Be Ready for the Lightning, page 21
The pain in my chest was back. “Okay,” I said, trying to ignore it, trying to not grit my teeth. “I’ve never really talked about it so officially with anyone, but yeah. And speaking of Ted. Do you mind not mentioning…” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “Just not talking to him about anything that’s happened?”
She looked at me. Her eyes were light blue, almost see-through. What colour had his been? Why couldn’t I remember?
“I understand,” she said. “And I won’t say anything. You and me are just friends who met in New York. I can keep a secret.” After a moment, she added, “Some people would have blamed me, you know. For what Peter did.”
“Why would anyone blame you?”
“Well, not blame me. But hold me responsible, treat me badly, because I’m related to him. You didn’t do that.”
“No, no of course not. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Of course we can be friends,” I said, and Sunny nodded.
“Okay,” she said. Then she added, “It’ll be hard for you to have normal friends now, anyway, after what happened. You were living with your friends in New York, right? Did it get all fucked up?”
“It was complicated,” I said, and Sunny reached and put her arms around me.
I tensed up. It seemed like she had more than the regular number of arms, all of which were awkward. She was a woman who had beauty but no grace; she was jerky and sudden in her motions, like someone in pain. My arms came up automatically to return the hug, the strange propriety of it. I couldn’t help but compare it to the ease of Conrad’s arm around me in the park.
“We should spend time together,” said Sunny. “Do friend things together. Soon.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Soon.”
TWENTY-SIX
I picked up Annie from the airport that night. We floundered a bit in that odd way of conversation between women, where one is pregnant and the other not, with me trying to make a big enough commotion about something that was so big there really was no reaction that could be enough. We’d spent all our big reactions on each other over the years, and I couldn’t scream more loudly than I had about Annie’s one-night stands. I couldn’t cry more for her than I had about Howard. It felt like a failure to not be able to come up with something more massive than hugs and shouts and congratulations for a change that was bigger than anything that had come before.
The wedding would be simple, since Annie and Conrad were putting all their savings toward the new condo.
“Plus, if you’re going to be five months pregnant at your own wedding, you don’t need every bitch you went to high school with side-eyeing your walk down the aisle, you know?” said Annie philosophically. “So we’re doing it at the cabin. Al’s going to do one of those online minister things. so he can marry us, and it’ll just be the five of us, and Marie, and our parents. I don’t really talk to Ted anymore, but I feel like it would be weird to have the rest of us there without him, especially at the cabin. And he’s still Connie’s best friend.”
At Annie’s parents’ house, I sat with her, while she unpacked in her childhood bedroom. In the evening, we invited Conrad and Ted over for drinks. Conrad knocked and walked in. He kissed Annie, looked at me and said, “So we’re here. All of us,” and he glanced over his shoulder, as Ted and Sunny walked in behind him.
Sunny’s body shifted when she saw Annie, and they eyed each other in the quick, appraising way that beautiful women do, to see who is the better looking of the two and who is therefore dominant. I knew that the guys, standing companionably in the Nassars’ impeccably decorated foyer, wouldn’t have noticed this or perhaps even know of the existence of such a pecking order, but Sunny and Annie certainly did, and the sudden and perhaps unconscious jutting of their chins and slight spreading of their stances told me that each of them thought she held the title and also saw her opponent’s unwillingness to accept her claim. Normally I would have thought it funny to see Annie face off with new competition this way, especially while pregnant, but somehow this time it made me nervous.
“Sunny, this is Annie,” I said, stepping forward. “Annie, Sunny. We met in New York, and she’s visiting for a bit, so we all went out for drinks the other night.”
They shook hands, and Sunny glanced down at Annie’s protruding belly. Annie’s hand seemed to go to it automatically, protectively.
“Sorry you can’t drink, sweetie,” said Conrad, raising a six-pack of beer he’d brought along. The term of endearment jarred me away from watching Sunny and Annie. “I’ll drink juice with you, if you want. I’m driving anyway.”
