Louder Than Love (24 page)

“Adrian, you don’t have to. It’s silly.” I kicked a bit of sand at my so-called best friends who had promised to behave themselves. “I can’t believe you dug TOD out.”

“Leanna’s idea.”

“I don’t mind, Kat.” He pulled me close. “I can handle it.”

“Oh but wait, it gets better.” Rob passed Adrian a beer. “I upped the stakes and introduced a strip poker element into it a while back. Otherwise, it gets pretty boring, pretty fast.”

“If you answer the Truth question, the asker has to remove an article of clothing,” Liz explained. “If you take the Dare, you have to not only do the dare, but also let them remove a piece of
your
clothing.”

“I hate you all,” I said, shaking my head as Adrian pulled me down next to him and prepared for the first question.

Marissa was to his left. “I’ll be gentle. Have you ever murdered anyone? No? See, that was easy. Next!” She took off one bangled bracelet with considerable fanfare and gestured for Leanna to record it in the book.

Liz followed. “What was the first thing that came to your mind when you met Tree?” She blew into her half-empty beer bottle and awaited his answer.

It didn’t take him long. “That she was stunning . . . and one day I’d possess her heart.”

The group collectively interjected with a long drawn-out “Awwww!”

Liz pulled off her shirt to reveal a tank-top underneath. “Leanna, you’re up.”

I cringed, waiting for some anti-male diatribe. Leanna could be pretty caustic when her heart was in it. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Okay, maybe that was worse.

“Hmmm, no. I don’t.” He took a long swallow of beer. “I believe love involves the commitment of many senses, as well as your head and your heart, so I wouldn’t just rely on my eyesight,” he finished, winking at her. Leanna kicked off a sandal, and the age-old debate ensued as to whether footwear was indeed an article of clothing.

“What is the dumbest thing you ever did while under the influence?” Rob asked.

Adrian stared stonily into the fire, as if secrets and answers were contained in the flames. “I burned my daughter’s oatmeal,” he finally replied. “Burned . . . her oatmeal.” Slowly and quietly, as if he could still hardly believe it.

The chatter around the fire died down. Karen gave a nervous giggle. Liz stifled a burp, and Mitch cleared his throat. Marissa raised her brows, and Leanna rested her chin in her hand, waiting for more. My hand gripped his knee tightly, imploringly. “Such a simple . . . normal task. I tried so hard . . . I was high . . . nodded out. Almost burned the house down, and I lost custody of her. I’d say that was pretty bloody stupid of me.”

“Yo man, I had no idea, I’m sorry . . .” Rob started.

“Don’t be. It was the catalyst for cleaning up my life, so . . . no worries.”

Rob unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt and apologized once more. This time, for the man-boobs he was about to reveal.

Mitch lightened the mood considerably. “So, Adrian . . . have you ever been with more than one woman in bed at the same time?”

“Mitchell!”

“Relax, Kar . . . it’s Truth or Dare!”

“Yes, Mitch, I have,” Adrian answered simply.

“Really? How many?”

“Hey, only one question during your turn, mister,” Marissa said. Mitch grinned and dropped his shorts to reveal his boxers. Karen’s embarrassment was quickly turning to disgust. “Your turn, Karen.”

Karen turned to Adrian, shyness in her voice. “If you could choose anyone, living or dead, to meet and have lunch with, who would you choose and why?”

Marissa added, “And it can’t be a cop-out answer like Ghandi, Marilyn Monroe, or Hitler, okay?”

Adrian smiled thoughtfully. “Dare.”

“Seriously? You can talk about doing drugs and banging multiple chicks and you can’t answer that?” Leanna teased. “Karen, think of a good dare for him, and Adrian—you have to let Karen take a piece of your clothing off of you.”

Karen was doubly mortified now, but giggled when Adrian held up one foot. She pulled off his sneaker. “I dare you to . . . run down to the lake and scream the chorus to
Maxwell MacGillikitty
at the top of your lungs.” Our laughter was drowned out as he belted out Karen’s request. A faraway canine howled back in reply.

“And that ends your turn. Tree, you got off easy, you didn’t have to ask your man any questions,” Marissa said.

“Maybe he planned it that way,” I joked, giving him a kiss. “So sorry,” I murmured into his mouth. “That was idiotic.”

“I’ve been through worse,” he whispered back, pulling me onto his lap. People were losing interest in the game, once the fresh meat was done.

