Whisper Me This(53)
On our wedding day, Boots bought me flowers. A bouquet of genuine red roses. Nobody had ever done that before. He told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world and that we were going to be ecstatically happy. He didn’t even look at Jolene on that day, his eyes only for me.
Chapter Seventeen
Of course we go to Marley’s concert on Friday night, even though Mom’s funeral is scheduled for Saturday. How can I not take advantage of an opportunity to talk to my sister? To finally find out what happened? To see if she’s anything like the Marley my imagination conjured up for me as a child?
But it seems so wrong to go out to a brewpub for a concert, no matter what the reasons are. I worry about what people will think. I feel guilt and anticipation in equal measure.
As for Elle, she just keeps on arranging everything, and I keep on letting her. One of the things she’s arranged, unbeknownst to me, is for Tony and Mia to go with us.
“Good for you,” Mia says, engulfing me in a warm hug when they swing by to pick us up. “So many people get all stuffy about grief. Life doesn’t end when somebody dies. I think it’s fantastic that you’re trying to go do something fun.”
Even Tony’s mother, who volunteered to stay with Dad while we are out, is totally on board with the program. She bustles in, radiating competence, kindness, and goodwill, another casserole in hand. This one gives off a heavenly aroma of tomato and cheese that makes my mouth water. She introduces herself as Hannah, but I can’t bring myself to call her anything but Mrs. Medina.
The first thing she does after introductions is dish up a plate of food for Dad. He tries to tell her he isn’t hungry, but she won’t hear it. It only takes her about five minutes to cajole him into his chair at the table, a plate full of food in front of him.
So I don’t need to worry about Dad, but I still have plenty of qualms about this outing.
If you are going to venture out to a concert the night before your mother’s funeral in a small town where everybody knows everybody, then the last thing you want to do is go with a tall, dark, sizzling-hot fireman. In his black leather jacket and well-fitting blue jeans, he looks like he belongs in one of those Hot Fireman calendars they put out. Probably naked and holding a cat. This image does things to both my imagination and my body that are not safe for public consumption.
The brewpub inhabits a warehouse. There are two levels, but it’s open all the way to the roof, and the upstairs is more of a railing-enclosed mezzanine. The downstairs part of it, where the stage is set up, has long trestle tables and chairs. Only a couple of the tables are occupied when I arrive, fortunately not by anybody I know. A group of teenagers is playing pool, completely oblivious to our arrival.
I select a table upstairs, near the railing, where I figure I can get a good view of Marley without being in her direct line of sight.
“Are you sure you want to sit all the way up here?” Mia asks. “We’re early. We could sit front and center.”
Tony rescues me. “I think she’s doing incredibly well to just be out of the house. Maybe front and center isn’t the best idea for tonight.”
I go with this. It’s true enough. The very thought of loud music and laughter sends a full-body cringe running through me. And I want to avoid being seen by anybody in town who might recognize me. But the real reason I’ve chosen this particular spot is that I want to watch Marley without her watching me.
“I’d like to be closer,” Elle says. “Probably. Maybe we should hear them first. They might suck.”
They don’t. Elle has been playing YouTube videos all week. I’m not crazy about country music, but as far as I can tell, this band is tight and smooth. And Marley has a voice that could be described as smoky and sultry, a whiskey voice. The sort of voice that stirs the emotions in your belly like a spoon stirring cream into a coffee cup, but then maybe that’s because she’s my sister.
The waitress who comes around apparently went to school with Mia, and the two of them chatter about the fact that the band set up and did a sound check earlier, then zipped out to grab a bite to eat somewhere else. They left their sound guy to watch the equipment. She points him out, a man leaning against the railing to the left.
I glance in his direction, trying not to stare. Buzzed head. Bulging biceps and pecs stretching the limits of a black T-shirt with a skull on it. Full tattoo sleeves on both arms. I wonder what this says about Marley, whether he’s a part of her life or a hired hand who happens to be good at his job. Tony orders us pizza and a pitcher of ale, with a root beer for Elle.
“Anybody want to play pool?” Mia asks. “Since we’re going to be waiting.”
“Me!” Elle says, bouncing up as if she’s been ejected from her chair. “I always wanted to play. Can you teach me?”
“Absolutely. I’m fantastic at pool. Anybody else? Maisey?”
Her dark eyes sparkle, and she holds a hand out to me. It’s a genuine invitation, and somewhere, beneath my layers of shock and grief and anxiety, I’m touched by it and want to respond.
But I shake my head. It’s bad enough to be here at all, and I don’t think my knees would hold me if I tried to walk right now. Ale is probably a bad idea, but the waitress arrives at this exact moment, setting a pitcher filled with foaming amber ale on the table. She pours a mug for me and sets a glass of water down in front of Tony.