“I’m going to need a second to get used to that,” I said to Conrad. “ ‘Sweetie.’ ”
“Look what my mom gave me,” said Annie, shooing us all into the living room and picking up a hand-lettered disk. “My dad converted some of the old videos from the cabin—we have to watch this.” She popped it in to the player, as Conrad passed beers out to Sunny, Ted and me. On the screen, dark blue water striped with white sunshine appeared, and a tiny Conrad came into view, not more than nine years old, androgynously beautiful and dressed in Darkwing Duck swimming trunks. He was tossing a softball into the air, catching it lazily. Al, taller, in jean shorts and a T-shirt, stood a ways off with a baseball bat, and I recognized my own voice coming from off-screen, remembered I had filmed this along with many of our activities, which would account for the low angle and shaky camera work.
“The brown guy’s your friend in New York, right?” said Sunny, and I missed what my younger self was saying on-screen.
“That’s Al,” I said, “Annie’s brother” at the same time that Annie said, very shortly, “We’re Persian.”
The fuzzy figure of younger Al swung and made solid contact with Conrad’s pitch, and there was a shriek. The adult Annie, in the living room, said, “Oh my God, I remember this. Al gave me a black eye, remember? I got it right in the face.” In the video, Ted and Conrad and Al had all rushed to Annie. She was whimpering, and after a moment, Al stood with Annie hoisted up behind him, piggyback-style. The area around her eye was reddened, her skin puffy and swollen. He went back to the paper plate we’d been using as home and, with Annie on his back, proceeded to run the tiny diamond of makeshift bases set up in the grass. Ted and Conrad laughed and clapped, as Al shouted, “Home run!” He and Annie fell in a heap at home, laughing, and Al untangled himself and wiped her face clumsily, drying her tears. My younger self zoomed in.
In the living room, in the present day, I said, “Sorry, Sunny, this is probably boring for you.”
Ted and the others agreed, mumbling that we should turn it off.
“Yeah, sorry, Sunny,” said Annie. “This is just dumb old stuff anyway.”
But Sunny was staring, transfixed, at the screen. “No,” she said. “No, it’s okay.”
“No, Veda’s right,” said Conrad. “That’s enough nostalgia for tonight.”
Annie had taken two weeks off work for the wedding, which would take place at the end of the second week, after we’d all driven up to the cabin. After that, she’d return to work, and they’d wait to honeymoon until after the baby came and they adjusted. “So, I’ll get a honeymoon in eighteen years, basically,” she said ruefully.
During the days, Annie and I rushed around with our mothers getting things ready, buying champagne and beer and liquor and making lists of food, and most importantly, looking for a dress for Annie, about which she was very picky. Meanwhile Conrad was packing up his apartment and unpacking Annie’s possessions as they arrived at the new condo, shipped from San Francisco before she left. I didn’t hear from Sunny during those days. I knew she would have wanted me to call, but I didn’t. I felt cruel, but I wanted her gone, back to New York. And yet sometimes I would wake up in the morning, just as some dream slipped away that I knew had been filled with blond hair and white sheets, and I was secretly glad she was somewhere in Vancouver, glad she wasn’t quite gone yet.
In the evenings, we’d all get together, like teenagers, in Annie’s parents’ house. Conrad’s and Ted’s apartments were too small to make suitable gathering places, and we were all more comfortable than we would admit, curled up on those familiar living room couches. It felt as though time were running backward, taking us back to the old days of the cabin, bright fearless teenage days before Al was gone, before Ted drove off, before Conrad went to jail, before everything. Sometimes Annie would turn around in the kitchen, sucking butter off a thumb and grinning at me, and I’d be shocked to see her belly, to realize how old we were.
—
The Saturday before the wedding, Al arrived, explaining Marie couldn’t take the whole week off and would be there on Friday to drive up with everyone.
I studied him carefully, trying to gauge how he was feeling toward me after everything that had happened in New York. He hugged me hello and settled onto the couch between me and Annie.
“I heard you guys found some of the old videos from the cabin,” he said, to no one in particular.
