Perfect Regret
Page 11
Just call me Slow and Steady Riley. On second thought, don’t you dare.
My parents had always joked that my serious focus was a result of some mutation of the genes. Because they were the most laid back people on the planet (excluding a certain doped out guitarist I knew of course). My father and mother had met at a commune in upstate New York in the early eighties. It had been love at first sight. Or it could have been the copious amount of psychedelic mushrooms they had just ingested. Whatever the cause for their instant connection, it brought about a quickie marriage after dating for less than two weeks.
And yet after all these years and three children later, they were still going strong. Hell, I hoped to be with someone I could remotely stand after that amount of time. I couldn’t imagine sharing a space with anyone that long and not wanting to inflict bodily harm. Who could stand hair in the sink and the toilet seat being left up for more than a month? Not me, that’s for sure.
But my parents were made of different stuff. Because I grew up in a home filled with love and laughter and all that Hallmark crap. I was the baby of the family, born almost sixteen years after my sister. I was the “oops” child. The result of a weekend getaway to Maine for my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary. So I was raised essentially as an only child, both of my much older siblings having flown the roost while I was still a toddler.
My brother, Gavin, was a schoolteacher, my sister, Felicity, a stay at home mom to my two nieces. Gavin still lived in Maryland, ten minutes from parents. Fliss was in Pennsylvania. Then there was me.
I had never been a partier, more concerned with doing well in school and over extending myself through endless extracurricular activities and a part time job when I was a teen. My parents were proud, if not a little perplexed, as to how they had raised such a straight edged kid when they had spent their youth following The Grateful Dead. Since I wasn’t into the wild and crazy, my brand of teenage rebellion took the course of L. L. Bean and the debate team.
Despite our polar differences, I knew how lucky I was to have my parents’ unconditional love and support. The liberty to make my own choices and go where the wind took me, knowing that no matter where my feet landed I had two people in this world who would always be there if I needed them.
After seeing the relationship Maysie had with her parents, I had been more appreciative of my own mom and dad. Maysie’s parents lived in a constant state of disapproval where their daughter was concerned. Nothing she did would ever be good enough. I hated it for her. No one deserved to feel second best by their own parents.
When my phone rang Friday after classes, I answered it, pleased to hear my mother’s voice on the other end. “Riley Louise, finally! You have been incommunicado for weeks!” my mother exclaimed, scolding me in that pleasant way of hers that let me know she was upset but not enough to unleash the full weight of motherly disapproval.
“I know, Mom. Things have been crazy,” I said, digging my keys out of my book bag as I headed across the parking lot toward my car.
“Such a busy bee. How is school? The internship? I want to hear about everything!” My mom was the most enthusiastic person I knew. When I was a surly teenager, she drove me nuts. Her incessant perkiness was at odds with my more morose and subtle personality. She wanted me to wear pink, I swore off all colors but black. She played Captain and Tennille at full volume; I preferred to listen to Damien Rice with my lights off.
But now that I’m older, I could appreciate her glass is half-full mentality. And I no longer felt the need to buck the system by whining endlessly about all the ways the world sucks.
“Things are good. My senior symposium is kicking my ass. We have to read three books a week. But I’m loving it. The internship is interesting. I’ve graduated from gopher girl, Queen of the Coffee Machine to full-on reporter lackey. I’m hoping to be able to write a piece by the end of the month,” I said as I got into my car. The mundane tedium of small talk wasn’t my mother’s way so I waited for her to get to the grit of the phone call. But she had to go through the niceties first. Having been raised in Alabama, she was insistent on good manners.
“Wow, that’s amazing, Riley Boo!” she exclaimed and I had to roll my eyes at her persistent use of my childhood nickname. Riley Boo, Gavey Love, Flutterfly. My siblings and I had to endure these little testaments of our parents love for our whole lives. It often put our teeth on edge but we’d never even think of telling mom to stop. It was easier to suck it up and not act mortally humiliated when we were referred to by said nicknames in a public setting.
