Cookies and Cream
Cookies and Cream
by Maggie Standish
Walking away from the grave leaves a pit in my stomach. My life has changed so much in the last three weeks.
One Week later
I look down at the piece of paper, wondering if a blood red colour will warn sailors of their impending doom. I throw down my pencil crayon and decide that I have coloured in enough of the set for one night, as I only have one picture left to sketch and colour. Footsteps approach and I hear,
“Jen? Are you still awake?” Blah, dealing with my father is not something I have time for tonight. Lying, though, won’t work since he will hear me in the bathroom later.
“Yeah?” I call out to him.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about you and Dave. If you want to talk I’ll be around…”
“Thanks Dad, but I just want to go to bed tonight”. He sighs and walks away. I crawl into my bed, and wind myself around a body pillow. The dikes don’t work as the dry land of my face is being overtaken and flooded with tears. How can I explain that it isn’t ending my engagement as much as the reason? If asked later in life I could say the issue began three weeks ago, with a sudden shockwave of knowledge, but my ex-fiancé and I both knew deep down the issue is a fact and it had been around for years.
Three weeks ago (from the grave visit)
I am normal enough. I moved back home to save some money for grad school and so my dad would feel less lonely a couple months ago. I am an art student who also designs sets for plays and musicals put on by local schools. My fiancé, David, and I are out with some of my friends to dance and drink. As usual, one girl monopolizes the dialogue. But nobody cares because she excels at the art of conversation, while I am mediocre at the art of …well art. I suppose I am a bit better than mediocre, but compared to her skills at talking, I figure mediocre is being kind. Nobody in my group of friends ever attempts to interrupt Kate once she gets on a roll. Kate keeps talking and dancing with Meg and me. That girl could give J Lo a run for her money with her dancing skills, though Kate looks less trashy when she dances. Meg has been my best friend for the last four years, when we met senior year of high school and discovered we were both going to the same college. Kate only started hanging out with us the last year. But we love her anyway, even if she has this karma that draws more guys to her (and girls sometimes) than bees taken in by honey. But guys are obviously on the bottom of my list, especially with the ring on my left hand. I know Meg can hold her own with guys anyway so thankfully that never causes tensions.
After a couple drinks, some bad hip hop tunes, and dancing with my friends, Dave gives me his “Please can we go home and have sex so I can go to sleep” look. I figure dragging him out to a bar he never really enjoys even drunk earns him the right to give me that attitude.
The next day I hear a knock on my door. I panic for a second knowing how my father feels about Dave staying in my room even with an upcoming wedding. I remember, though, that Dave decided to drive home since he had an early shift.
“Come in” I say.
“Sweetheart, could you run to the store and pick up some groceries? We’re almost out of milk and I’m running late for my plane.”
“Yup, I can get to that today.” I mentally make a note not to forget because milk is the staple diet in this house. It bothers Dave that I can go a whole day and live off of three glasses of milk and an apple at some point if I get too preoccupied with my drawing. My Dad kisses me good bye and runs out of the house. I sit in bed for another minute, and decide to get to the store before I start on today’s work, or I won’t finish. Not to mention, the wedding that is two months away means I still have to find a dress. Procrastination is a talent I possess, but the dress became an issue I never expected. My plan has been, since my mother died, to wear her wedding dress. However, after discovering last week that moths had made a snack out of the dress and ruined it, I am running out of time. Well, I figure, today is as good a day as any. My sets aren’t due for a month and I have about a third of them sketched out and ready to be finalized and coloured.
I get into my ’06 Honda Civic and make a mental note that my little red baby needs an oil change. After leaving the house, I drive to Starbucks. My guilty pleasure is generally consumed only if I know that the next thirteen straight hours will be me working like crazy. However, I realize that dress shopping…I shudder. I order my tall caramel Frappuccino, and decide my dress errands might take too long to leave milk in the car. I drive to the first dress store I find in the phone book that is sort of close, though I shudder slightly at the name, Blushing Bride.
I take a deep breath and push open the store’s door. To my surprise I hear a familiar voice saying,
“Jen, tell me you did not put off dress shopping this long out of procrastination!” Since when does Kate work at a bridal shop?
