Undertow (25 page)

“Cut to the chase, Mom.”

“You have to pop all my balloons, don’t you Mari? So impatient, can’t stand anyone else’s excitement.” She frowned at her. “Well, fine then. But won’t you at least try to allow your mother a moment of happiness?”

Marissa winced, guilt and rage mixing in an uncomfortable stew. “Sure. Be happy, Mom.”

Her mother’s unnatural ecstasy was back in a flash. “Yes! I will. Be happy.” Then, as if unable to contain herself any longer, she blurted: “George and I are getting married! Here!”

Marissa gaped at her. “Seriously? Married? Why?”

Laughing, her mother said, “Why? Because we’re in love, of course! We want to spend the rest of our lives together.” She turned wistful. “We’re just so . . . right . . . together.”

Her mother, in love?
She couldn’t quite picture this possibility
. With George
? Marissa plopped on the bench and stared blankly ahead.

“Won’t you congratulate me? Wish me well, even?”

 “Congratulations,” she said. “That’s great.” She clenched her jaw. “When?”

“August.”

“
This
August? That’s pretty quick, isn’t it?”

“I’m not getting any younger, sweetie. Besides, when it’s right, it’s right. Why wait?”

Silence hung like a curtain between them for a moment until her mother finally sighed and sat down beside Marissa, looping her arm around her shoulder. “Mari, sweetie. I’ll still be here for you. Always. You know that. But I have to live my life, too. Please try to be happy for me.”

I’m a jerk,
she thought.
I have Jim. Doesn’t Mom deserve somebody to love, too?

She hugged her mom with all her strength. “Mom. Of course I’m excited for you. Just shocked, I guess.”

The dark cloud lifted from her mother’s face, replaced by a sunny smile which reflected the spring sky. “Oh,
thank you,
Mari! I love you.” She stood up and gestured at the garden. “Won’t this be perfect for the wedding? It’s just gorgeous here!”

Marissa laughed in spite of herself. “Yes. This is a perfect place for a wedding.”

“Okay, now I have a huge favor to ask of you.” The corners of her mother’s mouth twitched and her eyes glittered. “Marissa, will you do me the honor of being my bridesmaid?”

She groaned.
Another dress
.

Thirty-Five

D
readed July arrived, and Marissa was on a plane bound for Denver, clutching Jim in terror every time they hit turbulence.
Remind me again why I agreed to do this,
she thought.  At least she didn’t get air sick and have to use the barf bag.

As promised, Jim held her, his arms wrapped like a safety blanket around her through the entire three hour long flight. He cooed to her: “Breathe, babe, that’s right. We’re almost there.”

Good thing there wasn’t a layover; she never would have boarded the next plane, Jim or no Jim.

A week earlier Kelly called in an attempt to patch up before getting on her own flight and taking off to Honduras for six weeks. With Drake. Marissa muttered monosyllabic responses. Finally, she wished her a safe trip through clenched jaws; when the call got dropped, it was a huge relief. She sat there afterward and stewed:
I hate her. I do.

In truth, she also missed Kelly like crazy. She’d been her only true friend during all those horrible years, from the time Gilbert destroyed her world, through her mother’s nosedive into the bottle, the breakup with Drake, and her recent insanity. Every miserable moment. For her part, Marissa had nursed her friend along, squeezing her hand while she battled the compulsion to vomit an entire pan of cinnamon rolls she’d just inhaled, pushing her to tell the counselor at school about the cutting, sticking around even when Kelly hated her for telling because she wouldn’t do it on her own. Losing Kelly hurt way more than losing Drake ever did.

Still, Marissa refused to forgive her.

When the pilot announced they were about to begin their descent into Denver, she allowed Jim to raise the blind covering the window. At least she could brag about seeing the Rockies. The view was spectacular. The peaks rose like sentinels, guarding the fragile, flat city
.
She’d never seen mountains like this except in pictures and for a moment she was so awe-struck, she forgot where her body was.

Then her stomach sunk as the plane dropped elevation and the Monopoly-like houses grew larger as they plummeted toward the city. Squeezing Jim’s hand tight enough to bruise his fingers, she closed her eyes and prayed the next sensation wouldn’t be the impact of metal crashing into cement.

Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne welcomed her enthusiastically. “Call us Roderick and Jackie,” they insisted. It was obvious where Jim got his lanky height—Marissa was forced to keep her neck arched back during their conversation. By the end of this trip, she’d have to visit her mother’s quack-ropractor, as she called him.

“So this is the girl who stole our son’s heart.” Roderick winked at Jim, grinning like a clown beside him. Mr. Montaigne looked Marissa up and down as if measuring her fitness for the job, like a horse at auction. The man’s aristocratic profile—deep set eyes, broad forehead thick with lines, haughty nose—was intimidating. There was a definite resemblance; the crop of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth must have come from years of joking around like Jim. Looking at his father, she could picture Jim in thirty years. Thankfully, he still had hair.

“Our Jamie always did have excellent taste in girls,” his mother said, nodding approvingly at Marissa. “But Marissa is especially lovely,” she added, before the sting of the reference to Jim’s previous girlfriends could set in.

