The Moments Between Read online

  His eyes were on mine. The same eyes I had looked into for the last ten years.

  Then, the words came….

  The only words that made sense.

  “It was just a bad dream…” I stuttered. “A very, very bad dream.”

  By the time I got downstairs, the boys were in front of the TV watching Pat the Dog, and Ben was gone.

  To work?

  Isn’t that what he said?

  I scratched my head and staggered toward the kitchen, now beginning to wonder if I had actually imagined the whole thing.

  Maybe it was a dream.

  Could it be possible? Could Ben really be back??

  I went to the pantry and pulled out a bag of coffee grounds. The earthy smell of the grounds laced with soft vanilla wafted up my nose, bringing me a strong sense of comfort.

  Without a doubt, I needed caffeine this morning of all mornings. Something to set my mind straight. I stepped over to the coffee pot with the grounds in hand and stopped just short of it.

  It was already made. Steaming hot and ready.

  I stared at the red light on the machine as it glared back at me.

  Ben had always done that for me before he died. Every single morning, he had the coffee ready and waiting when I came downstairs.

  I had missed that since he’d been gone. The comfort of our morning routine.

  It was one of many things that I missed…

  I looked at the rich black coffee through the glass carafe as condensation ran down the inside of the pot.

  My mind reeled again.

  Ben…

  His name caught on my breath.

  I stepped forward with a trembling hand, tentatively grasping the pot’s handle, and began pouring the coffee into a big ceramic mug. I stared off into space as I poured, filling the cup until coffee teetered on the rim, ready to spill over.

  I stopped pouring just short of the flood.

  Patterns danced on the kitchen floor around me, shadows from the leaves of the maple tree, just outside the window as the sun lifted higher in the sky.

  Pat the Dog’s voice echoed through the kitchen, followed by the boys’ laughter.

  I walked through the shadows on the floor to the refrigerator to get creamer for my coffee.

  As I opened the door, I gasped and stared in disbelief.

  A large white bakery box was on the shelf, staring back at me.

  Mandi’s birthday cake.

  Red Velvet with cream cheese icing.

  I had special ordered it from Magnolia Bakery on Tryon Street, in downtown Charlotte. One of the premier bakeries in North Carolina. Their reputation, known statewide, for their delicious cakes.

  The fluorescent lights highlighted the carefully placed label on the box.

  Magnolia, in beautiful scripted gold lettering, reflecting in the light.

  It was the same bakery that had a huge kitchen fire, months ago, that destroyed all of their equipment.

  The same bakery that closed down and never reopened.

  I left the refrigerator door standing open, ran to the bathroom and threw up.

  I sat on cold black and white tile resting my head on the edge of the toilet seat. Knowing that my hair would smell like urine after this. No spots were left sacred in the bathroom of a home where boys lived.

  But I didn’t care about that right now.

  Everything felt wrong.

  But how could it when everything was right?

  I twirled the hem of my nightgown between my fingers as I stared blankly at the toilet paper caddy. It was empty and needed to be refilled. But my mind didn’t register this necessity.

  I was too lost in my thoughts for it to process.

  “It was just a dream,” I repeated out loud.

  Suddenly, Teddy, our beloved tabby cat, came around the corner, meowing. The sight of him startled me so much that I had to stifle a scream.

  Our sweet Teddy…

  We had picked him up at a sidewalk adoption event, right after we were first married.

  Our little Teddy bear, now eight years old, with sleek black and grey fur, came all the way into the bathroom and rubbed up against me, meowing and purring, making it clear he wanted his breakfast.

  The sight of him would have normally brought me joy. I would’ve scratched under his soft chin and he would’ve purred louder.

  But this time I lifted my head and puked again.

  Teddy had been gone for months. He’d darted out of the back door and we never saw him again.

  We had spent days trying to find him, but we never could.

  Yet, there he was…right here in front of me.

  Just like Ben had been earlier.

  Was it all just a dream? Did none of it happen? It seemed so real…

  My mind raced wildly, trying to understand, but I just couldn’t.

  I got up and numbly went into the kitchen, with Teddy on my heels, as trepidation twisted up my gut like a bad omen.

  Chapter 2

  Mandi’s birthday party was being held at Martini’s Restaurant in the heart of downtown Charlotte. We arrived at the restaurant at 3:45 pm. We were fifteen minutes late. I rushed in the door ahead of Ben and a surge of air conditioning washed over me. Shivering in the cold air, I went straight to the bar and ordered a vodka martini. I needed something to steel my nerves. This morning had shaken to me to the core, and now I had to face Mandi too.

  Ben came in quickly behind me, with the boys in tow, and whispered, “Don’t you want to go in and wish your sister a happy birthday first?” His tone was firm, but I ignored him and waited impatiently for my drink. I glared at the bartender, who moved at a snail’s pace, seemingly to intentionally irritate me. He hadn’t started making my drink yet, and my intense stare had no effect on his speed.

