Finally, he let me go.
“You jerk!” I called out, my hair in wet clusters stuck to my neck and forehead. “And you!” I pointed at Barbie. “Et tu Brutus!”
“I'm sorry, I don't speak German.” She dropped the hose and raised her hands like she was under arrest. “He was just too convincing.” I knew exactly what she meant.
“You're gonna have to get your own towel this time around, you bastard.” I glared at Bobby and that sly smile. And in that moment, the inspiration hit me to do what I would have always done with Bobby, if I wasn't overcompensating in the other direction, staying away from him like he had some sort of plague. If we were going to be normal, then we had to be the way we were before things changed.
I knew he wouldn't see it coming when I snatched the towel, leaving him buck naked, chasing me into the house as Barbie's cigarette finally fell out of her mouth.
“Rummy!” Barbie slapped down her hand on the table. We had managed to lose hours playing this game. Teasing and laughing with each other all the while. Empty beer bottles littered the table. We had all had some and the giddy mood in the room was evidence of this. Barbie looked up at the clock and pouted. It was almost nine.
“I guess I should go relieve the nanny of her duties. Stan went on a last minute trip after all, so I'm all by my lonesome with them.” She slowly motioned for her bags. It was obvious she really didn't want to go.
“Oh, darn it. You drove. I'm not used to walking by myself at night.”
“Barb¸ it's five houses down,” I remarked. I knew what she was trying for. I observed her body language all night as she soaked up any attention that went her way. I didn't know if Barbie was capable of being so bold as to try to seduce Bobby, but her husband was out of town, and I wouldn't completely dismiss the possibility.
“I'll walk you,” Bobby pressed his palms against the table to rise. “No need for a lady to walk by herself at night.”
I clenched for the feeling in my gut like I would a punch. Jealousy. I had no right, and yet the feeling was familiar. Bobby had so many girlfriends growing up. Sometimes we went on double dates and I was a witness to his gifts. I didn't realize at the time it was jealousy. I told myself it was disgust at the way he hopped from girl to girl, or the way they made themselves so available to him. It was easy to believe that little fire stoked by the sight of Bobby and another girl was something else.
Bobby was here to learn how to live with the fact that I married Rory. And I guess I had to do the same. So I could pass my judgements about how Barbie was married, or silly, or easy. But it wasn't any of my business.
I tidied up the kitchen, trying to distract myself from counting the minutes since he left with Barbie. One minute. Three. Five.
The back door that directed into the kitchen opened and Bobby came in. I let out a hidden sigh of relief. But maybe they kissed or they planned to see each other again, I thought. Bobby didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt.
“Well, your friend's interesting.”
I knew that tone, and relief once again took over.
I shrugged as I rinsed out the beer bottles. “She is fun. You have to admit.”
“Yeah, she was hosing me down within about five minutes of meeting her.”
“In her defense, she met you once before.”
“Ah, yes. We spent so much time together that first meeting,” he quipped sarcastically. “I think it's good to have interesting friends. Including the difficult ones, so long as they mean well.”
I turned off the faucet and the room went quiet. It was the first time Bobby and I were alone in the house at night. The air was thick with humidity and that constant energy that built up between us, needing to be diffused.
“Alright,” he clapped, “shower up. Get dressed in something pretty but comfortable.”
“Huh?” I asked, completely taken by surprise.
“There's someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?”
“A good friend, his name is Willis.”
“And where is this Willis?”
“Chicago.”
“Chicago!” That was about ninety minutes away. “I don't know . . . it's late.”
“It's nine, grandma. Besides, you got somewhere to be?”
I pursed my lips disapprovingly as I cast a sidelong glance at Bobby. He was wearing Rory's baby blue shorts and a white plaid button down short sleeve shirt. So not his style.
“Screw it,” I proclaimed, throwing the kitchen towel at the sink. “Give me thirty minutes.”
Seven years earlier
“Does Bobby have a girlfriend?” My cousin Mildred asked just as I eyed the placement of my croquet ball on the grass.
“I don’t know. It seems he’s always seeing someone. Never seriously.” My eyes never left their target on the ground. “Why do you ask?” I knew why she was asking.
“Well . . . he’s just so handsome and funny,” she giggled which triggered her sister to add to the chorus.
“How original,” I muttered under my breath as I reared my mallet back to strike the ball.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Huh? Nothing. Just this stinking grass is not level,” I answered, covering up my sour tone.
It wasn’t that I didn’t think or know Bobby was those things. The sky was blue, the grass was green. Bobby was textbook good-looking and yes, he did make me laugh when he wasn’t getting on my nerves. But that was precisely it. Bobby was those things to people without getting on their nerves and he seemed to always strike every last one of mine when the mood struck him. He had done so ever since we were little. And I always found myself fielding questions from girls who thought I had the key to some sort of secret portal into Bobby Lightly’s heart or trousers.
Don’t get me wrong. Bobby and I were friends, but it was an adversarial friendship. One that was still transitioning from childhood to adulthood and doing so awkwardly. We would have moments of great maturity, especially during the years I visited home from college. Those were often in the tone of polite conversation, catching up on life and whatnot. But then there would be outright juvenile moments, as if he and I couldn’t quite figure out how to relate to each other without reverting to sniping and teasing. This was much to the dismay of Rory, my fiancé, who was often caught in the midst of our hot and cold relationship.
It was my turn again, and I focused my attention on the red ball, hugged by the bright green grass, as I heard muted giggles. My cousins were such gigglers. They would be on their way to university in the fall and I thought that would snuff the giggles right out of them.
I looked up at Mildred and her sister, Agnes, and they both had covered their mouths with their hands.
“What’s so—?”
Just then a hand roughed through my prim up-do and disheveled it. I didn’t even have to look back to know who it was. Knowing Bobby, he had stood behind me, his finger over his lips to silence the smitten girls as he made fun of my stance before making a point to fuss with my hair.
“Darn it, Bobby!” I yelled, spinning around with the mallet, threatening to clobber him to death. He rose his hands in self-defense, and stumbled backwards over his feet.
“Wait! Wait! I have a message.” He grabbed the end of the mallet as I tried to wrestle it out of his grip. “Your sister wants to see you. I guess she and your mother have questions about tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. The day I would officially promise to share my life with Rory. Rory who was good-looking, smart, and ambitious. Rory who had chased me for years and seemed to think the world of me, despite the fact that he could have his pick of the litter. I was lucky to have him, I told myself.