Surfacing
Part 9
By Lauren
By now, Drew was so accustomed to flying back and forth between brief bouts of consciousness and the constant, nagging presence of her memories, she was afraid that she was losing touch with reality. So when her memory tugged on her sleeve once again and lured her back into the recesses of her mind, she wasn’t sure if she was actually standing in Millennium, talking to Marah and Dahlia, or merely remembering having that conversation.
A quick glance back at the calendar that always hung on the wall behind the bar told her that she was, indeed, having another flashback. Ben always marked off the days before he left in the evenings. So far, big red diagonal lines marked each February day up to the twelfth.
“I can’t believe you’re going to turn him down,” Marah said incredulously, her eyes wide as she sipped her coffee.
Dahlia sighed exasperatedly. “How many times have I told you and Michelle that I’m going to say no, no matter what?”
“Too many,” Marah countered. “Listen to me. He’s cute. He’s available. He’s really nice. You seem to enjoy his company. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “There is nothing wrong with me,” she snapped. “I have told you over and over that I’m going to say no on a matter of principle.”
“A matter of principle? Oh, good Lord,” Marah said. “Just because he happens to be the same color as you?”
“Yes,” Dahlia replied tightly. Drew smirked. Seeing Dahlia uneasy and annoyed was always good entertainment. “I don’t know if he wants to date me because I’m Dahlia or because I’m black.”
“So you’re the only black girl in town at the moment,” Marah agreed. “But why does that mean that you shouldn’t date one of the few black men in Springfield?”
“Because,” Dahlia sighed. “You won’t ever understand. You and Michelle are, like, the whitest white girls in this whole damned town.”
Marah raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not denying it. But I think you’re crazy to think that he wouldn’t want to go out with you because you’re a great person.” She turned back to the bar just as Drew opened her mouth. “Shut up, Drew.”
Drew shrugged haughtily and picked up a washcloth, moving over to the other end of the bar to wipe it down. Ben was standing near the shelves of alcohol, a puzzled look on his face.
“What’s wrong, Reade?” she asked.
“Huh?” he replied, startled. “Oh, ah, um, nothing.”
Drew’s forehead wrinkled, and she put down the rag. “Studying up on your vodka labels?”
“No,” Ben said quickly. “Hey, listen, I’m going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Do that,” Drew agreed. “And hey, remember to wash your hands!” she called after him.
Puzzled, Drew picked up a stray glass and put it in one of the plastic tubs that were sent back to the kitchen full of dirty dishes. “Hey, Marah,” Drew called, walking back toward the register. “Is Ben sick or something?”
“Huh?” Marah asked, blinking her eyes. “Sorry, I was spacing out.”
“I asked, is Ben sick?” Drew repeated, punching a few numbers into the cash register to unlock it.
“Not that I know of,” Marah replied, her face taking on a concerned expression. “Why, does he look like he’s sick?”
“I don’t know,” Drew answered. “He was vegging out in front of the liquor cabinets over there.”
“I’ll talk to him, but I don’t think he’s sick,” Marah stated.
“Maybe he’s just tired?” Dahlia contributed.
“He told me he was going to be home all night last night, so I doubt that’s it,” Marah disagreed. “He called me at Griffin’s office at eight-thirty.”
“For goodness sake, Marah,” Dahlia began, “now you’re in law school and you’re working for Griffin Williams?”
“I need all the experience I can get,” Marah explained. “Plus, this way I’m almost guaranteed a job at Griffin’s firm when I pass the bar.”
“Speaking of the bar,” Jesse said, coming up behind Drew, “I was doing inventory this morning, and we’re missing a couple of bottles of booze.”
Jesse looked awful. Drew had tried to convince him to stay in bed that morning, but he had mumbled something about wanting to work. His skin was discolored and pasty, and he’d lost so much weight that his clothes were extremely loose. The shirt he was wearing that morning hung on his shoulders like a priest’s robe, in folds. His lips were a sickly shade of blue-purple, and his eyes were always glassy.
“Are you okay, Jesse?” Marah asked, her voice full of concern. No one knew about Jesse’s condition, and Drew and Jesse had concocted an alibi to keep questions at bay: Jesse was hard at work on a new exhibit, and that’s why he was hardly ever around. He wouldn’t come down at all if he knew that Michelle and Danny were going to be there.
Jesse smiled weakly. “Yeah, I’ve just had a bad morning.”
Marah squinted at his pallor. “Are you sure? You look like something’s really wrong with you.”
“He’s had a funky cold all week, haven’t you, honey?” Drew cut in, lightly resting a hand on Jesse’s bony shoulders.
