Come Alive (2 page)

Gretchen heaved a deep sigh and looked away as
she bit her thumbnail. “You’re a stubborn bitch,” she muttered.

An unwilling smile found my face. “Where are you
taking me anyway, Milwaukee?”

“Nope, we’re going to a place with the largest, juiciest
burgers around. You need some nourishment,” she said, tugging at the hem of my
sweater. I almost gagged at the thought of a hamburger, but I figured this was
what choosing one’s battles meant. My heart dropped, however, when we rounded
the corner. I was standing in front of the restaurant where David had taken me
to lunch months before.

“Hello?” she urged, holding the door open.

I fumbled for an excuse. It was Saturday,
though, and David wouldn’t be working nearby, so I followed her inside. I
recognized the red-lipped hostess, despite the fact that she wasn’t nearly as
cheery as she had been when I was with David. I wondered if she was trying to
place me, since she gave me a curious, narrow-eyed look. I scanned the
restaurant furtively as she led us to an open, conspicuous table.

I ordered a burger, or rather, Gretchen ordered one
for me, but I found it hard to stomach. After making a show of the first two
bites, I nibbled on the side salad while Gretchen caught me up on the last two
months of work at her public relations office.

“You’ve got to come with me next time,” she was
saying. “California in the summertime is the shit. I even took a couple surf
lessons.”

“Doesn’t sound like work,” I muttered.

“It’s all about schmoozing,
Liv
,
and – ”

I froze.
Was
that . .
. ?
No.
It came again from behind me, and I stiffened instinctively.

“David, my man!” the voice boomed.

My heart whipped into a violent pounding, filling
my ears as blood rushed to my head. Gretchen looked at me with her head cocked.
Her mouth moved, but I heard nothing.

With slow precision, I turned my head over my
left shoulder and looked back. Two men I’d never seen before were pumping hands
emphatically. Through my decelerating heartbeat, I heard one call the other
‘David.’ I shook my head quickly and returned my attention to Gretchen. She was
still talking about California, though now she was looking at my plate. To
preempt another argument, I forced myself to take another bite. I chewed the
patty methodically until it was mush in my mouth and swallowed because I
thought she might notice if I spit it out.

“Well, that’s an extra hour on the treadmill,”
she groaned to her empty plate and covered her tummy with her hand.

CHAPTER 2

DAVENA’S FUNERAL HAD
BEEN like every funeral before it. I’d sat in the pew, staring forward as Bill
clasped my hand in his. At some point I had looked over to find him in tears,
but my hands were lifeless in my lap, and I didn’t have the words, so I
returned my eyes forward. My only moment of reality had been when her husband, Mack,
hugged me. He’d squeezed the breath from my lungs, holding me too tightly. And
when he’d let go, I felt nothing again.

She was predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and
untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life or in death. I
wondered how she didn’t even look vulnerable from that position; I wouldn’t
have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she’d invited me out for a
cocktail at
Sunda
.

But she didn’t. And eventually they eased the coffin closed and took her
away. Back at their place, Mack did his best to turn the reception into a
celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes was searing. It was
unavoidable, even when I looked away. We left early.

Although I was dubious in my belief of an afterlife, I sometimes prayed
to
Davena
for relief. In my head, I confessed
everything; that I was a sinner, an adulterer and a liar.
That
I only felt remorse for deceiving Bill, not for the crime itself.
Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make
everything right.

“Did you look at the article yet?”
Lisa, my least
favorite coworker, glared at me from the doorway with crossed arms.

Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back into reality. “Which
one?”

She exhaled her annoyance. “The guide to Logan Square.”

“It’s on your desk already.”

“Oh.” She pivoted and stalked away, revealing Serena behind her.

“She’s always super grouchy on Friday morning,” Serena said with a warm smile.
“And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . .
. .
You
get the idea.”

“Where did your hair go?” I asked.

“I’m taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut. What do you
think?”

“Cute,” I remarked, turning back to my computer.

“So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?”

I blinked my attention back to her. Serena had taken to calling me ‘boss’
since her promotion from intern to assistant editor.

“The wedding?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes. Lucy has been planning her wedding for as long as I’ve known her,
so it should be impressive.”

“I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just
like, so happy to be there. And it’s supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean –
”

“Serena, I’m really swamped here.”

“Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you.”

“Shoot,” I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.

“It’s about the
Chicago’s
Most Eligible
Bachelors and
Bachelorettes
issue – ”

“What?” I froze mid-keystroke.

“Well, um – I think we should do a follow-up piece on the website. I’m
sure the people we featured like, went on dates and stuff. Maybe some even
found relationships because of the article. We could even do, like, a teeny-tiny
article in the mag next month.”

I shook my head rapidly. “No, that won’t work. Let’s try and come up with
some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones.”

“Oh, okay, cool. I like that too.”

She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn’t meant to shut
her down, but I couldn’t risk a run-in with David.
Bachelor number three
,
I thought. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

I had gotten lucky at the launch party for the
Most Eligible
issue
two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event,
the best in the magazine’s history. Except for David Dylan. I’d overheard Lisa say
that he accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though
she’d begged him. Knowing he was out of town was no more painful than knowing
he wasn’t right next to me. He was gone forever, and the physical distance
wouldn’t change that.

I couldn’t ignore his presence at the party, though. Despite his
non-attendance, his smiling photo, which far outshone the other attendees’
pictures, was everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over David’s segment for me,
and the way she’d styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear
designer.
He
was
all teeth
and hard muscles in the three-piece suit Lucy had sold him. Clutching his
jacket casually at his side, he was the definition of roguish businessman.

