The Love Sucks Club (22 page)

Surprised, I don’t know how to respond. Squeezing her hand, I
smile again, trying not to show how close I am to crying.

“So, are you?”

“Not right now.” She shakes her head. “Honestly, Dana, I don’t
know. Sometimes I think I am, and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.”

“That’s most of us, Susannah.”

Before she can answer, someone knocks on the door and Susannah
gets up to answer it. She opens the door and Jackie walks in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, standing with my
fists clenched. “Is it going to come to this?”

Jackie holds her hands up in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to
fight.”

Susannah scoffs under her breath, but doesn’t say anything.

Moving out from behind the counter, I walk up to Jackie, ready to
fight. “I’m done with this, you know. I’m really done.”

“I’m honestly not here to fight. I swear to you, I’m not.”

Crossing my arms tightly over my chest, I lean against the
counter. “Well why are you here?”

“I ran into your friend
Esmé
. She
explained to me some of the things that happened with Fran.”

Irritated, I glare at her. “She had no right.”

“It explains a lot.”

Susannah clears her throat. “I really think you should leave.”

I smile at my sister and nod my head toward the living room. “Why
don’t you wait in the living room or on the deck? I’ll be done here in a
minute.”

She looks doubtful, but complies anyway. When she’s gone, I turn
back to Jackie.
“Seriously, Jackie?
I don’t understand
why you can’t just get out of my life?”

“We were together for seven years. We lived together for five of
those years. I would think there’s still a connection between us that hasn’t
gone away just because we aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“There’s no connection, Jackie. We had a relationship and now we
don’t.”

Pursing her lips, she stares down at the floor.

I don’t understand what she wants from me. I don’t owe her
anything. Just because we were lovers doesn’t mean I have a responsibility to
take care of her for the rest of her life. What the hell? When do I get to be
free of someone who held me back for so long? Thinking about Roxanne, I
consider the possibility that it wasn’t my ex who was holding me back, but my
own fear.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” I ask her.

She nods so I pour her a cup. No sugar, a dash of half and half.
There used to be something comforting in knowing how she took her coffee and
how she liked her eggs. As much as I profess to like excitement in my life, I
did enjoy those mornings we sat in our respective chairs reading, or doing
crossword puzzles, or playing Scrabble. Jackie has perched on a stool with her
cup of coffee in both hands. Looking at her, I almost let the thought creep in
that now that she’s sober, maybe we could make another go. Laughing, I shake my
head. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Why are you laughing?”

“I was thinking about why our relationship didn’t work out.”

“Because you weren’t really in
it.”

Stunned, I stare at her. “It had nothing to do with your drinking
problem?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t have a problem. But you never even tried
to help me.”

“How could I help someone who wouldn’t even admit that she had a
problem?”

She sets her cup down on the counter. “You didn’t try, Dana.
Never.
All you did was
sink
into
your writing and your visions and close yourself off from me.”

“That isn’t true.” Indignant, I point my finger at her. I’m pissed
now. “All you ever did was drink and spend my money.”

“And all you ever did was
nag
me about
how much money I spent. You counted my drinks and when I got to an arbitrary
number, you’d start pursing your lips and acting sanctimonious. You thought you
were so much better than me because you don’t drink.”

Angry and somehow guilty, I lash out. “That’s not true. You ruined
our life together. You just drank and passed out and drank and pissed off my
friends and acted like a bitch and couldn’t even perform sexually because you
were always at some level of drunk.”

Pausing, she looks down at her coffee. Taking a deep breath, she
lifts her head to make eye contact with me. “How could I make love to you when
you were always judging me? You hated me. You hated my drinking. You never
tried to talk to me about it in a compassionate way. You just harped and got
mad and accused me of being a drunk and criticized my driving and my sexual
abilities and the way I did the laundry. If I went to bed early, you implied it
was because I was drunk. If I stayed up late, you said it was because I wasn’t
done drinking. You hated me. And I loved you. And I still don’t understand why
you even bothered to get involved with me when you knew I would never measure
up to the one who died.”