She blushed in spite of herself.
Jamie?
She sneaked a glance at Jim.
They call you Jamie? No wonder you left Denver.

Jim’s parents correctly assumed Marissa would prefer to sleep in Jim’s room and didn’t bother with the charade of offering her a separate guest room or the fold out sofa in the office.
For old people, they’re pretty chill
, she thought. Just like Jim.
Jamie
.

She could barely wait until he closed the door before taunting: “Oh,
Jamie
, can you come out to play? Let’s play dress up with my baby dolls.”

He faked an annoyed face at her and lunged. He grabbed her hands and tickled her with his free hand. She fell backwards onto the bed. “You’re the only baby doll I want to play with,” he teased. “And I’m man enough to keep you from getting away.” He peppered her face with kisses and flexed his muscles, keeping her pinned beneath him. Her breath quickened.
Pretty hot for a Jamie,
she thought, my
Jamie.

Mercifully, the dreaded wedding took place the next day, so there wasn’t much time to swim in her anxiety. In the morning, Jim drove her around Denver, going from one sprawling suburb of strip malls to another. They stopped for lunch at Wolff’s Barbeque, one of the city’s few vegetarian dives. Amazing how tasty barbequed tofu could be.

“Have to fly two thousand miles for decent barbeque,” he said. “Can’t get this in Portland.”

She grimaced. Hopefully, he wasn't getting all nostalgic for home. Denver was okay, but there was no way she would consider moving there.

“Yeah, but Portland’s veggie heaven, Jim. It’s just that barbeque isn’t considered haute cuisine there.”

 After lunch, Jim took her to his old elementary school. “This is the court I used to rock my b-ball.” Pointing at the court, out in the open with no overhang to protect from rain, he beamed as if he built the place himself. Apparently, rain wasn’t a frequent event in Denver and the kids didn’t go outside to play when it snowed. The sky, now a shocking shade of blue, seemed like a freak of nature. She admired it for a moment. Oregon had nothing like it, at least not west of the Cascades.

In his old bedroom that afternoon, Jim zipped her into the mandatory dress. He brushed his lips against her bare neck as she held her hair twisted up above her head. His warm breath made her spine tingle.

“I wish I was unzipping this instead,” he said.

Marissa laughed. “That was last night, Jamie. Remember?”

 “Tonight’s a new night,” he said. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face him and gave her a gentle kiss. He stepped back and his eyes grew wide. “Oh, baby. You look killer.”

She shimmied her hips, and the dress swished around her knees. Jim clutched his chest and swooned. They both burst into laughter.

“Let’s go show ’em up, babe. My cousin is going to be wicked
jealous
.”

She rocked on her heels as she waited her turn to make it through the stiff receiving line. Beside her, Jim’s body felt rigid. All around them, the air bubbled with gaiety and celebration. But Marissa felt like she was walking toward the gallows.

When the ceremony began, the bride appeared in a flourish and floated down the aisle, keeping perfect time to the organ’s rendition of “Here Comes the Bride.” The woman’s hair was elaborately braided into a crown under which a veil and tiny flowers were pinned. Marissa thought she looked like a Nordic goddess; if an average girl was stretched six inches to match Jim’s height, she’d achieve the model-like proportions his former fiancé was blessed with.

The world went silent and black after the bride walked past, until Marissa emerged with a jump when the ceremony concluded. The groom lifted the veil and revealed the bride’s blushing cheeks and dainty nose. Her heart sunk; compared to Jim’s old girlfriend, she imagined she looked like a troll.

Now the bride stood directly in front of her, and was even more gorgeous up close.  The woman reached
out to shake her hand after a nervous glance toward Jim, standing wooden beside her. “Thank you for coming to my wedding.”

“Congratulations,” Marissa said.

“Your new girlfriend?” The bride smiled at Jim.

He wrapped his arm protectively around Marissa. “Live and in person,” he said. “Marissa’s more than my new girlfriend. She’s my world!”

And the awkwardness fell away just like that. The man couldn’t stay uptight for more than a few minutes; yet another trait she loved about him.

“Lucky girl.” The bride winked at Jim and pulled Marissa in close to whisper, “Jamie’s a keeper. Just not for me. Take good care of him.” She released her and turned back to Jim. “Looks like you won the lottery with this one, Jamie,” she said, tilting her head toward Marissa. “Better not let her get away.”

“No chance of that.” Jim pulled Marissa closer. “No way.”

“I don’t want to,” she objected, as Jim pushed her toward the gaggle of girls hopping up and down in anticipation.

“You
have
to, sugar. All the girls do.” He grinned at her. “Not afraid of a few flowers, are you?”

She glowered at him like a stubborn child. The reception was actually fun, sort of. Until now. Jim kept his eyes locked on her while they danced; not once did he gawk at his former fiancé, now commanding center stage as the star of her show. Marissa was clumsy, but somehow Jim’s ease transferred some of his grace to her and they managed to make a respectable pair on the dance floor. When he dipped her back in a dramatic bow, she was positively giddy.