The Secret 04 The Ever After of Ella and Micha (12 page)

“Mom’s journal and a few other things, like drawings and photos.” I pause at the sudden increase of my heart rate. “I didn’t know she liked to draw.”

He stares down at the table with a sad look on his face. “She did when she was younger,” he says quietly. “But she stopped not too long after we got married.”

It’s so hard to be talking about this aloud, asking him questions, but I force myself to continue because I want to know—understand. “Why did she stop?”

When he glances up, his eyes are little watery. “Because she stopped enjoying it and so there was no point, at least that’s what she told me.”

I trace the patterns of the wood in the table, staring down at them, because I can’t look him in the eye with what I’m about to say. “You told me once, when I was… when I was dropping you off at the recovery clinic, that things weren’t always bad. But when was that? I know her bipolar disorder progressively got worse, but even from the start it always felt like mom was sad all the time.”

He’s silent for a while and I worry I might have upset him. But when I look up at him, he’s just staring at me like I’m a person, not a painful reminder of the woman he once loved, which is how he used to look at me all the time.

“Things were never one hundred percent normal when it came to your mom,” he says, his voice strained. “But in the beginning she had way more ups than she did downs. And her… episodes… they were few and far in between.”

“Was she ever happy?”

Again it takes him a moment to answer. “She was happy sometimes. I think anyway. It was so hard to tell.”

“Why was it so hard to tell?” Deep down, though, I think I know the answer. Because sometimes it’s hard to be happy or to even admit that you’re good enough to be happy, that you do deserve it, so you refuse to feel it, fight it. It’s my own thought process sometimes and I hate it, but I’ve also learned to deal with it… I think.

He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “It’s just the way she was, Ella May. And I really want to believe she was happy, even though she didn’t show it.”

It’s weird hearing him call me that and it throws me off and I let a question slip out that I probably shouldn’t. “Why did you love her?” I ask and then pull a remorseful face. “I’m sorry, Dad. You don’t have to answer that.”

He shakes his head, more water building up in his eyes. “It’s okay. You can ask me things. I’m doing better with… stuff.” He pauses, deliberating, and then his breath falters. “I loved her because in the beginning she was erratic and impulsive and she could make life really surprising and… unpredictable. ” He stares over my shoulder, lost in memories and for a brief moment he almost looks happy. Then he blinks his eyes several times and the look disappears before he turns his attention back to me. “I think she was happy when she had you. And Dean.”

I can’t tell if he’s lying, but I don’t really care if he is or not. He might just be saying it to make me happy and I’ll take it. “Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem.” He seems like he wants to say more, squirming and popping his neck, like he has nervous energy flowing through him. “Ella, I don’t want to make you mad but I… I really wish you’d think about waiting to get married.”

What?
“Why?”

“Because…” He rubs the back of his neck and leaves his hand there with his elbow bent upward. “You’re so young… and should live your life before you tie yourself down to grown-up stuff.” He lets his arm fall to his side.

It takes me a moment to speak, because there are a lot of mean words that want to push their way up my throat. Like the fact that I was tied down by grown-up stuff since I was four. Bills. Cooking. Cleaning. Taking care of people. That stuff is not new to me.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, but I don’t mean it. I back toward the door, zipping my jacket up. “And, Dad… thanks for talking about Mom.”

“No problem,” he replies. “I should have talked about her more, I guess.”

I don’t say anything. I agree with him, but I don’t want to say it because it’ll only hurt him, ruin this whole weird, good father/daughter vibe we have going. I open the back door and the wind blows inside, dusting snow across the floor.

“And, Ella,” he calls out as I’m about to step out into the snow and the glacier-cold breeze.

I pause and glance over my shoulder. “Yeah.”

“If you need any help… I mean, with the wedding and stuff if you decide to do it… I’m here if you need me,” he says, shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” I tell him, confused because he wants to help and it’s not something I’m used to. “I’ll let you know, but I think Micha’s mom’s on top of a lot of stuff. She’s super excited.”

He looks a little bit disappointed and I open my mouth to say more, but I can’t think of anything else to say so I wave, walk outside, and shut the door behind me. I feel somewhat bad because he seemed upset about my declining his help, but at the end of the day Micha’s mom was more of a parent to me than either of mine. Micha and she were my family since I was four, not my dad, my mom, or Dean. It was just his mom and Micha, but mainly Micha. He was my past and he is my future.

