Stay (21 page)

As soon as Alex left, I ransacked my closet. I had no nice clothes. I had no reason to have nice clothes. The ones that were presentable when I was in college were either worn out, too tight, or a fun combination of both. I found the black Betsey Johnson dress I got at the outlet mall with my mom. I didn’t want to try it on. Maybe it was too
come and get it
. It was probably too small. It still had the tags on. It reminded me too much of her.

“It was made for you, lady,” she’d said when I came out of the dressing room. It was a black jersey knit that hung low and loose off my shoulders and was tight in all the right places.

“I don’t have anywhere to wear it, Mom.” I tugged at the sleeves to see how far down the shoulders could go before it got dangerous.

She grabbed for the price tag.

“It’s on sale,” she said. “And everyone should have a dress that makes them feel like this.” She picked a piece of lint off of my breast and flicked it away from us. “You make a place to wear something like this.”

I pulled skirts off hangers and let shirts slip to the floor as I thumbed through them. But nothing was right, so I slipped the dress over my head. I slid my arms into the sleeves as I walked into the bathroom and the dress fell into place. It fit perfectly. I studied myself in the mirror from all angles, piling my hair up on my head while I checked out the back. I sucked my cheeks and pouted. Joe dropped his chew toy on the floor and watched me.

I wished I could call my mom to tell her I finally had a reason to wear the dress.

T
he next night, at five minutes to six, Joe growled and ran over to my bedroom window. I followed, wearing two different shoes, because I couldn’t decide which ones worked better.

I peeked out the window and saw Alex’s pickup truck sitting at the end of my driveway. I kicked off the low-heeled shoe in favor of the higher one with the patent leather bow. When I couldn’t find the mate, I decided that the bow was too precious and the plain ones would work better anyway.

But after all of that, he still hadn’t rung the doorbell. I worried he might be having second thoughts.

I checked out the window. The truck was still there.

I ran into the bathroom, gargled some mouthwash, and touched up my lip gloss. When I looked in the mirror, I felt pretty. I’d forgotten that I was pretty. I was so used to wearing ratty jeans and messy ponytails that I had forgotten how good it felt to look good.

I ran down the stairs and peeked out the window. The truck was pulling up the driveway.

At exactly six, the doorbell rang.

Joe tore over to the door and sat in front of it, barking.

I opened the door, and he ran out and jumped on Alex.

“I’m sorry!” I said, trying to grab Joe’s collar and pull him back inside.

When I leaned over, the neck of my dress fell forward, flashing my bra. I hugged my free arm up to my shoulder to cover myself. If Alex saw, he did a good job of pretending he didn’t.

“No problem.” He reached into his sports jacket and pulled out a rawhide bone. “Okay?” he asked, waving it at me.

“Yeah.”

“Here you go, buddy.” Alex held the bone out.

Joe took it gently between his teeth and jumped up on the couch.

“Some men bring flowers. You bring rawhide,” I said, laughing. “I guess you’ve figured out that the way to my heart is through my dog, huh?”

“Yup,” Alex said, smiling. “And this is for you.” He handed me a rolled-up tube of paper. “I wrote all the definitions in. Let me know if you can’t read my handwriting.”

“Thank you!” The writing on the first page was strange and square, like an architect’s-like maybe he worked extra hard to make it clear for me.

I stepped back into the house to let him in. As soon as I closed the door, he wrapped his arms around me.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” he said.

He seemed so comfortable hugging me. Did it mean as much to him as it did to me? Maybe he was one of those people who hugged everyone. I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart pounding against my chest.

He breathed in deeply, as if he was smelling my hair. I hoped it smelled good. I’d washed my hair, but I didn’t have any flowery shampoo, just the stuff that was on Shopper’s Club special at Wegmans.

Alex stepped away from me and held my hands. “You look amazing,” he said.

“Thanks.” I remembered seeing this thing on PBS about smiling. We have like a million different types of fake smiles, but only one true, involuntary smile. The way Alex made me smile was totally involuntary. My cheeks hurt.

