Page 95 of Perfect Mess

Kyle nodded.

“Is it like filled with sharks? Or alligators? Or piranhas or something?”

Kyle shook his head again. Then he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Are you and my dad going to kiss?”

Luckily, I had made another batch of margaritas while Gary was fetching the ladder from his van. I picked my cup up off the floor where I had staged it while holding the ladder, then took a nice big gulp. I needed to buy myself enough time to plan a response. “No,” I said, as the tequila warmed the back of my throat. “No, of course not. Why would you ask that?”

“Is my dad going to kiss you?”

“No. No one’s going to kiss anyone.” I took another gulp of margarita and instantly regretted it, because now my glass was empty. Luckily, the sound of Gary’s voice saved me.

“Hey Mary,” Gary called down from the attic. “You might want to come up here and take a look.”

“Be right up!” Grateful for the distraction, I scampered up the ladder.

* * *

As soon asGary grabbed my hand and hoisted me up through the opening, I asked, “What’s wrong?” I was afraid he had found a magic portal to hell, letting in an army of cats. And inquisitive children.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Gary said. “Just a lot of boxes to sort through. I figured it would go faster if we worked together.” Gary swept the beam of his flashlight so it illuminated the far side of the attic, where the boxes were stacked on top of each other from floor to ceiling. Gary took a step toward them, and the floor creaked.

“Make sure you stay on the crossbeams,” I warned. “Otherwise you could fall through.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Gary tiptoed across the attic, springing from beam to beam.

“You realize you’re wasting your time, right?”

“How do you figure?” Gary asked, pulling a box off the stack.

“It’s probably all junk.”

A box tucked under each arm, Gary balanced across a wooden board like a tight-rope walker in Cirque du Soleil. We each opened a box and started digging.

I pulled out a pair of polyester orange pants. “Even if we found a bathing suit in here, it would never fit.” Gary pulled out a faded denim jacket. “And even if it fit, I wouldn’t wear it.” I pulled out some green corduroy slacks. “And even if I wore it, I would never let you see me wearing it.”

Gary pulled out a mint green tablecloth. “So you’re proposing we go skinny dipping?”

“If you want me to go skinny dipping, we’re going to need another pitcher of margaritas.” Not giving him time to form a mental picture, I said, “Plus, there’s a small child present. I wouldn’t want to traumatize him. You’d have to take out a massive loan to pay for all the therapy.”

Gary’s flashlight pointed at the boxes, so I couldn’t see his face. Was he smiling? Frowning? Was his face stuck in a silent scream of terror? It felt like Gary stayed quiet for an eternity. I hoped he wasn’t dwelling on that stupid skinny dipping thing. It was only a joke. I mean, really, there was a child down there. Plus, I hadn’t waxed my bikini lines in weeks. There were a thousand reasons Gary Wright, and I would not be skinny dipping any time soon. Or ever. A million reasons.Damn it, now I was dwelling on the skinny dipping thing.

While I had been trying to wrestle my thoughts back under control, Gary grabbed another armful of boxes. For the next twenty minutes, we searched box after box. It was like Christmas morning, except instead of wonderful gifts and presents, it was old smelly boxes full of junk. We found pillowcases, towels, and a coffeemaker with a cracked glass carafe. The one thing we didn’t find was a bathing suit.

“Why do you care if I go swimming, anyway?” I asked as Gary handed me another box. By this time, there were only a few left to search.

“Kyle’s not a strong swimmer yet, so if he goes in the pool, I have to go in with him.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Well,” said Gary. “If you come into the pool with me, I figured it would give you time to explain.” Gary frowned as he pulled an ancient-looking brassiere out of his box.

“Explain? Explain what?” I asked.

“The real reason you’re trying to set me up with Janet?” His face bathed in illumination from the flashlight, Gary met me eye-to-eye.

I had to do damage control, but something inside of me knew it was already too late. Like Kate Winslet, pulling out a roll of duct tape as the Titanic slipped under the waves. “I told you why I was trying to set you up with Janet,” I said, heart thumping faster in my chest. “She was obsessed with you.”

“Twenty years ago.”

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