The Best Man

And that was that. The school talked about it for days; how Jeremy was like some kind of knight or something, how could Faith not fall for him, it was so romantic, didn’t you kind of wish you had epilepsy or fainted once in a while? Levi’s eyes actually got tired from rolling.

“I’m in love, my friend,” Jeremy said a couple weeks later. “She’s amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“Really. She’s beautiful. Like an angel.”

Levi gave him a look. “Sure.”

Despite not having a father, Levi was what his boss called a man’s man. Football since fourth grade, an aptitude with tools, his first girlfriend at twelve, first sex at fifteen. He’d stayed back the year his father left and was therefore older than his classmates, had started putting on muscle in seventh grade, could drive sophomore year of high school, and those things ensured him some respect. He’d always run with a pack of guys.

And guys did not talk about their girlfriends being beautiful like an angel. They talked about their tits, their asses, if and when they might put out. If a guy was really in love, he’d just shut up and occasionally punch the person (often Levi) who speculated on the tits and ass of the girl in question.

Levi was no expert, but he guessed that Jeremy might not know he was gay. Or if he did, he might not want to admit it. Jeremy was awfully careful in the locker room, which was odd for a kid who’d played football for a decade. Most of the guys didn’t think about it, though some liked to strut around naked, in love with their own junk. There were, of course, the gay jokes, and Jeremy laughed cautiously, sometimes glancing at Levi to see if it was actually funny (it never was). Nope, Jeremy just kept his eyes down until he was dressed. When Big Frankie Pepitone got a tattoo on his shoulder, all the other guys admired it and made sure to give Frankie a slap on the newly inked and still angry-looking skin (because football players liked to hurt each other, after all), but Jeremy could barely drag his eyes up to the tatt. “Cool” was all he said, and Levi got the impression that maybe Jeremy was afraid of what his face would show if he did look at Big Frankie.

Whatever. Jeremy was a good guy, and Levi didn’t really care if Faith Holland was his beard or the love of his life. It was his senior year; he figured he’d be enlisting, so he was going to have all the fun he could. And being around Jeremy was fun. The guy was funny, smart, laid-back and decent as anything. Levi and Jess, Jeremy and Faith hung out sometimes, catching a movie or going to the Lyons’ house, because Faith had too many siblings, and why go to the trailer park when Jeremy’s house was a fricking playland? But Jess didn’t much like Faith (and did a deadly impression of her), so, often, it was just the three of them, Jeremy, Levi and Faith.

Faith Holland...she was a little hard to take, yeah. Kind of cutesy and bouncy and tiring. She was smitten with Jeremy and seemed to be auditioning for her role as his future wife, always fluttering her eyelashes and snuggling up close, and Jeremy didn’t seem to mind. She’d kiss up to Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, leaping to clear dishes and whatnot, and it was clear the Lyons thought she was wonderful.

“Thank God he finally found someone,” Levi overheard Mrs. Lyon say to her husband one night, just as he was about to thank them for having him over.

“About time,” Mr. Lyon answered. “I wasn’t sure it’d ever happen.” They gave each other a look, then went back to watching CNN.

So maybe Levi wasn’t the only one who thought Jeremy might play for the other team.

Senior year was the best year of Levi’s life. Football season ended with Jeremy sending a thirty-nine yard pass into the end zone that Levi could’ve caught just by flexing his fingers, so perfect was Jeremy’s aim. The Manningsport Mountain Lions were divisional champs, though they lost in the next round. Didn’t matter. They’d had their best season in the history of the school, so it was hard to feel bad.

And Levi, who had no brother and no father and no uncles, had his first true friend, different from Asswipe and Tommy and Big Frankie. Jeremy was more mature in a lot of ways, someone who seemed to feel as comfortable at Levi’s as he did in his parents’ glamorous house, who laughed easily and didn’t get wasted for fun, who never cared that kids from the Hill weren’t supposed to hang out with kids from the trailer park.

He tried a little too hard with Faith—once in a while, he’d kiss her, and it practically made Levi wince, it was so awful. Jeremy did these old-fashioned, corny-ass things that no straight guy would’ve ever dreamed of doing—putting a flower in her hair, shit like that. And Faith, God, she ate it up. She’d sit on his lap and suggest they all sign up to do a road cleanup, or maybe Levi and Jess would want to join the school chorus and go to the old folks’ home and sing. Levi would occasionally point out that there were drugs for her type of condition. Faith would laugh, a little uncertainly, and then he’d feel like he’d kicked a puppy, and Jeremy would say, “Dude, be nice. I love her,” and Faith’s tail would start wagging again.

