The Universe is a Very Big Place (15 page)

How much longer do I have?
Sam returned to the bed and did the math. A few months, maybe. Grandma wasn’t going to hold out much longer. He reached under the bed and pulled out a copy of
Contemporary Bride
magazine. He lay on his stomach, his ankles crossed, and flipped through the pages. Too bad it wasn’t Fall. An autumn wedding would have been nice.

"Soon, soon, very soon," he said as he caught his reflection in the vanity mirror. His nine little hairs perked up and he smoothed them back into place, running his hand along bumps and ridges. "You’re a good-looking guy," he said, smiling and his reflection nodded back.

Twelve

"So what exactly is it we are working on today?" Debbie asked when they had settled in at their table at Paradise Pub. Spring was still without an office and Sarah’s cubicle was hardly big enough for Sarah.

Spring unloaded a box filled with bumper stickers that read,
Casey the Condom for Mayor. Let’s Keep Our City Safe.
 

"We have a parade to attend," Spring said. "Kimberly wants to make sure we know exactly what we are doing before we arrive. Come up with a
game plan
."

"Lame," Sarah said, doodling on her napkin. "Who came up with this crap?"

"Rumor is Jane was sleeping with the PR lady," Debbie explained. Debbie, who had been working there the shortest amount of time, somehow had all the dirt on everyone.

"Look at these!" Sarah squawked, holding up a black T-shirt for the others to see. Written across the front in bold white letters were the words
Teens in Trouble
and on the back of the shirt TiT Patrol. "I call dibs on the penis suit."

"It’s a job," Spring said, inspecting the T-shirt. "As long as they are paying me I don’t care what I have to do."

"What a liar," Sarah accused. "You cared yesterday when I was carting you around Phoenix in the rubber suit. And I’ve heard you talk to the kids when you were a counselor. You care deeply."

Spring snorted. "Same as you."

Sarah leaned over, staring into Spring‘s eyes. "Do you really think I’m here because I care? I’m here because my husband is
finding himself,
which is code for unemployed. My mother knows Jane––God, I don’t want to think how––and she helped get me the job. That’s the only reason I’m here."

Spring folded her arms. "You’re depressing me. Thanks."

"We could always work on the condom dance spectacular," Debbie offered in reference to Kimberly’s suggestion of something Fred and Gingeresque. "To further push us over the edge. If we get a vagina costume we could do a splendid rendition of
anything you can do I can do better."

"This is what I say," said Sarah. "Let’s eat lunch, have a drink, and check out the guys that come in here. Nothing to plan. I get in my costume, I toddle down the road throwing rubbers to the local youth, and you hold my hand. Meeting adjourned."

"Sounds like a plan," said Spring. She was getting a migraine and beckoned for the waitress.

"Let’s talk about weddings." Debbie bounced on her chair. Spring thought about how pretty she was when she was excited. "A little birdie told me you are officially engaged," Debbie said, winking at the bread wrapper twisty-tie Sam had wrapped lovingly around her finger. "How are your arrangements going?" Debbie’s brown eyes were large and curious. Sarah tilted her head to listen.

"We haven’t made a lot of plans, in all honesty." In all honesty, Spring hadn’t made any plans, but Sam had been thinking of all kinds of ways to torture her in the last 24 hours.
"Pookie what do you think about feathers on the bridesmaids' dresses? You know, like swans. They can move around in a circle and we can run through them. Wouldn’t that be pretty? Pookie, what if I wear a top hat? Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe we could do your hair up real high, so we’d match. Pookie, maybe we could have a potato bar. You don’t see them at weddings much, do you?"

"We haven’t set a date. I don’t even have a ring yet." Spring removed the twisty and tossed it on the table.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "There are worse things than not having a ring. Trust me. Like walking in on your mother giving your first husband a hand job."

"Ewww," Debbie said and Spring laughed.

"Listen to this. When I marry Sam, my name will be...Spring Wayne."

"That’s hilarious!" Debbie howled, causing a few of the guys at the bar to look in their direction. One of the men, a good-looking, dark haired fellow, looked hauntingly familiar and for a second Spring thought she was seeing a ghost. Her knees began to shake and her hands trembled on the table. Maybe she was.

"That man over there at the bar. I think that’s Trevor."

"Ooooh! Ex-boyfriend Trevor?" Sarah asked.

"Yes. Hide me. Quick." Spring reached down to pull a packet from the box to shield herself, but she over-guessed the reach and fell, crashing ceremoniously onto the dirty floor.

"I ain't gonna serve you if you can’t handle your alcohol," said the waitress, dumping off the drinks they had ordered, two Piña Coladas and a Seven Up. Spring looked over at him again and sure enough he was staring at her.

