Breakaway Read online

  I try to remember the last time I saw Mark. It’s been months.

  Then we make eye contact.

  He gives me a smile – a casual, oh-just-another-wedding-guest sort of smile – and turns back to his friend.

  My heart sinks.

  Then his head swivels back, and he mouths, “Jessie?”

  I nod, heart flittering.

  He makes his way over to me. It isn’t easy for him, because of the cane and the crowd, so I meet him halfway.

  “Wow,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you ever since I got here, and you were standing there the whole time.” His grey eyes are as beautiful as ever.

  “Yes, I was.” Scintillating conversation opener. “Is Holly here?” I ask.

  “She’s at a tournament in Winnipeg,” he says. “I’m headed there tomorrow night.”

  “Too bad she couldn’t make it,” I lie. “You probably don’t get to see her much.”

  He smiles wryly and gestures at the cane. “Not much else to do – except go to class and the physiotherapist.”

  “I’m sorry about your knee,” I tell him. “It’s a rotten way to end your season.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Naturally he asks me all about our league play, and I give him the straight facts. A recent split with PA and two losses to Notre Dame have dropped us to seventh place. We talk about my plans for next year – or lack thereof. Sure, I’ve filled out the application forms and mailed them off – with commerce, engineering and arts and science as my three choices. But I really have no idea if I want to do any of those.

  “Why don’t you do a math degree?” he suggests. “You’ll find out damn quick if it’s the area for you.”

  We’re talking so easily. It’s like old times. Maybe better than old times. Whenever I see him, Holly’s usually around, so it’s hard to tell how we fit.

  All too soon, Loni starts rounding up the wedding party to go to their stations. It’s just ten minutes to show time.

  “Talk to you later,” I say.

  “You can count on it,” he says.

  The guests pour into the banquet hall, half of which is set up with chairs and an archway wrapped in tulle and calla lilies. I deposit my clutch and shawl at my place at the head table and rejoin the other bridesmaids.

  I am amazed at how downscale Brittni’s wedding is. No elaborate and frivolous expenses or wasted time. By now, Brittni and Jamie have already had a barrage of wedding photos taken. After the wedding, there will be a brief photo shoot with the wedding party in the adjoining banquet room, followed by supper and speeches and a deejay and dance. The gift opening is at Brittni and Jamie’s house tomorrow.

  We bridesmaids wait patiently outside the banquet hall for Brittni’s arrival. Classical music is playing softly in the background. The JP is serene, book tucked under his arm. The groom and his entourage are assembled, looking handsome but slightly uncomfortable in their formal wear. I predict those bow ties will be strapped around their foreheads by midnight.

  Brittni doesn’t come.

  It better go ahead after all this. I wish I could check my phone for the time. I look at Jamie, standing with the other groomsmen, looking nervous. He’d be heartbroken if Brittni left him at the altar.

  Then Mrs. Wade appears around a corner, wearing a red sheath and heels, hair elaborately coiffed. She’s holding Brittni’s bouquet in front of her as if it’s her own. Brittni’s right behind her, holding hands with the three-year-old flower girl, Loni’s daughter. I forget her name. It starts with an L too. In her other hand Brittni carries a basket of crimson rose petals. The flower girl has red blotches around her eyes, and she’s wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

  “See, Leticia? There’s your mommy, right there,” Brittni says.

  I knew her name started with an L.

  Loni bends over, picks up her daughter, and attacks the snot and tears with a tissue.

  “She wanted to stay with me until we came down,” Brittni explains. “Then she changed her mind. I don’t know if she’ll walk by herself.”

  As I am the first bridesmaid down the aisle after Leticia, it falls to me to salvage the rose petals.

  “Leticia, will you let me carry you?” I suggest. “I have gum in my purse.”

  Magic words.

  Leticia holds out her arms to me, and I take her from her mother.

  “You hold the basket while I hold you,” I say. “I’ll tell you when to start scattering the petals.”

  Everyone beams at me. Clearly, I have saved the day.

  Brittni gives Leticia the basket, and Mrs. Wade hands Brittni her bouquet. For the first time I really look at Brittni. She’s dazzling.

  “Are you ready, Honey?” Mrs. Wade says.

  Brittni nods.

  I look over Leticia’s head to the place where Mark and the rest of the groomsmen are standing.

  “Leticia, let’s rock and roll,” I say.

  – Chapter Forty-one –

  I’ve never seen Mark like this.

  When we dated, we didn’t go to many parties, and when we did, he didn’t drink a drop if he was driving. Even if we tagged along with Shauna and her boyfriend Brian, Mark’s limit was two beer.

  So it’s peculiar to watch him toss back double ryes, chased with water. Clearly there’s something going on, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what.

  Team Canada beat the Russians earlier tonight. During the speeches, the best man razzed Jamie mercilessly about making his buddies miss the game. Mark didn’t laugh at any of it. I could see his mood get darker by the minute as he sat, slumped in his chair. Good thing he wasn’t making any toasts. Good thing the bridal party photo shoot was before supper.

  I sat with him at the head table after the obligatory dances, and we’ve been sitting here ever since. He’s been telling me about his hockey season, his conversations with the World Junior coach and some NHL scouts and agents.

