By the time I get home, it's nearly 3 o' clock. After JC pealed out of the parking lot, I went back inside the store and got the snacks I intended to buy before I was derailed. As I pull into the parking deck attached to my apartment complex, I hear my phone chiming inside the pouch I'd tossed onto the passenger seat.
I grab the pouch, dig out my phone and frown at the caller ID display. What would Morgan be calling me for in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday? She's normally over at Universal, nitpicking some stage show. Summer is the busiest time of year for her department. Lots of tourists means multiple shows a day and the show she casts for, Beetlejuice Review, seems to have constant turnover. I usually hear about this on our Monday dates, but lately all we've talked about is the wedding.
"Hey, Morgan. What's up?" I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, grab my bags and head upstairs to my apartment.
I hear a sniffle and I freeze. Morgan crying is almost the worst sound on the planet. She is a happy-go -lucky, sunshine and rainbows kind of person. It takes a lot to make her cry and I'm such a Mama Bear with her. I want to claw someone's eyes out the second I hear the tears in her voice.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? What's wrong?"
I unlock my door and dump the bags on the kitchen counter, head to the living room and drop to the couch.
Sniffle. "My wedding. is going. to be ruined!"
"What? Who's going to ruin your wedding?"
"You guys!" She practically screams. "We asked you and JC to do this one, simple thing-"
"I... well..." Confused, I sputter, trying to come up with a rebuttal. "Okay it's a little more than one, simple thing-"
"And you two can't even do that!"
"You're not making any sense, Morgan. What in hell are you talking about? Why are you crying?"
I hear the muffled sounds of her blowing her nose and then she comes back on the line. "JC called Nick like an hour ago to tell him that he was out. He didn't want to help plan the wedding and to let you help me make all the decisions like a normal engaged couple. Just tell him where to send a check for the gift."
My shoulders sag. "You're kidding, right? Is this a joke?"
"Not even. We saw him last night at Prime. He said he planned to call you today about some details and he sounded excited. Today, he's out. What did you say to him?"
"Me? Why would you think I said something to him?"
"Because you two bicker like an old married couple."
"We do not. I didn't say anything to him. He followed me to Publix and dragged me out to breakfast at Grand Luxe -"
"Grand Luxe? Really? Didn't you guys used to go there a lot?"
I pause. And sigh. "We all used to go there a lot. Operative term used to. We talked about the wedding and locations and dates. We had plans to get on a call this week to hammer out some more details and book it. We got along fine. I don't know what climbed up his ass all of a sudden..."
Our conversation, the one where he ended up acting butthurt and dumped me at Publix comes to memory. "Aw, shit."
"What? What shit? What?"
"I asked him something and it seemed to bug him that I asked. But I don't know why."
"What did you ask?"
"Well, I was talking to Ty about this and I was curious so I asked him why he never moved away. Why he stayed here all this time. He could have gone anywhere... New York, LA, even Miami. He certainly loves the women there."
Morgan laughs but it isn't a cheerful laugh. More of a ‘you motherfucker' laugh. "You did not ask him that, Angie."
"Yeah, I did. What? Is that a no-no question all of a sudden?"
She groans. "Evangeline Nicole Blake!"
I laugh at the use of my full name. I normally only hear that from my mother. "Morgana Sue soon-to-be Del Ray! What?"
"You already know why he's still here, and why he never left."
"I do?"
She heaves a frustrated breath. "Yes. You do."
"Oh, good Lord. When did you join the church of Tyler Chasez? He's been preaching that ‘JC is in love with you' sermon for years now."
"Nick and I founded that church 20 years ago. JC has loved you since ya'll were in junior high."
"And then when we were in high school, we broke up. Took him all of a month to get over me and into some other girl. That was the end of the love part for me."
"Not for him, and you know it. I hate that you refuse to see it. Or you pretend to refuse to see it."
I roll my eyes so hard, I swear I see yesterday. This is my life, an endless cycle of denial where JC is concerned.
"You guys can wish that to be true until the cows come home. Doesn't mean it is. You don't see how he treats me? You don't hear the stupid shit he says to me?"
"In response to how you treat him and the stupid shit you say to him. If you were nicer to him-"
"See, there's the rub. I don't want to be nice to him. I have no reason to be nice to him. I don't like him. I don't trust him. And it's fine if he doesn't want to plan this wedding with me. You and I can do it, he's just getting in the way anyway."