“Um, not on purpose, but my mother’s dress decided to be a perfect midnight snack for the entire population of moths in Wisconsin. And I did procrastinate taking it out of the attic. Kate, when did you start working at a bridal shop?”
“Last month. I needed a job where I could actually interact with people. So far it’s okay, but seriously we need to find the blushing bride a dress.” She winks and then sashays over to an array of dresses that make me mentally gag. I wanted to wear my Mom’s dress because it was ivory, with a lace overlay, small cap sleeves, and overall very simple. It was quite different, in fact, from the dazzling white dresses that all look very similar. I tell Kate what my Mom’s dress looked like, and she nods in understanding. I can’t help but to notice how cute she looks dressed in something besides a pair of jeans and some graphic t-shirt. I wonder if the dress code is black pants and a white blouse or if that is just what Kate decides is simple enough. Kate grabs a couple dresses and hands them to me. The one is pure white with little shots of silver thread, cap sleeves, and boning. The other two are sleeveless, which I’ve failed to mention is a no-no for me. Out of the many things I will be worrying about on my wedding day, I don’t want falling out of my dress to be one of them.
I slip into the pure white one, and realize I don’t feel the boning. I hope I can be done with this soon. There is something constricting to me about being in any dress, especially a wedding dress. I check the price tag. I know I can’t pay too much for a dress, and sigh that it reads $1249.99. I can deal with that, especially since my dad said he’d pay up to $800 after the discovery of the damned moths.
I walk out of the dressing room and to the three way mirror. I throw my hair up into a quick bun, so at least I’ll have a better feel for how the dress looks with my hair not hanging in my face.
“Jen, you look amazing in that dress. I think you’re only the second person who has found a dress that fast!” She comes over and starts doing minor adjustments, and I can’t quite understand the butterflies in my stomach from her being that close to me. I haven’t gotten butterflies from Dave since…actually I don’t think I’ve ever gotten them from my fiancé. I am brought back from my thoughts when I realize Kate is waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry Kate. What did you ask?”
“Are you going to want me to make any adjustments at the top? I’m obviously going to have to shorten it a little, and take in the waist. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted it any tighter around the bust.” I look and decide a little tighter might not constrict my breathing.
“Yup take in the bust just a bit as well.” Kate begins to measure me and I feel a slight tingle when she brushes my arm.
We arrange for me to come back in three weeks for a fitting. Kate also mentions that she and Meg are hitting up a new Mexican restaurant and want me to go along. I feel just the tiniest bit jealous that Kate and Meg made the plans without me, but I know Meg would not call until she was sure I was no longer sleeping.
After I leave and start towards the store I remember that Dave and I are supposed to feast with his sister and her husband tonight. I say feast because they make enough food for a military unit and a basketball team. Dave’s sister, Becca, scares me sometimes. She reminds me of Martha Stewart, though more enthusiastic about shopping. I know Dave would not like me bailing, but I just do not want to deal with his sister. So I leave a voice mail.
“Babe, the girls invited me to dinner. I’m gonna skip out on tonight’s family get together. I’ll call you after I finish some drawings. Love ya, bye.” Hopefully that suffices as a message.
That evening:
“Ring” I feel a slight panic at an unknown sound. Oh right the phone. Shit! I forgot to call Dave.
“Hello?”
“Jen? Where are you? We were meeting twenty minutes ago!” Oh crap, Meg is right. I tell her I’m on my way, grab my cell, and run out the door. I speed dial Dave after I finish backing out of the driveway.
“Hello?”
“Dave. It’s me. I lost track of time.”
“Hey. I figured. I can’t really talk because I just sat down to eat. But call me tonight. Becca and Steve send their love. Bye.” Well at least he does not sound upset. I pull into the parking lot, grab my purse, and run into the restaurant.
“Gee thanks for joining us.” Meg sounds a bit pissed, which doesn’t surprise me. The girl hates being kept waiting, especially when food is involved. I sit down and order a virgin margarita. There is something about tequila that I cannot stomach at any point in time.
“What can I get you three?”
“I’ll have the fajitas.” Meg can be so boring at times. Kate and I decide to order a few random items and share. She and I agree on the motto of: the spicier the better. Meg prefers steak and potatoes, but will go to Mexican restaurants for Strawberry Margaritas. After the food the girls decide that a movie night at my house will be a grand idea. Otherwise they won’t be able to convince me to hang out, since I want to work more on my sketches. I need to get these done to add to my portfolio before I start my Masters in Fine Arts. I desire to be an Art Professor at some point.