I pause as I’m about to hop over the fence, the snow knee deep and soaking through my jeans as I have a revelation that slams me square in the chest. From the day Micha begged me to climb over the fence for the very first time, we’ve been inseparable, except for the time I ran away to college. He took care of me. He loved me. He showed me what love was. And I think deep down, even though I couldn’t admit it a couple of years ago, I secretly hoped that he’d be in my life forever—that I’d end up with him. That I’d still be hopping over the fence to see him when I was twenty years old with his ring on my finger. That fifty years down the road I’d still be with him, sitting on a porch swing, drinking lemonade or whatever it is old couples do.

It makes my heart thump in excitement and terror because I think it’s time to let go of the dark things that haunt my past, let things go that I might not want to, so I can move forward into a future with a simple fence, juice box, and a toy car.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I ask Ella, staring down at her mother’s journal on my lap.

She nods as she digs through her bag on the floor. “Yeah, I only want to know if you find anything happy.” She peers up at me, wearing only a red-and-black bra and matching panties. “If you don’t, then I don’t need to read it. But if you do, then I want to read it just so I can hear about the happy part of her I never got to see.”

I massage the back of my neck, nervous about reading something so private. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She straightens her legs and stands up with a black dress in her hand. “But only if you feel comfortable doing it.”

I want to say that I’m not but there’s no way that I’m going to. Not after she came into the house yesterday after talking to her dad and announced that she was ready to move forward without finishing the journal because she wanted to let go of the past. I’m not even sure where the declaration came from, but there’s no way I’m going to do anything that will ruin it. “I’m down for a little reading, I guess.” I move the journal off my lap and onto the bed, then lean forward and grab the edge of the short, tight dress she’s about to put on. “Just as long as you tell me where the hell you’re going wearing this?”

“With Lila out to dinner,” she answers. “Why? What’s wrong with the dress?”

“Because it’s smaller than most of my shirts,” I tell her, jealousy ringing in my voice. “Your ass will be hanging out of it.”

She snatches the dress away from me. “It will not,” she insists, bending over and stepping into the dress. “Besides, Lila said specifically to wear this one.”

I rise to my feet as she shimmies the tight fabric over her body and slips her arms through the thin straps. It hugs her body perfectly but the bottom barely covers her thighs. “Why?” I question.

She tousles her fingers through her hair. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask her. All she’d tell me was that it was a surprise.”

“Oh, I’m going to,” I assure her and then leave the room to go find Lila.

She’s in the kitchen with Ethan, bags of red and black candles and matching flowers, ribbons, and other decorative shit scattered all over the countertops and table in front of them, along with wrapping paper and tape and a bag full of Christmas present bows. Lila, Ella, and my mom spent half the day shopping and Ella had come home looking worn out but with a bag full of wedding decorations and I guess a few presents for Christmas. She never was the shopping type and I’m guessing that Lila and my mom had more to do with the overabundance of wedding decorations and presents than Ella.

“I have a question for you,” I say to Lila as I scoot out a chair and join them at the table. She’s got Ethan tying ribbons, and even though he doesn’t look happy, he’s still doing it, which is kind of funny.

“Don’t say a word,” Ethan warns as he ties a piece of black ribbon into a bow. “Time and time again I’ve watched you do stupid shit for Ella and haven’t said a word.”

I rotate a candle in my hand. “No, you said a lot of words that annoyed the shit out of me.”

He shakes his head and then drops the bow, looking at Lila. “Can I be done with this?” He flexes his fingers like he has a cramp. “I can’t even feel the tips of my fingers anymore.”

Lila snips the end of a red piece of ribbon with a pair of scissors. “No way. We have about a hundred more to go.” She sets the ribbon and scissors down. She’s wearing this dark blue dress that has sparkly stuff all over it. It’s not as tight as Ella’s but it is equally as short, if not shorter. “So what’s your question, Micha? And if it’s about your Christmas present from Ella, I’m not going to tell you what it is.”

“It’s not that,” I say, shaking my head. “And what are you talking about? Ella and I don’t get each other presents.” Except for last year when I gave her the engagement ring, but that was different.

“Maybe not in the past,” she says with a smile. “But she did this year.”

