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February 17th
Lauren
My hand shakes slightly as I try to smooth eyeliner across my top lid. I pull back to look at the outcome, and it looks like I applied my makeup in the back seat of a Chevy Pinto on a gravel road with no mirror.
Needless to say, I dig my makeup remover wipes out of my drawer and clean everything off to start again. This time, though, I resign myself to the fact that lining my eyes isn’t going to happen today; eye shadow and a quick swipe of mascara will have to do.
Garrett and I left his house at the same time this morning. He was headed to the firehouse, and I headed home to get ready for work.
Just like several ordinary mornings we’ve had together, we were both aglow with happiness from the time we just spent together.
But unlike usual, by the time I made it to the stop sign at the end of his street, I had dissolved into a complete mess.
Because this morning, Garrett is telling my father about the relationship the two of us have been pursuing behind his back. And I am terrified it’s going to end badly. Deep down, I think I’m just fearing that my dad is going to push all his baggage related to my mom’s death on to my boyfriend. Whenever he talks about her, he’s so quick to act like he was a terrible husband. Like he wasn’t there for us or supportive of my mom or that he didn’t stand by her side every second that he could when she started to go downhill.
None of it is true, though.
He did the best that he could.
Loved her, loved us, the best that he could.
Once again, I take a deep breath and start over on painting the palette of neutral shades on my eyes. My hand still shakes, but with powder and space, it’s a lot more forgiving.
And, well, if I end up looking like Mimi from the Drew Carey Show, so be it.
It’s only one day.
Throwing the makeup brush down on the counter, I stride out of my bathroom, through my bedroom, and down the hall to the kitchen.
I take the coffeepot off the burner, pour myself a cup in a waiting mug, all the while letting the still-brewing coffee drip onto the hot bottom with a hiss, and then replace the pot in its original position.
I turn and settle my hips against the counter soundly, and then bring the still-black cup to my lips.
Sometimes, I add cream and sugar. But this morning, it’s all about the caffeine, no matter how it tastes.
I’m just about to lean forward and set my mug down on the island in front of me when the floor starts to roll under my feet. As it moves up and down like a wave, the room looks so strange, it takes me more than a little time to realize what’s happening.
Fat Frank’s tank sloshes loudly, and water splashes up and out of the top and onto the floor.
Holy shit. Holy, holy shit, it’s an earthquake.
Somehow, my years and years of fire safety talks from my father kick in enough to make me turn off the switch to the coffeepot and yank the cord out of the wall before scooping up my phone and running for the kitchen doorway.
The onslaught is jarring—it’s without a doubt the biggest earthquake we’ve had in Southern California in a while—and I have to brace myself against the doorjamb just to keep from falling down.
The first person to come to mind is Garrett. The second and third are Hayden and Sarah. And then my dad and my sisters and their kids and Holley and Jake and Rebecca and everyone else I know.
“It’ll be over soon, Frank,” I yell to him as he sloshes from side to side. “It’ll be over soon.”
I hold on tight as my whole house shakes so violently the dishes fall out of the cabinets, slam to the floor, and break.
Dear God, please let everyone be okay.
February 17th
Five minutes earlier…
Garrett
“Cap,” I call out loudly. He’s in the middle of a rowdy session of shit-talking with the guys, but when he hears my voice, his head cracks in my direction like a whip. He can tell by the sound of my voice—and no doubt, now that he’s looking at me, by the way I’m carrying myself—that something is up. Something out of the usual.
“Yeah, Alexander?” he asks, his curled lips melting into a straight line.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about. Privately.”
He looks back to the guys, all of whom are now looking at me with serious faces also, and then back to me. “Now?”
I nod. There’s no reason to drag this out any longer. The charade has to end so that my future with Lauren can begin. No matter how difficult this might be. “Yes, sir.”
