The Jeweler (19 page)

Fender felt a cold sweat on his upper lip. “Could we stop using the word
love?
It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Sam ignored him. “Uh-huh. So anyway, she doesn’t think you suck so much now. Molly actually said that before Ginger found out about the ring, she was kind of warming up to you.”

“Who was warming up? Molly?”

“No, Ginger.”

Pop signaled that he wanted out of the booth. “This is very confusing. I’m leaving. Sam, you can have the rest of my salad. Fender, be a good son and get the bill.”

Fender nodded to Pop and turned back to Sam. “How did you get hooked up with this Molly anyway? God, you have weird relationships.”

“I met her at the Dubliner. She likes all the same stuff I do. It could be promising. And, excuse me, I met a girl at a bar and took her home, like normal people. You are the odd one, my friend.”

Sam finished Pop’s salad and waved again to the waitress. “Fries? A side order? Thank you.” He looked again at Fender. “Why are you looking at me like that? Oh yes, that’s right, it’s a Fender-centric world. What about Fender’s problem? Well, you may be in luck.”

“How?” Fender felt a twitching in his stomach. Hope rearing its ugly head?

“I talked Molly into softening Ginger up. Molly’s not your biggest cheerleader, but she says if you’re my friend, you can’t be all bad. She’s going to work on Ginger to start closing some doors to unfinished business. Molly thinks Ginger was already letting go of Brad, until you mucked it up with the ring-back-from-the-dead deal.”

“You,
señor
, were the one who deposited the check. What about the guy at the pool?”

“I didn’t ask about everything. Molly and I have our own business to conduct, studmuffin.” Sam straightened his collar conspiratorially.

“Oh, Lord. Please, I’m happy for you, but it was bad enough to see you in a towel.” His mind turned back to Ginger. He could almost feel the gears turning in his head.
I’d stroke my mustache if I had one
. “That’s okay. We’ll find out about Malibu Ken later. This could be promising.”

The waitress brought Sam’s order. “Yeah, okay. My fries are here now, so I’m not listening anymore. Feel free to keep talking if you like, though.”

Fender fell silent. A connection to Ginger. It had to be okay to hope a little. Maybe.

A
S
T
HE
A
NNIVERSARY
O
F
B
RAD’S
D
EATH
loomed, Ginger wasn’t sure what to do. She’d been busy, working at the pool in the last long, hot days of summer, taking Zoë out for walks after sundown, and longboarding down the soft new asphalt by the park. She even got up the courage to take Zoë to a different vet to get her shots. It was a woman in the older section of town, in a little clinic behind a residence. The vet, Dr. Hamilton, had been very complimentary of Brad and had expressed her condolences. And Ginger had kept it together. Zoë seemed to like Dr. Hamilton, and Ginger felt as though she and the dog had made another step toward happier times.

But when she was at work, every child at the pool knew summer was ending soon, and each discussion of the coming start of school was a reminder that Labor Day would also come, and she would have to mark a very unpleasant occasion. She finally felt as though she was on an even keel, and she didn’t want one day to upset her balance all over again. She’d never been much for melodrama, and she’d had her fill of it lately.

The Wednesday before Labor Day, she went to see Molly.

You’ve had long enough now
, she told herself as she pulled into the parking lot of Molly’s apartment. She hoped there was a way to go forward.

She climbed the two flights to Molly’s place and knocked. The door opened and a potpourri of exotic smells drifted out. Patchouli and herbs—maybe a little onion—all touched Ginger’s nose. Shortly thereafter, Molly poked her head around the door.

“Hey!” She smiled at Ginger but didn’t open the door any wider.

Ginger was intrigued. Molly couldn’t be smoking pot; it was too close to the ski season. Drug testing at the ski resort compelled her to be clean at least three months prior. Plus, Molly had successfully gone cold turkey all summer and seemed to be buying into the slow, local, vegan-hipster-straight-edge-whatever-it-was lifestyle. Something else was up. “What are you doing?”

Molly stalled. “I like that shirt! Is that the one we found together at The Closet? I love that store.” She glanced behind her, into the apartment.

“Molly.” Ginger waited for her to turn around. She gained her attention again. “What’s up? Can I come in?”

“Hmm? Oh, oh, I’m terrible. Yeah.” She shut the door in Ginger’s face.

It must be opposite day
. It was starting to feel awkward standing in the hallway.

The door swung open again. “Okay, you can come in, if you promise not to yell.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginger walked into the front hall of the apartment. Molly was not usually one for housekeeping, but the place was spotless. Candles flickered everywhere, and Molly had been cooking something complicated, judging by the tower of stainless steel in her sink.

In the living room, where her dinky black and white RCA TV had been, sat a large, white metal cage with two turrets. Inside the thin bars perched two white doves. Ginger felt her eyes widen. “Molly, they’re so cool! I love them. Where did you get them? Is this what you thought I’d be mad at?”