“I think I’d better get Jasper to bed.” Karen wiped sand off her capri pants and offered a hand to help her husband up from the sand. Mitch, beer bottle to his lips, waved his free hand and said, “I’m going to stay for a while. You can take the car. It’s close enough for me to walk home.” Karen gave him a long look. “Or stumble home,” he added, and Rob gave a laugh.

“I’ll walk you up, Kar.” Marissa made sure to kick some sand in Rob and Mitch’s direction as she hoisted herself up.

“So . . .” It was Rob’s turn to grill Liz. “Who do you achieve the bigger O with? Men or women?” Liz had taken the bisexual route for a while, common knowledge to most of us. Mitch spilled half of his Sierra Nevada in the sand in his effort to scurry closer for her answer.

“Don’t give these pervs the satisfaction, Liz.” Leanna alternated pouring Jack and Coke into the plastic cup expertly balanced between her denim-clad knees.

“This is turning ugly,” I said with a giggle. “We’re going for a walk.”

Adrian grabbed another beer from the cooler. “Kat?”

Leanna held up her Jack and Coke to me as an alternative. “Take this, I don’t want to look at it or smell it.” I took it off her hands, and she promptly plopped backward on the sand. “Holy crow, the beach is spinning.”

Adrian took my hand, and we walked to the water’s edge. There was no wind and barely a ripple as we looked out across the lake. “Where are we in relation to your house?”

Turning my back on the lake to get my bearings, I pointed left. “There’re our pines.” He nuzzled my neck but didn’t say anything more. “They’re not usually this . . . immature. Or wasted.”

“They’re funny. I like them.” There was a shriek from behind us. Liz, Mitch, and Rob were all stripped to their undies and racing down to the water. Marissa had brought the dogs back with her, and they were streaking across the beach in pursuit.

“I can’t believe Karen got you on that question.”

Adrian touched the sand behind us to make sure it was dry and pulled me down next to him. “I know this is going to sound strange . . . but my answer is Peter.” It took me a moment to digest his confession. “I would’ve liked to have met him . . . to hear about you and what you were like back then.”

I was blown away. His statement overwhelmed me with its genuine desire and painful impossibility. Words escaped from my lips. “I love you.”

Suddenly, I heard every sound of the night around us. Spring peepers like little bells in the grass, the fire popping as it died out behind us, the panting of the dogs as they ran another lap, and the inebriated splashes down the beach. I heard everything but a response from Adrian, who was silently nursing his beer. I forced myself to down Leanna’s strongly prepared drink in a smarting act of self-chastisement. What the hell was I thinking? Opening myself up like a fucking Hallmark card?

“Here, have another.” Leanna had gained a second wind and a fresh happy drink. She generously poured half her glass into mine before stumbling down toward Marissa, who was trying to coax the trio of water babies back to dry land. I watched as my two girlfriends hugged, and I longed for the safety and familiarity of that huddle. I hadn’t felt this raw, this exposed, since moving back. I allowed more Jack to wash over me like a tsunami.

***

The evening ended choppily, drunkenly observed in blinks like a slide show. All the children sleeping in a heap like kittens upstairs. Liz passed out in the guest room, Leanna collapsed on the couch. Marissa grilling Adrian before handing my keys over to him. “No, I’m not drunk, and yes, I will drive on what you Colonials call the ‘right’ side of the road.” My eyes coming in and out of focus as I concentrated on the blackness through the car window, muttering lefts and rights to my chauffeur. “Love Street?” he said as I indicated our last turn. “I never noticed you lived on Love Street!”

“Yes, Love Street. Where I have lingered far too long,” I mumbled wearily. Jim Morrison and the Doors had penned the song before it had become my address.

“Isn’t that where all the creatures meet?” He put my arm up around his shoulders to help me out of the Smurf.

“Ha . . . Pete said the exact same thing the first time he visited.”

Adrian
sang softly in minor key as he opened my garden gate and we stumbled toward the house. “Are we at all alike? Pete and I?”

His question made my head spin. Allowing myself to think so much about Pete brought on an uncontrollable queasiness. I felt the saliva pool into my mouth and I knew what was coming next. The motion-detector lights, on cue, showed me exactly where to puke: neatly over my mother’s hydrangeas.

The purge sobered me somewhat. Adrian helped me inside and led me to the bathroom. He handed me my toothbrush, paste already applied, and I gratefully brushed. Next he steered me into my room, pulled my dress over my head, and put me in a T-shirt, singing all the while about wisdom and knowing what to do.