Shit. Does that mean I have to get her something? And if so, then what? I shake my head. I’m getting sidetracked. I shove the candle aside and fold my arms on top of the table. “That’s not what I was going to ask you. I want to know where the hell are you taking Ella tonight.”

Lila shrugs as she reaches for another roll of ribbon. “Out to dinner.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Why does it matter?” she replies, unraveling a bit of ribbon around her hand.

“Because she’s dressed like a whore,” I say bluntly, attempting to throw her off.

But it doesn’t faze her. “She isn’t going to look like a whore. She’s just dressing up to go out.”

“Not to dinner, though. You don’t need to be dressed like that to go to dinner,” I say and point at her dress.

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” She bats her eyelashes innocently. “I’m just wearing a dress.”

“I’m going to agree with Micha on this one,” Ethan chimes in, cracking his knuckles. “I don’t like the dress at all.”

Amusement dances in Lila’s eyes. “You liked it the other night.”

“Yeah, when I was the only one seeing you in it,” he says, extending his hand toward the heap of ribbon Lila unraveled.

Lila grins as she pushes her chair away from the table. “Oh, you two and your jealousy.” She pats Ethan on the top of the head. “It’s so adorable.” She strolls behind him and kisses the top of his head. “I’m going to go see if Ella’s ready,” she singsongs and Ethan checks her ass out as she walks away and leaves the room, calling over her shoulder, “And Micha, feel free to make yourself useful and start tying bows.”

I gape at Ethan. “Is she being serious?”

He cuts a piece of red ribbon. “Yeah.” He drops the scissors onto the table. “But it’s your fault.”

“Why the hell is it my fault?”

“Because you’re the one who wouldn’t just drive to Vegas and elope.”

I reach over the table and pick up a roll of ribbon. “That sounds more like your kind of marriage than mine.”

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right, still though. We wouldn’t have to be sitting here, tying ribbon like a couple of whipped pussies.”

I fiddle with the ribbon, stifling a laugh. “So what am I supposed to be doing?”

Sighing, he shows me how to tie the ribbon and then we sit at the table tying bows for the next twenty minutes until Ella and Lila walk into the kitchen. Ella stops just short of the table and crosses her arms. Her hair is loose at her shoulders in waves, her eyes are lined with black, and her lips have a tint of pink to them. She has heels on that have straps that wind up her ankles, and between the shoes and the short dress her legs look nearly endless.

“Well, look at you two,” she says with hilarity in her voice. “All crafty and tying bows.”

I rotate in the chair and scan her amazingly perfect body, picturing how later her long legs will be wrapped around me. “You better watch it, Ella May, or you won’t have any ribbons at your wedding.”

“Good,” she says, tugging the bottom of her dress down.

Lila pokes her in the back. “Hey, I thought you liked the ribbons.”

Ella pulls an apologetic face. “No, I said out of all the silly, frilly decoration stuff you guys were throwing at me, the red and black ribbons were the least annoying.”

Lila frowns disappointedly. “So you don’t like it?”

Ella sighs. “No, I do. Sorry, I’m not being very nice right now. You’re helping me and I should be more grateful.”

Now Lila sighs. “Don’t lie to me. If you don’t like the ribbons then you don’t. We can do something else.”

Ethan shoots me a funny look and then reclines back in the chair with his arm draped over the top of it. “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think it was you two who were getting married.”

Lila’s heels click against the floor as she walks over and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “All right, it’s time for you to get back to your bow tying,” she says as she walks toward the back door and Ella follows her.

As Ella’s passing by me, I snag her elbow and pull her back, drawing her down so her head lowers and then I put my lips beside her ear. “Don’t get into any trouble please.”

She tilts her head to look at me. “When have I ever gotten into any trouble?”

“If you want me to ramble off the list,” I reply, “then I will, but it’ll probably take the rest of the night.”

She attempts to restrain a smile as she scowls at me, but then it slips through and she kisses me deeply. “I’ll do my best not to get into any fights,” she says, backing away, a little breathless from the kiss. “Or any other trouble.”

“And try not to wreck my car,” I call out as Lila opens the door.

“You’re letting them take your car?” Ethan asks, looking at me like I’m insane.

I shrug. “What else are they going to drive?”

“They’d be better off walking,” he mutters, and then yells out to Lila and Ella, “Don’t drive drunk or shove any dollar bills down dudes’ pants.”