“Yep, pretty amazing,” I agreed dryly. I put the phone on speaker and placed it into the hands free set on my dashboard so I could start heading home.
“How are things with Damien?” she asked in a sympathetic tone. The mention of his name had lost a lot of its power over the last few weeks but it still landed an emotional punch. Seeing him almost every day didn’t help. Particularly when he was making it his mission to remind me of why I had fallen in love with him in the first place. I wasn’t entirely sure what happened with Jaz, but I could tell that they were most definitely not dating.
I had overheard Jaz making a snide comment to Dina, another waitress at Barton’s, about the fact he had never called her after going to The Boogey Lounge. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to snoop, but it did give me a sense of supreme satisfaction to know that she had been handed her rejection so quickly.
She had turned around after her tirade over Damien, to find me wiping down my tables. She had given me a sugary sweet smile, followed by a fake “Hiya, Riley!” before flouncing off to her own section. But I could see her face color with mortification at having me overhear her tale of dating gone wrong.
So, whatever had happened between him and Jaz, he was now sniffing around my skirts more than he ever had while we were together. It must be my magnetic I’m-moving-on-with-my-life perfume. Apparently it made me irresistible.
“Really Mom? Is that why you called? To snoop around in my love life? Because I can assure you, it’s about as interesting as watching paint dry,” I commented as I pulled up to a red light.
“Oh come on. Are the two of you still not back together? I thought you were absolutely perfect together. Riley, people make mistakes. You can’t hold grudges. It’s not good for your karma,” she lectured.
I listened as my mom started to regale me with the ways I could cleanse my energy. I typically tuned out at this inevitable point in the conversation. The loud thumping of bass caught my attention. Why do people have to listen to music at internal organ shutdown levels? Particularly when it was seriously crappy music?
I debated on blowing my horn at the jerkoff sat beside me in traffic. I could only see the back of his head because he was facing someone in the passenger seat. The windows of my car were vibrating and I could feel the thumping in my bones. I noticed the blonde hair of the passenger and realized it was Gracie. She must have felt my eyes on her because she started waving, her mouth moving as she spoke to the driver, pointing in my direction.
The driver turned back around in his seat and glanced at me and I was glad I wasn’t driving because I would surely have crashed. What the hell was Gracie doing in Garrett’s van? My hands gripped the steering wheel. My mouth fell open in absolute and complete shock. I felt sick at the realization that Garrett was most likely playing “tag that ass” with one of my friends. Because everyone knew it wasn’t that difficult to get Gracie to agree to a na**d meet a greet.
As soon as our eyes connected, I looked away and was thankful that the light turned green so I could speed away, squealing my tires in the process.
Shit.
What if Gracie slept with Garrett!? Aside from the fact that it meant Gracie and I were now intimately familiar with the same person, I couldn’t help but feel supremely dejected. Okay, and maybe a tad bit jealous.
Only a tad, I swear!
“Riley!” my mom yelled and I realized I had completely forgotten she was still on the phone.
“Sorry, Mom. What were you saying?” I asked, feeling distracted and out of sorts. My mind was too busy inventing horrific scenarios of Gracie and Garrett together.
Having sex together.
Oh God!
My heart squeezed painfully and I told myself it had everything to do with the uncomfortable idea of Gracie Cook and Riley Walker sharing bed partners. It had NOTHING to do with any sort of emotional connection I had felt with our particular bed partner.
No way!
Garrett Bellows was nothing to me. Just some sad, regretful mistake I had made in the heat of some serious self-pity.
“I was asking whether any other boys have caught your fancy. You’re entirely too serious and focused. You need a little fun, sweetie.” My mother’s question coming on the heels of seeing Garrett and Gracie together had me ready to duck and cover. Shit was about to get ugly.
“No, Mom. And I’ve got to go,” I said hurriedly, whipping into a parking space outside my apartment building. Without waiting for a goodbye, I hung up the phone.