Staring at her, I open my mouth and close it again. I can’t make
myself speak. Our whole relationship is flashing through my head and suddenly,
I can see myself through her eyes and I don’t like what I see. I am an asshole.

“Wow,” I finally manage to mutter.

“Yeah,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I didn’t have the
strength to stand up and help you wrestle with your demon while I was still
trying to wrestle with my own.”

“Honestly, Dana. The only mistake that you really made was
agreeing to go out with me. You should never have gone out with me. You should
never have gotten involved.”

Shaking my head, I blink quickly to push back the tears that are
threatening to fall again. I’ve become such a wimp lately. It seems all I do is
cry or actively work to stop myself from crying.

“You’re right.” I nod my head as I speak, like I’ve just figured
it out and it all makes sense. “You’re right. I should never have gotten
involved with you. Who knows? Maybe you would have gotten clean sooner if you
had been with someone who saw your alcoholism as a sickness to be cured and not
as an irritation in her life.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“When I saw you in town the other day, I had a vision that you
were going to kill me.”

She sighs. Pausing for a second, she takes a sip of her coffee and
then looks up at me. Surprisingly, she’s smiling. “I’ve wanted to kill you for
a long time.”

“Well, that’s honest.”

“I’m not going to. I would never kill anyone. But I can’t deny
that for a long time there, I wouldn’t have been upset if you had died of
natural causes.”

We look at each other in silence for a second. She snorts and
before I know it, we’re both laughing hysterically. She leans her forehead on
her hands and I’m holding onto the counter for support. We laugh so loud and so
long that I have tears rolling down my face and she’s beet red.

“So what do you want, Jackie. When all of this is said and done,
what are you doing here?”

Standing, she crosses the room and pats me on the shoulder. “I
wanted you to tell me you were sorry.”

Nodding, I smile at her again. “Well, I’m sorry. I am sorry,
Jackie. I really am.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“For not helping with the
housework enough?”

That sets us both off and we’re laughing again until finally, I
swallow my pride and put my arms around her. We cling to each other, still
laughing. She gives me a last hug before pulling back.

“I am sorry, Dana. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you with your
demons while I was wrestling with mine.”

She pulls away and walks toward the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Hey,” I call. “Are you going to be all right? Money-wise, I
mean.”

She looks straight at me and for a second, I’m heavy with the
weight of her cares. My shoulder slump and I can see the long road she’s
facing. Living in her car, going to AA meetings, falling off the wagon, pulling
herself
back onto it. There’s a shadow around her
future and I realize that I can’t see what’s going to happen to her.

“I’ll be okay,” she says. “I’m always okay.”

She turns toward the door again.

“Jackie?”’

With her hand on the doorknob, she half turns, and pauses. “What?”

“I believe in you. I know you can do it.”

Walking out the door, she raises her hand as a last goodbye,
without saying another word. Still buckling under the weight of her pain, I
slouch into a stool. Frank walks across the counter and head butts me. I wrap
my arms around him, pulling him against me so I can bury my face in his fur. He
utters a brief protest, but doesn’t struggle to get away. He allows me to hold
him for several minutes, as if he knows somehow that I’m seeking comfort from
his very presence. Susannah tiptoes in and puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Are you all right, sis?”

Looking up at her, I smile.
“Yeah, Susie.
I guess I am.”

“Well,
good
. Maybe you can help me with a
problem.”

Not another one. This is how life works. I get rid of one heavy
weight and two more
drop
on me.

“What happened?”

“Thomas and I broke up.”

“How come?”

“He says I’m too controlling and he doesn’t want to live like
that.”

Nodding, I look at her seriously. “Susannah, I’m going to be
painfully honest with you here in an attempt to help you save yourself.”

She takes a deep breath as if to brace herself.

“Okay.”