He fell next to me on the futon and curled his body against mine. “I have never been loved . . .” His words poured over me, warming every part, as I lazily kissed up the inky paws on his forearm and wrapped it around my shoulder. I heard his voice catch. “. . . like I have been loved by you,” he continued, his voice scratchy yet gentle, like a cat’s tongue, deliberate and patient, slicking over the same spot. “And I have never loved like I love you. You’ve got to know this. My silly drunk girl.”

Wrench in the Works

An abbreviated ring ricocheted off the walls, raising me from my futon like a horror flick zombie. I was alone, and the room was silent. Phone? Alarm? Door? I rolled up and onto my feet to explore. Water. Brush teeth. More water. My head felt like a martini olive being squeezed of its juice. More water.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Adrian was at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. The vivid tattoos on his chest clashed with the faded flowers on the wallpaper.

I fell into the chair across from him. “I feel like Keith Richards looks.”

He smiled. “You don’t scare me.” He pushed his mug toward me.

“Not a big fan of tea. Is that against the law in Britain?”

“No. I can still bring you home to Mum.”

“Yee-haw.”

“Here, try. Milk and honey in there, what’s to hate? Good hangover cure.” I gave it a tentative sip, nodded, and had some more. “I thought for sure yesterday
I’d
be the drunk one, not you,” he chided.

“Was that the phone?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want it to wake you.”

“Marissa?”

“No, a Veronica? She said she’d call back.”

“Oh.” My mother-in-law. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Figures. “I’m upset with myself.”

“Why?”

I played with a few crumbs on the table in front of me, crushing them with my pinky nail. “The first night you share my bed . . . and I puke and pass out.”

“It happens.”

“I didn’t get to wake up next to you.”

“That’ll happen, too. Another morning. I got to watch you sleep. That was nice.”

I pulverized a few more crumbs and thought about my words on the beach. I hadn’t expected them to come to the surface when and how they did. And I hadn’t imagined the mention of Pete would trigger them. It was hard to think about Adrian and Pete and love all together without feeling guilt and grief as well. But Pete and Adrian
were
alike in that I loved them both. And they both, somehow, had fallen in love with me.

I longed for the words to tumble out, as uncontrollable and as cathartic as my purge last night. I wanted to tell him about who I was before Pete, and what I had been like when I met him. How we had connected, how we had blended our lives together seamlessly. Like a glass vessel, slowly turning, without end. And, inevitably, how I shattered without him, left with nothing but glass shards no one would dare touch. How Abbey, my family, and my friends gathered around me, trying to sooth my sharp edges, bleeding and hurt as well. How time then wrapped around me, working to wear down the points until I was left with sides as soft and supple as tumbled sea glass. Once translucent, now opaque. Changed.

I watched as Adrian’s eyes flicked across my face, resting on my mute lips before turning skyward. Had he been trying to channel my thoughts, crack them like a fortune cookie or a code even I couldn’t decipher? Without words, I moved to curl myself onto his lap, intertwining and locking limbs into a hug. He had hollows and angles that now fit my worn curves and valleys.

“I’m sorry I upset you last night,” he whispered.

I squeezed him tighter, watching his white skin against my black T-shirt form some sort of cosmic yin-yang. “No . . .”

“Yes, I did. You mistook my silence on the beach and proceeded to get hammered before I could gather my thoughts and properly explain. You deserve more than a knee-jerk reaction, better than an automatic response of ‘I love you, too.’” He pulled back to look at me. “You are the best thing to happen to me, bar none. You, Abbey . . . all of this. You both walked into my life and . . . I never knew what I wanted until you did.”

***

Adrian’s open lips, pressed to the nape of my neck as the water from our shower rolled off his body and over mine, turned out to be the best hangover cure. Still, as we bounded out the door into the brilliant morning, coffee was sorely needed.

“Starbucks and then you’ll get me to the 10:15?” Adrian knew how I liked my coffee, and he knew all the train schedules by heart.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave so early.” He had agreed to do two more library programs in neighboring towns last weekend, where he had charmed the children and had given away the rest of his Natalie CDs. A dad in the audience owned a toy store in South Street Seaport that hosted children’s concerts on weekends in the summer, and so Adrian found himself with yet another gig.

“I’d love nothing better than a lazy day lie-in with you,” he murmured, opening the door of the Smurf for me. “But the sippy-cup crowd calls.”