  “I was close,” he says, “but it’s over.”

  “It doesn’t have to be over,” I tell him. “Lots of players come back after knee surgery. And you’ve got a year of major junior left.”

  “You don’t understand,” he says. “It doesn’t matter any more.” He takes a drink of his rye. “My dad.”

  “I heard,” I tell him. “His cancer is back, isn’t it?”

  “He kept telling me he was feeling good, so I wouldn’t worry. So I’d focus on hockey, and getting an invite to the December camp.” He takes another drink. “But he’s dying.”

  “Mark, I’m so sorry.” I gently touch his clenched fist. His hand gradually relaxes, rolls over, wraps around mine. “When did you find out?”

  “A week ago. I found Gary, crying. He told me the cancer’s spread to what’s left of Dad’s pancreas and liver and his lungs.” Mark squeezes my hand, but I don’t think he knows he’s doing it. “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “There I was, thinking I could make a difference by playing hockey. How stupid was that?”

  I don’t know what to say, so I decide to listen instead. Maybe he needs silence more than he needs assurance.

  Right then, the deejay cranks up the tunes, and I have to lean closer to Mark to hear anything. I catch about every third word. All can I do is sit and nod and smile and look sympathetic and hope he doesn’t ask a question. One of the other groomsman brings him a pair of drinks, and I shake my head at him, but Mark picks one up and tips it back.

  At this rate, he’s going to be under the table before long.

  The rest of the bridesmaids swarm me, urging me to dance with them.

  “Maybe later!” I shout in Loni’s ear.

  Mark shifts back to the subject of his knee. Apparently he has a video of his surgery, which he can’t bring himself to watch. The likelihood of a return to Major Junior next season is remote.

  “Dad...pointless...wait...talk?” He looks at me expectantly.

  I smile at him and nod, hoping yes is the rig
ht answer.

  He stands, tugging the hand he’s still holding, and picks up his cane.

  Obviously we’re going somewhere. I grab my clutch and my shawl and follow him out of the banquet hall, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

  Is there a reason I should feel guilty? We’re not doing anything wrong.

  The music and voices are left behind, and the air is lighter and cooler.

  “Better, huh?” he says over his shoulder.

  “Definitely.” My ears are ringing.

  He leads me to the lobby, which is deserted apart from the lady behind the registration desk. Mark lowers himself onto one of the couches by the fireplace and beckons me to join him.

  My heart does a little flip.

  You know where you want to sit, says my little voice. If you’re not doing anything wrong, what’s the big deal?

  I sit down across from him and begin unbuckling the silver straps wound around my ankles.

  “These shoes were not made for dancing,” I say, depositing my heels on the coffee table between us.

  Mark shrugs off his tuxedo jacket, lays it across the back of the couch, and rolls up his sleeves. He sits back and spreads his arms. “Now, enough about me. Let’s hear about you.”

  We talk about my hockey for a change. I manage to stick to the good stuff and the funny stuff. It feels so amazing to have him to myself again and to make him laugh.

  “I guess that’s it,” I say after a while, tucking my bare feet underneath me.

  He narrows one eye. “So what about Evan?”

  I do a masterful job of maintaining my expression. “We broke up.”

  “I know that.” He raises one blond eyebrow. “I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn’t say anything.”

  “I just – I mean, I didn’t...” I pause and take a deep breath. “We weren’t – connecting.”

  “That’s not surprising, considering he was in Calgary, and you were in Estevan.” He nods knowingly. “But he came back home to be near you.”

  I smile at him, hoping he’ll drop the subject.

  “And...?”

  “And...I realized he was more serious about me than I was about him.”

  “Why weren’t you as serious about him?”

  I’m amazed he can persist in this line of questioning, considering how droopy his eyelids are.

  “I just wasn’t.” I reach for my shoes. “Should we go back to the party?”

  “Sit back,” he slurs. “We just got here.”

  “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

  He leans towards me. “Do you think she would mind if you got me another one?” He gestures at the woman behind the reservations desk.

  I look over his shoulder. “I think she would.”

  He slumps and closes his eyes.

  “Maybe you should go up to your room and sleep this off,” I suggest.

  He nods.

  “Give me your room key. I’ll take you.”

  Sometimes you start down a road, with all the best intentions in the world, but if you’re not careful – if you don’t listen to your internal GPS – you can end up totally...

  Lost.

  – Chapter Forty-two –

  Mark leans against the wall while I insert the card into the slot. Green light.

  “There you go.” I push the door open and putting my back against it, step to the side. “Do you think you’ll be all right?”

  As he hobbles by, he grabs my hand and pulls me into the room. The door closes behind us. He tugs me towards the desk and places his cane against it.

  “Need help with something,” he mumbles. He leans heavily on my right shoulder as he hops towards the end of the bed and plunks down. He laughs a little, then points at the chair. “Slide that over.”

  I set my stuff down on the desk and help him raise his foot onto the chair.

  “Is that better?” I ask.

  “Better.” He pats the bed beside him. “Come and sit.”

  My heart jumps. It’s been racing ever since he pulled me into the room. I always knew this would happen sometime.