Someone answered her from the door to the bedroom. “I think she thought you might be mad about me.”

Ginger turned around. It was Sam, Fender’s friend. She held still for a minute. He didn’t belong in this picture. Her mind couldn’t figure out what to think.

Molly put herself between Sam and Ginger.

She must think I’m going into some sort of crazy fit
. “I don’t understand.” Nothing else came to her. She waited for Molly to answer and tried not to look threatening.

“This is who I met at the Dubliner when we went out last month. This is Sam. You’ve already met, from what I gather.”

Sam looked awkward. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants and smiled.

Ginger smiled as broadly as she could. “Hi. Uh, I guess I owe you an apology. I was a real bitch at the pool.”

Sam walked up behind Molly and put his arms around her. “I think it was justifiable. Everybody was having a tough time.” Ginger understood he was talking about her and Fender.

Molly seemed to let down her guard. She relaxed, and a toothy smile spread on her face. “We’ve been getting along. We like a lot of the same stuff, you know, Portland bands, nano-breweries, mustaches…I was hoping it’d be okay with you. It’s been harder and harder to keep a secret.”

Ginger hated being the eggshells everyone walked on so delicately. “What are the odds it’d be you guys that met? But if you’re happy, I’m happy. It’s not every day a man catches the eye of my Molly.”

Sam glowed. He’d literally broken into a sweat, his face and neck covered with tiny moist beads. “So, it’s all out now. You know, Molly and I were at three of the same Coachellas? We were even in the same tents, listening to the same bands. I mean, what are the odds of that? Good karma, I’m tellin’ ya.” He kissed Molly on the cheek. “I have to go. Don’t gush too much about me, puddin’.” He smiled warmly at Ginger as he squeezed out of the front door.

Molly looked like she wanted to gush. “He bought me the doves. Isn’t that the most romantic gesture? He’s not a walking gym ad, but there’s more to life than six-pack abs.”

Ginger smiled and was happy to find she really felt really pleased. She looked into herself, and that’s what reflected back up to the surface. “Do you know that the whole time I’ve known you, you’ve never had a serious boyfriend? This is big stuff.”

Molly’s dark curls seemed to vibrate. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

“You have to dish a little, Molly.”

“What’s weird is that I spotted him from across the bar at the Dubliner. It’s like he was putting out a vibe. Maybe it was destiny or karma or something.” She caught herself. Ginger could see it. It made a little cloud that hovered in her eyebrows. Her sense of tact in regards to Ginger was very keen.

“Whatever it is, it’s good.” Ginger went back over to the cage. The doves nestled closely to one another. They seemed very placid. “That’s what I want.” Ginger pointed to the cage. “I want to be that peaceful.”

Molly sat down on the couch across from the birds. She beckoned Ginger to sit with her. “You can be. You’ve had a lot of turmoil in the last year. Maybe you’re turning a corner, with the anniversary and all.”

Anniversary.
It’s a happy word
, Ginger thought.
It doesn’t fit this
. You don’t want to celebrate the date of a death creeping back up on you. You mark it.

Molly put an arm around her. “I’m going to give you unsolicited advice. Brace yourself.”

“I don’t want to talk about Fender. I can’t wrap my head around what he did. I can’t figure it out, and it still upsets me.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. But you brought it up, now, so here’s one thought. Forgiveness is good. It especially helps when you can’t sort out why someone did a hurtful thing. But that’s that. I’m not going to talk about him. And I want it to be perfectly clear that Sam doesn’t expect you to go on double dates with us—you and Fender and us. Although he has said he thinks you were the first person Fender’s really loved.” Molly spit all this out in a great rush, lobbing it into the air before Ginger could stop her.

Ginger finally broke in. “I’ll let that sink in later. What was it you were going to say? The thing you
did
want to talk about?”

“Oh. I think you should go to Brad’s grave.” Molly stood to move around the apartment, dousing candles.

Ginger shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, I think you should. I could give you a couple little Choctaw prayers to say. You could smudge a little sage. It might help you say good-bye to him. Maybe you can figure out how you really felt about him.”

“You and your sage.” Ginger took a deep breath. “You’re probably right. Maybe I’ll go this week.”

“It’d be good, since it’s a year exactly this week. I could go with you.”

“No, I better go myself. You have someone who needs your attention.”

Molly grinned. “I know. Doesn’t it kick ass?”

Ginger nodded, but she couldn’t say anything. She sat and looked at the doves, dozing on their perch. She wished again for peace.

S
AM
W
AS
O
VER
, trying to show Fender pictures of the doves he’d bought Molly. Fender tolerated that sickeningly sweet business only because he missed his friend. He was scarce lately, busy these last few weeks building a love nest with Molly—or Miss Flake, as Fender liked to call her. But it was kind of fun, because when Sam did come by, he would relay any tidbits Molly had let slip about Ginger on their last date.