There were more devotees in the coffee shop worshipping their steaming mugs than down the street at Sunday church, but the line went fast. Rob was known for brewing the weakest coffee on the planet, so I grabbed cups for Liz and Leanna as well. We were balancing several Americanos out the door to the adjacent lot when Grant materialized from behind a BMW with Connecticut plates. He made no attempt to grab the door to help us, choosing instead to flick a disdainful glance at our damp hair, our tired smiles, and make his own simple assumptions.

“Ah, Katrina. Walking on sunshine this morning, I see.” He turned to Adrian. “Back in school we used to call her group of girls Katrina and the Waves, you know . . . like that one-hit-wonder band. They would walk through the cafeteria like they were on the back of a frickin’ parade float.” He mockingly smiled and waved. “Very popular. Never consorting with the longhairs or the burnouts. Pristine, know what I mean?” He licked his bottom lip and jutted out his chin, expecting a reaction.

I seethed at his rudeness and audacity. Adrian took a different tack.

“We never properly met.” He juggled a coffee into the crook of his tattooed arm to free up a hand. “I’m Adrian.”

Grant balked, looking confused at Adrian’s smile, but slowly extended his hand as well. A dirt-dusted grease smear was plainly apparent.

“Grant, there you are. I thought we were meeting inside.” The handshake didn’t happen, for a woman had practically burst between them.

“Sorry I was running late, babe.” Grant deftly swiped the offending hand across the backside of his jeans as he reached with his other to usher his date back into the coffee shop. The woman turned to look over her shoulder questioningly at Adrian and me, and I was reminded of a woman in my yoga class.

“Are you by any chance related to Jenny Bogancourt?”

Despite Grant’s press against her backside, the woman hesitated. “Jenny’s my sister.” She smiled at me. “You know her?”

“We take yoga together. I’m Kat. Tree. Katrina. Hi.”

“I’m Becca . . . I came down from Connecticut to visit her and do some antiquing, and look what I found instead!” She turned toward Grant expectantly. He was taking on that just-eaten-a-bug expression.

“Ah yes, he’s a gem,” I said with gusto. “I hope you have Triple-A.”

We left her looking quizzically after us, Grant murderously. Adrian shook his head as we passed the Beemer with the Connecticut plates, its alignment slightly lopsided. “Barmy tossbag. Someone’s going to pan his head in one of these days.”

***

“How are
you
feeling this morning, Miss Drunkypants?” Marissa tossed me a paper plate so I could help myself to the brunch spread.

“Coffee?” Rob held up the pot, half-full of light tan liquid.

“Brought my own, thanks. A bit tired . . .”

“From all the morning sex? Shower sex?” She flicked my wet ponytail. “Starbucks bathroom sex?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You mad at me about the Truth or Dare? He was a good sport. The drug stuff, though . . . shit. Did you know about that?”

“A bit, yeah.” I busied myself with pulling apart some monkey bread.

“They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she commented. “He’s still here.” I nodded, wishing he were right next to me now. “Does he see his daughter much?”

“Not really. She lives in England. I guess she’s getting married soon.”

“Get out! If she starts having kids, you’ll be . . . like, a step-grandma!”

“Worse than that . . . she’ll be a step-mother-in-law.” Rob shuddered.

“That’s a lot of cart before the horses, you two. We’ve only been dating a month! Chill. Speaking of mother-in-laws, however . . . mine apparently called this morning. How am I going to explain why a guy answered my phone at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning?”

“Just tell her the truth. It’s not like you picked him up in a bar the night before or something slutty like that. She can’t expect you to live like a nun.”

Liz emerged on the deck, freshly showered. “Oh thank little baby Jesus.” She made a beeline for the Starbucks cup. “I can’t drink that brown water you brew, Rob. No offense.”

“None taken . . . Big Red.”

“Oh, shut up.” She pulled a bagel from the basket. “What’d I miss?”

“Slutty nun talk. How’s your hangover?” I asked her.

“Mine? You got pretty wrecked last night.” She buttered her bagel expertly with one hand while adding sugar to her cup with the other. “Leanna left?”

“Yeah, she got Dylan up and out before I was awake.” Marissa stretched. “Wonder if Karen changed the locks on the door. Mitch didn’t leave here till after midnight.” She smeared a half a bagel with cream cheese. “Something about him rubs me wrong.”

“BRINA! ABBEY! MAXWELL’S ON!”