“You are too controlling. When I’ve seen you with Thomas, I
somehow see the two of you as Mom and Dad. You tell him what to do. It looks
like you should be steering him around by his elbow.”

Tears fill up her eyes, but she blinks to stave them off. We are
stoics in this family. Never let them see you breakdown, that’s our motto. She
looks up at the ceiling. “I know I try to control things, Dana. I just don’t
want to lose myself in a relationship.”

“You’ve got to find the balance, Sissy. Somewhere between being a
controlling bitch and giving yourself completely over to his wants is a happy
balance where the two of you communicate with each other and compromise to make
sure that you are both comfortable and happy.”

“I’m not sure that I know how to find that balance.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I smile. “I don’t know that any of us
do, baby sister.”

Chapter Twenty

Rick and Karen have canceled their end of the summer party.
Apparently, the locals, who are fond of predicting hurricanes using everything
from the size of the waves to the shape of the
clouds
were correct that hurricane season would start early this season. Still, law of
averages suggests they will be right occasionally. We’ve been tracking Omar for
a while and according to the weather reports, we are due to start getting the
first bad weather from it sometime in the middle of the night. I asked my
sister to come spend the night here. Her stupid apartment complex is a flimsy
piece of crap and as far as I know, they haven’t done anything to prepare for
the oncoming storm. Sam is going to head up here after she finishes getting the
resort as ready as they can be. Of course, Olivia is coming up with my sister.
Whatever else happens, it will be interesting to see her and Sam together.
Rolling my eyes toward the ceiling, I shake my head. I still don’t get that
one. Olivia is straight, for God’s sake. I don’t get it. I asked Sam if she and
Olivia are dating now, but she danced around the answer. I’m guessing that’s a
yes, but it’s really not any of my business. I mean, it wouldn’t be my business
if it didn’t directly involve me. It does, however.
It’s
bad enough I have to see her through my sister. Now, she’s possibly dating my
best friend.

Sam is irritated that the party is canceled. I’m not too upset
about it. Sure, there would be some people there that I would like to see, but
let’s face it, if I really wanted to see them, I would make an effort to do so
even without the excuse of a party. Besides, the problem with a big party like
that is that most of the people there are people I don’t particularly want to
see. Worse, it would be filled with people I don’t know. I can’t think of many
tortures worse than being sober in a room full of people who don’t know each
other as they all get shit-faced together and bond over their own particular
brand of drunkenness. Sam thrives in that kind of situation. Sometimes it still
amazes me that we’re friends.

Heading outside to pull the hurricane shutters across the glass
doors to the deck, I do a quick sweep to make sure there isn’t anything left
outside. Oh crap. I forgot about the little setup I have on the other side of
the lawn, in the grass. I don’t know why it’s there. I rarely sit anywhere
except on the deck. Still, every once in a while when I’m working in the yard,
it’s nice to collapse into my huge Adirondack chairs and survey my handiwork.
The stairs from the deck come out on the far side of the lawn from my little
setup down below, so I’ll have to cart this stuff all the way around the house.
Grinning at the perfect blue sky, I run around the house to grab the first
chair. By the time I manage to wrestle it around to the door, Roxanne is
standing in my yard.

“Need help?”

Holding out my hand, I show her the place where I gave myself a
massive splinter.

“I could use some help.”

She takes my hand and looks at the cut. “We should disinfect
this.”

“Let’s get the stuff in first.”

Having a second person changes the task from an unpleasant one
into a relatively simple one. Together, we bring both chairs and the little
table around to the door and into the living room. Back outside, we walk the
perimeter slowly, checking for any loose objects that could become projectiles
during the storm. Giving it the all clear, I head back into the house to make
another pot of coffee.

Roxanne, who looks kind of
adorable in plaid shorts and an extremely clean t-shirt, smiles as she hands me
a mug to fill for her.
“So, are you completely set now?”

“I think I am. I’m stocked on canned food. The bathtub is filled
with water.”

