Waking Up to Love (16 page)

Terry and Miguel had seen too many
Law and Order
reruns.

“So how do you feel about Scott?” Terry asked in his typical surfer-dude voice.

Ramona didn't have to think about her answer. “I love him,” she said. “And I hate him, too. Depends on the hour.”

Miguel and Terry exchanged glances, as if they were jurors carefully deliberating a key piece of testimony. They came to a silent conclusion. Terry nodded.

“Well?” Ramona asked.

“That sounds like our Scott,” Miguel said. “You have our blessing.” Then he raised his beer, and the three clinked bottles.

“Thanks,” she said, “but I'm his friend. That's it. And once this party's over, I'll go back to being his friend. It's like a Cinderella thing.” That sort of put a damper on the cheers, but that didn't stop Ramona from downing her beer.

• • •

Scott watched Ramona hit it off with his buddies. He'd known she had the hidden superpower of hanging-out-with-the-guys, but he hadn't realized how natural she looked when faced with Terry's and Miguel's idiotic questions. He couldn't hear what they were saying, of course, but their smiles told the whole story.

He was just about to join them, when—

“Scott!”

Before he knew it, Quinn surprised Scott by wrapping his arm around Scott's shoulders.

“Hey, um … didn't see you there,” Scott mumbled.

Quinn laughed, revealing a definite hint of Scotch on his breath. Scott wasn't used to his older coworker acting tipsy. They weren't in the same age bracket, after all, so they seldom hung out in their off hours. But it was kind of nice to see his coworker enjoying himself. He looked like a lumberjack on a bender.

“Look, man,” Quinn said, slurring his words only slightly, “I know you didn't ask my opinion, but thumbs up, my man!” With that, he gave Scott two big thumbs-up.

“I'm glad you're enjoying yourself,” he said.

“No,” Quinn said. “Not the party. It's a little boring. I mean, thumbs up on Ramona. She's a good one. She's good.”

“You're babbling,” Scott said.

“No! I've never been more sober in my life. And I don't babble. And Ramona is a good girl. We like her. A lot. So, yeah.” And with that, he turned around and walked back to the open bar.

“We're friends,” Scott called out to him, but his words were ignored.

Even though Quinn was about two mojitos away from thoroughly embarrassing himself, Scott knew that he was right. Ramona was awesome. He was so happy to have her back in his life.

He glanced in her direction. She was still standing by Terry and Miguel. The three of them were laughing over something—probably some embarrassing story from Scott's past. She noticed him staring, and she waved in his direction.

He waved back.

God, she looked beautiful in her tight white dress. She'd taken her shoes off a few minutes ago, so now she was barefoot in formalwear.

He watched as she said her goodbyes to Terry and Miguel, and then she walked toward him. Classical music wafted through the air, something slow, something he'd heard before. Her hips swayed. Her hair danced lightly in the wind. She was coming for him, and his heart soared.

For the first time in a long time, Scott felt speechless. No, it was more than that. It was—breathless. There was a stunned emptiness inside him, and he wasn't quite sure what that meant. He had to will himself to breathe.

“Hey,” Ramona said.

“Hey.”

“I think you should ask me to dance,” she said.

It took him a while to form words, both because his brain was on slow-mo and because he didn't want to sound like a cartoon character babbling “Hummina-hummina” at a pretty girl. Eventually, he forced himself to breathe, and he asked, “Would you care to dance, Miss Scapizi?”

She crinkled her nose. “I thought you'd never ask.”

He gently placed his hands around her waist and led her to the middle of the dance floor. The music got louder: slow, classical, lots of violins. Together, they danced.

Moving with her, holding her, feeling her—it just felt so natural. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like his whole life was spent waiting for the moment he could glide across a dance floor with Ramona Scapizi. He certainly wasn't a dancer—never had been—but he didn't feel awkward. His feet knew where to go. His hips knew how to move. His hands knew when to pull her close, and when to dip her back. It was different than their dance last night. Maybe it was all the people watching them. Maybe it was the realization that this would be the last night that they were “married.” This was special.

