Текст книги "Swelter"

Автор книги: Nina G. Jones

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Summer 1957

I wish I could say that those two weeks Bobby and I spent on the lake weren't everything I had hoped they might be. I wish I could tell you that we didn't take turns waking up before the other to make breakfast. That we didn't have a paint fight when I tried to touch up the living room walls. That we didn't clean his parent's bedroom and make it our own, pretending what it would be like to have a home together. That Bobby didn't fix up one of the old boats so we could anchor it in the middle of the lake to sunbathe and make love. That we didn't go for our midnight swims to cool off when it got too hot. That we didn't head back to Chicago to have dinner at Will and Sasha's place and stay up to the wee hours of the night talking about all kinds of things. Or that I didn't find a pair of Bobby's old overalls from when he was a teenager and wear them all week, barefoot, with my hair down and no makeup, feeling the most beautiful I had ever felt. That sweating alongside Bobby as we fixed up the lake house wasn't one of the most blissful experiences of my life. That on some nights we didn't just eat pie and beer for dinner and share stories about the years we had missed together.

But it was. We did.

Over the past few years, especially when I believed Bobby was gone, I told myself that my feelings weren't real. That they were something I had built up and made into some grand thing. That if I saw him again, I would realize it was pre-wedding anxiety that made the time we shared in the attic of the boathouse so intense. That not being able to have him made me love him. His absence. The forbidden fruit. That once I tasted the fruit again, it would have been long past its ripeness, and I would have known our time had passed.

I tried as hard as I could to make that the reality when Bobby returned. Convince him and myself that our feelings had expired. But no, our feelings weren't fruit, they were wine. Stored and aged to perfection, so that now our maturity, pain, and our ability to express ourselves had only made the love richer, fuller.

Our last day at the lake house was less playful. There was less laughter. A shadow of inevitability loomed over us. We understood we had to go back. Neither one of us was ready to hurt Rory, not at this level. Bobby had just reunited with his brother, whom he loved very much, and I would not make him choose. I had been Rory's wife for seven years, and we had built something together. Something imperfect and messy, but it was something. And Bobby had left once before. If he wanted me to leave my life behind to be with him, he would have to be clear and committed. Two perfect weeks weren't enough to erase seven painful years. We had our time and hoped it might be enough.

On our last perfect evening, I sat with Bobby on the porch swing, wrapped in his arms as he sat behind me.

“How do we go back?” I asked him.

“We just do,” he murmured into my hair. He sighed. “We just do.”

“This isn't fair.”

“It's not.”

“When do we get our happiness? When has Rory had enough of it?” I demanded. “When do we stop caring what other people think?”

“We'll know when.”

“What if it's never?” I asked.

He held me tighter. “It won't be never. I have to believe that. Just like I believed I'd see you again.”

“When will you be okay with doing this to Rory?”

“I don't know if I'll ever be okay with it,” he confessed. “I hate myself every day and yet, my love for you is stronger than that hate. When will you be okay with walking away from him?” He flipped the question on me.

“I'm scared. I don't know why. I guess it's like when an animal has lived in a cage and you open the door and it won't crawl out. But being out here with you, I've had a taste of life outside the cage, and I don't know how long I can stay back in it.”

“There's so much I want to show you, Lil,” he murmured into the back of my neck.

“There's so much I want you to show me.” I nuzzled deeper into his arms. “This weekend will be hard. He'll be home and I have to pretend . . . like you mean nothing to me.”

“I'll understand.”

“Doesn't it drive you mad?”

“I've had to deal with Rory having you for a long time now. There's no room for jealousy. I'd have lost my sanity a long time ago.” He kissed the top of my head, “Let's enjoy our time left. Tomorrow will come. And what will happen, will come.”

Though we didn't have a plan, Bobby had a way of putting me at ease. I still felt like, somehow, this could all work out.

“Notice something?” I asked.

“A man can never win by answering that question.”

“How about now?” I held my hand up.

“You still have it,” he uttered in disbelief.

“I kept it here because I was afraid Rory might see it and recognize it,” I admitted, admiring the pale apricot ring sparking under the porch light.

“You wear it well. I'll admit, I didn't ask because I thought you might have forgotten about it.”

“Never,” I protested. “That was all I had left of you.”

“I have a surprise for you.” I felt Bobby smile behind me.

“Oh, dear,” I teased. “I don't know if I trust your surprises.”

