Broken Resolutions

Chapter Four

Creedence Clearwater Revival fills the room as everyone takes their seats at the dining table. It is another rule of the party—nothing but seventies and eighties music. It is the music of their youth. The music playing on the car radio when they learned to drive. The music they listened to with their first girlfriend or boyfriend and defined as “our song.” The music playing as they swayed slowly on the gym floor during the prom. The music in their college dorms as they received their first taste of independence and homesickness. The music they lost their virginity to. It was their music, and they knew every word to every song. By heart.

Craig and Hannah sit on either end of the long dining table. Three chairs run the length of the table on either side. Each couple sits across from each other, with the exception of Rita who sits across from an empty chair.

“How was the weather on your way over, Rita?” Emily asks.

“It’s snowing harder. The radio said we could get over a foot,” Rita answers.

“A foot? Earlier this morning they were saying six inches,” says Hannah.

Max speaks up. “I heard eighteen inches. The wind makes it seem worse than it actually is, though.”

“There was a drift across the end of our driveway when we left,” Andrew says. “And I just ran the snow blower this morning.”

“You say this William has his own plane?” Max says abruptly to Rita.

“A jet.” 

“A private jet, huh? He must be doing pretty well for himself. What does he do for a living?”

“Software development.”

“He develops software and he lives in Aspen? In the mountains? Seems like he’d live in Silicon Valley, or Seattle, or at least one of the coasts.”

“He develops software. He can work anywhere—from a mountain in Aspen or a beach in Fiji—all he needs is a computer.”

“I still don’t understand. If he has his own plane…” The doorbell and Rita’s cell phone ring at precisely the same moment, interrupting Max mid-sentence.

“Who could that be?” Hannah rises from the table to get the door.

“Hello,” Rita says into her cell phone. “Oh, I was afraid it was you. Sure, sure, I understand.

Max leans forward and watches Rita intently.

The thought suddenly hits Craig that it could be Shelia at the door—coming to make a scene. To demand he makes their relationship public. To demand he returns to the apartment and abandons this charade. He rises quickly from the table and follows Hannah.

Still on the phone, Rita giggles coquettishly. “Well, there’s always next year. We can make up for lost time.” She laughs again and then opens her mouth to speak, but the words dam inside her throat and she can only gasp as Hannah, Craig, and the latest guest enter the room.

In his early thirties, the man is tall, attractive, and dressed in a stunning black suit. Spotting Rita, he crosses the room and kisses her on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, babe. Traffic is getting bad. The snow’s really coming down now.” He moves to the chair opposite her and takes his place.

Other than an occasional stunned blink, Rita still has not moved.

“I’m Rita’s boyfriend,” the newcomer says, as Craig and Hannah settle back into their seats.

The words bring Rita to life. “I gotta go,” she mutters into the cell phone before dropping it back into her purse. “Bye,” she stammers. “William Reynolds.”

“I thought that’s who you were talking to on the phone,” Max says.

“No, no…” she stammers again. “That was Carol, a woman I work with.”

“But you said you understood and that you could make up for lost time, like it was him calling to cancel,” Max insists.

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “Lost time, lost money, on a deal.” She reaches for her wine glass and takes a gulp.

Hannah passes the lasagna to William. “Thank you,” he says, putting a generous portion on his plate. “And you guys can call me Billy.”

“I thought you were snowed in, in Aspen,” Max says, looking down the table at the newcomer seated across from Rita.

Rita drains the rest of her wine glass.

“Well,” Billy said, pausing before he speaks again. “That’s what I told Rita, what I wanted her to think, but I was just pulling her leg. I wanted to surprise her.” He smiles at Rita, who gives him a weak smile in return before picking up her fork and concentrating on her lasagna.

Billy smiles as Hannah introduces him to the rest of the dinner guests, until he hears Max’s name. “So, you’re Max,” he says, the smile slipping from this face.

Hannah moves on with the introductions, but some time passes before Billy and Max look away from each other.

“And you know Rita,” Hannah finishes with a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten the moment.

Rita does not look up from her plate.

“How were the roads?” Craig asks Billy.

“Not good.”

“How can that be?” Max interrupts. “This little bit of snow must seem like nothing to a man who lives in Aspen.”

Rita speaks before Billy can respond. “I’m sure he meant relatively. For this area—for the Midwest—the roads are bad. Obviously, compared to the kind of snow Aspen gets, this is nothing.”

Billy swallows his mouthful of lasagna and nods in agreement. “Wyoming’s bad this time of year. But you get used to it.”

“Wyoming?” Max pounces. “Why would you bring up Wyoming?”

“I didn’t. You did. You said living in Aspen, I must be used to all the snow.”

Max looks around the table, relishing the moment. “Last time I looked at a globe, Billy Boy, Aspen was in Colorado.”

Billy puts down his fork and looks directly at Max. “What’s your point?”

“You said Aspen was in Wyoming.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did!” Max’s voice becomes shrill. “I said you must be used to all the snow, living in Aspen, and you said Wyoming is bad this time of year.”

“It is.”

“You said that Aspen is in Wyoming!”

“No, I didn’t. I said Wyoming is bad this time of year, which it is—as are Montana and Colorado.”

Rita broke in. “I think he ought to know what state he lives in, Max! Aspen is in Colorado.”

“That’s not what he said!” Max’s face is red. “He said Aspen was in Wyoming! Didn’t he Amber?” He turns his eyes across the table for support.

“Well, not really,” Amber says. “You said this snow must seem like nothing to a man who lives in Aspen, and then he said that Wyoming is bad this time of year.”

“Don’t you see? That implies that Aspen is in Wyoming! Am I the only one who sees this?” Max exclaims.

For a moment, no one says anything.

Billy picks up his fork, stabs a hunk of lasagna, and says, “Try to keep up with the conversation, Max.”