Gesturing to the row of gallon jugs along the floor of the
kitchen, I nod at her smugly. “Got my drinking water all separated from my
non-potable water.”

“Ooh, you are the hurricane whisperer.”

“Yep.
Rechargeable flashlights, a
crank radio, battery powered fans and lights, and several board games.”

“Got your chain saws prepared?”

“Of course.
Two gas-powered chain saws in
case we need ‘
em
to get down the road after the
storm.”

“Well, let’s just see to your injury and you really will be set.”

After I wash my hands, Roxanne pours some hydrogen peroxide on the
small hole where the splinter was. I’m gratified to watch it bubble and foam
for a few seconds before she covers it with a
band-aid
.
“I love hydrogen peroxide,” I say.

“I always heard that if it bubbles, that means there’s an
infection.”

“Uh, actually, that’s the liquid mixing with your cells, both
healthy and damaged. Hydrogen peroxide kills bacteria, but it can also kill
healthy skin cells which can actually slow healing and increase the likelihood
of scarring.”

Still holding my hand out in front of her, Roxanne glares at me.
“Then why did you let me put it on you?”

I can’t help laughing. She just looks so indignant. “Oh come on,
Rox
. It was a splinter. I don’t think I have to worry about
gangrene. Besides, I like watching it fizz as it eats away my skin cells.”

She laughs, too. Dropping my hand, she smacks me on the shoulder.
“Fine then.
Get your damaged cells away from me.”

“Do you need help over at your place?”

“I could. I brought in any plants that were in pots and tubs. The
others will either make it or not. Already got all of my furniture in, but I
haven’t put up my storm shutters yet.”

Roxanne has heavy wooden storm shutters that latch with giant metal
latches that look like something from a medieval dungeon. They’re actually kind
of gorgeous, but they’re huge and heavy and it’s definitely a two person job.

“Why didn’t you call me to come help you?”

“I figured I would find you outside taking care of your own place
and I could help you in exchange for your help.”

“Tit for tat?”

Grinning, she shakes her head. “No, just the storm shutters for
the furniture moving.”

“A girl can try.”

We walk over to her house hand in hand. The day is so beautiful,
it’s almost impossible to believe that it will erupt into a violent storm in
the next twelve hours or so. At Roxanne’s house, I grab her ladder and carry it
to each window to fasten the latches. One of the shutters has stuck to the side
of the house, so I have to schlep back to my house for some tools to pry it
from that latch and refasten it to the next one. While I’m gone, Roxanne makes
a cup of tea and hands it to me on my return. Standing close to her, I take the
tea, and look down into her eyes. “Thank you,” I say, moving closer.

She backs away, laughing. “Are you trying to be seductive over
tea? It might be easier if we weren’t both so dirty and sweaty.”

Denied, I roll my eyes. “Maybe I like dirty and sweaty.”

Handing her my cup, I climb back up on the ladder to work on the
shutter. I spray some WD-40 on the rusted catch, figuring if nothing else,
maybe I can just work it loose. Wiggling the shutter back and forth, I can feel
the catch starting to give. “You know, this is why you need a butch around. You
really should get out here about once a month and treat these so they don’t
rust.”

She shrugs. “I know. You told me that last hurricane season. It’s
just in the in-between
times,
I tend to forget about
it.”

“Well, then you need to put it on a calendar or something,” I
snap. I’m aware that I sound sanctimonious, but I’m irritated that I can’t get
the catch loose. Now I’ll probably have to unscrew the entire assembly from the
cement wall which will mean remounting it after the storm. Drilling into
concrete is a pain in the ass, especially on a ladder.

“I’m sorry, Dana.” Roxanne sounds contrite and sad, which makes me
feel like a complete asshole. “If you want, I’ll call a contractor. You
shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

Lifting my hands to the sky in a “why me?” gesture, I call out,
“Why have you forsaken me?”

Roxanne laughs. I look down to smile at her. “I’m just being
dramatic because this fucker is really stuck on here. It’s pissing me off, not
you.”

