“So you made the mark yourself.”
“Yes. I didn’t realize at the time that these marks weren’t the ones to worry about. It’s the one in here.” She drew an “x” over her heart. “I sabotage my own happiness a lot. It’s obvious from looking at me. It’s why my talks work. I swear half the people leave thinking, ‘Hell, I’m not half as fucked up as her.’ Whatever works.”
“So you don’t date?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’ll screw anything with a functioning dick. But they are out the door before the clock strikes one.”
“I haven’t dated either, not since Gavin left me.” I paused. “Except, he’s here. In San Diego. We ran into each other.”
“Did you know he was here?”
“No. He walked out of the funeral and I never saw him again.”
“Holy shit. I thought ditching me in the hospital was bad.”
“That’s pretty bad.”
She laughed. “We sure can pick them, can’t we? So have you talked to him?”
“He’s hell-bent on us getting back together.”
Tina frowned. “You going to do it?”
“I was. I have been. But then, God. He’s different. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Did he blame you? Back then, I mean. Is that why he left?”
“He didn’t know I smoked pot.”
Her eyes grew wide, taking up so much of her doll-like face that she looked like one of those caricatures that artists draw of people at theme parks. “Does he now?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell him now.”
“But how can you be with him if you don’t? It’s screwing you up, plain as day. Can you carry that secret to your grave? Should you?”
The exit was coming up and I started fighting my way over. Anger started to build. Who did she think she was, lecturing me about this? “We’re nearly there,” I said. “You should make the flight if security isn’t long.”
Tina reached over to touch my arm. “I’m sorry, Corabelle. I don’t mean to upset you. I’ve been in all the bad places. I remember when the blood started coming out of my arms, thinking, ‘Yes, this is the right thing. I can be with my baby and no one can take him away again.’ I’m not sure we ever fully recover from thinking that way. It’s like we always have a last resort that’s way way beyond what other people consider.”
We pulled up to a red light. The signs for the airport loomed ahead. “Gavin drew a line in the sand and said we should just step over it, and let the past be the past.”
“I think that’s a good philosophy, if you can do it. I have the bad habit of dredging up the muck, over and over again, ad infinitum.” She tugged on her stockings where they were curling at her knees. “I should stop wearing these now that I’m a proper grown-up.”
“They’re cute on you.”
“I wore them when I was pregnant. They’re like a basketball player’s lucky socks. Sometimes I think a bit of Peanut is in them, since I sweated like a pig when he was cooking.”
The light turned green. “We’re here. I’ll just pull up wherever I can find curb space. It’s pretty crazy here.”
“That’s good. Thank you, Corabelle. I know you were probably coerced into doing this for your own good. I hope I didn’t piss you off forever.”
I shook my head. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have to own up to the past after all.”
“Each of us has to find our own way. I’m hoping to figure it out before I kick the bucket for real.”
I had to focus for a while, dodging taxis and cars pulling out. A red truck left a gap near one of the terminals and I whipped into it.
We ducked out of the car and into the mayhem of honking cars and a stern security man blowing his whistle and smacking his hands on car hoods, making them move along. “No waiting!” he shouted. “Circle back around.”
I popped the trunk so Tina could grab her bags. “Thanks again. Good luck,” she said and passed me a business card. “Feel free to look me up if you need something. Not like I’m doing anything anyway.”
The security guy started eyeing us, so she entered the fray heading into the terminal. I jumped back into my car and fought my way out of the curb lane.
Only after I’d gotten away from the melee and into the calm of the cars leaving the airport at a leisurely pace did I realize what had just happened. Tina had undone all of Gavin’s work to make me let go of the past. If I wanted to keep him, I had to tell him what I had done.
Chapter 41: Gavin
A lone couple walked along the ocean’s edge, kicking into the spray, sending water droplets flying. I banged my shoes together, knocking out the sand, wondering where Corabelle and Jenny might be. Jenny had texted me over an hour ago, simply saying, “Meet us at the end of the path between campus and the shore.”
Pretty much everyone who went to UCSD knew how to access the path that cut through a swanky neighborhood and led out to the sea. Usually it was pretty busy here, being the easiest access for students living in the dorms, but the day had dawned chilly, and the winds had been howling all day. Not beach weather by any stretch.
A few seagulls circled, then flapped away as a cluster of loud teen boys jostled each other on the path through the brush, then turned to walk along the beach.
“Tell me again how she called out your name, ‘Arnold, Arnold!’” A guy in a Chargers jersey shoved his friend, presumably Arnold, so hard that he stumbled into the foam.
“Damn it, now I’m wet. Asshole.” Arnold leaped back onto the packed sand. “I’m totally going to interrupt your next hookup.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time for your revenge, my friend, a long time,” said a third guy. Then their conversation was lost to distance and the crash of the waves.
Bud hadn’t said a word when I took off early to meet Jenny and Corabelle. He seemed to know that if he protested, I would quit. I figured Corabelle had found out that she wasn’t pregnant and was either going to blow me off or give me a friend speech. Those seemed like the only two possibilities if Jenny was coming along.
I stared at the waves and the blue-gray of the Pacific. The sand crunched behind me, and Jenny plunked down next to me, kicking her green-spandexed legs out in front of her. She looked like Kermit the frog, a fat green coat creating a bulbous torso over the spindly tights. Her hair was tied in a single pink ponytail.
“So here’s the rules,” she said. “I stay, but I go over there.” She pointed at a rock near the edge of the underbrush. “You make her cry, you die. You get upset, you die. You do anything but show her love and understanding and unconditional lifelong groveling, you die. Are we clear?”
The girl knew how to make a point. “Clear.”
She scrambled back up, and over my head she said, “Man-meat’s all yours.”
I turned to Corabelle, standing slightly behind me. Once again I thought of a fragile doll, sad and beautiful, every feature perfectly detailed on her face.
“Would you rather walk?” I asked.
She shook her head and sat beside me. Her arms were crossed tightly over her midsection as she huddled in an olive wool coat. Her hands were bare, pink, and looked cold. I wanted to hold them, to warm them up, but I suppressed the urge to reach for her.
“How did the doctor visit go?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have the blood work back, but he seemed to think I was fine.”
“Good. Do you feel better?”
“I guess so.”
The seagulls returned, circling over the water in front of us. She seemed content to just sit without talking, but my anxiety rose. I wanted this bad part over, so we could get back to where we’d been.