“Yeah, but we didn’t watch much,” said Annie. “Sunny was here, so it was a bit weird.”
“Sunny?”
“Veda’s friend from New York. Did you never meet her?”
Al turned to me. “You never mentioned her.”
Sunny was staying at a hotel downtown and had called me that morning, casual, as if we’d been talking every day. She made it sound like her time in Vancouver was a pleasant vacation, rattling off the things she’d seen, talking too fast—how good the chocolate she bought at the Granville Island Farmers’ Market was, how much fun the water taxi she’d taken had been. When I told her, guilty and pre-emptive, how busy it was preparing for the wedding, she was understanding and didn’t ask to get together. But I knew I couldn’t put her off forever. What I really wanted was to hear that she was safe and happy and returning to New York, the bad ex-boyfriend disappeared into the ether.
“I met her at the hospital, when they sent me to that psychiatrist,” I said. “Her brother was there. He’s—sick. We ended up talking.”
“Well,” said Al, after a moment. “Okay. Well. So what’s she like?”
“Really good-looking,” said Conrad, and Annie punched him in the arm. “No!” he said. “I mean, I don’t really know. She’s odd—it’s hard to get a read on her. Plus I have a theory that it’s weirder when good-looking people are weird. You know? Because we expect good-looking people to be charming and well adjusted and all that. So it’s like this clashing. It seems like they’re just being assholes. But I think she really is weird. You should be asking Ted, though. I’m pretty sure he’s seen her a bunch. That’s probably why he’s not here.”
Al put his arm along the back of the couch behind me, seemingly without thinking, and rolled his eyes. “Some things never change,” he said. Then, “Let’s put the videos on, then, since it’s just us.” He grinned. “Do you have the one where Annie gets hit in the face?”
TWENTY-SEVEN
We’ve got a problem.
What’s up?
Ted just asked Conrad if he can bring your friend to my mother-effing wedding. My wedding with, like, three guests. Ted is the worst.
Ted is bringing Sunny to the wedding?
Yeah, I told Conrad he could. Connie was super weird about it too, which was funny. I didn’t think he’d care. It was kind of cute.
Do you want me to talk to Ted?
No, it’s fine. I just wanted to complain. It’s not really a big deal—it’s only one more person. Everyone is already sleeping on couches anyway. Not me, of course. I’m not sleeping on a couch on my wedding night. But it’ll be fine. I mean, she’s your friend, right?
I stared at the chat screen on my laptop, my fingers suspended in mid-air over the keys for a long moment.
What’s one more person? I wrote finally, and then quickly, We’re gonna make it really beautiful. I can’t wait.
—
It wasn’t until Annie and I were packing up the cars, the day before the wedding, that I realized Marie, who had arrived that morning, all smiles and hugs, would need the fourth seat in Conrad’s car. He would be driving up with Annie and Al, and I’d assumed I’d go with them. Our parents were driving up together in Mr. Nassar’s car. That left Ted and Sunny, who were apparently driving up together.
“I’m sorry,” said Annie. “I didn’t even think. You could squeeze in with us, technically. There are three seat belts in the back.”
“If only we still had the Hearse,” said Al. “It was huge.”
“It’s fine,” I said, taking out my phone to call Ted. Sitting in the back seat like a child while Ted and Sunny rode up front was about the last thing in the world I wanted to do, but I didn’t want to fuss in front of Annie.
Ted said he’d pick me up, when he and Sunny left in half an hour. Meanwhile I helped Annie load the last bits of food and the boxes of white Christmas lights and the paper lanterns we’d bought to hang in the trees. We went upstairs to get her dress, while Al, Conrad and Marie made sandwiches in the kitchen.
Annie took the dress bag down from where it was hanging on the door and smoothed her hand over it. “I can’t really believe I’m getting married. Again. To Conrad. That I’m pregnant. It all feels kind of bizarre,” she said. In the end, after trying on a hundred empire-waist bridal gowns, she’d chosen a simple knee-length dress from The Bay.
