Diving In (Open Door Love Story) (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Gabe swings by to pick us up. I climb into the front seat and Liam hops in back. He leans forward between the seats and offers his hand to Gabe. “How’s it goin’, man?”

Gabe reaches his left hand across his body and shakes with Liam. “Not too bad. I know Brynn’s happy you’re home.”

“I am,” I say, turning in my seat. “Now where’s this dive you want to take us to?”

“Head out 84. You’ll know it when you see it.”

~

Teddi’s Alibi
looks like a combo between a strip club and an amusement park Old West town. It’s kinda whore-housey, but in a Disney way. It makes my brain confused, and I’m sure I’m not the only one it has that affect on.

Gabe parks right out front. The pink glow from the neon sign advertising not only the name of this fine establishment, but also the disembodied, gartered leg of a woman, illuminates his conflicted expression. “I’ve heard about this place.”

“Nothing good, I’ll bet,” Liam says, laughing. “Look, it’s open on Christmas Eve and they won’t bother to card my sister for the two Corona Lights she’ll drink. Plus, if I remember correctly, they have karaoke every night starting at seven.”

“All right, I can get behind a little Kara-okay,” Gabe says, attempting to make an ok sign with his bent fingers.

I open my door and slide out of my seat. “Just don’t start any brawls, you guys. I’ve managed to stay out of jail this long and I don’t have anyone worth telling the story to anyway.”

“I make no guarantees,” Liam jokes as he gets out of the van. “Although, I’m not drinking anything stronger than Sprite, so that will for sure lessen our chances of getting into untoward shenanigans.”

“Gabe won’t drink either,” I add.

“Should be some stellar karaoke then,” Liam says, laughing. “I’m so much worse when I’m aware of how bad I am.”

“Well,” Gabe says rolling around to our side of the van, “I rock the shit out of some ‘90s boy bands, so I hope you two are ready to be blown away.”

I shake my head. “I’m really only going to have two beers?”

We make our way inside. The entrance is on ground level and the doorway is more than wide enough for Gabe and his chair to fit through. Inside,
Teddi’s Alibi
is a lot more mundane than the outside would have you believe. It’s basically a large rectangular room with red-painted concrete floors and black Formica-topped tables – long dark wood bar at one end, karaoke set up at the other.

“See?” Liam says. “Just a regular old bar.” He chuckles. “Well…”

I start to take a look at the clientele, of which there are quite a few for a holiday evening. It’s all women. “Are you sure you guys are allowed in here?” I ask.

Liam nods to the lady behind the bar. “That’s Teddi. She’s been to a few of my shows at RUMORS. Cool as hell.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you guys grab a table and I’ll get our drinks. You good with pop, Gabe?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a Coke.”

We find a place to sit fairly near the karaoke set up – two mics, a freestanding monitor, and a table with some speakers and a chained down laptop.

“Because of you,” Gabe says, smirking, “I get to live out my lifelong desire of singing
I Want it That Way
on Christmas Eve in a lesbian bar. Thank you for making my dreams come true, baby.”

“Well, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” I say, shrugging, “but this is what I got you for Christmas.”

He shakes his head in mock awe. “Apropos as hell.”

“I thought so.”

Gabe leans over for a kiss. “I got you something too.”

“Really?” I say. “I thought we weren’t going to exchange gifts.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small square box wrapped in silver shiny paper with a green bow on top.

“Ack. Now I feel horrible! I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s no big deal. Just open it.”

I tear the paper off, because who saves that shit, and take the lid off the box. Inside is a neon green Speedo nose clip. I put it on.

Gabe slips an identical one on his nose.

“Lookin’ good, goobers,” Liam says, setting our drinks down.

Ignoring my brother, I give Gabe a kiss and then rub my pinched nose against his. “I think it’s very romantic. Thanks, FFCH.”

“Anything for you, Dork Patrol.”

The karaoke starts up soon after. A lot of Melissa Etheridge and Katy Perry songs are performed. Gabe and Liam both do their part to keep the ladies attracted to the ladies by not only singing N’Sync and BackStreet Boys, but going old school with a duet of
Baby Got Back
. I fear the good-natured booing that follows their every performance will turn ugly the more whiskey and white wine the bar patrons get in them.

“Okay, guys, one more song and then I’m ready to go.” I take a swig of my water. I’d stuck to Liam’s plan and only had the two beers. “Liam and I have no idea what we’re going to find under the tree tomorrow morning. Hopefully it’s not one of our folks.”