  The main dining room was empty, aside from an older couple sitting at a corner table. They stared down at their plates while they ate, not saying a word to each other. The whole place eerily quiet, aside from the occasional clatter coming from the kitchen. If this had been a Friday night instead of a Sunday afternoon, there would be standing room only, and a live jazz band would fill the whole place with music.

  The building used to be an old warehouse and still had many of the original features with concrete floors, large exposed ductwork and piping overhead, and enormous wood columns. But the warehouse feel was broken up by mirror-polished stainless steel, laminated glass designs on the doors, and abstract art on every wall. After opening, it had quickly become one of the most premier restaurants in town. It was no wonder that Mandi had chosen this place for her party. For Mandi it was all about reputation, and Applebee’s wasn’t going to cut it.

  Realizing I wouldn’t be getting my drink any time soon, I sat Mandi’s cake box on top of the bar. I stared at the golden lettering on the label, running my finger across it, feeling the raised letters of the word Magnolia under my fingertips. The stress and confusion of this morning weighed heavily on me.

  The boys climbed up and down on black leather barstools, spinning them around, laughing and talking loudly. I didn’t notice, nor care. The couple that had been eating in silence glared over at us, obviously not happy with the disruption.

  Finally, after several minutes of waiting, Ben had had enough. He took the boys by their hands and led them away, leaving me alone at the bar. I watched as he walked over and opened the door to the private banquet room. The sound of music and conversation spilled out.

  There had been about forty guests invited. Too big of a deal for a thirty-one-year old’s birthday party, in my opinion. Of course, Mandi had to make everything a big deal when it had to do with her. She had always been that way. Even when we were kids, she was always showing off, one-upping and upstaging everything I did. I learned long ago not to care. Or at least I was really good at pretending not t
o care.

  She was the older of the two of us by three years, but by her behavior, you would think she was the youngest. That was Mandi’s personality, and nothing I did or didn’t do was going to change that.

  I looked up at the bartender who still wasn’t making my drink. I knew that if it had been Mandi standing here, the drink would have already been made. My face reddened with frustration.

  How could Mandi and I could be so different and still be related?

  We were different in every way that sisters could be.

  Looks and behavior.

  I absentmindedly ripped a paper cocktail napkin up, piece by piece. Martini’s name in red lettering torn into bits, scattered on the bar top, as memories of my sister floated through my mind.

  The older couple in the corner paid their check and left, taking their silence with them. The sound of muffled talking and laughter from Mandi’s party was getting louder and now could be heard through the closed door.

  But I barely noticed, still caught up in the past.

  I remembered one hot July afternoon when I was seven years old, one so sweltering that the air conditioner couldn’t even manage to cool the house. Mom had opened all the windows and doors in the hopes of getting some air flow. Mandi and I were coloring on the back porch, and our older brother, Jonathan, was at work bagging groceries at the Food Mart down the road. It was his last summer home before leaving for college.

  As Mandi and I colored in pictures of zoo animals, tires rumbled on the gravel driveway. A car door slammed, and we heard yelling. First coming from outside, then loud footsteps and more arguing coming from inside of the house.

  “If she’s so perfect, why don’t you just go off with your bimbo secretary, already!?” I heard my mom yell. Her voice almost unrecognizable.

  I sat up straight, looking at the back door.

  My dad’s response was low and angry, but his words weren’t perceivable.

  “Just go then!” Mom shouted. “Get out and don’t come back!”

  Mandi and I looked at each other. Our eyes filled with fear. We had heard many arguments lately over Dad’s secretary, Linda. But never one this bad.

  A few minutes later, the screen door creaked open and Dad came out with a suitcase.

  He crouched down next to us. “I have to go away for a while, girls. But know that I love you, and don’t forget I will always be your dad. Nothing can stop that.”

  Mandi stood up and started to wail. “No, Daddy, no! Please don’t leave me here!” She grabbed him around his neck, nearly knocking him over.

  He stood up. “Don’t worry, darling, everything is fine. I’ll see you soon.”

  I looked up at him, eyes wide open, blinking back tears. Confusion and grief swirled around my young heart.

  He tousled my head, making eye contact with me for just a moment. Then picked up his suitcase and walked down the steps. Mandi followed quickly behind and latched onto his legs, making it impossible for him to walk. Her cries of despair disturbed a pair of robins nesting in the giant oak tree a few feet away. Leaves rustled and the branch shook as they took flight.

  “Daddy…please Daddy don’t leave me!” she cried out.

  “I would take you with me if I could, sweetheart,” he consoled her.

  My eyes narrowed in jealousy. He didn’t want to take me.

  Mandi wasn’t appeased. She continued to hold onto his legs so that he couldn’t leave. He had to pry her off of him so that he could go.

  Tears filled his eyes as he headed toward the driveway, stopping and looking back at us once more. He stood there for a long moment, and I thought he might actually turn around and come back.

  He didn’t.

  I held back my own cries for him as they bubbled to the surface. I refused to be like Mandi.

  I heard a creaking sound and looked behind me. Mom was there, looking from the screened door, her face red and swollen from crying. Her eyes on him as he turned and walked away.