"You!" he said, setting down his beer and leaping from stool. Trevor. Her Trevor. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Rocky Road ice cream after a month of dieting. When he reached her he took her hand, helping her up. "My fucking God. How the hell have you been?"

Two and a half years,” Spring shook her head in disbelief as she sat in the passenger seat of Trevor’s car. She had her seat pushed back and her legs propped up on the dashboard as Trevor fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that was playing old British punk music.

"Yeah, crazy huh?" He turned to face her, lazily stretching his lightly muscled arm with the beautiful dark hairs behind her head. His jade eyes took her in. "You look great, by the way. Really, really great."

"Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be in town?" Spring demanded, pulling her legs back and placing them on the floor. "It’s not like you don’t know how to reach me."

"I figured I’d give you a call when I got here. Wanted to surprise you." Trevor took her right hand in his, and put it to his lips.
"Besides, a girl like you must have a boyfriend. Didn’t want to make the old man jealous."

Spring lowered her eyes. He was right, of course. Sam would have flipped out.

"I’ve thought about you a lot," Trevor said, the warmth of his breath still on her fingers. "Every day in fact."

Spring met his eyes. Mere mortals should not possess eyes like these. It was the sexual equivalent of a nuclear bomb. "You could have written. An e-mail. A letter. Anything." Her lips pushed out, and she fought for control over them. She would not be a drama queen in this moment. When she had brought them back into submission she took a deep breath and continued. "I would have waited for you. I would have done anything for you."

The song on the radio ended and another, even more obnoxious tune, began. Something about frequent masturbation and pissing on authority. Trevor lowered the volume and pulled Spring closer to him. She breathed in his familiar scent, taking her back to a kiss two years ago. "I’m here now. And unless I miss my guess, you aren’t married. Yet." Trevor leaned over, his warm breath falling on her face, stirring a wisp of her hair. He kissed her softly on the tip of her nose. "I missed you, babe. I missed you a lot."

Spring cupped her hand over Trevor’s chest. The thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat flooded her with almost-forgotten memories. Lying in bed with Trevor on a Sunday afternoon as they planned their day ahead. Him telling her he loved her. That they would never be apart. Until...she swallowed the thought. She wasn’t going to let it ruin this moment. "How long are you here for?"

Trevor’s brow furrowed. He had three new lines etched in his forehead since last she’d seen him. "A few weeks, maybe a month. I’d love to see you some, if you have the time."

"I will make time," Spring said. Trevor went to kiss her and she fought every instinct she had, scrambling out of the car before she did anything else she would regret.

"How will I find you?" Trevor asked, rolling down the window.

Spring glanced at the Paradise Pub sign. It blinked at her with its fluorescent green scroll. It was lit up even in the daytime. "Don’t worry. I know where you will be."

"What do you mean Trevor’s in town?" Lanie furiously shuffled her deck of tarot cards as she sat cross-legged across from Spring. She laid out the cards before her in the spread of a Celtic cross.

"He’s here. I talked to him. I sat with him in his car."

"That’s great, honey. Now you can leave the spud dud and get on with your life."

"Mother. He’s here. That doesn’t mean he wants me."

"Oh, he wants you. I know it."

Lanie turned over the first card. The Fool. She sighed and patted Spring’s hand.

"Well, that’s you. Now let’s see what, or who, crosses you at the moment.” Lanie flipped over the next card: The Devil. She laughed.

"Too bad there’s not a Mr. Potato card. But this one is easy enough."

"Just read them, mother. We don’t need your comedic interpretations."

"Fine. Say, whose the man that lives behind you. The attractive, mature man."

There’s a mature attractive guy behind me? Where have I been?"

"He’s thin. And doesn’t have much hair."

"Sounds like Sam." Spring snickered and stopped. She really had to stop making fun of her fiancé like that.

"Definitely not Sam." Lanie scolded her. "An older man, with a less lumpy head."

"You mean Mr. McClure? Mother, he is not attractive. Have you had your eyes examined lately? He looks like a pod person."

Lanie sighed. "I was just wondering. Okay. Your past. The Lovers Card. You with the higher arcana. Can’t you ever stay out of the higher Arcana?"

Spring shrugged. Though she had watched Lanie read cards her entire life, she had little more than a basic grasp of the art. She did know that the tarot deck was divided into two distinct parts, the higher and lower arcana. The higher arcana cards were supposedly more important or pressing. "I don’t know. I have no idea how these things work."

"Well, you know what The Lovers card is, too. I don’t have to go explaining it. It‘s obviously referencing you and Trevor."

"Can't we skip to the end? Do we really need to know what my thoughts and feelings are, or what I was eating for breakfast last week?"