The light blue shirt he had on under his sports jacket was worn down to white threads at the very tips of the collar. His pants were charcoal gray. The crease was still sharp and they looked brand-new. He had a tie wadded up in his jacket pocket. I reached over and pulled it out. It was pale yellow with maroon and blue paisley patterned across in diagonal lines. I held it up to him.

“I don’t know how to tie a tie,” he said. “I thought maybe you would.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, not so well. But it’s worth a try.”

He buttoned the top two buttons of his collar and held his arms out to the sides like a paper doll.

I flipped his collar up, slipped my arms around his neck, and passed the tie from one hand to the other to pull the ends to the front. I milked it. I liked the feel of his hair against my hands. I liked my face so close to his that I could feel his breath on my nose.

I twisted the tie around itself and pulled the knot up toward his neck. The last time I’d tied a tie was for Peter. I lingered, taking longer to stay close to him too, but my hands hadn’t had the same nervous shake, and my fingers hadn’t fumbled as much.

“Thanks,” he said.

I ran my hand down his tie to smooth it out. Alex put his hand over mine. He leaned forward and kissed me. I kept my eyes closed for an extra second when he pulled away. The insides of my eyelids glowed warm orange. When I opened my eyes, everything still looked warm.

He threaded his fingers into mine and gave my hand a tug. We smiled at each other, big goofy grins.

“We have reservations,” he said, softly.

“Do we?” I said, raising my eyebrows. I stepped away from him to grab my purse and coat.

He blushed. “Leonardi’s. Six fifteen.” He took my coat and held it out for me to slip into.

“I’ve never been.” I buttoned up my coat and pulled my gloves out of the pocket. I didn’t put them on, in case Alex wanted to hold my hand in the car.

“Louis recommended it.”

We said good-bye to Joe, who was so busy chewing on his rawhide bone that he barely noticed we were leaving.

Alex opened the passenger door, and closed it gently after I got in. I worried that it might not be closed all the way. I always slammed my car door shut.

He slid onto the seat next to me. When he turned the car on, country music was blasting. Something about a Whirlpool washer and dryer. I couldn’t tell if it was a commercial or a song. Alex reached for the knob on the radio and turned it down.

“I’m guessing you’re not a country fan,” he said.

“How’d you know?” I asked, still with the big smile. It wouldn’t go away.

“Your accent is the opposite of country.”

“I don’t have an accent.” I laughed. “You have an accent.”

“Oh, really,” he said, in mock annoyance. “Missy, you say
coffee
like there’s a
w
in it.”

“There isn’t?” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He looked over at me, then back at the road. “Don’t stick out your tongue unless you intend to use it.”

“What, are you in high school?” I pushed at his shoulder lightly.

He smiled at me and I could see the crinkles around his eyes in the yellow streetlight.

“Are you going to stop short and try to cop a feel?” I blurted out, surprising myself.

Alex laughed. When we got to the stop sign at the end of the road, he hit the brakes a little hard and reached his arm across me.

“You make me feel like I’m still in high school,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“Is that a good thing?” My mind raced through tubes of Clearasil, bad hair, and sneers from the head cheerleader when she found out about my secret crush on her boyfriend.

“It’s a good thing,” he said softly and chewed his bottom lip.

W
hen we got to the restaurant, Alex dropped me off at the door and parked the truck. I stood in the lobby waiting for him. Two bluehaired ladies with handbags and shoulder pads sat in the corner. Twinkle lights from a fake ficus tree reflected in the polished wood walls.

“Gladys,” a woman with a huge gold pleather purse said, loudly, to the woman sitting next to her on the bench, “did you see the Brandt boy drive up?” She was leaning in to Gladys like she was telling a secret.

“The Brandt boy?” Gladys said, leaning back, equally loud.

“Yes. The blue truck.” She fished through her purse and pulled out a lipstick.

“He drove up but he didn’t come in?” Gladys started rummaging through her purse too.

“I think this one is his date.” The woman smeared hot-pink lipstick around her mouth.

“Which one?” Gladys raised her chin and gestured at the woman to wipe the corner of her lip.