“Well, you're gonna. You cannot open your eyes. Understand?”

I sat up and turned to face him, covering my eyes and then splitting two fingers to peek through.

“None of that! I'll get a pillowcase if I have to.”

“Okay. Okay!” I laughed. “Cross my heart. But if you throw me in the water, it will be the last thing you ever do. They'll find your body floating in that lake, ya hear?”

“Let's not get too confident just because you carried a couple cans of paint up a flight of stairs. Now come on.” He swept in and lifted me off the ground. I yelped as he scooped me up. “Lil. Cover. Your. Eyes.”

“Okay!” I giggled.

I kept my promise, unable to wipe the smile off my face as he carried me off to an unknown destination. I had a hunch I was going towards the lake, and I reminded him more than once that his life was in mortal danger if he dunked me in there. But it was when I smelled the old damp wood, heard the creak of his footsteps in the narrow staircase, and felt him duck before lowering me to my feet that I realized where he was taking me.

“Okay, you can look,” he said.

I gasped as I opened my eyes. Somehow he managed to fix up the boathouse attic behind my back. The place we both went to in our fantasies these past seven years. The setting of the scene I had relived over countless sleepless nights and that Bobby used as a way to escape the horrors of war.

Little lights flecked the ceiling. A thin layer of transparent cloth draped across the lights, softening their glow. The ratty couch was covered with a fresh blanket. The furniture was polished and fresh. The walls were peppered with glowing misshapen stars, and I spotted the source: a lampshade in which he had stenciled star shapes.

I was overwhelmed with the gesture, but sadness swept over the joy. Just like the first time here, we'd have to go back to the lives we didn't want. This just reminded me of the fact that I made the wrong choice seven years ago.

“This is beautiful,” I said, as my voice cracked.

“I didn't mean to upset you.”

I turned to face him, unwilling to spoil the moment with my sadness. “Shut up, Bobby.” I grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Or not,” he mumbled into my mouth. Bobby wrapped his arms around my waist, making me feel small and safe as he spun, seating me on the edge of the table where he first kissed my breasts and slid his fingers into me when I was still a virgin.

So few people get to relive their most precious memories, but even with our terrible luck, we had this privilege. This time I wore overalls over an old t-shirt from Bobby's youth. He slid down each strap, letting it collapse down to my waist, and pulled my shirt off.

On this warm summer night, Bobby was already shirtless and the little warped stars he had carved into the lampshade stamped along the dark shadow of his torso, like a child's rendering of the night sky.

He crouched for his lips to meet my lips. Softly. Barely pressing against them. Then he did the same to each nipple: Soft kisses, gentle tugs with his teeth so that I writhed under the sensation of his mouth on the sensitive points. He littered the valley between my breasts with kisses as he dug a hand into my hair and tugged, arching my neck to allow himself room to roam. As he dotted my neck with traces of his lips, the other hand reached between my legs and softly glided along the damp skin, readying me for his entry.

I purred as two fingers slid into me, while Bobby gently tugged my earlobe with his teeth. He pushed me back against the wall by my neck as his fingers curled and massaged inside of me. My spine arched, offering my pert breasts to satisfy his appetite. His mouth roved over the plump flesh. Kissing it. Sucking the pale skin around my nipples. As if they were rooted in the same source of pleasure, his mouth on my breasts caused everything below to light up in ecstasy. I lifted my hips against his hand, greed and lust overtaking me.

“I'm going to make you ready for me.” Bobby's throaty voice recited the words he had said to me years ago, before he first pushed himself inside of me and took the last of my innocence. Words I thought about many times since that moment that made me wet. Words that made me sneak off and lock the bathroom door to touch myself.

“But first, I want you to do something for me,” he added.

“Anything,” I barely whispered.

He slid off the overalls that still covered my hips and pressed his hot, glistening chest against me as he leaned in to whisper. “Touch yourself. You're so beautiful. I want to watch you play with yourself.”

If there was anyone who made me feel powerful, it was Bobby. But that was something I had done in secret. Something I wasn't even sure other women did. No one spoke about it. And now Bobby was asking me to take this personal secret, relegated to under bedsheets and behind locked bathroom doors, and put on a personal show for him.

“Will you, Lil? Play with yourself for me?” he begged in a husky drone.