Morgan is quiet on the other end of the line, so quiet I wonder if she's hung up on me. Then I hear a small sigh and she says, "I just don't think that's gonna work for us, Angie."
"What do you mean, not gonna work for you?"
"Nick and I don't need a wedding. We'll just go to the JP and get it over with-"
"You will not! Not after we've talked about your dream wedding and I joined a wedding planning forum and I've had to spend time with JC for your benefit. Fuck that. You can't just dump it."
"Uhm, watch me. Even if I do end up having a wedding, I don't want to deal with this Angie-JC bullshit. I'm tired of it; it's too much stress, after all this time, being in between you two. You can't even do this one thing together and I.... I don't think I even want you involved in the wedding at all. I'll just pick a new Maid of Honor, Nick will probably have one of his brothers be a Best Man since JC is out now-"
I almost drop the phone at this sudden declaration. I'm so shocked I stand up. "Wait... what? If we don't plan this wedding, we can't be involved at all?"
"I don't want you cutting eyes at JC in my wedding photos and I don't want bitching and fighting at my rehearsal dinner and I don't want to have to explain to people that the Best Man and the Maid of Honor have been in a stupid eighteen year fight and that's why they can't sit next to each other at the reception."
I am speechless. Frustrated. Annoyed. I'm not the one that can't seem to control themselves in these situations.
"What do you want me to do, Morgan? I'm here. I'm planning. I'm not the one throwing a pissy fit."
"Fix it! I want you to fix it. Go to him and figure out what's up his ass and... I don't know, apologize or something. Please, Angie? This means a lot to me and Nick."
"Apologize? For what? Pointing out that he's stuck around here like a loyal puppy dog? What am I supposed to say to him?"
"Something. I don't care what you say, just say something to fix it."
I haven't even been home for five minutes and I am in the car again, headed to a subdivision about ten minutes away from my apartment complex. I brace myself as I drive past the sign for Lake Conway Estates, a community of townhomes. Every home backs up to a small beach and the calm waters of Lake Conway, a place that holds some bittersweet memories for me. It's just barely upscale, certainly not the million dollar neighborhood where Morgan and Nick live.
JC rents a two bedroom, two and a half bath from his uncle, who owns the place but lives in New York. He wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise, but he doesn't tell people that. He likes to wow the easily impressionable, especially young ladies, with his finely appointed home full of high end finishes, fixtures and furniture.
I pull into the driveway and park next to a red CRV. Of course he isn't home alone. I head to the front door and press the button for the doorbell. I hear the chimes, but don't hear footsteps shuffling down the tile in the front hall. I try to spy through the peephole and the windows on either side of the door but the house is shut up tight-blinds drawn to keep out the sun.
"Back here!"
I walk to the edge of the porch and poke my head around the corner. JC is standing at the rear gate, his hand on the lock. His face registers surprise to see me, but it is quickly replaced by nonchalance. "Come join the party," he says, flipping the latch and swinging the door open.
I'm not in the mood for a party or for JC's guests, but I need to talk to him so I hop down from the porch and stomp through the ankle high brush along the side of the house.
"You know, you're supposed to cut the grass on the side of the house, too."
"I'll fire the gardener," JC says, smirking as I walk through the gate entrance and past him.
The back patio is enormous, with a gorgeous view of the lake and the forest on the other side. There are lounge chairs lined up along one end and a few glass topped tables with brightly colored sun blocking umbrellas along the other end. One corner of the patio is reserved for the fire pit and close, comfortable seating around it. There is an industrial sized stainless steel gas barbeque grill and, inside a cabinet, a modest stereo system that pipes music to in-ground speakers placed strategically around the patio. He hires a service to deliver and care for the large tropical potted plants that are spread around the area. It's a nice space, if I had to admit it.
I hear a door slide open and turn to see the perky, big-boobed waitress that JC flirted with at Prime. She steps out of the house holding a bottled beer, dressed in a bikini top and very tight, very short jean cutoffs.
"Oh hey!" She says with a wary smile. "I remember you! You're JC's friend from the bar. Nice to see you again!"
I am reminded, suddenly, that I am still dressed in a tank top and loose, shapeless yoga pants. I didn't care what I was wearing when I was at lunch with JC, nor when I came here and thought he was alone, but suddenly I feel frumpy. And that pisses me off.
"Meet my good friend Evangeline," JC says, pointing to me with a grin. "Actually, I'm supposed to call her Angie, but Evangeline just rolls off the tongue so nicely. This is uh..." His brow furrows for a second, while he tries to remember his guest's name.