Gabe cringes. “Ugh. I’m so sorry you two. If you need to come over tomorrow you are more than welcome. I hope you don’t mind, but I told my mom about your mom and she said anything you need, she’ll be there.”

“Thanks. Although, Mom’s policy on help is a lot like your dad’s on money.”

“The offer stands.”

Liam rubs his palms together. “What shall be our magnum opus? I’m thinking something by Pink might be a crowd pleaser.”

“Oh, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Great idea.”

“Heeeeeeeey, you guuuuuysh,” a slurred voice that haunts my memories calls from behind me.

I turn to see Izzy weaving toward our table, a look of determination on her face. My heart sinks. She hasn’t even been out of rehab for two months and she’s already fallen off the wagon.

Liam shoots me a look and then stands up. “She needs a ride home. I sure as hell hope she didn’t drive here.”

I put my hand on his to stop him. “I’ll corral her.” Quickly, I stand and head off Izzy before she can sit down at our table and start regaling Gabe with any stories he doesn’t need to hear.

“Hey, Iz. Would you like me to call you a cab? I think you’ve had a few too many tonight.”

She swings her head back. “Oh, do you?” Izzy loses her balance and has to grab onto the nearest chair to steady herself. “I don’t know hhhwhy you think I has to lisssten to you. You don’t know everything B-rynn.”

“Please don’t cause a scene,” I say, my voice quiet, hoping that will make her concentrate and lower hers. “How would you feel if your dad had to pick you up from the drunk tank on Christmas morning? Don’t do that to him. Let me get you home safe.”

The music to a Celine Dion ballad starts playing and I welcome the distraction. There are too many eyes on us.

Izzy sticks her bottom lip out in a pouty face. “Fiiiine. Call mea caaab.”

“Good choice. Stay right here, I left my phone on the table.” If I can keep her away from Gabe completely, even better. I turn to go to the table and feel her push past me, the chair she was holding onto clanging to the floor. “Izzy, what are you—”

She yanks the mic from the startled singers hand and points directly at Gabe. “Brynn pulled you from th’ water.”

Gabe looks at me like, what the fuck? I’m frozen. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

“You didn’ dive inta the pond. Brynn savvved you.”

By this point the music has been turned down and the pissed off KJ is approaching Izzy like she’s a wild animal.

Gabe rolls back from the table and comes to me. “What’s she talking about?” He chuckles halfheartedly. “She’s so wasted. Izzy has no idea what she’s saying, right?”

Lying is only going to make it worse. I feel all the air leave my lungs and then I suck in a deep, choking breath because I’m drowning. I look down at Gabe and can’t stop the tears that are filling my eyes.

He gasps. His brows furrow and his breathing becomes erratic. He’s drowning too. “Why would you … why would let me think I did this to myself?” He bends at the waist, resting his face in his hands for a moment. The rise and fall of his back is so shaky and I want to put my hand on him to calm him, but when I lift my arm I’m shaking so badly too that I have to … I sit down on the concrete floor and put my head between my legs. I’m going to pass out.

Then Liam is next to me. He’s talking to me, I hear him asking me if I’m okay, what’s going on, do I need an ambulance?

Gabe is on his phone, sobbing into it saying, “Travis, tell me it isn’t true. Why has everyone been lying to me?”

Someone is rushing Izzy by and taking her somewhere over by the bar, a pot of coffee no doubt being poured down her throat.

A glass of water is shoved into my hand and I pull myself together. Liam helps me stand up. He takes me by the shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I reach over and take Gabe’s phone from his hand and end the call with Travis.

“Long story short,” I say, my voice not sounding like mine. “You and Travis fought. He was being aggressive with Izzy. He punched you and you fell. You got hurt. He panicked and dumped you in the water. I’d been swimming and was hiding under the dock. I pulled you to shore and when Travis realized that you weren’t dead, he—”

Gabe snatches his phone from me and pushes between me and Liam. “I can’t listen to this nonsense.”

I start to follow him, but Liam grabs my arm, holding me back. “Let him go. He needs to be alone.”

“But I have to make him understand,” I say, my words crackling with despair. “Travis was going to tell everyone about you, and I—”

“Oh, no,” Liam says, his face going pale. “Why does my secret keep hurting people? It’s not even a secret anymore!”

Teddi comes over and lays a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “I called a few cabs. I believe your friend is leaving without you.”