“Well, you’re yelling at me, not at the fastener.”

“True enough,” I say, laughing. “I think I’m going to have to take
the whole thing apart. It’s stuck on here pretty good.” I give it one last yank
and it jerks free, knocking my off balance. I know I’m going down and my life
flashes before my eyes. Okay, technically, the image of me in a full body cast
flashes before my eyes. Before I can recover my balance, I’m off the ladder and
falling backward. Braced for the landing, it takes me a second to realize that
I haven’t hit the ground. Instead, I’m in tiny little Roxanne’s arms and she’s
laughing. “You know, you’re totally right,” she says, putting me down and
rubbing her arms. “This is why I need a butch around. I just can’t handle this
sort of thing all by my little lonesome.”

Shaking my head, I glare at her for a second before bursting into
laughter.
“Oh God, Roxanne.
You’re tougher than you
look.”

“And you’re heavier than you look.”

“I guess I’m a little portly.”

“Would you like me to finish the shutter?” she asks, sweetly.

“Not a chance.” I climb back up the ladder and finish latching the
newly released shutter into place.

When I climb back down, Roxanne puts her arms around me and kisses
me on the cheek.
“My hero.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. That’s a heavy job and I appreciate you taking care
of it for me.”

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I smile. “So you’re admitting
that I was right?”

“About what?”
She grins.

“About needing a butch around.”

“Isn’t that kind of an antiquated notion? Like saying I need a man
around?”

Ruffled, I lean back to look at her. “It’s not even close to the
same thing. Saying that a woman needs a man is taking away her personal
identity.”

“Saying a woman needs a butch is taking away her personal
identity.”

“Au contraire.
We complement each other. I’m
the Laurel to your Hardy.”

“The ketchup to my mustard?”

“The salt to your vinegar.”

“Gross.”

We laugh for a moment before Roxanne pulls away, breaking the hug.
Glancing at her watch, Roxanne says, “I better head down the hill and get some
supplies.”

“Are you going to the grocery store? Can I come with you?”

“I thought you were all laid in?”

“I am, but I want to get some cookies.”

“If you want, I’ll get some chocolate chips and make you some
cookies.”

“Oh, that’s even better. Why don’t you spend the night at my
place?”

Looking at me sideways, she smiles. “Do you really think that’s a
good idea?”

“Frankly, I think it’s a great idea. However, Susannah and Olivia
and Sam will be there, so it won’t be quite the lovely intimate evening I would
hope to be having with you.”

She reaches into her door to retrieve her car keys.

“In that case, I would love to spend the night. I hate being alone
during storms.”

We get into her car and she heads down the hill. Watching her
drive, I smile at her profile. She really is a beautiful woman.

At the store, we park way in the back of the lot because Roxanne
isn’t willing to risk getting rammed by some crazy who’s trying to squeeze into
the closest parking place. There are cars and people everywhere and the people
leaving the stores are coming up with loaded carts full of food and bottles of
water.

Looking at them, Roxanne turns to me. “Do you have enough water to
share?”

“I have enough water for twenty people for three weeks,” I answer.
“Don’t worry.”

Since there are no carts left, I grab a basket. Trying to maneuver
down the aisle is like playing a big and impatient game of
Frogger
.
One woman runs over my toe with her cart and doesn’t bother to apologize.
“Excuse me,” I say, loudly.

She turns to glare at me over her shoulder before moving on.

Roxanne pokes my arm. “Just keep your cool, Dana.”

“I am cool.”

Reaching for a bag of flour, I feel an elbow in my back that
knocks me into the display. A hand reaches past me to grab the flour from my
hand. Tucking it against my body, I turn around with my other hand curled into
a fist. A woman who looks to be about ninety is standing behind me. Realizing
the she can’t get the flour I’ve already picked up, she pushes me aside to grab
another. Before I can say a word, she’s off, darting around an oncoming cart.
Roxanne looks after her, appalled.