“Well, you are the good-looking ones, so it kind of makes sense,” I said. “I’m surprised it took you this long, really.” I was joking, but Annie turned and looked at me.
“The fighting scares me,” she said. “I sort of forget about it sometimes. Nothing’s happened since before you left. I think what happened to you”—here Annie gestured to her own ear—“changed him. He hardly goes out, you know. He hardly drinks. It’s like self-imposed prison. Or exile. Or something. He knows he’s okay if he’s only ever around us. But that’s no way to live. I don’t know if it’s even logistically possible. I don’t know if it’ll all start up again.”
“Are you worried about…” My eyes went to Annie’s belly.
“No,” said Annie. “No, I wouldn’t have kept her if I thought for a second that…” Then she said, “I want to try it on one last time,” and she took the dress out of the bag.
I helped her in, zipping it up and buttoning the high neck. It was simple, sleeveless, silky, and Annie was so, so beautiful in it.
“I don’t really trust this,” she said.
“What?”
“All this working out so well. Happily ever after. I almost wish something bad would happen, so I could stop being scared that it will. I love him so much, and it was so sudden, just this one day, when we were talking online, I looked at his face, and I remember the exact minute. It was like being struck by lightning. I already liked him a lot, even with all his bullshit, and I’ve known him forever, but all of a sudden, Conrad was the centre of the world, and everything else was around him, you know, like he was North on a map. It happened with Howard too, but it wasn’t quite so abrupt; it sort of snuck up on me then.” She paused. “Am I crazy, Veda? I mean, I know he’s your brother, so this must be weird. But am I crazy to be having a baby? To be getting married? Do I know what I’m doing at all?”
I thought of Conrad waiting in the school parking lot to walk me home, the teachers glaring at him. “Annie,” I said. “You’re not crazy.”
Then I helped her take off the dress and carried it downstairs for her, very carefully.
—
When Ted arrived at the house, I went out to meet him. He got out of the car slowly, and I saw immediately that he was exhausted and hungover.
“Do you mind driving?” he said. “I really need to get some sleep on the way there, if I can, and Sunny’s never driven around here before.”
“Of course,” I said, and Ted crawled into the back seat, pulled a blanket over himself and appeared to fall instantly asleep.
Sunny was sitting poker-straight in the passenger seat.
As I got into the driver’s seat, I waved to Annie, who had come out on the front porch, calling, “See you up there.”
Before I had a chance to buckle my seat belt, Sunny thrust something thin and flat toward me. “It’s for you,” she said, without looking at me.
I looked at the thing, which I’d thought for a moment was a greeting card. Then I saw it was a CD—not store-bought but the kind you burn on a computer. Sunny had inserted a blue square of paper into the cover, and in purple cursive letters, it said, For Veda. The lettering was a little bit messy, like something a child had written.
“People still do that, right?” said Sunny. “Make mixtapes?”
“Sunny,” I said. “Thank you. This is really, really nice. And I’m sorry I haven’t seen you much since Annie got home—”
“Anyway. I thought we could listen to it on the way up.”
Embarrassed, I found it hard to look at her. I slipped the CD into the car stereo and recognized the opening notes of “Pale Blue Eyes” by the Velvet Underground.
“Should have gone for ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ instead,” I said, as I pulled onto the street. “I don’t have blue eyes.”
“I do,” said Sunny.
—
We arrived at the cabin before the other carloads, having caught an earlier ferry. Once there, I woke Ted, who had slept the entire way.
“Late night?”
“I had a gig. They needed a last-minute opener at Electric Owl.” Then, before I could comment, he said, “I only had a couple pints, but I hadn’t really eaten dinner, it just hit me hard. And I was already exhausted—you know I just took on two new violin students. It’s just been crazy lately.”
“Okay,” I said. I wanted to tell Ted that he and his drinking weren’t my problem anymore, but there wasn’t a way to say so without sounding petty and jealous. Ted falling all over Sunny seemed to have cured me of my lifelong love in a way that rejection, rehab and other women had never been able to. I got out of the car and started unloading the trunk.
