Authors: Kate Bishop
“No, I’m good. Let’s get you out to Drake’s.”
We stood and walked out to the truck. He opened my door, and we were both greeted by wet, snuffly Billy kisses.
“Alright, buddy, move over, enough kisses,” I said, scratching behind his ear. I felt better instantly.
“Lucky dog.” Andy rubbed Billy’s head as he climbed behind the wheel.
“Oh wait, Andy. I don’t think we paid,” I said, bending over to find my wallet in the bag at my feet. I felt the truck moving. “Andy, hold on,” I said, my head pretty much under the seat. The truck went faster. I sat up, my hair everywhere, and looked at him.
“It’s all set, crazy woman.”
“Really? Oh, well, thank you for breakfast. It was delicious.” Did Tim pick up the bill?
“You got it. Now promise me something?”
“Yessss?” I drew it out to make it clear that I was wary.
“No more store-bought eggs, Oregon.” He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him.
“No more store-bought eggs,” I pledged, sliding across the seat to fit under the crook of his arm.
We drove like that the entire way to wherever Andy was taking me. I wanted to hear more about his family, so he described a couple of his mother’s famous cases and a building that his dad built using termite ingenuity to create a natural ventilation system. I relaxed, stopped thinking. And really listened. Then I told him about our ranch, Dad’s art, and even a little about New York. At one point, I turned over his hand, which was dangling over my shoulder and attempted to read his palm. When we finally rolled up the long gravel driveway, all my awkwardness and doubt had disappeared. I was completely present: there was only Andy, Billy, and the beautiful expanse of land in front of us.
“This is incredible.”
We leaned against the front of the truck, staring out at the rolling hills as Billy chased squirrels and leapt at falling leaves.
“Billy seems to think so.” Andy grabbed a stick. “Get it, boy.” He launched the stick so far I could barely see it, and Billy took off running.
“So what is this?” I scanned the landscape.
A small, dilapidated farmhouse stood off to the left in the distance. Its white shingles were faded and chipped, its porch warped and slightly lopsided. A few rusty hoppers and seed drills were scattered around the property. Everything was overgrown, so it was clearly not a working farm; but it was beautiful in its wildness.
Andy walked around to the back of the truck and grabbed an old Pendleton blanket. I laughed, remembering the last picnic blanket I’d sprawled on.
“What’s so funny?” he asked as we walked toward a tall tree in front of the house.
“The last picnic blanket I sat on was cashmere, that’s all.”
He gaped at me with amused, incredulous eyes.
“The cowgirl prefers wool,” I assured him.
Andy spread the blanket, and we lay on our backs, side by side, watching the leaves blow in the breeze. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt such contentment.
“So, what is this?” I asked again, not really caring as long as I never had to leave.
“This is my dream.” Andy had his hands behind his head and his feet crossed. His tan skin peeked out between his jeans and t-shirt. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s amazing. What do you want to do with it?” I turned toward him and propped myself up on my elbow.
“Not much really. A little weeding, a little planting.”
I nudged him with my knee. “Come on. Seriously.”
“Seriously. This farm has been in the Drake family for a century. They’ve never poisoned the soil with toxic fertilizers or pesticides. They tilled and hand-planted every last inch of this place.”
I looked around. From the looks of things, it hadn’t worked out so well for the Drakes, but I didn’t want to rain on Andy’s dream. So I just said, “Hm.”
“Peter Drake refused to sell out when farmers started planting commodity crops in order to survive. He salvaged enough money to keep the land, but he couldn’t keep the farm going. Now he lives in Idaho with his daughter.”
“Why hasn’t he just sold it?” I watched the rise and fall of his breath. It was as peaceful as watching the leaves.
“Doesn’t want it in the wrong hands. I talked to him about buying it once, but I couldn’t afford it at that point. And I’m not sure I’d fully proven myself to him, anyway.” Andy rolled toward me and propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes on mine. It was suddenly so silent that I wondered if I had fallen asleep and was now dreaming. As his face moved toward mine, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to believe that this was all that there was, to bury myself in the warm scent of earth and soap. But as soon as I felt his breath across my lips, suddenly I was sitting up with my back to him. Andy was quiet for a minute. Then he spoke.