They danced for three songs, but it felt like seconds. There might have been other people on the dance floor, but Scott couldn't be certain. He wasn't certain of anything anymore, except that he felt okay. All his worries about Debra, and work, and the wreckage of his failed marriage—they all went away with this song. The only thing that mattered was the music.

For a second, Scott noticed his mom sitting underneath the awning. She was watching him—watching
them
—and apparently she liked what she saw. Their eyes met, and Debra waved at her son. He nodded back at her. Despite everything she'd been through, Scott knew she was going to be okay.

Suddenly, Ramona froze mid-step. Her eyes widened.

“What's wrong?” Scott asked. “I hope I didn't step on your toes again.” He meant it as a joke, but she wasn't laughing. It was like she didn't hear him at all.

She stared just over his shoulder. There was something in the distance. Based on her expression, Scott couldn't tell if it was a good something or a bad something, but he knew it was important.

“What is it?” Scott asked again. He should've turned around for himself, but he was afraid of what he'd see. Besides, he didn't want to pull away from Ramona, not even for a second.

Ramona heard him this time. In response, she pointed toward the distance. Her hand was shaking.

Slowly, Scott turned around to see for himself. There, at the edge of the yard, was a beautiful woman in a red skirt.

A beautiful woman who looked exactly like the woman in his arms.

“Nessa,” Scott whispered, as if he was seeing a ghost. After all, maybe he was.

Scott couldn't believe it. Nessa Scapizi—the uninvited guest from his past, the wife who ran away—was at his party. More importantly, Nessa Scapizi was walking right toward him.

Ramona's hands dropped away from his shoulders.

“Give me a second,” Scott said. He walked toward his wife, leaving Ramona, Debra, and an entire party behind.

Nessa looked exactly the same as the last time he saw her. Her outfit was different, red now instead of eggshell white, but everything else was the same. Well, her expression was different, too. Her expression was dead serious.

When she reached Scott, he didn't know what to do. Should they shake hands? Should he hug her?

Somehow sensing the confusion, Nessa made the first move: She hugged him. His heart shuddered.
She
hugged
him
. She initiated the contact; she chose him. But he quickly realized that the hug was perfunctory, cold. The curve of her body didn't mesh well with his, and when she finally pulled away, it wasn't nearly fast enough.

“Nessa,” he said. “What are you—?”

“I heard about your mom,” she said. “I've been dreading coming back, but I figured now would be the best time.”

She was wrong, of course. Dead wrong.
Now
was the absolute worst time for her to make a surprise appearance.

He noticed the worn manila envelope in her hands. “Divorce papers?” he asked.

“Divorce papers,” she said. “I'm sorry. I was just going to slip them into the house, but I saw you there and I just …”

Scott rolled up the envelope and shoved it in his back pocket. He didn't bother opening it. He trusted her. More importantly, he didn't want to set eyes on the damn things. He pictured pages and pages of legalese in tiny fonts. He pictured a blank line where he had to sign his name, sitting right next to Nessa's signature that was already there. He knew the drill. He'd seen movies.

He felt eyes on the back of his neck. People were watching him. A whole party's worth. Silently, he grabbed her shoulder and guided her behind the edge of the porch. When he was sure no one was watching or listening, he asked, “Where were you? This whole time … I …”

“What?” Nessa asked. Her eyebrows creased. “You didn't know?” She looked genuinely surprised by his question, and that only made him angrier.

“Of course I didn't know!” he shouted. “You left in the middle of the night. You didn't tell anyone. You didn't even tell your sister!”

“I didn't,” she said, her eyes quickly glancing toward Ramona. “But I told you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Nessa reached out and held Scott's hands. This time, the contact felt genuine. It didn't feel like love, per se, but it was definitely caring, compassion. “I left you a note,” she said. “In our treasure chest. I knew you'd look inside, because it was such a special object for both of us.”

