Finally, Forever (16 page)

“Just out of curiosity,”
Gray asks, “when’s the last time you saw Serena?” It takes me a few seconds to remember.

“Easter,” I say.

“When’s the last time you spoke to her?”

“A couple of months ago,” I say. “I tried calling her this summer but she never
called me back.” Gray looks a little unsettled at this news.

When we’re next in line I lean close to the glass partition. “We’re here to talk to Mike Stone,” I say. “He’s performing tonight.”

“Really?” the guy selling tickets looks back at me like I think he’s stupid. “Thanks for letting me know that, I never would have figured it out.”

Haha. Sarcasm at a comedy club. So fitting.

“Sorry. Listen, I’ve traveled over 2,000 miles for this moment. I’ve endured natural disasters, detours, even being detained by police officers. I need to see him right now. My future depends on it.” I close my mouth and realize I sound like a long distance groupie, the crazy stalker kind that carries ropes and knives, and this worker appears to register the same thing, since he leans back away from the glass.

“You can’t talk to the comedians before the show,” he tells me.

I open my mouth to argue and he cuts me off.

“Sorry,” he says. “The same rule applies to crazy stalkers.”

Gray interrupts us and asks to buy two tickets. He slaps down two twenty dollar bills and we get red ticket stubs in return. Gray pulls me away from the partition before security comes after us.

I follow him down the hallway toward the theater.

“I can’t believe you actually paid to see the vile Impregnator,” I tell him.

“
At least it got us inside,” Gray says. “I don’t think your tactic was working any better.”

“I was just being honest,” I say.

He grins at me over his shoulder. “I think gauche is the word you’re looking for.”

“Show off,” I
say.

He grabs my hand and pulls back a black curtain. We walk into a small,
dark theater with a black stage framed with more black curtains. It smells dank and musty. There isn’t a single window in the room. Black floor tiles shine under our feet. Even the tables and chairs are black. I feel like I’m standing in the waiting room of death.

“This is a comedy show, right?” I ask
, looking around.

There’s a bar
at the back of the theater, lit up around the sides with ribbons of fluorescent lights. Gray walks up to the bartender who’s dressed in a black shirt and slacks. He sets cash down on the counter. 

“Where’s the green room?”
Gray asks the bartender.

He looks at the cash and back at
Gray. “Why do you want to know?”

“We have to talk to Mike Stone’s girlfriend,
Serena,” Gray says and points at me. “This is her sister.”

“The pregnant one?” the bartender says with a knowing nod.

“She could go into labor any second,” I warn him. “You could say we’re her ER team.”

The bartender grabs the cash and nods to a door behind the bar. “Go for it,” he says and pockets the cash.

Gray

Before
Dylan opens the door, I get around her and block her way. She looks up at me and her eyes are confused. I know she wants to go flying through the door and jump into her sister’s open arms. She probably thinks Serena will cry with happiness and they’ll leave hand-in-hand, skipping away together under the starlight. I know how her daydreaming mind works. But I’m the practical one.

“Wait,” I say. “Has it occurred to you Serena probably won’t be happy to see you right now?”

She blinks up at me but her mind isn’t registering the warning. “No,” she says. “We’re family.”

“Yeah, and people can really hate their families
sometimes. Most domestic violence is family related,” I say. “Even homicides.”

“
Gray, can we earmark this conversation because it’s fascinating, but now is not the time.” She pushes me away.

I
reluctantly step back and Dylan opens the door. Serena is standing directly across the room from us, in front of a green velvet couch. I only assume its Serena since it looks like a balloon is stuffed under her black sweater. She looks nothing like Dylan, other than being tall. Her hair is as black as crow feathers. Her skin is ivory white and smooth. I can’t see a single freckle. Her dark brown eyes widen in surprise and her mouth drops open when she sees Dylan.

“What are you doing here?” Serena asks.

A guy
standing next to Serena turns around to look at us and I can only assume it’s Mike. He’s different than I imagined. He looks like a hipster-nerd, with shaggy hair spilling into his eyes and his jeans fit tighter than any man’s should legally be allowed.

I shut the door and stand next to
Dylan, assuming my best body guard pose. 

“I came to talk to you,”
Dylan says. She takes a step forward but then she hesitates.

Serena stays planted in place. She covers her arms over her chest and they rest on the bulge of her stomach.
There’s a coffee table between us, littered with open pizza boxes and cans of Coke.

“Oh, so now you take a sudden interest in my life?”
Serena asks Dylan.

“What’s up, I’m Mike,” Mike says and crosses the room toward us. He extends his hand and
Dylan keeps hers pressed to her side. I offer my hand instead.

“I’m
Gray,” I say. He gives my hand a confident shake and his brown eyes have a clever edge to them.

“
Gray,” Mike says. “So, your mom was depressed when you were born?”

Dylan
puts her hands on her hips. “He’s named after the coast of Oregon,” she states.  