“I can’t do this, Alex.” He was on his back again, hands behind his head, looking up at the sky, same position as before. I looked at him for a moment and could have screamed. He was so beautiful that I had to look away. I couldn’t risk caving into my desire. He was too important to me, and this—kissing him—would ruin it. He’d eventually leave me, just as Tripp had. And that I couldn’t bear.
“You don’t want me, Andy. Trust me. I’m completely lost.”
“Alex, I can decide for myself what I want and don’t want.” The frustration in his voice took me by surprise. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day. And it sure seemed to me that you wanted the same. There is nothing complicated about it. So don’t make it complicated.” A red-tailed hawk coasted on a current high above us.
“Andy, I’m sorry, so sorry, about these mixed messages. I just . . . Please, just be my friend.”
He sighed and turned his head toward me, leafy shadows moving across his face.
“Okay, then. Still friends. See, you are fully aware of what you want.” He looked back up at the sky then closed his eyes.
Then why am I saying the exact opposite?
Quietly, I started to cry. I felt Andy’s hand around my upper arm. He pulled me back down beside him. My head rested in the crook between his shoulder and his arm. My whole body was quivering.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he said.
He reached over with his free arm and stroked Billy who lay peacefully beside him.
I closed my eyes and listened to the breeze, overwhelmed by the longing in my heart. When Andy finally turned his head toward me, I was pressed against him, trying to ignore the dropping temperature.
“What do you say we head back?” he murmured without making any attempt to get up. I looked up at him, very aware of the proximity of our lips once again.
“Okay,” I said, although it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I was afraid that once we left this magical place, we would never come back. But Andy light-heartedly pulled me up as if nothing had changed between us, and he put his arm around me, same as always, when we walked to back to the truck. He started the ignition, and Billy hopped into his lap.
“Hey, if we really are just friends, do you mind pitching in for gas since you freeloaded breakfast?”
“Oh. Oh yeah, of course,” I said, reaching down again for my purse.
“Alex, I’m kidding.” He laughed and turned up the radio, glancing over with a little smile.
We got back to the Mission just before sunset, stopping first at a roadside farm stand for a dozen eggs. Andy double parked in front of my apartment, got out with Billy, and came around to my side, once again offering to help me jump down.
“Looks like that leg is alright, huh?”
“Feels pretty good.” I didn’t want it to end. “Can you come up?”
“I think I’ll pass.” My heart sank. “But I got something for you to think about. A fundraiser in March. Would you come with me?” He paused. “As a friend, of course.”
“It’s only November. Don’t you want to wait ‘til it gets closer? You might meet someone . . . ”
I couldn’t finish the thought.
“Yeah, well, I’ll take my chances. You’re pretty good company and I’m guessing that won’t change.” We stood there looking at each other, and for a moment, I thought he might try to kiss me again. This time I would just let him. “Well, friend. The greenhouse calls. So, is that a yes?” I pulled the strap of my bag higher up on my shoulder and crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“For the fundraiser?” I looked into his bright, brown eyes, which, for the first time, looked a little sad. I hugged my arms even tighter, trying to hold myself together. “Sure.”
“March twenty-seventh. Put it on your calendar,” he said, shutting my door before walking around to the driver’s side. He paused and looked at me.
“It’s been a pleasure, Oregon.”
Then he hopped in and drove away.
“Honey, can you help me get this thing inside?”
“But Nancy, I already bought a table, remember?” I was confused as to why petite five-foot-two Nancy would lug a card table across the bridge, into the city, and up three flights of stairs.
“Now, Alex. You know how I
love
to entertain, and, well, it just wouldn’t be a proper dinner party without a place setting for each person. How many of us are there?” she asked, surveying my newly ‘upcycled interior.’ “And where on earth did you find all this fabulous décor?”