  I turned back and watched him too as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

  Mandi’s wails continued on as I sat on the porch, wiping away my tears, until long after the sun went down. Waiting. Hoping he would change his mind. That he would come back. And he never did.

  I would never be able to forgive him for leaving us like that. For a woman, not much older than Jonathan, who soon grew tired of him and left him for a guy her own age.

  And things were never the same after that.

  Dad was gone.

  Jonathan left for school and rarely came home to visit.

  Our family was split into pieces. Never to be reassembled.

  I stood alone leaning on the bar. Two girls came into the restaurant and were seated at the same table that the old couple had just left from. The server had quickly whisked away dishes and wiped down the tabletop before they sat down. They were caught up in conversation and didn’t seem to mind the short delay. I wondered if they were sisters. The rapport between them was intimate. If not sisters, then close friends.

  I looked at them and then back at the party room where my own sister was and grimaced.

  Mandi was Dad’s favorite, there was no disputing that. He doted on her excessively. And I knew the way she fed his ego alleviated his guilt. She knew how to work everyone over to her advantage. It was a natural born skill.

  Not to mention, she shined like a diamond.

  Mandi was extraordinarily beautiful. Long strawberry blonde hair cut into layers that framed her face and seemed to flow like natural strands of silk. She had stardust freckles everywhere, even on her nose. She was tall and lean, with a perfect figure. Former cheerleader, with a million-dollar smile. There weren’t many people that didn’t turn and look when Mandi walked by. Men and women alike. There was just something about Mandi that stood out from the rest of the world, leaving me feeling insignificant.

  She had been married to Lewis Maxwell for five years now. They met at the law firm where she worked as a receptionist for a short time. He was the managing partner there and twenty years her senior. He was already married when he met Mandi, but divorce soon followed. Mandi swore they were on the brink of divorce, anyway. Telling everyone that it was irreconcilable differences that had driven Lewis and his first wife apart. But I believed Mandi was the real reason behind it. Lewis was smitten by her, helpless against her womanly prowess. The way her voice purred when she spoke to him and the way her hand rested on his arm when they walked together captivated him. He couldn’t have resisted even if he had wanted to.

  I stared off in the distance out the front windows of Martini’s as the bartender finally pulled out a martini glass. At last. But it went unnoticed by me; my mind was still on Mandi. On feelings that were still very much alive. Feelings that were deeply rooted in resentment.

  I was the exact opposite of Mandi. I was a quiet child, one that liked to read books in the corner. Easy to ignore. Easy to forget. Especially when Mandi was around. I was used to it.

  I didn’t need the spotlight, and she did.

  I wasn’t tall, at five foot four inches, and I was fine boned. No freckles… and I was definitely not a cheerleader. I was sitting in the bleachers, while Mandi owned the football field. She walked across the field, swinging her hips side to side, flicking her long hair, with all of boys from the football team following.

  My naturally blonde hair had been kept in a shoulder length angled bob ever since I graduated high school. I liked the ease of the style. With my tanned skin, turned up nose and brown eyes with distinct yellow flecks, I was pretty by anyone’s standards, but compared to Mandi, I was insignificant.

  Ben always told me that I was beautiful. If I really was, no one had ever sent me the memo, they were too busy looking at Mandi.

  With that thought in mind, I looked through the six-pane glass door of the banquet room. As Ben made his way acro
ss the room, Mandi ran over to him and attempted to plant a kiss square on his lips.

  I expected that. She always did it.

  He stepped backwards right before her lips touched his so that they just grazed them.

  Ben was expecting it too.

  I laughed at his response.

  He was the only boyfriend I ever had that didn’t have his head turned by Mandi. Every boyfriend before him she had somehow stolen from me. When I brought a boy home, the ultimate test was his response to Mandi.

  When I saw that Ben wasn’t fazed by her beauty, her charm, her flirting… I knew he was the one for me.

  However, his lack of interest in her spurred her interest in him even more. He became a challenge to her, and she was annoyingly relentless.

  Even at our wedding, she was flirting with him. She dragged him onto the dance floor and pressed her hips against his, despite his apparent irritation. Later in the night, feigning being drunk, she fell into his lap and pressed her breasts against his face. To my relief, three eager groomsmen ran over to her aid and pulled her off of him. They were more than willing to provide assistance to the damsel in distress.

  I didn’t let it bother me too much. Ben was mine, and I knew I would never have to share him with anyone. I also knew I would never find another man like him. A man powerless to Mandi. A man who only had eyes for me.

  Women were always admiring Ben. When I would see one of them flash their flirtatious smile his way, I would feel the burn of insecurity. But when I looked back at Ben, his eyes were on me. Looking at me, like I was the only woman in the world.

  He was truly irreplaceable.

  The thought immediately jolted me back to this morning.

  Ben wasn’t dead! He never was…

  He was there, in Martini’s banquet room, maneuvering his way away from Mandi and getting the boys seated at the long table decorated with flowers and balloons.

  I jumped when the bartender brought my martini over, sitting it down in front of me. Along with the drink, he brought the check. This time he stared at me, impatiently waiting for my payment.