Oh God. The treasure chest that he refused to open. The treasure chest with so many bad memories.

“You really didn't know?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I never read the note.”

She didn't apologize. Instead, she whispered, “Look at me.” Scott didn't realize he wasn't giving her eye contact.

He did. He saw that her eyes were slowly filling up with water. One part of his heart wanted to hold her, and the other part wanted to slap himself across the face for feeling such things.

“I see you,” he said.

She laughed. He didn't know why. “I lied to myself,” she said. “For weeks, for months, I told myself that I was the right girl for you. I told myself that you picked me.”

“I did pick you,” he said.

“No, you didn't,” she corrected. “You thought you did, but you were lying to yourself. I didn't know for sure until the first few nights we spent together as a married couple. You talk in your sleep. You know that, right? You whisper words in your sleep. And every night, you whispered her name.”

“Who?” But he knew the answer: Ramona.

“You married me because I was the next best thing. But your heart was never fooled. You love Ramona, and you always have.”

“It's a different kind of love,” he said.

“No, it's not. It's the only kind. It started out as friendship, but you know very well that it grew into something more. You were too afraid to act on those feelings, because you didn't want to lose her, so you chose me instead. Have your cake and eat it too.”

“I …”

“I left,” Nessa continued, “because I wanted you to sort things out with her. And because I was too embarrassed to watch it happen. All that was in my note … which you didn't read, because you're a big, dumb idiot.” She shoved him a little, but it was more playful than angry.

Well, mostly playful.

“I'm sorry, okay?” he said.

“Me too.” Once again, her eyes danced with moisture.

“Why didn't you come before?” he asked.

“I tried to visit a few times,” she said. “I drove by the house and everything. But each time, it felt wrong. When I heard about your mom waking up, I knew this was it. Now or never. Is she okay? I'd really like to see her.”

“That's probably not the best idea,” he said.

“I understand,” she said. “And I'm glad you're moving on.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I saw you dancing with Ramona,” she said. “You two were happy, just like I figured you'd be.”

“Ramona and I aren't together,” he said.

The tears had dried from her eyes. In their place was a look of pure anger. “How dare you?” she said.

“It's not like that. We kissed, but I was still …”

“I loved you,” she said. “You do know that. But deep down, I knew that you loved her. When I couldn't delude myself anymore, I left. It was the noble thing to do.”

“There's nothing noble about running away,” he said.

“It was the hardest thing I ever did, okay? But I knew you and my sister would be happier together. It was noble,” she said. “It was noble.”

“But I don't …”

At that moment, Ramona stepped out of the trees. Scott could tell she'd just come from the bathroom. Her face glistened a little with sink water.

“Ramona,” her sister said. She ran to hug her sister, but Ramona pushed her away.

“Stop trying to force us together,” Ramona said. “He doesn't feel that way. How many times does he have to tell you?”

“Scott,” Nessa said. “I think you should leave. My sister and I need to talk.”

Scott looked at them both, so similar in so many ways. He loved one of them, and it was tearing him apart trying to figure out whom.

• • •

Nessa and Ramona stared at each other for the longest time. Then, like a rush of water, then ran to each other and embraced.

Tears flowed from Ramona's eyes. She knew how good it felt to hold her sister again. No matter what wreckage was left in her wake, at least she had her sister back. At least she knew Nessa was okay.

“I'm so sorry,” Nessa said.

“I'm sorry, too,” Ramona replied.

Quickly, Nessa pulled away. “Don't say that. You have nothing to be sorry about. I should've … I should've called you. I should've …”

“Yeah,” Ramona said. “You should've.” She pulled away. And just like that, she regretted ever apologizing to her sister. She'd spent the last two months panicked and sleepless, worried that something bad had happened to her sister. She'd lied to Debra, she created a false persona, all because Nessa didn't bother to leave a note.