“Seven,” I answered. “You, me, Jenny, Tucker, Galen, Marco, and Andy. And I’m glad you like the new look. Jenny and I combed every thrift store from here to Santa Cruz.” I was counting out the salad forks, imagining my mom doing the same. She had asked me to come home for Thanksgiving, but it felt important to spend this first holiday in my own home. I had never lived alone before, just me. Time to start my own traditions.
“Well, it’s just lovely. Now about Andy. Tell me, tell me. Have you two given into your longing and done the deed?”
“If you mean walking the dog together, ‘the deed’ has been done.” I picked up a bag of groceries from the floor by the door.
“Darling, you know that is absolutely not what I’m talking about. I just don’t understand why two beautiful, vibrant beings so clearly drawn to one another—”
“Okay, okay Nancy,” I waved my arms in surrender. “The only deed I can focus on right now is dinner, and you are the vibrant being I need for that. Get in here and save me!”
“Just a few more things from my car. I’ll be right back, lamb.”
Five minutes later, she was back, pulling out yet another gorgeous tablecloth from the small suitcase she called “a purse,” and then she was reaching in to retrieve a silver candelabra. She was like Mary Poppins with a Hermes handbag.
“Voila!” she said, stepping back to admire. There was a moment of silence then she puffed out her cheeks, exhaling slowly. “Oh dear, these two tablecloths clash horribly.”
“Nancy, look at the chairs!”
With Andy’s truck for our salvage mission, Jenny and I had returned to my apartment with a farmhouse table and six random chairs. From white wicker to crushed red velvet to leopard print, the assortment screamed either ‘eclectic’ or ‘garage sale,’ depending on whose eyes were looking at them.
“Sweetie, this melange has guts and character. It’s so you,” Nancy reassured me. She stopped to look at my portrait, which I’d moved to the mantle. “And I just can’t get enough of this. Look how your father captured the moment.” She got up close and peered into the painting. “Those eyes, Alex! Truly, they are the windows into your sweet little soul.” She turned and looked at me. “Okay, no more talking. I have one final run to make. Last time, I promise,” she said, pirouetting out of my apartment. A few minutes later, she returned with four bottles of wine and a vase of roses.
“Whoa, Nancy, you spoil me!” I rushed over to assist her. “You’re amazing!” She smiled coyly. “But if you really love me, come help me in the kitchen,” I pleaded.
Galen and Marco were the first to arrive, looking like movie stars: fit, radiant, and impossibly well-dressed. Then Jenny and Tucker appeared; I was a little disoriented to see them together in my small apartment, and not at the Tiburon Yacht Club’s mahogany bar.
“Thanks for coming,” I said with a surge of angst that took me by surprise. Looking at Tucker made it impossible not to think of Tripp.
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” he said. “Besides, Jenny tells me that there are a couple of big-time celebrities showing their faces tonight,” he said nodding toward the buff duo.
“Tucker, shhh,” Jenny whispered with an affectionate push before leading him over to make introductions.
My heart was pounding when Andy arrived, and he crossed the room to give me a kiss on the cheek. He was more dressed-up than I had ever seen him. A button-down, clean Levi’s, and his signature converse sneakers.
“Lookin’ good, D.C.,” I said.
He looked at me for a second. “And you . . . let me see . . . must have showered today?”
“Yes, I even washed my hair,” I said, still finding my equilibrium after the impact of seeing him.
“Great, then can I switch the place cards and sit next to you tonight? Looks like you’ve got some formal seating going on here,” he said, circling the table with his hands in his pockets.
I laughed. “This is all Nancy.”
“Yoo hoo, darling.” She peeked over the refrigerator door. “Help yourself to a canapé, then come help Aunt Nancy open this jar.” She smiled at me and winked.
The poached salmon was almost done, and Nancy was sprinkling pine nuts on our endive salads. Galen and Marco brought two gorgeous loaves of sourdough bread; Jenny and Tucker had spent the afternoon perfecting his mom’s twice-baked potatoes. Now I watched from the hall as they playfully bickered about how long to broil them. Tucker finally kissed Jenny’s forehead and said, “You win.” I was reminded of my own parents, and couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever find that kind of love. They were friends, best friends. I glanced over at Andy. He caught me, and I looked away quickly.
