes a vacant chair. Out of his pocket: two joints.
“May I interest any of you fine folks in some wacky baccy?”
We all have open-mouthed, apprehensive smiles on our faces. The kinds of smiles that say yes, but nobody wants to go first.
“Light ’er up, Danimal,” Cap says, gruff as ever. “These crazy sons of bitches need to get stoned.”
And with the kids sleeping inside, that’s exactly what happens. We smoke, we choke, and we laugh until we cry—every single one of us.
Nash tells funny stories about history, Cap tells stories about flounder, and Danimal spits out the most ridiculous one liners I wish someone would have been coherent enough to write down. The only one I retained was his ironic title ofCaptain Cashflowfor my dad. It was too funny to forget.
Sunny snaps her fingers with her eyes closed and random chants of “Ooh-wee, Danimal. You unleashing the beast.”
The whole time, Nash’s hand is on my thigh and my mom’s head teeters toward Cap’s shoulder. Maybe it’s the weed, themusic, or the fact I’m with everyone I love all in one place, but for one single night, all is right. I wouldn’t change a single thing out of fear it wouldn’t lead to this moment. Maybe life has to happen the way it happens to get us to days that are worth more than gold.
After we pillage the freezer of all the desserts Nash bought, we sleep like kids at a slumber party. Across floors and beds and draped over couches. Reese ends up curled up on the pool table, and my mom and Cap sleep in the shed.
I want to go to my grave never knowing what happened on that accidental futon.
The next day, we go to the beach.
I laugh.
I dance in the sun.
And as I watch Nash chase his daughter up and down the beach then get buried in the sand, for the second time in my life, I fall in love with a man who’s everything I never knew I needed.
Cap buys us all ice cream sandwiches in the middle of the afternoon.
Forty-Seven
“Stay,” I beg Reese as we rock with a hug outside of their hotel.