“Joseph Vincent Falzone! No screaming through the screen door!” She dragged her fingernails through her hair. “We’ve got people recovering here.” The girls streaked past, a tornado of curls and giggles.

“I don’t mind him,” Liz said to no one in particular. “He’s kind of funny, once he loosens up.”

***

A mellow girls’ day was sorely needed. “Rock and roll power nap,” Abbey said happily, curling between Liz and me as we half snoozed, half watched a movie back at the house. It was rare for Liz to have a three-day weekend, and wonderful to have the company.

After polishing off a pizza and three games of Yahtzee Jr., Abbey insisted both Liz and I tuck her in that evening. “Look at my photographs, Aunt Lizzie.” Abbey pointed from her bed to the three snapshots she had taken of Adrian performing at one of the libraries last week.

“She takes after her uncle Luke with the photography,” I said proudly. “Most of the shots I got were blurry.”

“Nice, Abbeycadabra. This one’s my favorite.” Liz tapped the one of Adrian duck-walking Chuck Berry–style with his guitar.

“Oh,” Liz said after Abbey finally fell asleep. “Where’s that care package Mariss packed? We didn’t even break into this at the party.” She brought out a creamy wheel of cheese. “Rouzaire Brie from Zabar’s, yum. Can’t let this go to waste.”

I rummaged through the pantry. “All I’ve got are . . . goldfish crackers. And grape juice.”

“That’s fine. We could do with some grapes that aren’t fermented.” I handed her a cutting board and knife. “Did you know a wheel of Brie is still alive until you cut into it?”

I laughed. “No, I didn’t. Is it going to scream?”

We smeared the soft ripe cheese onto the little fish, chatting until we had no chat left in us. “Time to wake up and go to sleep,” Liz said with a yawn.

“You sure you don’t mind sleeping in Kev’s rock ’n’ roll shrine?”

“No, on the contrary.” Liz gave a languid stretch, then smiled. “Up there, he feels close. I miss him.”

***

Liz wasn’t dumb, but she wasn’t always the most observant person, either. She rarely recognized neighbors on the street or classmates who came into the bagel shop, and she wasn’t embarrassed to admit she simply couldn’t place people out of context. So I was mildly surprised to find her holding up a tattered rock magazine from Kev’s room and comparing it to the photographs on Abbey’s bulletin board the next morning.

“I
knew
there was something familiar about him!” she hissed. “Tree, you sneaky little bee-ach! How the hell . . .” She paused as Abbey came trotting down the hall to use the potty. I put a finger to my lips and motioned her out to the living room. “Were you even going to
tell
us? And Kev—holy cow, what did he say when you told him?”

“I didn’t. And I’m not. Adrian is a fairly private person, understandably. If he wants people to know, I will follow his lead.” I had to admit, it was a bit of a relief to be able to talk about it with at least one person.

“Wow, how did he make the leap from Digger to Tigger? You know, from ‘roast the babies and use their blood as gravy’ to ‘bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun’?” she marveled, leaning back on the couch in amazement.

“Come on, the lyrics aren’t
that
bad!”

“Yuh-huh! Have you listened to that stuff?”

“Some. Not much since Kev used to crank it up to eleven.”

“Well, he played a lot of their music for me. A lot. And told me tons of stories. And then he would quiz me!” She ran upstairs and fetched
Necromancer
, which I knew was their heaviest album. “Listen and learn.” She put it on the turntable, and we both burst with laughter at the extreme lyrics.

Death is just a

carnival for maggots

who eat your soul

like a midnight snack.

We banged our heads around like a couple of teenagers until we caught a glimpse in the mirror and saw two ridiculous-looking thirtysomethings and a little girl standing behind them with her hands on her ears.

“Sorry, sweetie. Mom and Aunt Lizzie are just being silly.” I gave her a kiss on the head and motioned to Liz to pull the plug on it. “Go wash your hands and I’ll make you some lunch.”

“Wow, I bet he has slept with hundreds of groupies,” Liz said once we hit the kitchen.

“Thanks for that image.” I began pulling the fixings for PB&J out of the fridge.

“So he simply walked away from it all?”

“No, he barely escaped with his life intact.” I left Liz pondering that one as I served Abbey her lunch and got her dressed.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I whispered as Abbey ran to get in the Smurf; we were taking Liz to catch her train.

“I know, I know. I’m . . . wow. I’m floored.”

“Don’t look now . . . here comes your new best friend,” I murmured. Liz let a giggle escape as Mitch slid up to the edge of my drive in his little hybrid.