“We’re not going to a strip club,” Lila retorts, but then giggles as she retrieves her jacket from the coat rack.

Ella puts on her leather jacket, covering up a little bit and making me feel slightly better about the dress. She opens her mouth to say something but Lila snatches her arm and yanks her outside, slamming the door. Thomas and my mom went out for dinner and the house is really quiet as Ethan and I sit in silence, taking in what just happened.

“Do you kind of feel like their bitches?” he asks, turning around in the chair with ribbon in his hand.

I stare at the pile of ribbon and candles on the table. “Yeah, kind of.”

We exchange a look and then simultaneously push away from the table and get to our feet.

“So the question is,” Ethan says as he grabs his jacket off the back of the chair, “do we want to go to a bar or go somewhere noisy, like a party?”

“We could always follow them,” I joke as I walk over to the coat rack beside the back door. “Play creep stalkers for the night.” I grab my jacket and slip it on, pretending like I’m joking but deep down I’m serious. I don’t like the idea of Ella going out dressed like that, in this town. Not only is she too beautiful and sexy for her own good, but she’s also got history in this town, with people who either overly like her or with people who loathe her. And if the feisty Ella makes a grand appearance, especially the drunk one, a lot of shit could happen.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ethan agrees, responding to my joke, looking serious. “But we don’t have a car.”

“Should we just start walking?” I ask as I open the door.

It’s late, the black sky is clear of clouds and the stars are shining. Lights twinkle from next door and reflect off the ice covering the yard.

Ethan zips up his jacket. “Sure.”

We step outside and hike down the driveway through the snow, then make a left toward town. The snow on the sidewalk crunches under our boots and our breath fogs out in front of us. It’s freezing, but it’s not the first time we’ve walked around late at night in below-zero temperatures.

“So I’m waiting for you to panic,” Ethan unexpectedly announces, kicking a chunk of ice out of the way.

I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets. “Panic over what?”

“Over getting married.”

“Why would I panic?”

He gapes at me. “Because you’re going to be with one person for the rest of your life, and that for the rest of your life decisions are going to be based on what’s best for not just you but for you and her. You can’t just do whatever you want anymore.”

“Have I ever really been with anyone else though?” I ask. “I mean relationship-wise.”

He shrugs. “No, I guess not, but still. It’s such a huge responsibility and there seems like there should be a little panic involved, even if it’s for a minute.”

“Not really,” I say. “At least if it’s the right person.”

He takes in my words with a perplexed look as he stares at the ground. Finally he shakes his head and then looks up. “And what happens if Ella tells you that she doesn’t want you going on that Slam Tour or whatever.”

“Then I won’t go,” I say. I told Ethan the other day, while we were cleaning up the house the morning after the party about my dilemma, because I needed to get it off my chest.

“You’d just give up your dream?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And what happens, like, five years down the road when you look back and regret it?”

I kick the tip of my boot at the snow. “Why are you pushing this so hard? I mean, I know you’re not a fan of Ella, but it’s like you’re trying to talk me out of marrying her, which will never happen.”

He abruptly halts near the edge of the curb and I slip on the ice as I slam to a stop beside him. My hands go out to my sides and I quickly regain my balance.

“I’m not telling you not to marry her,” he says with a frown. “I’m just telling you that since you’re going to marry her, you need to talk to her about the tour and make the decision together whether or not you’re going to go. Otherwise you’re going to get married in a few days without talking about something major and that could lead to problems.”

“You’re so weird, sometimes,” I tell him, pulling my hood over my head. “You give relationship advice all the time, yet I’ve never seen you in a relationship except for with Lila, but somehow your advice makes sense.”

He shrugs, staring at the single-story brick home across the street that is covered in flashing red and green lights. “I watched my parents do the wrong things for years and years, so I know what doesn’t work,” he says as we cross the street. “Now, whether or not my advice is the right way to go, I really have no idea.”

I hop up onto the curb, stuffing my hands back into my jacket pockets. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s glad I said I would, for whatever reason. “You know what?” he says, changing the subject. “I think we need to have a bachelor party tonight. It seems wrong that we’re not having a real one.”

“Yeah, I think you’re forgetting what the strip bars look like around here,” I say to him unenthusiastically. “Remember when we decided to go to one right after we graduated.” I shudder at the thought. “I think I’m still a little scarred over the things I saw.”