No One Needs to Know (9 page)

After Brian left again for Afghanistan, Laurie took on waitressing shifts at the Superstar Diner. She sometimes worked sixteen-hour days—cooking for eight hours, and then washing up and changing into a uniform to wait tables.

She could hardly afford it, but Laurie hired a private investigator in Seattle to track down the whereabouts of Arthur Serrano. Suddenly, it seemed more important than ever to find her father. If nothing else, Laurie figured he should be told that Teri was dead.

It didn’t take long for the investigator to find her dad.

“Art Serrano passed away seven years ago, Hodgkin’s lymphoma,” the man told her over the phone.

He’d never remarried. He’d been with several different bands in several different cities—until he got sick. He’d left what little he had to a woman he’d been living with in Raleigh, North Carolina, at the time of his death.

The investigator asked Laurie if she wanted the woman’s name and contact information. She told him no thanks.

She had never been so miserable and lonely as she was in those months following her mother’s death. A part of her still resented Brian for making her return to Ellensburg. She’d rather have been miserable in Europe. But then, of course, her mother still would have tripped in that Safeway parking lot, and within the week she would have died alone in her apartment. Living in Ellensburg had at least allowed Laurie to be with her mom at the end. Besides, she really couldn’t be too angry at Brian—not when she thought about where he was, not when she considered the very real possibility that he might not come back.

Tad McBride first started showing up at the Superstar Diner in late September. Something about the season change—with a chill in the air and it getting dark earlier—made Laurie even more melancholy. She was strangely drawn to the cute, dark-haired twentysomething man. Maybe it was because he seemed even lonelier than she was. Or maybe it was because the first time she waited on him, he looked up at her. “Thank you for the smile,” he said. “I really needed that today.”

He came in every few nights, and always sat alone by the window. He spent most of his time writing—not on a laptop, but in an old-fashioned spiral notebook. He was one of those breakfast-for-dinner guys. He usually ordered the Kevin Bacon waffle with the Samantha Eggar scramble on the side.

Soon they were on a first-name basis. She found out that Tad’s constant scribbling in that notebook was a novel in progress. He told her it was his attempt at another
Catcher in the Rye.
He admitted he’d had a “sort of nervous breakdown” a year before, and was still seeing a therapist. He lived in a studio apartment near the CWU campus, and worked as a custodian there. It was his “fallback job” until his novel sold. His parents were dead, and he had an older brother who lived on the family farm near Cle Elum—only Tad didn’t want anything to do with him. “He’s bad news,” Tad said. “My shrink helped me realize that Ryder’s pretty manipulative—and, well, let’s just say I’m better off keeping my distance.”

He asked her out. Laurie told him she was flattered, but she didn’t think her husband would like her going on a date with another guy. Tad never asked her out again. But he often stayed until closing, claiming he wanted to make sure that no one bothered her and that she got to her car okay. It felt nice to have someone concerned about her.

Those nights he stayed until closing, they sometimes stood and talked in the parking lot for fifteen or twenty minutes. Though she was dead on her feet, it was always the best part of Laurie’s day. She told him things she wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else—about how miserable she was. She admitted to him that sometimes she felt as if Brian didn’t understand her, and maybe she would have been better off not marrying him—or at least waiting until he’d finished up his tour of duty.

The nights Tad didn’t show up at the restaurant always seemed so empty. But those occasions also gave her a little reality jolt. Though her marriage wasn’t perfect, her husband was a pretty wonderful guy, who put his life in danger every day for his country. And here she was, getting a crush on a lonely, screwed-up janitor. She had to keep things with Tad in check.

When Brian said he might be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, it helped her put things even more into perspective, and strengthened her resolve. Plus at long last, she had something to look forward to.

But then, in early November, Brian texted her that a holiday furlough wasn’t going to happen. Laurie was crushed.

On a cold, bleak night two weeks before Thanksgiving, she closed up the diner and discovered her car wouldn’t start. Tad was there—once again. He drove her home in his old VW Bug. But when he pulled in front of the duplex, Laurie gazed out the car window at that dark, empty first-floor unit, and she started to cry.