One spring night, Faith left the boys at the Lyons’ place—Ted and Elaine were away, and Levi suspected she was uncomfortable with the fact that he and Jeremy had appropriated two beers from the downstairs fridge, and God help her if she condoned such illegality. Levi watched her go from where they sat on the deck, her pretty hair gleaming in the sun, the Hollands’ big dog running by her side. “You and Faith doing it?” he asked out of idle curiosity.

“No, no,” Jeremy said. “We’re...old-fashioned. You know. Might wait till we get married.”

Levi choked on his beer. “Oh,” he wheezed. Jeremy just shrugged, a smile still on his face at the thought of Princess Super-Cute.

Then, out of the blue, there came that week where Jeremy and Faith “took a break.” Shocked the whole school. Jeremy was uncharacteristically glum and didn’t want to talk about it. Finally, Levi imagined, Faith had snapped out of it and figured out that something was off where her boyfriend was concerned.

He had his own stuff to deal with—a Division III college in Pennsylvania suddenly offered him a decent scholarship (thanks to Jeremy making him look so good all season). Between their offer and what he had saved, all Levi needed was five grand, and they could make it work.

He didn’t ask his mom; five grand was still way too much. He could’ve asked Jeremy or the Lyons, and they would’ve fallen over themselves handing it to him, but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to owe anyone.

And so, he asked his father. Figured Rob Cooper might owe him, instead. Tracked him down and found that the guy lived two towns over. Levi hadn’t seen him in eleven years. Not one phone call, not one birthday card, but the guy lived twenty miles away in a nice ranch house painted dark blue, a new-model car in the driveway.

Rob Cooper might’ve been a deadbeat dad, but he recognized Levi right away. Shook his hand, clapped him on the shoulder and brought him into the garage.

“So, um, I’ll get right to it,” Levi said. “I need five grand to go to college. I have a football scholarship, but it’s only a partial.” He paused. “I was hoping you might be able to help.”

His father—shit, his father had the same green eyes that Levi had, same solid arms—his father nodded, and for one stupid second, Levi’s heart leaped.

“Yeah, I’d like to help you, man. How old are you now? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen. I stayed back in third grade.” The year you left.

“Right, right.” His father nodded again. “Well, the thing is, I just got married. Fresh start and all that.” He paused. “My wife’s at work. Otherwise, I’d introduce you.” No, he wouldn’t. “Wish I could help you, son. I just don’t have it.”

There were a lot of things Levi wanted to say. Things about back child support coming to a lot more than five grand. Things about how Rob Cooper had surrendered the right to call him son eleven years ago. About how he’d stayed back in third grade because he’d spent fucking hours after school every day, sitting on the stoop, waiting for that mustard-yellow El Camino to turn into West’s Trailer Park because Levi knew, he knew his father wouldn’t just go away forever.

But his mouth stayed shut, and shame burned in his stomach because he’d let himself hope.

“I played football, too, did you know that?” his father asked.

“No,” Levi said.

“Wide receiver.”

“Cool. Listen, I gotta go.”

“Sure. Sorry again, Levi.”

It was hearing his name said by that voice, a voice still so well remembered, that almost broke Levi. He walked down the driveway carefully, as if he’d forgotten how, and got into Asswipe’s battered truck. Didn’t look back at his father and drove straight to Geneva to enlist. He wouldn’t let his father take any more away than he already had. Got a little drunk with his old pals that night, had to have Jess put him to bed, but otherwise, no harm done.

By the end of that week, Faith and Jeremy had gotten back together, anyway. Blip on the screen.

When graduation came around, Levi had passed the Army’s tests and was looking at sixteen weeks of basic training come August. All of a sudden, home suddenly became...everything.

Summer took on a bittersweet quality. He found himself sitting by his sister’s bed while she slept, hoping she’d do okay without him. Took her swimming, visited her Girl Scout troop and made all the little girls promise to send him notes and cookies. Brought his mom flowers one day, only to have her burst into tears.