"Sorry to interrupt. I need to talk to you. It won't take long." JC takes a seat at one of the patio tables. The girl sits in the seat next to him and crosses her legs but angles herself toward him. I recognize this nonverbal cue-it's possessive. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Alone," I add, and head toward the sliding glass door that leads into the house.
I hear a sigh and, "I'll be right back, sweetie. Make yourself at home."
I haven't been to JC's house in awhile, but it always looks the same. He finds one thing that works for him and holds on to it, never veers from it. I step into the house, which looks identical to the last time I was there- formal living room with cream colored microfiber couch and chairs, mahogany end tables and China cabinet; a den with brown leather couches and La Z Boy chairs, a 60 inch flat screen TV mounted above a glass stereo cabinet that holds all manner of electronics-cable box, DVR, receiver, 6-disc CD Player, Blu-Ray and DVD Player as well as a number of game consoles; and the kitchen, which is nearly spotless except for a blender a, bottle of tequila and margarita mix sitting out on the slate grey marble counter.
I do love his kitchen, outfitted with black and stainless steel appliances, a high counter with stools underneath and the matching bar height table and chairs in the adjoining dining room. JC has a housekeeper so the place always looks and smells clean, like lemons.
I inhale the light citrus scent as I stop in the kitchen and turn to JC. He leans over the counter, taking a swallow of the beer he has brought with him from the patio.
"What's up? I'm busy, obviously."
"I saw. You move fast; you don't even know her name."
He thinks for a moment, then perks up. "Jade. Her name is Jade."
I smile. "Of course it is. Is she a stripper? Pardon... exotic dancer is what they're called now."
"She's a grad student. And a damn good waitress. Not that it's any of your business."
"It sure isn't, thank God. She looks awfully young."
JC snickers. "Jealous?"
"More like disgusted. She looks like she sees your fancy clothes and fancy house and wants some of your fancy money."
"Again, I ask... jealous?"
"Just watch yourself, alright? You run through women like underwear. You're not very discriminating."
"Obviously," he throws back. And I deserve that, walked right into it. "And you wouldn't know anything about how much I date if you weren't watching me so closely."
He takes another swig of beer and rambles on. "Listen, I'm a young, virile, attractive adult male. I don't ever have to be alone if I don't want to be, whether I'm rich or not. The money's just gravy, baby. Besides, I didn't take a vow of celibacy, like some people I know."
I recognize his attempts to get me riled up. I'm trying, with all my strength, not to lash out. "I have not taken a vow of celibacy. Not that it's any of your business."
"It's not, thank God. But Tyler says you work day and night. When's the last time you went on a date?"
"What? Tyler doesn't-I date, okay? Maybe I just don't tell your brother everything that goes on in my life."
"Uh huh," he says, nodding but chuckling. "If you say so, but chips and salsa alone on a Saturday night, followed by a session with your battery operated friend isn't a date."
My eyes roll without my permission. I'm fine with it. "Shut the fuck up, JC."
"Truth hurts, does it? I hit a nerve?"
"I date, okay?"
I did. Sometimes. Not lately, but I wasn't not dating. I just didn't have time, what with trying to do my job and volunteering at law related organizations and helping my mom with my dad and planning this fucking wedding.
"Look, I didn't come here to talk about my sex life-"
"Or lack thereof."
"You called Nick to tell him that you don't want to plan the wedding with me."
He nods. "Yeah."
"Why?"
"I need a reason to not want to be around you?"
"No, you've never needed one before. But I thought we agreed that we would do this, JC. We had a good conversation today and we already decided where and when. And then you just drop out? What the fuck?"
"What difference does it make if I help or not? Why can't you and Morgan do this together? What makes them think I give a shit about their wedding?"
"They know you don't give a shit about their wedding. They're hoping you give a shit about them."
JC stands and begins to pace the kitchen with his beer, back and forth, passing in front of me as I lean against the opposite counter.
"Morgan called me. Crying. Says we're ruining her wedding."
"And?"
"And...if we can't pull off this wedding then they don't want us involved at all. Like we might not even get an invite. And we're kicked out of the wedding party."
JC stops pacing and turns, then shrugs his shoulders. "And? Why is this thing such a huge deal? They've been together since they were five years old. We're supposed to move heaven and earth so they can get married, finally? They should just go to the JP and get it done."
