A Little Ray of Sunshine (16 page)

Judging by the way my heart soared at that moment, you would have thought he’d fallen to his knees with debilitating mirth.

“Exactly. So, the girl says, ‘You have to help me. I thought my boyfriend was cheating on me, so I went to the gypsy and asked her to put a curse on the town that, as soon as anyone cheats, they’ll turn into a pig. Then I went to his work, he wasn’t there, but there was this pig in the supply closet with a naked girl. I need to know if it’s my boyfriend. The only cure is to give the pig a boilermaker.’

“The bartender shrugs, makes the drink. The pig slams it down, and then,
poof
, he’s a man again. The woman yells in outrage, slaps her boyfriend and stalks out.”

Luke’s smile widened a bit. Pure joy shot through me that I was making him smile, and I kept going.

“So, a few seconds later, a guy runs out of the bathroom with a pig in his arms, yelling, ‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God! The waitress and I were just doing it in the bathroom, and she turned into a pig!’ The bartender, an old hand now, whips up a boilermaker, gives it to the pig. The pig drinks it down, and
poof
, she’s a waitress again. The bartender stares at her for a long while, and says, ‘This reminds me a lot of our wedding day, honey.’”

Silence. Luke’s eyebrows knit for a second, and then, finally, he chuckled. It was the most gratifying thing I’d heard in weeks, and joy bounded through me like a wild pony.

“That’s a really bad joke,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.” I scuffed a Ked against the pavement and shrugged. “I’ve always had a soft spot for the bad ones.”

Luke’s smile faded a bit, but his eyes stayed on mine. “I remember.” He held the look for a moment longer, then gestured toward the house. “I should really—”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I let out an awkward half-laugh, half-snort and tried to pretend it was a sneeze. It was very sad. “Go on in. I have to get cleaned up and everything. So... see ya later.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow, I guess.”

“You bet.” I gave a little wave, and a moment later, he disappeared into the house. I went to the bush, retrieved the rag and walked slowly through the garage back into the workshop, where I sat and stared at the bookshelf for an hour before darting back inside to get cleaned up.

***

Love? No one’s good at love. It’s impossible to be good at love. Unless you’re French.

—Lilly Lorraine as Sami Blake in Parlez-Vous Divorce?, CBS made-for-television movie, aired March 1981

Fourteen

Claire.

Her name was
Claire
.

I sat back on my bed and closed my eyes, trying to picture what this Claire would look like, this just-friends Claire. She’d be beautiful, of course, but would she be a slutty, boobs-falling-out-of-the-dress kind of beautiful? Or a smart, sophisticated, touch-of-mascara-and-a-dash-of-lip gloss beautiful? I clasped my hands together and prayed fervently for boobs. Luke didn’t go for that type. Or, at least, Old Luke didn’t. Who knew about New Luke?

I glanced at the clock on my bedroom wall; it was a little past eight. I’d begged out of dinner claiming a headache from the fumes of the paint and the stain. I had spent a long time, some three hours, inhaling all that crap, but my head was fine. At least physically. Mentally, I was messier than an old lady’s basement.

I threw my feet over the side of the bed and hopped up, then began to pace. I would be the only one there tomorrow without a date, and there was no way I’d be able to get one by the time we all got to the courthouse at three. Why hadn’t I been more social in all the time I’d spent in Fletcher? If I had, if I’d just made some damn friends, I might be able to get out and track someone down and drag him to this thing. As it was, my only chance was sneaking out the window and hitting The Field, a sports bar on the outskirts of town. It was bound to be filled with guys, desperate guys, drunk guys. Pretty much my demographic at that point. I was fairly sure I’d be able to find one who could clean up good by tomorrow afternoon. I walked over to the window, threw it open, and cursed; I’d forgotten that the ash tree I used to climb down had gotten diseased, and Danny had taken it down. Damnit.

Now I’d have to wait until everyone else went to bed. Bonus, the later I went, the more desperate the pickin’s. There’s always a bright side.

There was a knock on the door, and I jumped and gasped like I’d been caught trying to hide a body. Jess poked her head in.

“You okay?” she asked, giving me a dubious look.

“Yeah,” I said, putting my hand to my temple. “Just opening the window for some fresh air.”

She smiled, glanced around her in the hallway, and then ducked in and closed the door behind her.

“Oh, my God!” she said in an excited shriek-whisper.

“What?” I asked, my heart jumping at the possibility that she had news that Claire had been hit by a car. Or no, hit by a car was too much. Come down with a plague, any plague, I didn’t care which plague. Something that lasted at least 24 hours. And was preferably sexually transmitted.