When we get to my house, Kate and Meg start making pop corn while I go upstairs to grab my sketch book. They decide on Rent, while I look around for my dad. Oh right, I forgot, he is traveling overnight tonight.
As we watch the movie, I feel the lightest touch on my forearm. Kate is in-between Meg and me on the love seat and we’re a little squished. I feel a back flip in my stomach. Not wanting to focus on what I feel right now I instead look at Meg and start laughing. She is, of course, mouthing along with all the songs. Her love of Rent is really what got me to go see the movie in the first place. My leg starts falling asleep and in an attempt to adjust, it rubs against Kate’s. I can’t take the electric feeling in my body anymore and jump up asking if anyone wanted a drink.
I run upstairs and down some water in an attempt to relax. Being a fairly rational person I realize I can’t stay in the kitchen all night and so I return to the living room, but move to the arm chair using the excuse I need room to draw. This isn’t a lie, technically. Glancing at the screen I see we’ve only gotten to Mimi’s Cat Scratch scene. What is wrong with me? I’m behaving like a junior high girl who is about to play Spin the Bottle with a boy she likes and receive her first kiss.
During my teen years guys were never a huge problem. I mean I liked them, but unlike my friends I couldn’t spend hours focusing on them. My relationships with them were generally relaxed and not out of control hormonal. By the time Dave and I started dating most guys in my life saw me as one of the boys. I never minded that title. Even senior year it seemed to bother Meg more that boys treated me like they treated each other and not as a girl whom they hung out with but would never quite be them.
That’s how Meg and I met. She started dating one of my guy friends the beginning of Senior Year. Though that relationship only lasted a month or two we remained close.
The movie concludes and I just want to go to bed and forget about this day. I casually kick Meg and Kate out of the house, citing that I need to get up early since most of the drawing I wanted to finish did not get completed. As I lie in bed and contemplate what the hell is happening with my brain I drift off to dreamland. My thoughts and dreams, though vivid, cannot be recalled when I wake up in the morning, although I am left with a nagging feeling.
I begin the day with a glass of milk and a handful of strawberries. My drawings start calling my name and I know I have to answer. As I sit and sketch I still can’t shake my nagging feeling, but feel relief with my cell phone ring.
“Hello?”
“Jen? It’s Kate. I think I gave you both copies of the dress adjustments, because I can’t find them. Could you look, please?” Kate sounds slightly panicked and I think back to where I would have put them…why did my stomach churn at the thought of a dress? I do like the dress…
“Jen?” Oh crap I forgot to respond.
“Sorry Kate. I’m trying to think back to where I put…oh right kitchen counter. Hold on and I’ll look.” I walk downstairs and examine the corner of the counter, finding only my copy of the adjustments.
“Kate? I could only find one copy. Do you want me to read it off to you?”
“I wish, but I need to measure you again. It’s the protocol, unfortunately.” I cringe at the thought of spending more time trying on this stupid dress, and realize I’ll need a hit of caffeine because this day will be long with the interruption to my drawing. My guilty pleasure rarely occurs two days in a row.
“I guess I’ll come in now.” I know I sound bitchy, but this is something I’d like to avoid. As I’m driving my cell phone rings.
“Jen? Did you forget we have an appointment with our planner for the cake?” Dave sounds slightly confused. The car almost careens into the curb with the thought of yet another wedding detail. I know weddings cause stress, but do they generally produce loathing and a desire to avoid one’s fiancé?
“Sorry Dave. Kate called and…”
“Oh Kate again. Isn’t the wedding important to you? Aren’t I important to you?” Dave’s voice could only be described as a cross between desperation and whine.
“If you hadn’t interrupted me you would know that she has to measure my dress alterations again.” I know I sound impatient, but seriously.
“Oh yeah I guess I would forget as well. I’ll reschedule for tomorrow if it’s possible. Bye.” Dave hangs up the phone. I pull into a parking spot, turn off the car, and walk into the store. As I enter the building the nagging feeling returns in full force. I greet Kate and she ushers me into the changing room. She hands me the dress and comes in the room a moment later to help me change. As she does I can’t help it, but I start crying, hard. I don’t want to wear the damn dress. Hyperventilating on my part begins. Kate is panicking.