The dense green hills and rows of grapevines, the sweet smell of the air were all abruptly precious. It was hard knowing things would never be the same, knowing that he would change and leave behind his old life, that this perfect last year would never be repeated.

The night before he had to head off to Fort Benning, Mr. and Mrs. Lyon threw him a party, told his mom that she’d raised a great man, and the three parents cried a little together. Jess broke up with him during the party, nothing big, just “Hey, there doesn’t seem like a point in keeping this up, do you think?” Levi agreed that no, there really wasn’t. She kissed him on the cheek, told him to be careful and said she’d write once in a while.

Jeremy picked him up the next morning. Levi kissed his mom goodbye, hugged Sarah tight and told them both to stop crying. Might’ve wiped his own eyes, too. Then Jeremy asked him if he wanted to drive the Beemer, and hells yeah, he did.

They were quiet all the way to Hornell, where the bus would take him to Penn Station, then to Fort Benning. Jeremy was heading for Boston College next week to start football practice, where he’d be backup QB to the senior starter. The gulf in their lives, the one that Jeremy never acknowledged, suddenly yawned between them. Jeremy would be a football god at a cushy school, possibly get tapped by the pros and, either way, would live a life of ease and privilege. Levi would serve his country in a war that most people didn’t think was doing much good and hopefully not get killed.

Jeremy bought a couple of coffees and waited until the Greyhound pulled up in a cloud of exhaust and the driver got out for a smoke.

“Looks like this is it,” Levi said, hefting his duffel bag onto his shoulder.

“Get a window seat,” Jeremy advised, as if he was experienced in the world of bus travel.

“Will do. Take care, dude,” Levi said, shaking his hand. “Thanks for everything.”

It was a shitty little phrase conveying nothing. Thanks for not caring where I lived, thanks for trying to get me noticed by recruiters, thanks for sending me that pass, thanks for your parents, thanks for picking me to be your friend.

“Thank you, too.” Then Jeremy hugged him hard and long, pounding him on the back, and when he let him go, Levi saw that his eyes were wet. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Jeremy said, his voice shaking.

“Right back at you, bud,” Levi said. “Right back at you.” A long minute passed, and for whatever reason, Levi thought maybe he should crack the door a little, now that he was leaving. “That wouldn’t change, either,” he added.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked.

If you came out. The words stayed stuck. Levi shrugged a little. “I just...I’ll always be here for you, man. Whatever happens. And you know...you can tell me anything. Call me. Email. All that good shit.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy said. They hugged again, and Levi got on the bus.

He didn’t go back to Manningsport for almost five years.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THANK YOU FOR TAKING me out,” Faith said three days after she’d landed in town. “I’m not sure how my grandparents haven’t killed each other yet. When I’m trying to fall asleep at night, I can still hear them in my head. ‘You want mustard. You always have mustard. How can you make a sandwich without mustard? Take the mustard.’ I could be on fire, and they’d still be fighting over the French’s.” She took a generous sip of her martini, one of the best things about Hugo’s Restaurant. “I’m starting to think that moving in with them was a fast road to suicide.”

Colleen O’Rourke grinned. “Oh, you Hollands. Such a cute family.”

Colleen and she had been friends since second grade, when Faith had had a seizure and Colleen had faked one, jealous of the attention Faith got. Colleen had been much more vigorous, the tale went, and ended up bumping her head on a counter and needing four stitches, which had made her very happy indeed.

“So, aside from the grandparents, how is it, being back?” Colleen asked now.

“It’s great,” Faith said. “My dad took me out to dinner last night, and it was great. The Red Salamander. Those pizzas are to die for.”

“I’d marry your father if you’d let me.” Colleen raised an eyebrow. “I mean, if he’s tolerating that horror show, think of how he’d feel about me and all this.” She gestured to her face and torso, which, admittedly, were beautiful.

“Don’t you even look at my dad,” Faith warned. “And for the love of God, please help me find him somebody. We’re worried that Lorena will take him for a drive and they’ll end up married, and Dad won’t quite notice because it’s harvest time.” She took another sip of her drink.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Colleen said. “No one good enough leaps to mind at the moment.”

That was the problem. Good enough for Dad meant sort of a Mother Teresa/Meryl Streep vibe. Rare, to say the least. She’d spent three hours on eCommitment/SeniorLove last night and came up with only one possible candidate.

“And how’s your project?” Colleen asked. “The thingie? The barn?”