"She talked about doing that."
"Okay. Why can't we let them do that?"
"Because we know that isn't what Morgan wants. Because we know that if they plan their own wedding, it will be the most boring nuptials ever. Because they are plain white bread people and they are counting on us to make this memorable and special for them, for us, for everybody. I want her to have what she wants. Don't you want Nick to have what he wants?"
"Honestly? I don't give a shit," JC mumbles.
He opens the refrigerator, pulls out a beer and points it at me, offering it to me. I shake my head. He shrugs and keeps it for himself, popping the top off with his bare hands. He gulps down a few swallows, belches, and leans against the counter again.
"But what I don't want is Morgan calling me crying. I can't handle those puppy dog eyes every time I see her, knowing I ruined her big day."
"Right. And I don't want to hear, for the rest of my life, how we could have been involved, but we couldn't get along. It's both of us, or neither of us."
I hear the strains of the girl, Jade, outside talking while JC appears to ponder my words. No doubt calling a friend to tell them where she's hanging out for the afternoon.
"You know what they're doing, right?" He asks.
I nod. "Yep. I've known since the first night they brought it up."
JC shakes his head and smiles. "They're not very sneaky people."
"Not to us who have known them their whole lives. But if they think that us planning this wedding is going to get us back together, they are so shit out of luck."
JC takes a few more swallows from the bottle and sets it down on the counter then stands to full height. "So what do you want to do?"
I close my eyes and prepare to grovel. For Morgan.
"I want to see my best friends get married. I want Morgan to have her special day. I want to be in the pictures, even if I have to stand next to you and paint on the happiest, fakest smile. I want to see the sunset from a beach on St. Lucia. And I want to get this done in the most efficient way possible so neither of us has to go the rest of our lives with the guilt trip.
"So... let's call a truce and try to be civil." I tip my head up to look into his face. "On the condition that when this is over, you and I part ways and have nothing else to do with each other. Ever."
His eyes pop open wide and his eyebrows lift. "Seriously?"
"You have to ask? Do you realize that we broke up 18 years ago and I haven't had a moment's peace since? I don't know about you, but I can't go a day without someone asking me when we're getting back together. Nick and Morgan are trying to force us back together by having us plan this wedding for them. I feel so tied to our past. Maybe if we get some space, we can get along without having to agree to get along."
I offer my hand, ready to shake on it. "I'm told I treat you like shit... so... until this wedding is over, I promise to be nice. Do we have a deal?"
JC doesn't move for awhile. He stands in his kitchen, hands on his hips, his eyes on me. Not glaring, not sneering, just... looking at me. I start to feel stupid with my hand in the air between us, but I don't give in.
"So, we plan this wedding, then it's over and we don't know each other anymore? That's what you want?"
"That's what I want," I say and extend my hand further. JC finally reaches for my hand and it disappears inside his. We agree with a shake and a squeeze and nod and he lets go.
"We're still on to talk to the resort on Wednesday?"
"Yes we are. I'll just show up a bit early for the conference with your client. Okay?"
"Sure," he says, slowly nodding. Very subdued.
"So, I'll let you get back to your uh.... date. Or whatever she is."
He glares. "We just agreed to a truce. That didn't last long."
I laugh, heading toward the front door. "I didn't even say anything! I'll let myself out. Have fun. Wear a condom!"
"See? That's the shit I'm talking about."
I climb back into my car, start it, and roll out of the driveway, heading toward home again. I've surprised myself by verbalizing my desire to want to be away from JC after this is all over. I don't think I've ever said it out loud before, but I feel so smothered by him.
There are good and bad sides to dating someone you've known your whole life. You know each other really well-that's a good side. There's virtually no fear. I had that with JC and I loved spending my formative years exploring with him. There was no safer place.
But then comes the break-up and all those memories and firsts don't go away. Everything reminds me of him. I compare my feelings for every new man to what I used to feel for JC, and if it's nowhere near as fiery and strong and comfortable as I felt before, I consider it a waste of my time. On the rare occasions that I actually like someone enough to have sex, even the tamest, most vanilla of acts, it's tainted with the memory of doing it for the first time with JC.
He'll always be in my life, wrapped around it, intertwining with the people I love. He is a huge part of my past and I know I can't ever completely eliminate him, but I can do a hell of a lot to get away from him. I just need to move on.
I need to make some major changes, the first of which is not being reminded, every day of my life, of the biggest mistake I've ever made.