“Jen, what’s wrong?!” As soon as she asks I realize what the nagging feeling means.
“I can’t do this.”
“That’s okay. Really, Jen, we can do this tomorrow when you are not so stressed about your art.”
“No Kate. I ca-can’t do this. Th-this marriage with Dave is wrong. Dave is wrong for me. I don’t want to marry him!”
“OK that’s fine. Nobody is forcing you to get married, hun.” Kate’s voice sounds soothing and the tears slow a little. I start breathing again and my heart slows a little.
“Is there someone else? I mean I thought you two were happy, though I felt he held you back a bit…” How in God’s name do I answer the question? Yes I think there is someone else. But that someone is probably Kate…
“Dave is happy. I think though…I’ve had doubts for a while. My procrastination might have been a sign. Then again it could have just been me procrastinating. But I think Dave is great, however…I think…Kate I think I may like girls…as in I think I’ve fallen for you…” I allow my voice to trail off at the end of my confession.
“You like…wait what?” Kate sounds confused, something that is quite understandable at this moment. I take a deep breath and repeat myself, more clearly though quieter than last time,
“I like you, Kate. Every sign Meg has told me about when she’s around a boy she likes is how I feel when I’m around you. My heart skips a beat, my stomach has butterflies, but more importantly I just want to be around you.” I tell myself to relax. What’s the worst that can happen, right? I’ll survive if she rejects me…I think. The time that passes between us feels about the length of three Law & Order reruns, but is probably about how long Stephen Colbert takes to do his Word of the Day.
“Jen, I don’t know what to…I never even consid…it isn’t that I’m not flattered, believe me. But…” I cut her off by leaning in with a brief butterfly kiss on her lips.
“Kate, I don’t want to lose your friendship, but it would have eaten away at me.” I’m trying to be as matter-of-fact about this as possible so Kate doesn’t realize how much this means to me.
“Jen I need to think…please go home and talk to Dave. He deserves to know how you feel and honestly I need space from you until I figure out how I …” I walk out the door and don’t look back, though I feel needle pricks of tears beginning in my eyes. As I pull out of the parking lot I dial Dave’s number. We agree to meet for lunch the next day, and I think he may still be a bit sore with me, though he says it’s only because he’s busy for the next 24 hours. He informs me we now have a cake appointment the next evening. Going home and drawing is my new plan, though something tells me a nap might happen given how drained I feel after this morning.
My drawing is forced this afternoon. Though my lines are straight, they do not possess the slightly rounded corners I prefer, nor really any personality at all. They look as though I traced them perfectly from a book. I decide though, that unless absolutely necessary, the lines will remain sharp. My father, drives into the garage and spokes his head into my room long enough to enquire if pizza will work for dinner. I nod, shut my door, and stare at my work. The rest of the day is a blur as I continue drawing, though I guess some of the drawings will need to redone at a later date.
The time arrives for me to leave if I’m to meet Dave on time. Trying to plan out what I’ll say to him has not yet worked, so I know I’ll be winging this speech. I’ve never done well with controversy. The car drives down the driveway, and though I am in the driver’s seat, I feel detached from my body. Concentrating on the road, though, takes my mind off of how stressful I feel at this moment in time.
I pull into the parking lot and for just a few seconds reconsider this whole decision. I can walk into the restaurant and fake that this is what I want. But I know as the thought plays in my brain that I’ll be hurting myself with this decision. So I take a deep breath and force myself out of the car.
As I enter the restaurant I see Dave holding a bouquet of violets, my absolute favorite flower. I swallow the tears beginning, knowing I have to tell him and leave. I don’t know what will be worse, him seeing me crying and thinking my heart is breaking, or not crying and no heart breaking on my end.
“Hey baby. I’m sorry I’ve been a brat recently. I wanted to make it up to you, but with the wedding coming up I couldn’t afford much out of these flowers. I know you love them.” I can’t respond, partly because this is his typical fall back plan when he thinks I might actually be angry at him. But at the same time it generally works so I can’t fully blame him for continuing with this “tradition”. I just look at him, and know that in an instant he will hate me for a while. But I’m finally okay with this.