I’d given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing
David’s spread. The wounds were too fresh. Even now, I still hadn’t had the
heart, or the guts, to read about David Dylan: wealthy, charming and handsome
Chicago bachelor. Every girl’s dream catch.

I got up and locked my office door, allowing myself a minute to lie down
on the couch. I was thankful for my weighty sweater to block the blasting A/C
unit above.

I’d told David I was black inside, but I was wrong. I hadn’t known it,
but I was empty. And for one stolen moment, he had filled me with himself,
physically and emotionally.
Now
I was black. Now I was poisoned. I was
so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should have felt, it
only came in fleeting waves.

I recalled his hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between
my breasts . .
. .
Just fucking stop,
I pleaded
with myself.
I have to
forget, please, I can’t do this anymore.

The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I
couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. Already
the guilt constantly dripped into the cracks of my interior.

The ringing of the office phone shredded through my thoughts. I pinched
the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that
never let me down, never judged or condemned me. I returned to my desk and hit the
speakerphone button.

“What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s
voice filled the office.

“Seven o’clock,” I said, wiggling my mouse to
wake up the computer. “When is Andrew’s?”

“Same. Think you can get off a little early? I
have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.

“Yeah, can you?”

“I don’t know. I’m sort of backed up here.” I
rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen.

“Please? I’m really excited.”

“All right,” I relented. “I’ll skip lunch.”

“I’ll pick you up downstairs at four, k? Love
you.”

~

I
waited downstairs for Bill on a street-facing concrete bench, wondering what the
surprise could possibly be. When the car arrived at the curb, I could hear Bon
Jovi on full volume: that was a good sign.

“Hey,” he said when I climbed in. “Ready for
your surprise?”

“Yes.” Because I had promised myself to try
harder, I took his hand.

He squeezed it. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit
back and relax.”

As we discussed our impending parties, it became
evident that we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when
we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It
was when we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.

“Don’t get any grand ideas,” he warned.

Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause
after
Davena’s
death. Now we were on the block of the
last house we’d seen over three months before. I recalled the afternoon with
our realtor Jeanine; the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery and the ensuing
argument where he’d tried to convince me that I was ready to have children. That
house had sold though, he’d told me bitterly back in June.
Unless
it had fallen through, and . . .
Oh, no
.
Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would
he go that far?

He pulled up to the same spot we had parked with
Jeanine months before.

“Bill – ”

“No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both
climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with
Jeanine for a while.” He wasn’t looking at the house we’d visited last time,
though. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.

It was still as ugly and unkempt as before.
Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Grey stone crumbled in some
spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw. The same endearing
character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it.

“The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill
explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told her they’d be
willing to sell it for a good price because of the poor shape. Since they
rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”

I looked from Bill to the house. He had
remembered my comments that day. To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is
so thoughtful.”

“It would be a lot of effort, and we’d probably
have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can’t stand
to see you this way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it
takes, then we’ll do it.” His voice was laced with sadness. I’d been punishing
both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he
was hurting.

I loved what he’d done for me, so I took his
hand. “Let’s go see the inside.”

The interior was almost empty with the exception
of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as
Bill. The main room’s greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive,
central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall.

The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step,
and it was cold inside, but I could tell it must have been very warm once. Dust
caked the surfaces and dead insects were scattered on the floor. I stepped into
a decent-sized backyard that was overrun with weeds and in dire need of some
attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung
Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rose bushes, a small fountain
. .
. .

When I reentered the house, Bill was standing
with his hands in his pockets. I watched as he inspected the stairway railing and
kicked at a loose floorboard. The corners of his mouth tugged, suggesting a
frown. I scanned the room around him. Honey-colored flooring would complement
the warm light that flooded from antique lamps. Heavy, earthy furniture made of
oak and aged leather would fill the open floor plan.

And, yet . . . something felt off, though I
wasn’t sure what. The house had potential, and I was already wondering what it
looked like in the early morning when the light was just starting to filter in.
Still, I struggled to complete the picture.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I froze, and seconds passed; I could hear the soft
ticking of the grandfather clock. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe once we’d
overhauled it and made it into the beautiful place I knew it could be, things
would be different. They had to be. Bill had been right all along. It wasn’t
going to be perfect right away or maybe ever. It would take time for it to feel
like home. I took a step backward and pointed to the second floor. “Upstairs?”

I followed as he carefully climbed the noisy
steps. The master bedroom, located at one end of the hall, was spacious –
bigger than any others we had seen, which I knew would appeal to Bill. It had a
large, unobstructed view of the backyard and a corner window on the opposite
wall that faced the street.

He reported that there were two more rooms down
the hall. I nodded, taking his words in but still studying him. “Can we afford
it, really?”

“No,” he said honestly. “The house, yes. But I
have no idea about the remodel. It’s outside our budget, I’m sure. It would
mean cutting back on some things for a while.”

“Is this what you want?”

He squinted his eyes and his tongue ran over his
front teeth. “I don’t know how I feel about taking on a project like this when
we’re both so busy. But I really want to get out of the city, and I want you to
love your new home.”

It was undoubtedly the nicest thing he’d ever
done for me. I shifted, and a floorboard groaned beneath me. The bedroom was
growing dark, and I blinked at his disappearing silhouette. “Okay,” I said.
“Yes. Let’s do it.” I crossed the room and hugged him close for an overdue
moment of intimacy. We walked to the stairs arm in arm before separating to
descend.

~