“I saw that, Oregon,” he called from the table.
After a glass of wine and a few stuffed mushrooms courtesy of Nancy, Galen casually threw his arm around me and asked, “Can I help you get this delicious dinner to the table?”
“I think it’s almost done. Let’s start bringing it out,” I agreed.
We crouched side-by-side and peeked into the oven.
“Oh, Marco, your favorite,” Galen called out. Then he lowered his voice and said, “He’ll do just about anything for those naughty potatoes.” I flashed back to my mad crush and laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Galen asked.
“You two are so lovely,” I said, tipping my head in Marco’s direction.
“As are you, sweet Alex. And I’m serious about those potatoes. Better grab some before you take them out there.”
“Well, hopefully you don’t mind the overdose of butter
and
sour cream that my better half threw in. I thought you yogis were supposed to be really healthy eaters,” Tucker joked, giving Jenny’s ponytail a little tug.
Nancy appeared in the tiny kitchen, crammed with half the party. She clapped her hands and directed everyone to their seats, ensuring that couples were separated. Galen and I were seated at opposite ends of the table.
“Before we dive into this meal, I’d like to propose a toast,” Nancy announced, clinking the side of her wineglass with her salad fork. “To Alex,” she raised her glass, “whose strength, optimism, and discerning taste for antiques,” she caressed the red velvet flea market chair, “made it possible for all of us to come together and enjoy this meal tonight.”
“To new friends,” Marco chimed in.
“To insane yoga students,” Galen said with a smile, “and to the people who dragged them to class in the first place.” He looked at Jenny.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “No really, it just feels good to do something for all of you. As a thank you. I am so thankful—grateful—for all of you.” Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by my love for every person at that table. Choking up, I sat back down.
“You should see what happens if you mention
Old Yeller
,” Andy said to the table.
“Out of context, FYI,” I smiled at Andy.
“It’s the Cancer in you, girl,” said Marco, digging into the potatoes. “You’re a water sign. Let those tears flow!”
“I think I’m a Gemini. Does that mean I don’t have an excuse?” I asked.
“You’ve got Cancer in there somewhere. Just look at this gathering!”
“Marco is an avid astrologer,” Galen explained.
“How wonderful, Marco. Are you an intuitive, or do you need our birth dates?” Nancy took a sip of her wine then patted her lips with her napkin.
“Nancy . . . ” Marco studied her. “You are a Leo!”
Charmed, Nancy replied, “Right you are, Leo with Aquarius rising. Oooo. Try someone else. Andy.” Marco looked Andy slowly up and down. We all laughed.
Andy whispered to me, “He’ll never get it,” his cheek nearly grazing mine.
“Do you even know your sign?” I whispered back, unable to keep my eyes off his lips.
“No idea.” He was looking straight ahead, but I swore his mouth moved closer to mine.
“Andy is the archer, Sag, for sure,” Marco announced.
“Is he right?” Jenny asked Andy.
“Of course I’m right!” Marco jumped in. “A Sag sees possibility and pursues it. They’re teachers and adventurers. And they are beautifully idealistic.” He looked adoringly at Andy.
“Aren’t there rising signs and houses and planets that need to be arranged?” Jenny asked. “The whole thing has always confused me.”
“And you must be a Virgo.”
“How did you do that?” Jenny asked.
Galen chimed in, “Marco’s got a gift. I keep telling him to pursue it.”
“Well, Marco, I have just the person for you to study with, if you so desire. Celestial Cedar. She reads my chart for me every six months.” Nancy said.
“Can she predict market trends?” Tucker asked. Jenny smacked his shoulder lightly. “What? I’m serious.”
“Don’t let him fool you. Tuck insisted we get our palms read on our honeymoon,” Jenny said.
“Had to make sure this one wasn’t getting away.” He put his arm around Jenny and pulled her toward him.
“I had my palm read once,” Andy said casually and then went back to eating. My heart rate picked up.
“And?” Three people said in unison.
Andy finished his bite and replied, “Can’t tell you. Won’t come true.”