“Dave, we need to talk. You know I love you, right? I can’t marry you. I’m sorry. I think I’ve known for sometime we weren’t fully compatible, but I could never quite grasp what was missing. But whatever it is I found it in Kate. It might be that’s she’s female, or it could be something far more substantial than that. But the point is I can’t marry you knowing that something, like the heart, is missing from our relationship. I hope you find a girl to make you happy.” I kiss Dave on the cheek and turn around, hoping I can leave before he says anything.
“Wait. You’re ending a four year relationship for something that you can’t even define? What the FUCK is wrong with you? We’re supposed to be getting married in two months. Up until just now I thought we had a solid relationship. You know what? Screw you. If you want to talk maybe I’ll answer, maybe not. I’m out of here.” I inwardly sigh that this is the worst of it. My now ex-fiancé is not well known for staying calm in situations. I give him a minute to get to his car and then walk to mine and breathe a sigh of relief that I at least accomplished that. I yank off my engagement ring and feel a weight I did not know existed lifted off my shoulders. I just feel so much better.
I drive home and figure I should make a quick snack before I go back to drawing. I crave a grilled cheese and my pencils to keep my mind off of my personal life right now. The phone rings as I slide my sandwich onto a plate.
“Herro?” I probably should have swallowed first.
“Um…sorry, Hello?” I succeed this time.
“Jen? What’s wrong? Dave just called in a panic. You broke off the engagement??” I can hear millions of questions in my best friend’s voice just with those few sentences. Great. I wonder just what my darling ex has told her in the last…thirty minutes? Seriously? He called MY best friend within thirty minutes of our break up? Meg and I agree to meet in an hour at the funky coffee place right by her apartment.
I take a deep breath as I approach the door. I am torn between wanting to punch Dave and feeling relief that I can talk to Meg. No matter what happens, she will still love me after this conversation, right? As I sit down at our little table, Meg slides a lime Italian soda towards me, and waits for me to take a sip. Before she can question me, though, I just blurt it all out to her: how I broke down while being fitted for the dress, how I realize I love Kate, and how I couldn’t keep pretending with Dave any longer. Meg does not interrupt, even when I take a quick sip of my drink. At the end she just hugs me while I breathe and even produce a few tears. Sucking down my drink and wiping my eyes helps me feel a bit better, so I say
“I wish Dave hadn’t called you.”
“He was concerned, Jen. What you told him, he never saw it coming. He’s not dumb and knows that whatever happened I’d be on your side.”
“I get that he was concerned, but it wasn’t his place. Anyway that isn’t the problem. I told Kate. I don’t want to push her, but she seemed…” I trail off, unsure of the emotion I wish to convey.
“Jen, if Dave wasn’t expecting this you can hardly be shocked that a good friend of ours, a girl at that, is surprised and unsure how to react.” My best friend is speaking sense, but that doesn’t necessarily make me feel better. Meg and I stay at the coffee shop a little while longer, until she gently reminds me that my drawings will not be finished simply with hopeful thinking. Sadly, she’s correct. I’m behind now, having not accomplished much more than my third in the last week. That deadline is quickly approaching and I need to get my drawings done both quickly and with more quality. We hug bye and I drive back home.
When I walk into the house I realize my dad isn’t home. I go into my room, turn on my emo playlist and without hesitation begin drawing. Three hours later there is a soft knock on my bedroom door, and my Dad says something about dinner. Glancing down I realize I’ve done some of my best drawing in a while. A little breath of relief escapes me, knowing that my work is a good distraction. With some colouring tonight I am almost where I would be on a normal schedule.
Yummy, I smell my Dad’s bourbon barbeque sauce, which means he’s made ribs, garlic mashed potatoes, and Caesar salad for dinner. As I walk into the kitchen, I feel sick at the sight of Dave and my Dad sitting at the table joking like always.
“What are you doing here?” I doubt even the most oblivious could miss the chill in my voice. I conclude that I will skip this tasty and satisfying meal if it means avoiding Dave.
“Your Dad invited me last week as a makeup birthday dinner.” Dave sounds as though nothing has changed between us. So now I decide, do I play it straight and tell my Dad, which will happen anyway, or just suffer through this meal? My decision is made for me as my Dad walks outside to check on the ribs.