“Oh, I see,” Mike says. “So, your mom was stoned when you were born?”

I start to smile, but then I look at Dylan’s expression and cough into my hand. It’s been a while since anyone’s made fun of my name.

“
Gray?” Serena says, and her eyes widen. “Wait, you’re
Gray
?”

I nod and she eyes me up and down.

“You’re a lot hotter than Dylan described,” she says. “No wonder she traded in her v-card for you.”

I raise a single eyebrow. And we were smart enough to use birth control, I want to add. My wiser half tells me the joke could dangerously backfire
right now.

Serena’s eyes snap over to
Dylan. 

“What’
s going on? What is he doing here?”

“
We ran into each other in Nebraska,” Dylan says.

“You were in
Nebraska?” Serena asks.

“Yes. I’ve been driving across the entire country trying to find you. To talk some sense into you.”
Dylan pauses, probably waiting for Serena to thank her and offer her the hug she’s been waiting for. Serena only glares at her from head to foot. 

“You prance in her
e with your skinny little waistline and perky boobs to tell me what to do with my life?”

“
Um. Not exactly,” Dylan says. Her hands start to fidget at her sides.

“Oh, ow.”
Serena half squats, half falls down onto the couch. 

“Are you having a contraction?”
Dylan asks and runs up next to her. She sits down at her side and reaches out for her hand but Serena pulls it back.

She shakes her head and winces. “It’s just kicking my spine at the moment.”

“What if you went into labor?” Dylan asks. “Do you have a birthing plan?” She looks at Serena. Serena looks at Mike. Mike looks at me, as if I have any input.

“How hard can it be?” Serena says. “Women have been delivering babies for centuries.
It’s what we’re biologically designed to do. Our bodies haven’t changed. Women used to do it in caves next to fire pits and bite on sticks.”

“W
hat are you saying?” Dylan asks. “You want to perform a cave birth?”

“That would be awesome,” Mike adds. “We can start a new birthing trend. Cavernous births. Slip out of one cave and into another. Talk about a natural transition.”

Serena winces again. “I swear he’s kicking my throat.” She massages her stomach. “Simmer down, Luke.”

“Luke?”
Dylan asks, her voice rising in excitement. “You’re having a boy?”

Serena nods. “Despite the rumors, I
have
seen a doctor.” 

“Well, as long as you don’t name your daughter Leia, then it’s alright with me,”
Dylan jokes. Backfire. Serena’s eyes fill with a surge of rage. I’m waiting for fire to blow out of her mouth.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months and you walk in here and critique the name of my kid?”

“I was just jok—”

“Do you know the hellish torture that pregnancy is?” Serena cries. “Did you know that your feet and your ears and your nose grow? Did you know you get moles?”

“You look amazing,” Dylan tells her and places a hand on her arm. “You’re seriously glowing.”

“Oh, fuck
you,” Serena replies. She lays her head back against the couch and groans.

I bite my lips together. Okay, no jokes and no compliments. Maybe
Dylan should have researched how to handle hormonally unstable pregnant women before she entered into this conversation. Maybe the trick is no talking at all.

Dylan looks over at me with surprise, as if some alien being has entered her sister’s body and she doesn’t recognize her anymore. 

Mike senses the problem.

“Here’s the trick to talking to a pregnant woman,” he offers and we all turn to look at him. “It’s a lot like talking to a sea animal. They don’t really understand what you’re saying, but they respond well to hand gestures and food. I carry powdered sugar donut holes with me at all times and toss them at Serena to reinforce positive behavior. It works really well.” He nods at the coffee table. “Cheetos would probably work, too.”

Serena tries to get up but she’s wedged to the couch. She points in our direction. “That is it. GET OUT!” she screams.

I willingly take the exit cue and follow Mike outside.

“
Can I buy you a beer?” he asks me as the door closes behind us, and I nod.

“Definitely,” I say.

Dylan

I turn back to Serena. She has some rage to spill, and I’m going to stand here and take the assault. I’m the target and
she’s throwing the darts. Here we go.

“What are you doing here
, Dylan?” she asks. “Are you here to make me feel even fatter?”

“I’m worried abou
t you,” I tell her truthfully.

“Why? You
’ve never worried about me before.”

“That’s not true,” I tell her.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she says. “You left home years ago and hardly looked back. You barely talk to Mom and Dad. You hardly ever call. You come back and visit once or twice a year with your scrapbooks and your insane stories and we never know what to believe. You’ve missed out on a lot.”

Her face is hurt and angry and I wish I would have listened to Gray. I should have prepared myself for this.

I raise my arms. There’s only one thing to say. “Well, I’m here right now.” 

Serena runs her hands over her
stomach and sniffles. Her mouth starts to tremble. “You don’t know what this has been like. Do you know that my bladder is as flat as a pancake because it’s smashed under a bowling ball? Do you know that every time I sneeze, I pee myself?”