“Uh, yeah, I have,” he agreed. “Listen, Drew, my art exhibit calls. I’ll be upstairs working if you need me.”
“Okay,” Drew said softly, pressing a careful kiss on his cheek. Her heart broke for the umpteenth time that year, let alone that day, as she watched him slowly and carefully ascend the stairs to the loft. In her mind’s eye she could see him open the door and crawl into their unmade bed, too tired to even take off his shoes.
“Drew?” Dahlia snapped, waving a hand in front of her face.
“What the hell is it, Dahlia?” Drew fired back.
Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I was just going to ask you if you were okay, but if you’re going to be all snooty about it, then just…I don’t know, go to hell or something.”
Drew’s pride stung. “Dahlia, if you’re going to play Little Miss Head-Stuck-Up-Her-Ass this morning, then I suggest you do it somewhere other than my restaurant.”
Marah’s eyes were wide as she watched the exchange. “Fine,” Dahlia said nonchalantly. “Then I shall take my business somewhere else.”
“Please do,” Drew called out snidely as Dahlia left Millennium.
Marah exhaled a long breath with puffed cheeks. “Are you okay, Drew?” she asked.
“Exactly why the hell would you care?” Drew snapped.
“Well, it’s the damnedest thing, but someone told me that it’s considered polite to inquire on other people’s feelings,” she began, and Drew felt bile rising in her throat. Before she could prepare to throw another customer out, however, Marah continued. “You look preoccupied and exhausted, Drew, and Jesse looks like he’s dying. What gives?”
Drew was powerless to stop the fat tear that rolled down her cheek. “Nothing’s wrong, we’ve just had a bad week,” she lied, wiping at her eyes. She cleared her throat, trying to return her voice to its normal quality.
“Are you sure there’s not something you want to tell me about?” Marah pressed.
Drew walked over to the liquor shelves, mentally running down the number of bottles that should rest on the racks. “No, Marah, it’s really none of your business,” she said firmly.
“Okay, then,” Marah finished.
Drew glanced at Marah, her face amused. “What, so you’re not going to take it any further than that?”
Marah shrugged, and Drew ran a finger over the bottle labels, her fingernail clicking across the glass surfaces. “No, I figure if it’s not any of my business, I don’t really have a right to ask about it.”
“Hm. Could you possibly give a few people in this town some lessons?” Drew asked. Jesse was right, she realized. There are a few bottles of liquor missing. Bourbon.
Marah laughed. “Sure, and for good measure, I’ll sign up my entire family first.”
“Oh, family trouble, is that it?” Drew responded, standing on her tiptoes to open the cupboards at the top of the cabinets. Sometimes the bartenders stored extra liquor up there when the shelves were too full. But the cabinets too were empty.
“You could say that,” Marah agreed. “My mom’s a constant basketcase about every little thing, and my father’s so totally immersed in the whole Spaulding-Lewis Oil conflict that he barely says a word to anyone.”
“Didn’t you say that you were living with your aunt?” Drew questioned, turning and squatting behind the bar to check the cabinets beneath the counters.
“With Aunt Trish and Andy, presently,” Marah replied.
Drew lifted her chin, arching an eyebrow. “Living with your significant other’s best friend? I suppose that’s going over real well with my bartender.”
“It’s not like that,” Marah replied quickly. “Andy couldn’t find an apartment, so Trish offered him one of the extra rooms.”
“Oh,” Drew said, her voice unconvinced. The bourbon wasn’t under the counter, either. Damn, she thought, where in the world could that booze have gone?
“Are you looking for something?” Marah asked.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal, though,” Drew explained. Millennium wasn’t immune to vandalism. Alcohol had been stolen right out from under Carlos’s nose more than a few times.
“Well, that’s good,” Marah said.
“What’s good?” Andy asked, coming up behind Marah.
“Nothing,” Drew said. As usual, when Andy Reardon walked into a room, Drew’s breath caught in her throat. Andy was amazingly handsome, with his scruffy newspaperman look. He always seemed to have a five o’clock shadow, and his dark hair was always mussed. Drew found his whole aura incredibly sexy. How in the world does Marah handle living in the same house with this guy and then dating Ben the bartender? Drew wondered.
“Where have you been?” Marah asked. “Didn’t you say you’d meet me here to discuss that…case at ten?”
“Yeah, I was just getting away when the phone rang,” Andy explained, sitting down on one of the tall barstools. “It was my dad.”
Marah cringed. “Oh, no, a phone call from Doctor Jim can’t be a good thing.”
Andy shrugged, resting his arms on the countertop. “He wants me to come back to Aspen next week for a few days.”