“Well, I’ve been tramping around our land for the past two days, taking photos, doing land grade studies, water drainage tests. Get that look off your face. It’s fascinating stuff.”

“So this is a building for weddings and stuff?”

“Yep. But there are plenty of great places to get married or have a party around here, so the barn has to be special. That’s what I’m calling it. The Barn at Blue Heron. Do you love it?”

“I do! Very classy.” Colleen smiled. “So you’re back, Faith! You’re here! This is so great. I’ve missed having you around. You’re staying for two months?”

“Give or take. I talked to Liza last night and get the impression that Wonderful Mike is living there.”

“Don’t let him kick you out. I love having a place in Frisco.”

“San Francisco. Only the tourists call it Frisco.”

“I stand corrected, you snob.” She waved to the server—they’d gotten their drinks at the bar from Jessica Dunn, who’d barely said hello, but this guy was male, and as such, nearly fell over himself running to the table.

“Hi, Colleen,” he said warmly. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You look incredible.” He ignored Faith completely and leaned against the table, his ass on Faith’s bread plate. This was the problem with having a beautiful nymph for a friend. Men swarmed around Colleen like mosquitoes around a hemophiliac. “I get off in an hour,” the waiter added.

“Great!” Colleen said, tossing her dark hair back so he could see her boobs a bit better. “Do I know you? You’re very cute.”

The waiter made a huffy noise and straightened up. Faith pushed the plate away with the blunt end of her knife. “You don’t remember me?” the waiter asked. “Wow.”

“Why? Did we have a baby together? Are we secretly married? Wait, didn’t I give you a kidney?” Colleen smiled as she spoke, and Faith sensed the waiter softening.

“You’re such a tramp,” he said warmly.

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” Colleen said, batting her eyelashes. “Can we get another round?”

“I also need another bread plate,” Faith said.

The waiter ignored her. “Greg. My name is Greg.”

“Greg.” Colleen said the word like she was tasting it. “Can we get another round, Greg? Time’s a-wastin’. And at my bar, I wouldn’t keep the customer waiting.” O’Rourke’s was indeed the place to be, home of the best wine list in town as well as seventeen different microbrews and fantabulous nachos to boot. They’d come to Hugo’s because Colleen wouldn’t be able to talk if she was at her own place.

Plus, Faith was sort of easing back into Manningsport. And hiding from Jeremy, let’s be honest, who was a regular at O’Rourke’s. Not only was Jeremy the town doctor, he also gave to every charity that came a-knocking, sponsored four Little League teams and owned a vineyard, employing about a dozen people. He was probably the most popular man in town, if not on Planet Earth.

“Another round it is,” Greg said, touching the back of Colleen’s hand. “On the house to make up for the delay.” Because, yes, she was that beautiful, she could stab him in the eye with her fork, and he’d still want to take her home.

“You’re a witch or something,” Faith said as the waiter walked away. “I’m filled with admiration.”

“I may have slept with him this summer. Images are coming back to me. A white shag rug, a crisp, dry Riesling, from Blue Heron, of course... Anyway, have you run into any old friends or enemies?”

“Jessica Dunn is shooting me the death stare as we speak,” Faith said. “Is she still slutty?”

“Can’t say that I know. Have you seen anyone else?”

“Theresa DeFilio. She’s expecting again. Isn’t that nice?”

“So nice. And what about anyone else?” Colleen asked, narrowing her pretty eyes. “Anyone male who used to be engaged to you whose name starts with, oh, I don’t know...J?”

Faith sighed. “I emailed him, okay? Are you proud? We’re getting together next week.”

Colleen sighed. “Do you still talk to his parents?”

Faith nodded. “Yep. We had lunch down in Pacific Grove last month.”

“You’re a saint.”

“That’s true. But if someone calls me ‘poor thing’ one more time, I may go postal and kill everyone around me. Except children and dogs. And old people. And you. And Connor. Fine, I won’t kill anyone. But it’s driving me crazy.”

“I know!” Colleen said happily. “I’m suddenly really popular, too. Even more popular, I should say. People come in and plunk themselves down and say, ‘Coll, is she...’ tragic pause ‘...okay?’ And I say, ‘Sure! Why? Oh, you mean because Dr. Perfect dumped her at the altar? Ancient history, friend! She barely remembers.’”

