Jake entered the apartment with Eugene’s extra key. He saw someone who wasn’t his brother slip across the hallway. Startled, Jake leapt for cover, rolling behind the sofa. He waited, listened. His back broke out in a sweat. His groin ached and he closed his legs. His thoughts scattered, flew away.
“Uh, Euge?” a woman’s voice said.
Jake steadied himself. Rachel was peering at him from the bedroom doorway. When he stood up, her face froze. Jake quickly backed away and said, “It’s me, Jake. Eugene’s brother.” He noticed that her hair—once long and silky—was now short. Although Rachel was Anglo, her hair had had that Asian gloss. “You cut your hair.”
Rachel recognized him and stepped out. “Jeez! What the hell are you doing here?”
Jake smiled. “Eugene said the exact same thing when he saw me.”
“Holy moly. I just had a heart attack.” She was wearing a dark skirt and a wrinkled short-sleeved white blouse, the first few buttons undone, exposing a thin gold chain necklace. Her cropped hair made her neck seem longer, slimmer, and she squinted at him. She placed her hand over her heart. “You scared me.”
“You scared me too.” He moved out from behind the sofa. He fanned his shirt.
“You’re a little jumpy,” she said as she looked down where Jake had rolled.
“I thought you were in Marin.”
She stiffened. “You spoke to Euge.”
“Just briefly last night. Are you back?”
“Am I back,” she said slowly, trying this out. She nodded. “For now.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. He stared at her hair, cut so close to her scalp that it followed the contours of her head. Everything seemed sharper—the angles of her cheekbones, her jaw. Her small, wiry earrings matched her necklace. Threads of lit gold wrapped around her. He said, “Your hair.”
“About a year ago. I needed a change.”
“It looks good.”
“Really? Most people don’t like it.” “I like it.”
She gave him a wry smile. Then it quickly disappeared. “What did Euge tell you?”
“About you? Visiting friends.”
She took this in, then said, “And you’re here.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
He told her he had left Seattle and was passing through. “Eugene offered me the guest room for a few days. I hope it’s okay.”
“It’s okay. This place is a mess, though.”
“It is. Eugene doesn’t seem so hot either.” She turned to him. “Oh? How so?”
“He’s pulling his hair out.”
Smiling, she said, “That’s been going on for a while. Did he wear his get-up?”
“I didn’t see it.”
“The head gear and the mouthguard—”
“The what?”
“Mouthguard. He grinds his teeth. He needs to wear a plastic mouthguard.” She laughed. “When he goes to bed it looks like he’s going into battle.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
She stopped. “You’re right. It is.” She moved to the kitchen and began cleaning up the counter. Jake followed, and helped. He wiped the sink of grease stains. She said, “I’m just here for lunch. I have to get back to work soon.”
“You still at that bank?”
“I am. Not for long.”
“A better job?”
She shook her head. “I’m quitting and taking some time off.”
He said, “I remember the last time I was here you talked about how much you hated it.”
“I did? When was that?”
“About five years ago.”
“Five years? Has it been five years?” She dumped the old pizza into the trash. “Now that’s sad. What a waste.”
“The pizza?”
“The past five years,” she said. “My life.”
“What’re you going to do when you quit?”
“That’s the big question.” She turned to him and folded her arms tightly to her chest. “Are you sure you didn’t talk to Euge about me?” “He came in past midnight, inhaled a couple of beers, and went straight to bed. He left this morning before I got up.” Jake noticed the sculpted muscles on her arms. She noticed him noticing. He said, “Have you been working out?”
She nodded. “You like?” She curled her arm and showed him a bicep knot.
“I like.”
“Almost two years. Three times a week.”
“Not bad.”
“You still?”
“Yeah. You should show me the local gym.”
“I’ll bring you as my guest.”
“Looks like Eugene could use a little working out.”
Her face closed up and she turned back towards the counter, running her hand over the edge of the sink. Jake wasn’t sure what he had said. He cleared his throat and asked, “He’s taking me out to dinner tonight. You’re coming, of course.”
“Sure. Like old times.” She washed her hands.
“You okay?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”
She dried her hands. Jake noticed that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. An uneasiness rose up in his chest. Staying here wasn’t a good idea. She put on a jacket and grabbed a purse. After a quick goodbye, she glided out of the apartment.
Jake remembered his brother and Rachel at their wedding, a big affair at Paradise Park in Tiburon, an outdoor wedding with a seven-piece band and a woman in a tight red dress who sang jazz, swing, and Sheena Easton songs. It had started out smoothly, most of the guests arriving on time, dozens of bottles of wine and champagne being opened and finished, and the ceremony itself on the grass overlooking the bay couldn’t have been more picturesque. Rachel had cried when she gave her vows. Jake was moved by this.
The brief cloudburst during the reception didn’t mar the event, but the mud caused a few problems. Two guests slipped after walking off the dance platform, their legs wobbly from the West Coast Swing. Shoes, pants cuffs, and dress fringes were splotched with dark spots. It grew cold very quickly, the breeze from the bay fluttering the decorations, and although nothing went really wrong, Jake sensed the anxiety in Rachel and her maid of honor, Julia. They hurried to the centerpiece candles on each table, securing the small vases against the wind. When it seemed that the guests were getting too cold, when fewer people went to the dance floor but stayed huddled at their tables, some hugging themselves and rubbing their arms, Rachel pulled Eugene onto the dance floor. Some mud had been splashed onto the platform, and Eugene pointed to her dress in alarm. Too late. Black streaks. Jake watched this from a table, where he was half-listening to another guest, one of Eugene’s college buddies. Rachel looked down at her dress, bunched part of it in her hand and held it up above her ankles. Eugene’s face was pained. Rachel said something like “Forget it,” or maybe it was “Fuck it,” and they danced. She whispered into his ear. He smiled. They hugged and slow-danced to the big-busted woman in red singing “For Your Eyes Only.” Jake thought of James Bond. Rachel swayed back and forth in Eugene’s arms, resting her head against his shoulder, and Eugene kissed her tenderly on her temple. She let go of her dress and held him with both arms, hugging him tightly. Jake stared at an edge of her dress dragging behind her.