“Is Gracie sleeping with Garrett?” I asked as soon as I entered the apartment. Maysie and Jordan were sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Under normal circumstances I would have made a snide comment about confining their excessive PDA to behind her bedroom door but I was feeling a bit frantic.
Maysie looked at me in surprise and Jordan lifted his head from its resting spot on his girlfriend’s chest with an expression of complete confusion.
“What?” Maysie asked, sitting up. I dropped my bag on the couch and realized how my question must have sounded and I wished I could take it back.
Why the hell did I care if they were sleeping together? They were consenting adults doing what consenting adults do. There was nothing wrong in that. But it didn’t change the fact that the very thought of it made me want to puke.
I let out an embarrassed huff and then laughed. “Nothing. Forget it. Get back to your pre-coital cuddling,” I muttered, shuffling off to the kitchen as quickly as I was able without looking as though I were running.
“Uh, uh, Riley Walker. Why would you ask that?” Maysie asked, following me like a terrier nipping at my heels. Clearly, she felt this fell within her best friend duties. Interrogation and persistent nagging would follow unless I gave her something to make her happy.
“I just saw them together. I had no idea Gracie was even interested in Garrett,” I said nonchalantly.
Woohoo! Point for Riley and her super powers of indifference!
Maysie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall as I pulled a bag of Doritos out of the cabinet. “I really have no idea. I mean, Gracie has made comments about thinking Garrett was hot but I don’t think they’ve ever hooked up,” Maysie said and then crinkled her nose.
“Oh, ew. I get it now.”
I leveled my roommate with a narrowed look. “She doesn’t know about Garrett and me right?” I asked her. Maysie looked instantly offended.
“As if I would go around broadcasting your business. Plus it’s not like it’ll ever happen again, so what’s there to tell?” Maysie asked.
I nodded, thinking about Garrett’s starring role as as**ole of the hour at his house all those weeks ago.
No, that would definitely not be happening again. He and Gracie could have each other.
And there was no way that twinge in my gut had anything to do with a seething, hateful jealousy.
Absolutely not.
“Come out with Jordan and me tonight. We’re going out for a few drinks. Should be fun,” Maysie suggested.
“Playing third wheel sounds like a blast, Mays,” I remarked, popping a chip in my mouth. Maysie peeked out into the living room. I followed her gaze and saw that Jordan was still laid out on the sofa watching TV. I looked closely at my friend and realized there was a sadness there that was new. God, what new batch of drama was brewing between those two? I thought they were past all that.
“What’s going on?” I asked, dropping my voice so Jordan couldn’t hear me. Maysie’s eyes turned back to me and her lips stretched into a strained smile.
“Jordan and the guys are going on tour again,” she said tightly. I crunched on another chip, watching as conflicting emotions warred on her face. I could tell she wanted to be happy for her boyfriend. But that insecure girl still lived inside of Maysie Ardin and I knew better than anyone that it would take a long time for her to go away. Even after everything Maysie and Jordan had gone through to be together.
“Wow, when? For how long?” I asked, feeling my gut twist at the news. I told myself it had everything to do with worrying about Maysie. No other hidden reasons for feeling as though my stomach had hit the floor.
Maysie heaved a giant sigh. “They’re leaving in the new year for a three month tour. They’ll be driving across country, stopping in most of the major cities. Mitch’s cousin hooked them up with another promoter who put it all together.”
Three months. That was a long time. Maysie seemed miserable and hating herself for being miserable. I normally was the first one to give her the advice she needed, but right now I didn’t know what to say. My own feelings were too convoluted to give her anything to work with.
“I’m happy for him and the guys. I really am. But damn it, I hate the thought of him leaving again. I know this is what he wants but it doesn’t make it any easier when he has to go. I’m a selfish bitch, right?” she asked, looking at me for either total agreement or steadfast denial.
I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “It’s okay to be upset about it, but you need to be supportive as well. Because you know if Jordan gets wind of how you really feel he’s likely to call the whole thing off. Then you’d feel like crap for holding him back,” I told her, proud of myself for doling out what I deemed to be pretty damn good advice.