“I’m giving you a chance to reconsider your decision about the break up,” Dave sounds quite matter of fact.
“David, in an afternoon, nothing has changed. Nothing,” I have to stand my ground.
“Alright, well then your father needs to know the reason is because you’re gay.” With those words I feel sick. How will my father react to the news that I am in love with a girl? And am I gay? I love a specific girl, but it hadn’t been something I’d really thought about.
And with those thoughts comes anger; rushing, pounding in my ears, anger. I love Kate, but why does the breakup with Dave have to be about a label? Why can’t it just be I’m not happy and I don’t want to settle with him?
“Dave, fuck you. Say what you want. It all adds up to the same thing: I don’t want to be with YOU. I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’ve been IN love with you for some time. Yes, I realize the person who helped me recognize this is a girl, but I know it could have been either gender with the right personality. You can label me, but I won’t stand for it.” As I take a breath I think that this might be the first time I’ve said exactly what’s on my mind to Dave. A very refreshing feeling I must say. Dave’s jaw drops just a little and I see pain in his eyes for a sliver of a second. I can tell that I have him and he acknowledges this when he mumbles,
“I am just angry. I wouldn’t say anything. Do you want me to leave?” I shake my head because I don’t want distractions from work afterwards, and I know my father will want to talk if Dave leaves. To kill time, I walk to the fridge and take out the ingredients for Tom Collins and whatever dark beer my father has bought for Dave to drink. Harp is tonight’s beer choice and I pour that. Mixing up two Tom Collins for my father and me, I set those on the table and finish setting places for the three of us. At the last minute I decide to add carrots to the Caesar for additional crunch and vegetables. In walks my father with his mouth watering ribs and directs Dave to serve up the salad while I set the potatoes on the table next to the ribs.
When my father notices that most of the conversation is between himself and Dave, it is Dave who mentions my drawings and the wedding are causing stress. These are all true, but I didn’t expect Dave to help me out tonight. As soon as we’re finished eating I excuse myself and book it upstairs. I hope that I can distract myself as well, again.
Surprisingly, the emo play list and my pencil crayons pass another two hours and I’m ahead of schedule with my drawings. I decide to meander downstairs for some form of dessert. There appears to be no voices, so I figure I’m safe. As I walk downstairs, I remember there is frozen cookie dough to bake. However, that will take a while so hot cocoa will have to suffice until the cookies bake. Heating milk on the stove, I hear the house phone ring. I lunge for it.
“Hello?”
“You didn’t answer your cell. Where are you?!” Meg sounds downright panicky.
“Meg, you called me on my house phone. Where else would I be, but in my house?” I can’t help the slight annoyance in my voice. I pull the phone cord so I can continue stirring the milk. The milk is now boiling so I add the sugar and cocoa powder while I wait for a response.
“Meg, come on I was kidding. What’s wrong?”
“Jen…accident…Kate…made” Meg’s voice cuts out from static.
“Where are you?” I try not to panic.
“…block south…Blushing…,” the phone dies and I take a sip of my drink. I swallow and the realization of what was just said hits me. Grabbing my keys I literally lunge into my car and speed off down the road. I tell myself to breathe and keep thinking it.
I find myself at Blushing Bride and my first thought is that I can’t remember my travel route. There are ambulances at the corner and I find myself running to the scene. Meg sits with her arms around her legs crying. In that instant I know that our lives have changed.
I say nothing as I go next to her and as much as I want to cry I take her in my arms and ask, “Sweetie, what happened?” She grabs my arms so I’m hugging her tighter.
“I thought I would stop and cancel the dress for you. She was walking over for her shift and that ass didn’t even slow down for the stop sign. She didn’t have a chance, Jen. She didn’t have a fucking chance.” Meg starts crying and I start stroking her hair. After two minutes I get up and start pacing when Meg grabs my hand.
“Jen, she loved you once…but you were with Dave and when he proposed I think she saw…a lost cause. When you broke down and told her…” Meg cannot finish and I think perhaps it best. I begin to cry with a missed opportunity and know this secret will be buried with our friend.
Submit your own. Details here:
Short Story Saturday
Also Check Out:
Merit Badge
Second Guessing
One Project a Day