I looked down, suddenly overcome with timidness and nodded. “Atta girl.” He suckled on my bottom lip before stepping back into a shadow, where all I could see was his faint outline under a dozen little stars made of light.

I swept all of my loose hair over one shoulder, and sat back on the table, spreading my legs open for Bobby to get a clear view. My breathing grew labored, so that the cadence of each inhale and exhale was all I could hear.

I hesitated, almost paralyzed with the nervous energy that coursed through my extremities.

“Don't be shy, Lil,” his voice coaxed seductively from the shadows.

I bit my inner lip nervously, reaching for a breast with one hand, while I slid the other along and up my thigh to its crease.

“Did you,” he asked, “ever touch yourself when you thought of me?”

I nodded.

“Show me how.”

I swallowed tensely, as I gripped my breast, and used my index finger to gently flick the stiff nipple. My other fingers parted to open me, as I exposed the pink hot flesh to Bobby.

“God dammit, Lil,” he groaned. His tone was languorous, the way it would get when he was inside of me. And so I looked down and noticed the outline of his hand, reaching below, slowly bobbing up and down.

Seeing how the sight of me touching myself had that effect on Bobby, motivated me. Knowing that he was touching himself, made me less shy about the act. No one made me feel as good about my body as Bobby did. I closed my eyes as I rubbed myself, my fingers wet with arousal.

I moaned and still called Bobby's name, even when I touched myself. I was climbing, higher, closer to the climax, but I didn't want to take myself there without him. I opened my eyes.

“Please come back to me,” I pleaded. “I need you in me.”

Bobby stepped forward, the moonlight illuminated him as he held his rock hardness in his hand, a sight I didn't even know was so wildly arousing until he introduced me to it.

“I want to taste you first,” he rasped. Bobby dropped to his knees, using his mouth to taunt the already sensitive region. His tongue flicked along the little bud, providing just enough pressure to hold me over the edge without pushing me off. I played with one breast while the other hand knotted through his hair. My eyes rolled back as I nearly growled from the steady teasing of his wet, steamy mouth.

“Fuck me, Bobby.” The words were a shock to me. I was a lady. I didn't cuss. But with Bobby, in this attic, I was anything but proper. I was a dirty girl who played with herself. Who enjoyed the sight of a man holding his erection and sliding his own hand up and down his length.

I wondered for a moment if I had gone too far. If that mouth of mine would be a turnoff. But Bobby stood up tall, the ridges of his long, lean physique covered in shadows, stars and moonlight, and scooped a hand beneath one of my knees, pulling me to the edge of the table.

“Say it again,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

“Fuck me,” I whimpered.

Bobby pushed his hips forward, his erection primed and harder than I had ever felt, and slid through the creamy entrance. But even though I was ready, I wailed from the welcome intrusion.

He pulled all the way out and slid in me again. Then again. Like a well-oiled piston.

I grunted and growled as he speared me over and over. This time, we weren't hiding. I didn't have to stifle my moans and cry his name into his chest. This time, I freely called out as he hit deep inside of me.

“God, you're always so tight,” he grimaced.

I grabbed Bobby’s muscled behind and pulled him deep inside of me, clenching tightly around his firmness while he ground his hips against me. Every muscle in my own body seemed to contract at once, almost crushing me, until they all relaxed in unison as I cried. A build up and release I can only compare to what the ocean must feel during a tidal wave.

Bobby grunted as he gripped me tighter and let out a guttural moan, spilling himself inside of me.

We leaned on each other, panting, twinkling with perspiration, until Bobby finally stood up.

“Lake and sleep?” he asked, putting up his hand for a high-five.

“Lake and sleep,” I smiled, slapping my palm against his, drunkenly. He clasped his fingers around mine and pulled me to my feet.

And that's what we did, falling asleep in a tangled mess on the old sofa. Clinging on to our last bittersweet night together at the lake house just as we had seven years before.

Seven Years Earlier

As soon as Julia closed the door, Bobby and I looked at each other differently than we just had moments before. The ferocity of our coupling was snuffed by her sober commands. It was as though the reality of the world came crashing down through her. She didn't scold, or scream, or even conspire in the shadows with us. She was the indifferent voice of the inevitability of our circumstances. Julia dismissed us so casually, like two children playing make-believe, that I realized that's exactly what this was. She sucked the oxygen out of our crazed and desperate plans, depriving the flames that burned through us.