“Thanks, you have a Merry Christmas,” Liam says, putting on his Golden Boy façade that Dani had nearly managed to disappear.

Teddi smiles. “I have a feeling mine’s going to be better than yours, no matter what. Drinks on me tomorrow night if you need them.”

Liam manages a laugh.

I don’t find anything funny.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam goes back to Eugene the day after Christmas – a Christmas we spend together, in our childhood home, while our parents sleep. We wait until six in the evening for one of them to rouse and come into the living room to open their presents, eat a cookie, remark on how nice the decorations look, before we throw the cookies in the trash and take all the decorations down.

I avoid calling or texting Gabe all Christmas day. I understand that he needs some time to come to terms with what happened. I still think about him nonstop and feel sick every time the image of the way he looked at me pops into my head. Which is about thirty seconds out of every minute of the day.

I take the city bus with Liam to the Greyhound terminal, hug him, and send him on his way. The instant his bus pulls away from the staging area, I have my phone out texting Gabe.

I’m beyond sorry. I thought telling you would set you back. I should’ve let you make that decision. Please text me.

No answer. I try messaging him on Facebook because at least then it tells me if he’s seen the message. No answer, no seeing. I call. It goes straight to voicemail. I text again. I repeat this cycle for three days until I think I will go crazy. Finally, after leaving a voicemail for what feels like the twentieth time, I get a little angry, which gives me courage, and I decide to go to Gabe’s house. I close the store for lunch, tell Junnuen to take an extended break, and start hoofing it to Gabe’s.

It’s freezing cold and the sky is a deep gray, threatening to dump snow at any minute. I shove my hands into my pockets and tuck my chin down deep into my scarf. My nose is running like crazy and I generally want to fucking die. Everything is miserable all around and I’m pissed off that I let myself get as close to Gabe as I did. Because here I am, cold as a motherfucker, snotting all over myself, effing stalking him, practically killing myself to talk to him … and all of this could’ve been avoided … if I’d just avoided him to begin with.

But, no, he had to go be all cute and charming and wonderful and I had to let myself take the plunge and dive in. I laugh, at myself, what an idiot, thinking I could have ever avoided him. Our lives were intertwined long before he came into the cleaners with his mom’s stupid cornucopia table cloth. Something was always going to happen. I can see that now.

Maybe Gabe was what kept me here. Maybe this moment, this inevitable moment was what kept me here.

I walk up the ramp to his front door, untuck my chin from my scarf, wipe my nose on my sleeve, square my shoulders, and knock. Firmly. Confidently. I’m not leaving until I say my piece. Until Gabe hears that I think hope isn’t bullshit, but fault is, blame is. Life has happened to us and all I have is hope that it’s going to get better.

I hear footsteps coming to the door, and I’m disappointed, although I guess I don’t know if I’d hear his chair rolling down the hall to greet me or not. He can still be behind the door.

I get the sense that an eye is looking at me through the peephole and I stare at it hard, defiantly, in a manner that says, “Let me talk to my boyfriend!”

Gabe’s mom cracks the door. “He doesn’t want to see you, Brynn.”

“He doesn’t want to see me, or you won’t let him?” I ask.

“Both.” She pokes her head out slightly until I can see her whole face. She looks tired. Haggard. Like she’s been through a nightmare time of it. “This is what I was afraid of,” she hisses at me, her voice breaking. “He’s devastated. On one hand, you saved his life, but on the other, you keeping that from him has ruined it. Gabe is right back where he started. He wants nothing but to give up and fade away. I cannot forgive you for that, Brynn. I can’t!”

Mrs. Riley slams the door in my face.

I cram my hands into my pockets and tuck my chin into my scarf. I start the long walk back to work. It never does snow, even though every other time I’ve seen the sky look so heavy and suffocating it has. My toes are numb in my canvas sneakers when I get to the cleaners. Junnuen is waiting for me with a fresh thermos of coffee. I take the Help Wanted sign of Grandpa’s out from underneath the counter and set it up in the window. Although Christmas is over and it probably won’t be that busy until people start spring cleaning in April.

I sit on the stool behind the counter, still in my coat, and sip my coffee. Junnuen rubs my back in circles, and I think about my mother at home in her bed, knocked out, dying, and how even now when I need her and I know she can’t comfort me, the hand of a woman who hasn’t said many words to me feels like more comfort than I deserve.

“It’s over, I guess,” I say out loud to make it true.