Today Sam and Fender were at Pop’s, cutting the lawn for him. Labor Day weekend was approaching, and it was blisteringly hot. The lawn had browned out about the middle of July, but Fender was weed-whacking a few stray blades here and there. Sam sat at the edge of Pop’s yard with his feet in the neighbor kid’s pool.

“The only thing I’m missing is my daiquiri. Oh, cabana boy!” He was out of reach to swat.

“I give up. The battery’s dying anyway.” Fender set the trimmer down and came to sit beside Sam. The grass stuck to the back of his sweaty legs.

Sam looked up into the blue sky. “Actually, what I’m missing is my woman.”

“Oh, give me a break. You saw her this morning. You’ve been without Molly for all of three hours.”

“I know, isn’t it sickening? But she’s the butter on my popcorn, baby, the fly in my soup.” Sam splashed his toes around for a minute. “I might even be so bold as to use the—” He gasped, widened his eyes, and paused for emphasis. “L-word.”

“Get the hell out.” Fender smiled. Sam really was happy. It was downright surreal.

“No, really. Give me two, three weeks, a month or three, and I might say that word. To her, maybe even.”

“It’s about damn time, Sam. I’m glad for you.”
Oh, time for an awkward, why-isn’t-Fender-happy-too moment.

“It’ll happen for you.” Sam looked at his toes.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit. Who cares, anyway?”

“You do, ’cause you perk up every time I mention Ginger’s name.” Sam looked at Fender. “See? I’ll be damned if you didn’t twitch a little just then.”

Fender lay back in the grass and looked up, over the neighbor’s roof. He sighed. He felt a Sam speech coming on.

“I think I have the whole thing with her figured out, you know,” Sam began.

“Oh, really.” Fender noticed the peak of the roof was bowed ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I do. Now be attentive. So, here’s the deal. It’s like the
Jump Street
phenomenon.”

Fender smiled.
Oh, Sam.
“The what?”

“
Twenty-One Jump Street
. Johnny Depp was on it, even though he pretends like he wasn’t. Except for the cameo in the movie version, I think he’s in denial. But he needs to ’fess up, because all of us remember when he graced the cover of
Tiger Beat
. C’mon!” Sam splashed a little, for emphasis.

Fender felt the need to redirect. “Excuse me, point?”

“The point is…Oh shit, I can’t remember…No, the point is, in the show Johnny Depp had a girlfriend, and he was going to dump her. He didn’t like her; she was bugging him. And then she got killed in a convenience store robbery.”

“Okay.” Fender felt lost. Oh well.

“This is the thing! After she died, he was all like, ‘I loved her, man, we were going to get married’ and everything. Until his friend, who was Dom DeLuise’s son in real life, snapped him out of it.”

Fender sat up on his elbows. Sam, for all of his inane theories, might have struck upon something. “So, what are you thinking?”

“Well, from what I’m getting from Molly, things weren’t all peachy with D.B. and Ginger. Ginger didn’t talk about it much, but Molly says D.B. told her he wanted to do something to ‘shore up’ his relationship with Ginger.”

“Shore up? He said that?” Fender remembered why Brad had annoyed him in the store.
Now wait, Fender, that’s not nice to think about. The guy’s not here to defend himself. Show some respect, for Christ’s sake
.

Sam was off, however; respect be damned. “Shore up. Like a brick wall or a roof. But more importantly, a roof that’s leaky. A wall that’s crumbling—you see where I’m going here?”

“Yeah, maybe they were having problems.” Fender felt that little twitch in his stomach again. Pesky hope flipping and flopping around.

“Just like Johnny Depp! She loses him in the accident in front of the store and suddenly her brain flips off, and it’s like ‘Oh yeah, I loved him,’ except that’s why she could like you, because things when he was alive weren’t all perfect!”

Sam now sat up very straight in his lounger. His point had been made, and he was clearly pleased to have garnered a favorable reaction, too. “Not a bad thing to think about, huh? Maybe it’s not all over between you guys. Maybe she just needs to sort stuff out. It’s coming up on a year, you know.”

Fender got depressed again. “Yeah, except in the Johnny Depp thing the alive guy doesn’t lie and get in trouble with her and make her feel terrible.”

Sam waved him off. “There wasn’t even another person Johnny was interested in. That wasn’t the point of the story. The point was chinks in the armor.”

“What?”

“Chinks in the armor. Ginger and Brad? That was not a match made in heaven, my friend. I’ll bet you two thousand bucks she had doubts.” Sam got up out of the kiddie pool, triumphant in his logic.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve had enough of your company, Mr. Barnes. I’m going to go look for my woman.”

Sam left, and Fender put the trimmer in the shed and stopped for a moment. Maybe the whole thing wasn’t played out yet. He smiled to the empty backyard. “Thank you, Johnny Depp.”