Even imagining me trying to explain my plans to her made me realize how foolish we would have sounded. In the attic, alone, in the middle of the night, when the world slept, it all made sense between Bobby and me. But here, during the day, in the light, with eyes on us—it was child's play.

“I have to go,” I said, apologetically.

“I know,” Bobby lamented.

I looked at my face in the mirror and gasped. My lips were smudged, my hair a mess. I knelt down to the floor scrambling through the scattered makeup until I found what I needed. As Bobby stood there in silence, I erased the traces of his kisses from my face.

“Will she tell?” he asked.

“No. Didn't you hear her?”

“Yes.”

“She won't tell, okay? She's my sister. She'll cover for me.”

He mumbled something unintelligible to himself and paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. “What have we done?” he asked.

“Bobby, I can't do this now.” Even at that moment, I noticed how quickly I had become frigid to get myself through what I was about to do.

I stood up, still in my slip, still wet in between my legs from having Bobby inside of me just minutes before.

I grabbed my lace dress off the hanger and slid it on. I tried zipping it on my own, but struggled.

“Let me,” Bobby said, coming to my aid. What a tragic ceremony, helping the love of his life put on the dress she would wear to marry his brother.

I stared at the sullen reflection in the mirror as I adjusted my tilted veil, the symbol of a bride. Of virtue, honesty, and commitment.

Finally, I was ready, at least on the exterior. I took a deep breath and spun to face Bobby. Despite how I tried to cut off my emotions, once our eyes met, I was filled with a sadness so deep, that it would haunt me, like a ghost, for the next seven years.

Bobby's eyes, the color of autumn leaves, turned down.

“It's too late for us,” I implored breathlessly.

Bobby nodded in defeat. I didn't remind him that I loved him, neither did he with me. I couldn't stir up the emotions that were already threatening to spill over. I had to fortify myself for walking down the aisle. Bobby and I would see each other again, and we would have to learn to live with our unspoken truth.

I stepped outside the door which Julia was guarding like a knight.

“Let's go,” she said. “Where's Bobby?”

“Listen, I just want you to understand . . . what you just saw—”

“I didn't see anything,” she snapped.

Although Julia was my sister, she actually felt like something closer to a detached mother. I didn't understand exactly what her purpose was in turning a blind eye other than to give me a chance to move forward. That underneath this coldness, there was a sense of sisterly duty to protect me.

“Where's Bobby?” she asked.

“He's—in the room. We thought that we shouldn't come together,” I whispered though no one was in the cabin.

“Didn't Rory send him here?”

“Yes.”

Julia opened the door. Bobby was leaning against the window frame, staring out in contemplation. He startled when she spoke. “Come on, Bobby. We should all be there early.”

“Oh . . . okay,” he answered, as if he were in some sort of fog.

“Oh geez,” Julia reprimanded as he approached the door. “Wait a minute.”

Julia returned from the restroom with a wet towel. “You have makeup all over your shirt,” she scolded.

It was surreal, the entire hour before my wedding. Declarations of love. Plans to escape. Sex. Being caught by my sister. Her bizarre reaction. It felt like that narrow space between an odd dream and a nightmare.

The three of us walked in silence down towards the lake. My heart stirred. In the solitude of the silent march, I regretted not telling Bobby how I felt one last time. That I wasn't choosing Rory out of love, but out of fear and obligation. That I understood why he didn't fight more after my sister burst into the room. Because he had the same reasons. It was too late for us. Nineteen and barely twenty-one, and it was already too late.

Summer 1957

The stagnant heat. The ticking of the clock. No more overalls. Instead, a pale blue dress. My hair was twisted up instead of down in careless waves. My lips covered in a pale rose instead of their natural hue.

We were back.

Bobby and I had spent the morning gathering goods for the cookout the next day. Rory said he would be returning at one, but it was already past two and he hadn't arrived.

Bobby and I sat across the kitchen table from one another, untouched glasses of my 50/50 lemonade and iced tea mix, sitting in front of us. This was harder than I ever imagined it could be. Two weeks was not enough time, yet too long. Now I had to pretend I didn't know how sweet life could taste. I had to adjust my palate back to accepting the stale bite of the everyday.

“Lil, now that we're back here, I was thinking maybe I should stay somewhere else. Get a room at a motel or something. It just doesn't feel right.”

“No, I don't want you to leave.”

Having Bobby around would at least make things tolerable. Without his everyday presence, my routine would go back to the time before he rang that doorbell weeks ago.