“Why?” Marah asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
“I don’t really know,” Andy replied. “Ever since he and Mom split up, he’s been bugging me to move back there.”
“What I don’t get,” Marah began, “is why he doesn’t just come back to Springfield. He’s got family here, you and Michelle and Matt.”
Andy shook his head. “If you had ever spent any time with my dad, you’d know. That think tank is his entire life. I think he feels guilty that he never sees me.”
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you just get into arguments when you do see one another,” Marah pointed out.
“That’s true,” Andy agreed. “But for God’s sake, I’m twenty-five years old. Wouldn’t you think he’d be over his super dad phase by now?”
Marah shrugged. “Mine finally got over it last year.”
“Ah, the almighty Joshua,” Andy laughed. “I think I scared him the other night when I showed up at their house looking for you.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Marah giggled. “And then you’ve got the fact that Mama and Aunt Trish are playing fire-breathing dragons. I think daddy’s under just a little stress.”
At least you know who your fathers are, Drew thought morosely, pulling out a box of shipment receipts from their alcohol supplier.
“So let me get this straight,” Andy said with a lopsided grin. “Trish hates your mom because she married your dad.”
“No, Aunt Trish hates Mama because Mama married Daddy, Uncle Billy, and Grandpa H.B.,” Marah corrected.
Andy shook his head. “I will never complain about my family again.” He grabbed Marah’s coffee cup and took a long swig.
Marah snorted. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“I give it until Nola shows up unexpectedly again,” Ben grinned, appearing behind the bar.
Andy choked on the coffee and pushed the cup back toward Marah. “If that ever happens, I’m disowning ever single one of them. That was one of the worst evenings of my entire life.”
“I don’t know,” Ben disagreed. “What about that one night in Boston…at the Red Sox game…”
Andy’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re going to badmouth my Red Sox, there will be hell to pay, Reade.”
“No, no, I know better than that…no, I mean the night with the sorority girls…and the crowd cam…”
“Oh…oh, my God, I had almost completely forgotten about that!” Andy laughed.
Marah shook her head, smiling at Drew. “See what I have to put up with?” Drew looked up from her receipt box and laughed.
“Hey, listen, Mar, I brought that file you wanted, but it’s out in my car,” Andy said.
“Come on, I had a question to ask you, so why don’t I go out with you to get it?” Marah proposed.
“Sure,” Andy agreed, and helped Marah down off the stool, then held the door for her as they walked outside.
Drew grabbed Ben’s arm as he walked by her. “Hey, listen, have you noticed any stray liquor bottles around the bar?” she asked.
Ben looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m missing two bottles of bourbon,” Drew stated bluntly.
Ben paled. “I haven’t noticed any missing bottles.”
“Well, Jesse, did inventory this morning, and he noticed them missing. So you don’t know anything about it?”
“No, sorry,” Ben replied quickly. “Do you want me to check in the back one more time?”
Drew nodded. “That would be great,” she agreed.
Ben disappeared once again into the stockroom, and Drew continued to pilfer through her messy shoe-box filing system.
“Earth to Drew,” Michelle’s voice called out.
Drew looked up to see Michelle standing in front of the bar, looking tired and miserable. “Hey, Bauer, aren’t you supposed to be at home asleep?”
“I went for a check-up yesterday, and the doctor thinks I can get out a little now,” Michelle explained, her face flushed.
“They still don’t know what happened?” Drew questioned.
Michelle shook her head, her unruly curls jumping. “It might just have been some freak thing.”
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Drew asked, setting down her boxes and resting her arms on the counter.
Michelle laughed. “I might, if I thought I could hoist myself onto one of these stools. You don’t get too many pregnant women in here, do you?”
“You…and that’s pretty much it lately,” Drew agreed. Michelle looked like she was about to fall over. Her face and hands were getting puffy, and her stomach was huge. Dark circles ringed her eyes.
“So listen, I came here to tell you two things,” Michelle said.
Drew arched an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“Okay, the first thing is that there’s supposed to be some big Valentines’ Day party at the Country Club. They’re opening the new indoor pool. And, since I’m currently bigger than a whale and incredibly uncomfortable, I decided to ask you and Jesse to come with Danny and me, so I won’t feel completely out of place.”
Jesse in front of all those people at the Country Club? Drew pondered. This doesn’t sound good.
But the words, “Okay, that sounds fine,” were out of her mouth before she could think twice.
“Good. And the second thing is…I think I may have found a lead on your father.”
And with that statement, Drew’s memory ground to a halt, like the end of a videotape, and she plunged headfirst back into her personal night.