My parents had always joked that my serious focus was a result of some mutation of the genes. Because they were the most laid back people on the planet (excluding a certain doped out guitarist I knew of course). My father and mother had met at a commune in upstate New York in the early eighties. It had been love at first sight. Or it could have been the copious amount of psychedelic mushrooms they had just ingested. Whatever the cause for their instant connection, it brought about a quickie marriage after dating for less than two weeks.
And yet after all these years and three children later, they were still going strong. Hell, I hoped to be with someone I could remotely stand after that amount of time. I couldn’t imagine sharing a space with anyone that long and not wanting to inflict bodily harm. Who could stand hair in the sink and the toilet seat being left up for more than a month? Not me, that’s for sure.
But my parents were made of different stuff. Because I grew up in a home filled with love and laughter and all that Hallmark crap. I was the baby of the family, born almost sixteen years after my sister. I was the “oops” child. The result of a weekend getaway to Maine for my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary. So I was raised essentially as an only child, both of my much older siblings having flown the roost while I was still a toddler.
My brother, Gavin, was a schoolteacher, my sister, Felicity, a stay at home mom to my two nieces. Gavin still lived in Maryland, ten minutes from parents. Fliss was in Pennsylvania. Then there was me.
I had never been a partier, more concerned with doing well in school and over extending myself through endless extracurricular activities and a part time job when I was a teen. My parents were proud, if not a little perplexed, as to how they had raised such a straight edged kid when they had spent their youth following The Grateful Dead. Since I wasn’t into the wild and crazy, my brand of teenage rebellion took the course of L. L. Bean and the debate team.
Despite our polar differences, I knew how lucky I was to have my parents’ unconditional love and support. The liberty to make my own choices and go where the wind took me, knowing that no matter where my feet landed I had two people in this world who would always be there if I needed them.
After seeing the relationship Maysie had with her parents, I had been more appreciative of my own mom and dad. Maysie’s parents lived in a constant state of disapproval where their daughter was concerned. Nothing she did would ever be good enough. I hated it for her. No one deserved to feel second best by their own parents.
When my phone rang Friday after classes, I answered it, pleased to hear my mother’s voice on the other end. “Riley Louise, finally! You have been incommunicado for weeks!” my mother exclaimed, scolding me in that pleasant way of hers that let me know she was upset but not enough to unleash the full weight of motherly disapproval.
“I know, Mom. Things have been crazy,” I said, digging my keys out of my book bag as I headed across the parking lot toward my car.
“Such a busy bee. How is school? The internship? I want to hear about everything!” My mom was the most enthusiastic person I knew. When I was a surly teenager, she drove me nuts. Her incessant perkiness was at odds with my more morose and subtle personality. She wanted me to wear pink, I swore off all colors but black. She played Captain and Tennille at full volume; I preferred to listen to Damien Rice with my lights off.
But now that I’m older, I could appreciate her glass is half-full mentality. And I no longer felt the need to buck the system by whining endlessly about all the ways the world sucks.
“Things are good. My senior symposium is kicking my ass. We have to read three books a week. But I’m loving it. The internship is interesting. I’ve graduated from gopher girl, Queen of the Coffee Machine to full-on reporter lackey. I’m hoping to be able to write a piece by the end of the month,” I said as I got into my car. The mundane tedium of small talk wasn’t my mother’s way so I waited for her to get to the grit of the phone call. But she had to go through the niceties first. Having been raised in Alabama, she was insistent on good manners.
“Wow, that’s amazing, Riley Boo!” she exclaimed and I had to roll my eyes at her persistent use of my childhood nickname. Riley Boo, Gavey Love, Flutterfly. My siblings and I had to endure these little testaments of our parents love for our whole lives. It often put our teeth on edge but we’d never even think of telling mom to stop. It was easier to suck it up and not act mortally humiliated when we were referred to by said nicknames in a public setting.