“I can't live in my brother's house. Be his guest knowing what we did.”

Did. The word was finite. Was it really done? We hadn't laid ground rules, but we kept alluding to the fact that somehow those two magical weeks needed to stay at the lake house. That we just wanted to allow ourselves the freedom that we had deprived ourselves of just so we could tolerate the rest of our existence. But of course, we lied to ourselves because there was no going back after what we did. There wasn't seven years ago, and there wasn't at that moment.

“Bobby—”

Just then the front door creaked open and we both stiffened in our seats as Rory finally arrived. He had a smile on his face as he huffed and puffed, his face sticky with sweat.

“I'm home!” he shouted playfully. It was strange how much happier he was to come home now that Bobby was back.

I stood up and smiled, doing my best to mask the frustration I felt towards Bobby's desire to move.

“Welcome back,” I called to Rory through a forced smile.

Rory walked over to me and planted a salty kiss on my lips.

Bobby and Rory hugged.

“What have you been doing, Rory? You're sopping with sweat,” I asked.

His smiled grew as wide as his face could hold. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” I looked over at Bobby who shrugged.

“Come on!” Rory ordered us both to come outside.

The driver’s side door was open with the seat tilted forward. A large cardboard box was resting on the backseat just behind it. I scanned the writing to figure out what this was until I found my answer:

AIR CONDITIONING UNIT

My eyes widened. “An air conditioner?” I asked in disbelief. It was like asking a Quaker to murder, a monk to break his vow of silence. Rory had stood hard on this issue, and yet here he was, breaking his vow for me.

“Wow, thank you! What changed your mind?”

He wrapped his hand around my waist—it felt unnatural. “I just wanted to get you something. Can a man get his wife a gift?”

It was bizarre though. It wasn't just a gift. It was something we had bickered over and drew hard lines on. Suddenly, he was pretending as though it was never an issue.

“Now, the electric use on this thing is insane. So we should keep it on only if it gets above 85 and only when we get to bed.”

“I'll finally get some sleep.” Another lie to protect Rory. I now had new reasons for sleepless nights.

I looked over at Bobby, who had remained quiet, standing behind us as a spectator. “Awww, but you still have to sleep in the heat,” I added sympathetically.

Rory's face dropped when he realized he had forgotten his brother.

Bobby waved off the concern. “I don't mind the heat. And you guys don't worry about me. Really.”

The boys carried the AC into the house. I laughed to myself when I heard Rory cursing as he tinkered with installation.

“Yoohoo!” Barbie's voice called as she tapped the glass on the back door before letting herself in.

“Hi Barb.” She had been a great help with getting the cookout set up, spreading the word and contributing however she could. I'd called her almost daily and she was eager to help.

“Hey Lilly.” She stopped in her tracks. “Wow, you look good. Like really good.”

I shrugged. “I guess it was the fresh air.”

“Well, listen. I have some of those fold-out tables you need. They don't fit in the car. I was seeing if I could recruit Bobby for some assistance to get them over here.”

“Uh sure. I don't know where he is.” Bobby had gone absent since Rory returned. “He might be back with Rory putting in the new AC.”

“New AC?” she shouted.

I bunched up my shoulders. “Yeah, can you believe it?”

“No. I was convinced I'd find you two melted to death before that happened.”

I went to the bedroom. Rory didn't even notice me as he told the appliance to go to hell. Bobby wasn't with him. He wasn't anywhere in the house. Had he already left in search of a motel?

I went to the front door to check on his truck, and there he was, tossing a ball with the Anderson's kid.

“Oh, there you are,” I said.

“Looking for me?” he asked with a boyish grin.

I made an apologetic frown. “Barbie is requesting your services. She would like you to help her bring over the fold-out tables.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. He tossed the ball at Petey. “I gotta run kid. Just keep snapping at the wrist like I showed ya.”

The little boy smiled and scurried away.

I held the door open as Bobby walked by. Having his smell so close to me whenever I wanted was something I already missed. “Now be good,” I whispered to him playfully.

He crossed his heart at me and winked before turning.

“Barbie!” he called out. “Putting me to work on a holiday!”

They left together and I was alone in the stillness of my living room. Barbie didn't concern me. She was a silly woman. Bobby knew that. But it didn't stop me from feeling a little resentful towards her constant need to compete and seek out the attention of men. Especially when the man was my Bobby.