Tad put his arm around her and kissed her. Though she knew it was wrong and stupid and reckless, she kissed him back.

They made love in the guest room. A part of her just wanted to be crushed to death beneath him. They were clumsy and awkward together, especially when he hunted through his wallet for a condom he’d tucked in there months ago. He was shy about putting it on in front of her. Laurie hadn’t been with anyone else since meeting Brian, and try as she did, she couldn’t quite get comfortable with this other body. When Tad was finished and still on top of her, he started to weep. This time, he was the one crying. He seemed so grateful, so moved. All Laurie could do was hold him.

As the days passed, when Tad wasn’t at the restaurant at closing, he was usually waiting for her outside when she got home. They had sex only two more times after that first night. Laurie simply couldn’t relax with him—and in a way, she didn’t want to. There was just too much at stake. She made it clear to Tad that all evidence to the contrary she still loved her husband and didn’t want to give him up. Yet as guilt-stricken as she was over her infidelity, she didn’t want to give up Tad either. He made her feel needed.

Tad was good at keeping things clandestine. No one at the diner seemed to have a clue. He acknowledged that this thing between the two of them was just temporary. He told her that Brian seemed like a terrific guy, and he didn’t want to hurt their marriage. When the time came, he’d go quietly. But would she mind if he dedicated his novel to her?

Both of them had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, and the diner was closed for the holiday. So Laurie promised to have him over for an elaborate dinner—turkey, stuffing, all the trimmings. She used to do the same thing for her mom. Tad said he hadn’t had a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner since his own mother had died six years before.

That Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving, Laurie worked only one shift—in the kitchen. When she got the order for the Kevin Bacon waffle with the Samantha Eggar scramble on the side, she knew Tad was there for a late lunch or early dinner. She gave him a furtive smile at the pass-through window. About fifteen minutes later, one of the waitresses came into the kitchen. “Laurie, we have a customer who isn’t happy with his spaghetti and meatballs,” she announced. “He says he wants to talk to the chef.”

She’d never had any complaints about the Sophia Loren spaghetti and meatballs. It was one of their most popular items—from a recipe her mom had procured for her. With three orders going on the grill, Laurie nodded distractedly. “I’ll have these plated in a minute. Meantime, could you please tell the customer to shove the meatballs up his ass?”

The waitress cracked a smile. “Tell him yourself. I’ll let him know you’ll be out to see him soon. He’s at table two. Better not keep him waiting too long.”

Laurie got the grill cleared and the orders plated. As she set the food under the heat lamp in the window, she glanced at Tad again. He was just finishing his breakfast-for-dinner, and didn’t see her. Laurie tried to get a peek at Mr. Complainer, but it was impossible to see table two from the pass-through window.

Wiping her forehead with her arm, she took a deep breath and headed out the saloon doors to the restaurant area. She started toward table two. The man was sitting alone with a near-full plate of food in front of him.

He wore an army uniform.

Laurie stopped in her tracks. “Brian!” she screamed.

He sprung to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair. Elated, Laurie ran into his open arms, and kissed him all over his face. She hadn’t realized just how desperately she’d missed him until now. She started crying.

The waitresses broke into applause. Everyone else in the restaurant joined in the ovation, clapping and cheering. With one arm still on her shoulder, Brian broke apart from her and waved to the customers. But he still had one arm around her shoulder. Laurie clung to him. She looked at all the happy faces in the diner—all but one.

Sitting alone at his window table, Tad didn’t applaud. And he didn’t smile.

Laurie saw the hurt in his eyes.

All she could do about it at that moment was hope he didn’t stay too hurt or angry.

Once they were home from the restaurant, Brian took her into the bedroom. Her work clothes and his army uniform were off in a matter of seconds. He didn’t even give her time to wonder if she seemed different to him. Brian was the exactly the same: a big, sweet, sexy teddy bear. But she wasn’t the same. For the first time in their marriage, she couldn’t get completely comfortable with him. She didn’t have to wonder why.

Afterward, Laurie held her breath every time he stepped into the guest room. Though she knew Tad hadn’t left anything behind in there, she couldn’t help thinking Brian would somehow sense what had happened in that room. It was ridiculous. But then
she
was ridiculous to have cheated on him.