“What you did!” She walked over to me, practically jumping up and down in excitement. “I snuck down to the shop after dinner and it was amazing! The colored glass squares look so beautiful under the light from the lamp! How did you get them to fit so perfectly? And the way they glow—they looked awesome, EJ!”

“Oh,” I said, glancing behind me at the window
. It really wouldn’t be that far to jump
. “I, um, used the handheld router to carve out the squares in the wood. Cut out some aluminum to reflect the light back up from underneath. Danny taught me how to do stuff like that when I was younger.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Wow. You’ve got a talent for it. That’s amazing work.”

I couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Really? I was a little worried, you know, because the oak was so nice. I didn’t screw it up?”

“No! I love the way the squares are sort of randomly placed, not all in a straight line. It gives it such a fresh, funky feel. And so much of the surface is still the oak. They’re really just accents, but it’s gorgeous.”

“You think?” I could feel my excitement start to match hers. “See, I knew I’d never be able to line them up right, so I figured, just throw ‘em on there and no one will be able to tell. And they’re removable, so they can use them for coasters and then pop them out and clean them or whatever.” I nibbled on my lip. “I made another set, too, but I don’t know. I think maybe it’ll be better to just go with the glass squares and forget the other stuff.”

“Well, what’s the other set?” she asked.

I waved a hand in the air. “It’s nothing. I mean... just this stupid, sentimental...”

Her eyes widened. “You? Sentimental? Seriously?”

I shook my head. “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just stick with the glass inserts.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “You really think I’m gonna let you get away with that? You’re showing me what you did. Now.”

I afforded one last glance back at the open window as she dragged me out of my room, but then realized it’d be easier for me to run out to The Field from the workshop, anyway. I could just scooch out through the garage, and no one would be the wiser. Jess led me through the house, and down through the kitchen to the back entrance to the workshop.

“Oh, Emmy, are you feeling better?” Mom called from the sink as she hand-dried a glass. “We’re going to break out Scrabble in a few minutes if you’d like to join us. I’ve pulled out the OED in case Danny decides to get fancy again.”

“‘Qopf’ is a word!” Danny shouted from the den.

“Um,” I said, but before I could come up with an excuse, Jess called out, “We’ll be there in a few minutes!” and she yanked me through the door to the workshop. She turned her back to the bookcase and put her hands over her eyes. “Go ahead.”

I stared at her. “Go ahead and what? Hide?”

“No!” She stamped one foot in excitement. “Put the other set in. The sentimental set. I want to see them in the bookcase.”

“Look, I really think we should just keep the glass—”

“Oh, for crying out loud, EJ, just do it!”

I walked over to the shelf where I’d put the white ceramic tiles I’d painted earlier that day. My face flamed as I pulled them out and looked at them, and I wondered what the hell I’d been thinking when I mentioned them to Jess. Resigned, I did as instructed.

“You can look now,” I said when I was done.

Jess pulled her hands down and turned. I cringed, waiting for her to make some kind of polite commentary, because I knew she wouldn’t say out loud that they were cheesy and horrible, which they were. Looking at them at that moment, I couldn’t believe I’d ever painted them in the first place. There was no polite commentary from Jess, however, just stark silence. I straightened up and looked at her, as she stared, mouth agape, at the painted squares.

“I know,” I said quickly. “I told you it was stupid. I used to do these cartoon drawings of people when I was a kid, and... I don’t know. It seemed like a fun idea at the time, but—”

She held up her hand to silence me and walked closer, switching on the gooseneck lamp and aiming it at the tabletop. Under the light, the cartoon images of six heads and shoulders smiled out from the tabletop. There was Danny, with his circular face, shock of white hair, and confident smile. Digs, in a black t-shirt with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Mom, hair pulled back Audrey Hepburn-style, blue eyes smiling, green turtleneck poking out from behind a white apron.

“Oh, my God,” Jess breathed.

I couldn’t look at them for the embarrassment, so I kept my eyes on my shoes. “It was just a thought. We don’t have to give them this.”

“Look at your mom!” Jess laughed. “You got her smile perfectly. And... wow! Look at Luke! With his hair all messy and the flannel shirt! I recognize the eyes, though, and the grin. That’s what he used to look like?” She paused and had a sudden intake of breath, pointing to the tile right below Luke, an egghead painting of a blonde woman with spiky ponytails sneaking out behind her ears. “Is that...?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re in the wedding party. And Mom really likes you. I’m sorry, I hope that doesn’t make you feel weird, but hell, you’re already as much a part of the family as I am, and—”

She glanced up at me, face beaming. “I think it’s wonderful.”