But we all had our issues. And beneath her silliness, Barbie was good to me. Always willing to lend an ear, or help out when I needed it. And to me, that's what mattered most.

Rory finally emerged from the bedroom, slapping his hands together. “Was Barbie just here?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Did she tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh maybe she doesn't know. I called Stan at the office, and I made some plans for us all to go out to dinner this evening.”

What happened to Rory while he was gone? The AC and now this? I almost for a moment feared he might know and was trying to win me back. But if that was the case, his reaction would not be so kind. Was Rory finally turning over a new leaf?

“Oh that's great!” I said.

“Put on something nice.” He slapped my behind before heading to the kitchen to help himself to the warm lemonade iced tea I left on the table.

Seven Years Earlier

“My little girl looks so beautiful,” my dad whispered into my ear as he embraced me. The violinist changed her tune, indicating it was our turn to proceed down the aisle. The lace cape sleeves of my dress itched in the heat. The neckline felt like it was tightening on its own, threatening to wrap around my neck. I hoped it would so I could have an excuse to cry out.

I looped my arm around my father's, resisting the urge to rip off the collar of my dress, just so I could be free. I prayed. I begged for help. And it wasn't that my pleas were ignored, or that they floated unheard into the universe.

No. My prayers had been answered, and the answer was: it's too late.

I tried not to look at Bobby, the best man, but my eyes betrayed me for a fraction of a second. In that fragment of time, I saw a hollowness in his eyes. Like he was there physically, but found a way to escape the moment so he could survive it. Bobby had resigned himself to our fates. I looked back at Rory, who was smiling like a flappy-eared dog, and burst into tears. People smiled around me thinking I was overwhelmed with love, and I was, but not for the groom.

I felt dirty as the vows were recited, like I was rubbing my happiness in Bobby's face. But I wasn't happy. I hoped he understood this was all an act. That I had to pretend for my sanity.

And then when Rory took my hands, my heart skipped. Not because he had that effect, but because I still had the ring on. The one Bobby gave me, on the finger where Rory would be putting on my wedding band.

Rory’s vows to me were a blur as I tried to figure out a way to remove the ring before he might notice. I got my chance when he turned to grab his ring from Bobby. I slid it off my ring finger and in an attempt to transfer it to the other hand, I dropped it. As if my heart needed any more pain, I watched it roll towards Bobby's foot and stop at his shoe.

He looked at me, and saw the look of horror in my eyes. In that moment, he comforted me with a nod as he picked it up and inconspicuously slid it into his pocket.

So, I did what I was there to do. Vowed to love and honor, through sickness and health, 'till death do us part, the brother of the man I truly loved.

As the sun set, I finally had a moment to sit and breathe. Family, friends, strangers, they were all here, congratulating me on my new life. They didn't know they were smiling in my face on one of the saddest days of my life.

I hadn't seen Bobby since the ceremony. And I hoped he understood that losing the ring was an accident, and I intended to follow his wishes and hold on to it.

I didn't know how I would act when I saw him again. Just hours ago, we were professing our love, making plans to run away, our bodies united in a way that I only ever intended to be with my husband. And now, this invisible line had been drawn. A simple ceremony had cut us off from ever having that again. We would have to go back to the way things were.

“Where's the necklace?” Rory asked as he sat beside me, his arm around the back of my chair.

I felt for my neck. “Oh no! I guess I forgot in the pre-wedding hullabaloo. I am so sorry. It was beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“Of course sweetie.” He kissed me on the cheek and I felt nothing. “You look so beautiful today,” he said.

“Thank you, honey. You look handsome. Very handsome.”

Rory sat back, watching the sun descend upon the lake. “Can you believe one day, our kids will swim in that lake? Climb those trees? Play in this grass?”

I shook my head wistfully. “No. To be honest I still feel like one of those kids myself.”

“Ha. Me too.”

The sound of clinking rose above the humming of the crowd. Others joined to boost the signal.

I followed the sound and my heart clenched when I saw Bobby standing, a champagne flute in one hand, a knife in the other. Bobby had been drinking. I could tell just by looking at him. My entire body stiffened thinking of the possibility of him losing it up there, spilling our secrets in a drunken speech. But when he uttered the first words, I knew he brought the Bobby everyone loved. The one that people wanted to hover around, hoping they could get just a sliver of the magic he possessed.