She was terrified he’d discover her infidelity. While she cooked dinner, Brian innocently asked why she’d bought so much food for Thanksgiving when she hadn’t known he was coming. Laurie lied and told him she’d planned to bring Thanksgiving dinner over to a regular customer, an elderly man who lived alone.

“Well, what the hell? Let’s invite the old guy over here,” Brian said, sticking his finger in the pot to sample her beef stew on the stove. “He’ll probably get a real kick out of spending the holiday with us. Plus most old farts love us military dudes.”

“Oh, I don’t want to share you with anyone else,” Laurie said, working up a smile. “He’ll understand. I’ll bring him some leftovers on Friday. I’ll call and let him know.”

After dinner that night, while Brian dozed in front of the TV, Laurie snuck out the kitchen door and phoned Tad. “I’m sorry about today,” she whispered, shivering in the cold.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he replied, “not when you looked so happy. I suppose I should be glad for you. But I’m not. So, our Thanksgiving is officially canceled. Is that why you’re calling?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “I’m afraid we—well, we’re officially canceled, too. We both knew this was coming—only not this early.”

“You’ll change your mind as soon as he ships out again.”

“No, I won’t. I don’t want to do that to him—and I don’t want to do it to you.”

“You can’t just break up with me on the phone like this,” he insisted. “I deserve better. I want to see you in person—”

“Tad, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I thought you cared about me.”

“I do,” she said.

“If you don’t see me again, I swear to God, I’m going to raise such a stink . . .”

“All right, all right,” she sighed. “I’ll see you on Friday, okay?”

Laurie wondered what the hell had happened to the sweet, sensitive guy who didn’t want to hurt her marriage, the one who had vowed to “go quietly.”

With three Tupperware containers full of food, she drove over to Tad’s small, dingy studio apartment on Friday afternoon. Tad opened the door and frowned at her. “C’mon in,” he grumbled.

Laurie stood in the dim corridor. The beige carpet was stained and tattered. She shook her head. “No, I can’t come in. That wasn’t part of the bargain. You wanted to see me, and here I am.” She handed him the food containers. “Also, I wanted to make good my promise to cook you a Thanksgiving dinner. It’s a day late and a dollar short, but it’s still pretty good if I say so myself.”

“Leftovers,” he muttered, scowling at the containers in his hands. “So, that’s it then?”

She shrugged awkwardly. “That, and I’m sorry it’s turned out this way. I hate to see you hurt. You’re a good guy, Tad. It’s like you said on the phone the other day. You deserve better. If it’s any consolation, I’m going to miss you.”

He shoved the Tupperware containers back in her hands. “Why don’t you say what this is really about?” he muttered. “I’m in the way now, and you want to get rid of me. You’re just being nice about it so you can think of yourself as a decent person.”

Her mouth open, Laurie stared at him. In many ways, his assessment of her was spot-on.

He stood in the doorway with his shoulders slumped. His eyes started to fill with tears. “What am I supposed to do now?” he whispered.

“Tad, please . . .” She wanted to reach out to him, but couldn’t.

He shook his head at her. “You fucking bitch,” he whispered. Then he stepped back and shut the door in her face.

Laurie clutched the food containers to her chest. “I’m—I’m really sorry,” she murmured to the closed door. She turned and retreated down the hallway.

The people at the diner had been incredibly nice. They all pitched in and took turns working her shifts so she could spend the holiday weekend with Brian. After he shipped out and she came back to work, Laurie often found herself checking the table by the window for Tad. Maybe it was because of Christmas approaching, the red and green lights in the diner’s window, the tacky fake poinsettia plants on the tables, “Goodwill to Men,” and all that. But she did indeed miss him—only the Tad she missed was from weeks back when he’d just starting coming into the diner, before she’d mucked it up by having sex with him. She had no desire to pick up where they’d left off.

He never set foot inside the diner again. But once in a while his old VW Bug would pull into the lot and park. He’d just sit at the wheel and stare at her while she waited tables. It was unnerving.