“Yep, pretty amazing,” I agreed dryly. I put the phone on speaker and placed it into the hands free set on my dashboard so I could start heading home.
“How are things with Damien?” she asked in a sympathetic tone. The mention of his name had lost a lot of its power over the last few weeks but it still landed an emotional punch. Seeing him almost every day didn’t help. Particularly when he was making it his mission to remind me of why I had fallen in love with him in the first place. I wasn’t entirely sure what happened with Jaz, but I could tell that they were most definitely not dating.
I had overheard Jaz making a snide comment to Dina, another waitress at Barton’s, about the fact he had never called her after going to The Boogey Lounge. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to snoop, but it did give me a sense of supreme satisfaction to know that she had been handed her rejection so quickly.
She had turned around after her tirade over Damien, to find me wiping down my tables. She had given me a sugary sweet smile, followed by a fake “Hiya, Riley!” before flouncing off to her own section. But I could see her face color with mortification at having me overhear her tale of dating gone wrong.
So, whatever had happened between him and Jaz, he was now sniffing around my skirts more than he ever had while we were together. It must be my magnetic I’m-moving-on-with-my-life perfume. Apparently it made me irresistible.
“Really Mom? Is that why you called? To snoop around in my love life? Because I can assure you, it’s about as interesting as watching paint dry,” I commented as I pulled up to a red light.
“Oh come on. Are the two of you still not back together? I thought you were absolutely perfect together. Riley, people make mistakes. You can’t hold grudges. It’s not good for your karma,” she lectured.
I listened as my mom started to regale me with the ways I could cleanse my energy. I typically tuned out at this inevitable point in the conversation. The loud thumping of bass caught my attention. Why do people have to listen to music at internal organ shutdown levels? Particularly when it was seriously crappy music?
I debated on blowing my horn at the jerkoff sat beside me in traffic. I could only see the back of his head because he was facing someone in the passenger seat. The windows of my car were vibrating and I could feel the thumping in my bones. I noticed the blonde hair of the passenger and realized it was Gracie. She must have felt my eyes on her because she started waving, her mouth moving as she spoke to the driver, pointing in my direction.
The driver turned back around in his seat and glanced at me and I was glad I wasn’t driving because I would surely have crashed. What the hell was Gracie doing in Garrett’s van? My hands gripped the steering wheel. My mouth fell open in absolute and complete shock. I felt sick at the realization that Garrett was most likely playing “tag that ass” with one of my friends. Because everyone knew it wasn’t that difficult to get Gracie to agree to a na**d meet a greet.
As soon as our eyes connected, I looked away and was thankful that the light turned green so I could speed away, squealing my tires in the process.
Shit.
What if Gracie slept with Garrett!? Aside from the fact that it meant Gracie and I were now intimately familiar with the same person, I couldn’t help but feel supremely dejected. Okay, and maybe a tad bit jealous.
Only a tad, I swear!
“Riley!” my mom yelled and I realized I had completely forgotten she was still on the phone.
“Sorry, Mom. What were you saying?” I asked, feeling distracted and out of sorts. My mind was too busy inventing horrific scenarios of Gracie and Garrett together.
Having sex together.
Oh God!
My heart squeezed painfully and I told myself it had everything to do with the uncomfortable idea of Gracie Cook and Riley Walker sharing bed partners. It had NOTHING to do with any sort of emotional connection I had felt with our particular bed partner.
No way!
Garrett Bellows was nothing to me. Just some sad, regretful mistake I had made in the heat of some serious self-pity.
“I was asking whether any other boys have caught your fancy. You’re entirely too serious and focused. You need a little fun, sweetie.” My mother’s question coming on the heels of seeing Garrett and Gracie together had me ready to duck and cover. Shit was about to get ugly.
“No, Mom. And I’ve got to go,” I said hurriedly, whipping into a parking space outside my apartment building. Without waiting for a goodbye, I hung up the phone.