“That’s wishes, not fortune telling,” I teased, trying to shake the memory of holding his hand.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Andy said with a smile. Two napkins flew in his direction and he ducked.
Nancy went on to describe her most recent past-life regression therapy, and the rest of us tried to predict what or whom we may have been, if there was a life before this one. Andy was sure I had been a dog.
After dinner, I was clearing plates to make room for dessert when Galen announced, “I noticed that not everyone in this room is signed up for Lauren’s workshop in January.” My grip tightened.
“I am, love,” Marco said, reaching across the table. “I, for one, can’t wait. I’m hooked after her incredible weekend retreat in Santa Barbara. She’s so amazing. She’s almost as fabulous as you are, Nancy.”
Oh, please, not again.
“Well, thank you darling.” She cleared her throat. “I do plan to attend,” Nancy said softly with a small nod. She looked at me with loving, apologetic eyes.
Nancy was signed up for Lauren’s workshop? I felt the color rise in my neck. I felt thoroughly confused. Hurt? Betrayed? Abandoned? I took a deep breath and looked around the table. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and talking. These were my friends. I didn’t have to make this about me. Nancy loved me. If she wanted to go, she should go. I would remain supportive and unaffected—at least on the outside.
Learn to respond, rather than react.
“What about you, Jenny?” Galen asked.
Tucker spoke up. “It’s written in hot pink on our calendar.” Jenny shot him a look.
I felt dizzy. Nancy was one thing, but having them both go . . . My silence must have given me away, because Jenny stood up and started clearing with me. When she was next to me, she whispered, “I was going to tell you. I actually think you should sign up too. It might help you let go of that anger you’re holding onto.”
I checked to make sure Andy and Tucker were still engrossed in conversation then whispered back, “Jenny, of course I’m still angry.” I had the right to be angry, the right to avoid my ex and his girlfriend. And although I knew it was wrong to expect my friends to avoid them too, I did anyway. Another deep breath.
I am not my thoughts.
“Alex, look around. You’re so much more at home now than when you were with Tripp. In a way, the whole thing set you free.” There was obvious truth to what she was saying, but I still couldn’t let go of feeling betrayed.
My feelings are not facts.
“What are you guys talking about down there? You’re looking awfully serious,” Marco interrupted.
“Us? Nothing. Nothing,” I replied, urging Jenny toward the kitchen with a little jerk of my head.
“Wait, Alex. Does that mean you’re on board? We’ve even convinced Tucker and Andy to do the workshop!” proclaimed Galen. “I really think you especially would love working with Lauren. She burns brightly, like you.” He smiled. Jenny disappeared into the bathroom; everyone else was looking at me.
I wanted to scream the truth: that I had been played, abandoned, and out-yogi-ed, left for someone more beautiful and enlightened. But when I looked at Galen and Marco, I saw excitement and happiness, pride and appreciation. Who was I to ruin it, with my insecurities and tragic story? So I forced a smile and simply said, “Sure, I’ll go.” I would just pretend to be sick when the time came, easy as that. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than seeing Andy in downward dog with Lauren “adjusting” him.
Galen whooped, and Marco gave me a high-five, exclaiming, “Four hours of yoga, girl. We can do it!”
Andy stood up, gathered some plates, and followed me into the kitchen where Jenny stood at the sink.
“Here, Alex. You better wash the Limoges. I’ll go get the rest.” She smiled at us and walked out.
“So what’s up with you and Gates?” Andy asked, scraping the remains of dinner into a Tupperware container. I knew by now that he used just about every leftover morsel for his compost bins.
“Nothing, really.” I lied. “It’s just I’m trying to heal this leg so I can get back onto my mat, you know? I’m not ready for any kind of workshop yet.” I prayed he hadn’t heard my brief conversation with Jenny. As close as we’d become, I still couldn’t bring myself to explain all the embarrassing details about my divorce, especially given that my entire dinner party worshipped the woman Tripp left me for.
“Gotcha,” he said. “So why don’t I just give you a workshop right here in your kitchen? Watch this.” He attempted some nonexistent pose, pressed his hands together and said, “Now, breeeathe into the space around your eyeballs.”