“This one,” the woman said, pointing at me. I was the only other person in the lobby.

I looked away and pretended I couldn’t hear them. There was an enormous gumball machine in the corner of the lobby, even though I couldn’t imagine they had a big market for gumballs.

“Oh,” Gladys said, like it had six syllables. She looked back at the other woman. “She’s the spitting image of Mary Alice.”

“She’s prettier than Mary Alice.”

“Mary Alice is a gorgeous girl.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t gorgeous, I’m saying-”

Alex’s ex-wife’s name was Sarah. Who was Mary Alice?

Alex opened the door and stepped into the lobby. He hooked his arm into his side and offered me his elbow. I smiled and took his arm, trying to keep my worries to myself.

“Shall we?” he said.

“Oh, Alex,” Gladys said, waving the tips of her fingers at him. “How are you?”

“Mrs. Liberatella, Mrs. Goldfarb!” Alex said, turning us toward them.

“You look terrific.”

“We were just talking about you,” Gladys said. “Weren’t we, Ruth?”

“Yes,” Ruth said, reaching in her mouth with her index finger to scrub off any lipstick that might have made it to her teeth.

“Good things, I hope.”

“Oh, you!” Gladys winked at him, showing off her shiny blue eye shadow.

“This is Savannah Leone.”

I put my hand out to shake theirs. Ruth shook my hand back. Gladys used my hand to pull herself up so she could hug me. She was shaky on her feet. She smelled like lavender and her body was soft like jelly around her bones.

She put her hand on my face. “It’s nice to meet you, dear.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We have a table waiting,” Alex said, excusing us.

“Enjoy!” one of the ladies yelled after us. I turned around and they were both waving.

A waiter in a white shirt and a black bow tie seated us at a small round table in the corner. He pulled a long lighter out of his apron pocket and used it to light a candle in a squat red votive cup at the center of the table. He grabbed my napkin, snapped it out with one hand, and draped it across my lap. Alex grabbed his and put it in his lap before the waiter could get to it.

“Something to drink?” the waiter said. His slick hair glimmered in the candlelight. He opened the wine list in front of Alex.

“Do you have a favorite?” Alex asked.

“Red?” I laughed. “I really don’t know my wines.”

“Me either,” Alex said.

“I’ll leave you with a moment to decide,” the waiter said, rushing off.

Alex slid the wine list between us so we could both look at it. The restaurant was dark and the writing on the wine list was light and curly. I had to lean in close to read it. Alex ran his finger down to one in the middle of the red list.

“This look okay?” he asked, pointing to a cabernet.

“Fine,” I said, but kept leaning in to him.

“Okay then,” Alex said, keeping his finger on the page. “We just have to hope he comes back now.”

“Hey, who’s Mary Alice?” I felt bold in the dark with him.

“Mary Alice?”

“Before you came in, I overheard Mrs. Liberatella talking about her. She said she was gorgeous.”

“I think she’s beautiful,” Alex said, smiling. “But she’s my mom. Maybe I’m biased.”

“Ah,” I said, hoping my relief wasn’t too obvious. “What’s she like?”

“She’s fun. She’s-” He opened his palm out to me like he was trying to find the right word to wave in my direction. “She’s not like other moms.”

“Does she wear a cape and fight crime?”

“Exactly,” Alex deadpanned. “She shoots webs from her wrists and swings from buildings. No flying. That I know of.”

If I were doling out points, he would have gotten a bunch for playing along with me.

“My mom was pretty young when she had me,” Alex said. “She and my dad met in high school. They’re best friends. It’s really cool. They’ve been married for a really long time, but they still have fun together, you know?”

It made me feel so sad for my mom, raising me by herself. She met my dad in high school too, but after he bailed she never really found anyone else. Diane was the closest thing to a best friend she had. I just wish she hadn’t had to do everything alone like that.

“What’s going on in there?” Alex said, reaching across the table. He placed his index finger on my forehead. When he took it away, I could still feel the pressure of his fingertip between my eyes.