“Is Gracie sleeping with Garrett?” I asked as soon as I entered the apartment. Maysie and Jordan were sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Under normal circumstances I would have made a snide comment about confining their excessive PDA to behind her bedroom door but I was feeling a bit frantic.
Maysie looked at me in surprise and Jordan lifted his head from its resting spot on his girlfriend’s chest with an expression of complete confusion.
“What?” Maysie asked, sitting up. I dropped my bag on the couch and realized how my question must have sounded and I wished I could take it back.
Why the hell did I care if they were sleeping together? They were consenting adults doing what consenting adults do. There was nothing wrong in that. But it didn’t change the fact that the very thought of it made me want to puke.
I let out an embarrassed huff and then laughed. “Nothing. Forget it. Get back to your pre-coital cuddling,” I muttered, shuffling off to the kitchen as quickly as I was able without looking as though I were running.
“Uh, uh, Riley Walker. Why would you ask that?” Maysie asked, following me like a terrier nipping at my heels. Clearly, she felt this fell within her best friend duties. Interrogation and persistent nagging would follow unless I gave her something to make her happy.
“I just saw them together. I had no idea Gracie was even interested in Garrett,” I said nonchalantly.
Woohoo! Point for Riley and her super powers of indifference!
Maysie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall as I pulled a bag of Doritos out of the cabinet. “I really have no idea. I mean, Gracie has made comments about thinking Garrett was hot but I don’t think they’ve ever hooked up,” Maysie said and then crinkled her nose.
“Oh, ew. I get it now.”
I leveled my roommate with a narrowed look. “She doesn’t know about Garrett and me right?” I asked her. Maysie looked instantly offended.
“As if I would go around broadcasting your business. Plus it’s not like it’ll ever happen again, so what’s there to tell?” Maysie asked.
I nodded, thinking about Garrett’s starring role as as**ole of the hour at his house all those weeks ago.
No, that would definitely not be happening again. He and Gracie could have each other.
And there was no way that twinge in my gut had anything to do with a seething, hateful jealousy.
Absolutely not.
“Come out with Jordan and me tonight. We’re going out for a few drinks. Should be fun,” Maysie suggested.
“Playing third wheel sounds like a blast, Mays,” I remarked, popping a chip in my mouth. Maysie peeked out into the living room. I followed her gaze and saw that Jordan was still laid out on the sofa watching TV. I looked closely at my friend and realized there was a sadness there that was new. God, what new batch of drama was brewing between those two? I thought they were past all that.
“What’s going on?” I asked, dropping my voice so Jordan couldn’t hear me. Maysie’s eyes turned back to me and her lips stretched into a strained smile.
“Jordan and the guys are going on tour again,” she said tightly. I crunched on another chip, watching as conflicting emotions warred on her face. I could tell she wanted to be happy for her boyfriend. But that insecure girl still lived inside of Maysie Ardin and I knew better than anyone that it would take a long time for her to go away. Even after everything Maysie and Jordan had gone through to be together.
“Wow, when? For how long?” I asked, feeling my gut twist at the news. I told myself it had everything to do with worrying about Maysie. No other hidden reasons for feeling as though my stomach had hit the floor.
Maysie heaved a giant sigh. “They’re leaving in the new year for a three month tour. They’ll be driving across country, stopping in most of the major cities. Mitch’s cousin hooked them up with another promoter who put it all together.”
Three months. That was a long time. Maysie seemed miserable and hating herself for being miserable. I normally was the first one to give her the advice she needed, but right now I didn’t know what to say. My own feelings were too convoluted to give her anything to work with.
“I’m happy for him and the guys. I really am. But damn it, I hate the thought of him leaving again. I know this is what he wants but it doesn’t make it any easier when he has to go. I’m a selfish bitch, right?” she asked, looking at me for either total agreement or steadfast denial.
I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “It’s okay to be upset about it, but you need to be supportive as well. Because you know if Jordan gets wind of how you really feel he’s likely to call the whole thing off. Then you’d feel like crap for holding him back,” I told her, proud of myself for doling out what I deemed to be pretty damn good advice.