  He starts to say something, then stops and shakes his head.

  I sit down beside him. “What is it?”

  “I want to thank you,” he says slowly. “You’ve always been there for me. No matter what. And I haven’t been fair to you.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  He puts his arm around my shoulders. “You look beautiful. Did anybody tell you?”

  I shake my head.

  His hand slips to the nape of my neck, and he gently pulls me towards him. My body follows his impulse, but my little voice starts nattering immediately.

  This isn’t right, it says. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’ll regret it tomorrow.

  Maybe he will. But I won’t.

  Oh yes, you will, the voice says. You know you will.

  Okay, but just give me one minute, so I can be sure.

  I let him kiss me. His breath smells like rye, but I don’t care. I tell myself I’m not betraying Holly if I don’t kiss him back.

  My thoughts shift to Liam – and how it felt when he kissed me.

  Liam?

  What does Liam have to do with anything?

  I return the kiss while my fingers explore the top button of Mark’s shirt. He tugs at the zipper on the back of my dress. It gives way a little, but he’s too clumsy to do more. I can help him, or I can tell him to stop.

  You know what you should do, my voice says. If the roles were reversed, he’d never do this to you. How many more bad decisions do you plan to make this year?

  I turn my face away from Mark’s and peer at the red numbers on the clock radio sitting on the nightstand. It’s already midnight.

  “Happy New Year,” I tell him.

  “New year,” he mumbles against my neck.

  I feel his hands on my spine as he lies back on the bed and pulls me down on top of him.

  No, my little voice says. This is wrong. You’ll never be able to look yourself in the mirror tomorrow.

  I deserve him, I think, fighting back. He was mine before he was Holly’s.

  That doesn’t make this right, my voice says. And you know it.

  Yes.

  I push myself off Mark.

  “I have to go.”

  He mumbles something and reaches for me, but I waylay his hands and crawl off the bed. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is deep and slow.

  I suddenly feel very cold. My hands and feet are like ice. I want more than anything to go back to my room and put on warm clothes.

  “I’m leaving now,” I tell him. “Are you going to be all right?”

  He mumbles again and rolls over onto his side, wincing. I manipulate his arms until he’s lying in the recovery position, then move the chair to support his injured leg.

  “Long live Captain Anal,” I say out loud as I pick up my shawl, clutch and shoes.

  A contented smile spreads across his face.

  You’ve got no right to muck with his world, my voice says. He’s got enough going on. If you’re meant to be with him, he’s the one who has to make it happen.

  That’s where you’re wrong, I think. I’m not meant to be with him. Part of me feels sad, because I always dreamed we’d be together again one day, and it’s hard letting go of a dream once and for all.

  But I’m done waiting. And hoping. And praying. I’m done with all of it.

  I close the door gently behind me.

  – Chapter Forty-three –

  In the hallway, I lean against the door and open my clutch, fumbling inside for the little envelope containing my room card. My fingers encounter my phone, and I remove it. It’s been shut off since the wedding ceremony. That was hours ago.

  Shit.

  I turn it on and start walking fast. The messages from Courtney spill in.

  Where r u? Call me now!

  My hands are trembling as I choose her from my contacts and speed di
al. I feel colder than ever. She picks up on the second ring.

  “Why did you shut off your phone?” she shrieks.

  “Never mind that. What’s going on?”

  “There’s something wrong with Rufus!” She takes a ragged breath. “He’s really sick. He’s jerking and frothing at the mouth.”

  “Did he eat something he shouldn’t have?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Where are you?” I ask. “Are you at home or at Pam’s?”

  “At home!” she shouts. “And I want you to come! Right now!”

  “Courtney, I’m on my way, but Rufus probably needs a vet. Call one of the neighbours.”

  “No,” she says emphatically.

  I press the elevator button. “Courtney, why are you at the house? You’re supposed to be at the All-Nighter.”

  “Never mind,” she says.

  “Where’s Pam?” I ask.

  “In the bathroom. Please come home,” she begs.

  “Courtney, I’m two hours away. At least.”

  “He’s going to die!” Courtney wails.

  “I’m going to send someone over who’ll know what to do about Rufus. In the meantime, go next door and see if Mr. Millard is home.”

  There’s a noise in the background, like a door opening, and the sound of voices and hip-hop music.

  “Who else is there?”

  “Gia and some of her friends.”

  “How many?”

  “Just a few,” she says.

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know! Six or seven! It wasn’t my idea,” she says angrily. “It was Gia’s.”

  The elevator doors open, just as the realization slams me right between the eyes.

  Betrayal.

  How stupid can a seventeen-year-old and two parents be?

  I climb in and press the button for my floor. “Courtney, how could you?!”

  She starts sobbing again.

  Calm your shit, my little voice says. This isn’t the time. Take control. Be the adult.

  “I’m calling my friend, and I’m leaving right now. Tell everyone the party’s over.”

  “Okay.”

  I quickly call Liam and try to explain the situation.

  He doesn’t make it easy for me.

  “Maybe I’m busy,” he says. “And here you are, barging into my New Year’s Eve with demands on my time. Assuming I’m not doing anything.”