I groaned. “It’s stupid. Can we just put the glass inserts back and throw these away before anyone else sees them?”

“Over my dead body. These are...” She straightened up and stared at me. “Do you have any idea what these are?”

“Deathly sentimental schlock?”

She shook her head and pulled me over to stand next to her, forcing me to look at the table with the ceramic tiles inset. “These were painted by the person everyone else sees but you. The person you really are inside.”

I shifted sideways and shot her a look. “Let’s not get deep about this. They’re just cartoons, Jess.”

“No, they’re not. They’re so much more than that. Whenever your mother looks at that bookcase, she’s going to know that you cared enough about her to shuck off that protective shell for a second and allow your heart to express itself. These paintings aren’t just beautiful, EJ, they have meaning. You couldn’t possibly give your mother a more perfect gift.”

Jess gave me her determined look, and I knew I was sunk. I held up the glass squares I’d been holding in my hand. “Can we at least give her these, too? Just a slightly... I don’t know... classier alternative?”

Jess sighed and patted me on the shoulder. “Sure. You bet.”

“Okay.” I switched off the gooseneck lamp and set the glass squares down, then turned to see Jess staring at me.

“What?”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Thank
me
? For what?”

“For... I don’t know.” Her smile faded a bit. “I’ve been having a lot of fun here. It’s been... nice.”

Her eyes got that misty look, and I could see once again that she was coming close to whatever her Thing was, the place inside her where she wouldn’t ever, ever go. I took a breath, and decided that maybe she needed someone to push her the way she’d pushed me.

“Where’s your family, Jess?” I asked.

Her face went blank for a moment, as though all expression had just been shocked right out of her, and then she shook her head and looked away. “I don’t have one.”

“Everybody has—”

“I don’t.” Her voice was harder than I’d ever heard it, and my face must have looked surprised, because she smiled and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry. I just... I can’t talk about that, so I’m going to ask you not to ask me about it, okay?”

“Are you sure?” I said. “You know, I didn’t want to talk about any of my stuff, either, but I think it’s really helped. And if you need me, I want to be there for you.”

Holy shit
, I thought.
The angel turned me into a real girl.

“I’m sure. Thank you for asking, though. See? You’re not as self-absorbed as you think you are.” She smiled again, waving her hand in the air as though shooing the ghosts away. “Ready for Scrabble?”

I glanced behind me toward the door that led to the garage, which would lead outside to my truck and my chance of getting someone, anyone, to be my crutch for tomorrow’s wedding.

“You know what?” I said, touching my jeans pocket to be sure I had my keys on me. “I have something to do. Rain check?”

“Okay.” She eyed me, not suspicious exactly, but definitely wary. “Do you want company?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “It won’t take long.”

***

It was a little before nine when I showed up at Luke’s door, but at least nine-fifteen before I finally got the wherewithal to knock. When I finally did, the door opened almost immediately, and there was Luke. He was wearing his suit pants, but he’d lost the jacket and tie, and his top button was undone. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb.

“You knocked,” he said. “I’d have bet cash money that you were gonna turn around and go back.”

I blinked. “Wait. You knew I was out here that whole time?”

He motioned over my shoulder. I turned to see a curtain suddenly draw closed in the yellow house across the street.

“Mrs. Pope,” Luke said. “She’s a Neighborhood Watcher. She called my cell about ten minutes ago. I told her you weren’t dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to him. “So you just let me stand here all that time?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Fine. Whatever. Look, I just came over to say something quickly, then I’ll get out of your hair and Mrs. Pope can go back to her
Murder, She Wrote
DVDs.” I waited for him to laugh at the joke, but he didn’t. My nerve started to slip, and I began to babble. “So, okay. What I came here to say is... important... to me, so... I’m just... I’m gonna say it.”

There was a long pause. Luke motioned over his shoulder. “Are you gonna say it now or do I have time to make a sandwich?”

“About Claire,” I said, forcing the words out. “I just want you to know, I’m totally okay with it.”

He raised his eyes in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know... earlier today I acted a little weird, but that was just because... well. I’m a little weird.”

“Right,” he said.

“And earlier tonight, I was thinking about going out to the Field to find someone drunk and/or desperate enough to be my date tomorrow, but then I thought, I don’t want to be that girl anymore, you know? That insecure, self-absorbed girl who never thinks she’s good enough. That girl ruined my life, and I don’t want her around anymore.” I put my hand to my forehead. “Oh, hell. I’m not making any sense.”