“Thank you!” Faith said. “I’ve been getting these looks every time I go out. Did you see how Hugo came out to talk to me? First time ever.” She took a slug of her martini. “I’ve been coming here all my life, and the owner only just spoke to me today.”

“Don’t worry, hon,” Colleen said. “The gossips will find something else to talk about. Someone’s wife will cheat or someone will embezzle from the library board and they’ll all think about something other than you and Jeremy.”

“We can only hope,” Faith said.

Greg brought them their drinks and some cute little egg rolls, smiling at Colleen and ignoring Faith, who swiped another bread plate from an empty table.

“Hey, speaking of the library,” Faith said, “Julianne Kammer, remember her? Skinny, brown hair, very nice, threw up in seventh grade during the math test?”

“Yes, I remember. I’m not the one who’s been living on the left coast, honey.”

“Right,” Faith said. “Well, she asked me to do a job while I’m here in town. The little courtyard behind the children’s wing. I’m gonna have a little maze, see. Kids love that stuff. And I said I’d do it for free. Because I’m so nice.”

“And a little drunk, am I right? How is it that a Holland can’t hold her liquor?”

“I’m a throwback to my Puritan ancestors.” Hmm. Yes. She might be slurring a little.

“So is the time right for you to come back permanently? Frisco was never supposed to be your forever home.”

“San Francisco.”

“Right, right, please forgive me. Hold that thought, I have to hit the ladies’ room.” Colleen got up, leaving Faith alone.

Faith took another sip of her martini, despite her increasingly numb tongue, and glanced around. Hugo’s had been a good choice; it was quieter here, designed more for the tourist industry than a year-round, townie kind of place. The view of the lake was gorgeous, the tablecloths were crisp and white, sprigs of orchids in little vases. A group was just being seated; they’d been at Blue Heron today. Faith had filled in at the gift shop and recognized the pink teddy bear sweatshirt on one woman. Otherwise, Hugo’s held no one she recognized, other than Jessica Dunn, who was a big meanie.

Faith and Jeremy used to come here. They had a special table, right over there by the window, where they’d talk and hold hands and occasionally kiss. Sometimes Levi would come, too, to see Jessica Dunn (known as Jessica Does back in high school). It was always a little awkward when the four (or three) of them hung out. Jessica had never liked Faith...and neither had Levi, for that matter.

While Faith had wholeheartedly believed that every girl on earth should have a boyfriend exactly like Jeremy Lyon, an odd charge filled the air when Levi was around, and it only grew when Jessica joined them. Jeremy was much more attractive (Faith always thought of him as an exotic prince, with his swarthy skin and dark, dark eyes), but Levi had something Jeremy didn’t. Heterosexuality, she would learn.

But back in high school, Levi just made her nervous. He’d look at Jessica with those sleepy green eyes, his straight, dark blond hair always slightly messy, and you just knew those two were doing it—unlike herself and Jeremy, who were much more, uh, virtuous.

Once, Faith had caught Levi and Jessica making out in Hugo’s coatroom, and it had stopped her in her tracks, the lazy hunger in that kiss, slow and deep and unhurried. Levi had looked like a man years before the rest of the boys—thickly muscled arms and big hands that were the speculation of every female at Manningsport High. Then those hands had slid down Jess’s back, pulling her hips close against his own in an unmistakably sexual move, his mouth never leaving Jessica’s as he leaned into her.

Holy hormones.

Faith had whirled around and hightailed back to the table and her boyfriend, her perfect, loving, protective Jeremy. Her face had been hot, her hands shaking. Crikey, she’d hoped they hadn’t seen her. That little display had been so...crass. Yes. Crass.

Back then, she’d thought the reason Jeremy never kissed her like that was because they truly loved each other. It was something more pure and special than simple lust, that...that rutting that Levi and Jessica surely did.

Right.

“I hate that bathroom,” Colleen said, pulling Faith out of the bog of memories. “It’s freezing, first of all, and those automatic toilets are dangerous, like they could suck down an entire child.” She sat back down. “Hey, did you notice I’m wearing a push-up bra, Holland? For you. Connor always says women get more dressed up for each other than for men.”

“It’s true. I’m wearing a Microfiber Slim-Nation undergarment for you.”

“Really? Just for me? No wonder you’re my best friend.”

“You’re welcome. But you always wear a push-up bra.”