Author’s Note:
This is a rough draft. It has not been edited properly. Nothing is set in stone yet, and things may change as the draft develops. Thank you to anyone who reads and leaves feedback.
Read the rest, here:
Day Two:
Sam and Carey are still cracking jokes about music and its appropriately matched vehicle, but Augusta hardly hears them. All she can do is look at Luana. Luana, who remembers her. Who has remembered her this whole time, presumably. Luana, who acted like Augusta was a total stranger, despite remembering having sex with her. Sex? Was it sex or sex adjacent? Whatever. They hooked up, and Luana knows it.
It would be one thing if she forgot. Augusta could get past that. She was trying to, actually. She figured they were drinking. It was a decade ago. If Luana had forgotten, that’s embarrassing for Augusta, but so be it. She could have gone on to form a new impression of her and never, ever addressed it. That was the plan.
But this? This pretending? It’s like a twig has snapped in Augusta’s chest cavity. She doesn’t know if she’s humiliated, enraged, or empathetic. Some frustrating mix of the three.
Now they’re staring at each other. Two sets of brown eyes, with a whole dictionary of unsaid words between them. Too much to unpack on a boat. Augusta has three choices. Exactly three. She can call her out on her bullshit. She can make some sort of sly comment that tells Luana that Augusta knows what she knows and is unhappy in the knowing of it. Or, she can let it slide. Find a better time to address it, if at all.
She can’t do the first. She won’t. She doesn’t know what Luana’s deal is, but she obviously doesn’t want Sam or Carey to know. She obviously reacted pretty poorly, a decade ago, to being potentially perceived as queer. That may still be the case. Augusta won’t out somebody. Including the girlfriend of the guy who is currently in love with her boyfriend, or that guy.
She doesn’t want to let nothing happen, either. She’s guilty, historically, of this. Of just being passive. Of letting things happen to her. Of not speaking up. Of fearing her own agency, and its propensity to lead to her loneliness. But she’s hurt. She’s angry.
She opts for the second choice. Snark.
“Wow,” Augusta says.
Luana’s eyes widen. She looks terrified.
“I’m surprised you remember me mentioning that,” Augusta continues.
There’s pleading in her expression. Like she’s been walked up to the gallows and her life is in Augusta’s hands.
“Sometimes little details like that just flee my brain,” Augusta shrugs. “There for a quick minute, then they’re gone for, like, a decade.”
“What are you talking about?” Carey asks her. “You’re not very forgetful.”
“I can be,” Augusta mutters. “When I’ve had too much to drink.”
Luana’s cheeks are very red. Augusta feels bad. Did she take it too far? Was that too much? No. Right? No. No, Augusta deserved to say that. She deserved to say something. She’s not the problem here. Luana is. Sam is. Luana and Sam are the problems here.
Not her.
Luana turns her attention back to her phone and skips the remainder of Heavenward. She selects something more generic, top forty-ish type pop. Not really what Augusta would expect from her at all. Then, she reaches for the cooler of drinks. She cracks a can open and takes a big gulp.
“Whoa, Lu,” Sam frowns. “You okay? We were just kidding about the music.”
Luana wipes her mouth lightly on the back of her hand.
“Yeah,” she says. “Totally fine. Having a great time.”
Liar.
But Augusta already knew that.
▪️▪️▪️
The rest of the little pontoon cruise is sort of a disaster. Not that Augusta didn’t see that coming the minute Luana crushed her first post-Wolf Alice reveal cooler. A drunk woman who’s nervous of boats having a potential not-gay crisis on a boat? Sounds great.
At first, Sam and Carey don’t really notice. They sense a shift in Luana’s demeanor, sure, but they don’t seem to think much of it. Carey continues on with his tour of the lake like nothing is the matter. He shows off some highlight spots; the cottage on a little island painted bright purple, a marina with an ice cream shop, and popular place for people to stop by on canoe trips. It’s all really cool to see, and Augusta thinks if she was alone with Carey, she’d absolutely love it. Especially the purple cottage. She’d unironically live there. But, unfortunately for her attention, Luana is still in the boat.
Unfortunately for Luana’s sanity, actually, Luana is still in the boat. She seems very unhappy about this situation. She’s drinking more quickly than is healthy or socially acceptable. She’s beginning to look a little green. That’s when Sam starts to notice.
“Lu, you look like you’re going to puke,” he says. “Do you need to head back?”
She shakes her head. It’s kind of a loose, exaggerated motion. Not one that proves her point.
“No! I’m totally fine. I’m good. I’m having fun.”
Carey and Sam exchange a skeptical look.
“Want me to take us back?” Carey asks his friend.
“No!” Luana interjects. “I said I’m fine.”
Augusta, sitting at the far opposite boat from her, sighs.
“Um, I’m starting to feel a bit tired,” she lies in an attempt to spare Luana, though she’s not sure why. Or, not a lie. She is tired. Just of people. Not the boat. “Maybe we can start heading back?”
“You’re just saying that,” Luana accuses, words a bit clumsy. “Come on! I’m having fun. We’re having fun!”
Well, they were having fun a minute ago. Mild, awkward fun because of an interesting purple cottage. Now? Now it’s weird.
Sam lays a hand on Luana’s arm. Augusta thinks it’s one of the very few times she’s actually seen them touch.
“What’s going on?” He whispers.
Carey doesn’t seem to be waiting for a unanimous decision. He begins turning the boat back around, out of the little bay they’re currently circling.
“Nothing is going on,” Luana says to Sam. “You guys are overreacting to nothing.”
“I really could use some time on dry land,” Augusta insists. “I’m getting… Seasick?”
Carey shoots her an appreciative look. Like he knows she’s just trying to be nice on Luana’s account. He just has no idea why. To be fair, neither does she. She doesn’t have to be nice.
“You can’t get seasick on a lake!” Luana protests, voice getting a bit shrill.
“Luana…” Sam pleads.
“What?” She doubles down. “You can’t.”
“Mm, probably on, like, Lake Superior,” Carey argues.
Always one to consider the question literally.
Sam nods appreciatively. “Aren’t there shipwreck ruins in Georgian Bay? Must’ve been wavy.”
“That’s two different lakes,” Carey says.
“Okay! Fine! This lake is not big enough for seasickness,” Luana huffs.
“Maybe we all just need some water,” Sam says. “Drinking water. We should have packed some.”
Luana sort of glares at Sam. He looks like he’s also on the edge of panicking, though for a different reason. Augusta gets the feeling he’s very used to Luana’s smooth, polite polish in all social situations. She has the feeling Luana is, as she was ten years ago, always getting the right kind of attention. Always sunny and warm and easier to interact with than him. He’s not used to her embarrassing him or drinking too much like this. Augusta can read it in his expression.
Despite everything with Sam, she does feel for him. At least she understands why this is happening.
“It’s not a big deal, Luana,” Carey says lightly. “The tour is almost over. Uh, showed you all the good spots, I’m pretty sure. We should head back and I’ll get us some food. Food and water.”
“Great idea,” Sam says. “I know I’m hungry.”
Augusta looks out at the lake, away from everybody.
They might be trapped on a boat for only a few more minutes, but it doesn’t end when they reach the dock. They’re still at the beginning of the week.
▪️▪️▪️
By the time they make it off the dock, and back up to the cottage, it’s clear that Luana had finally caught up to the rest of them in understanding that she’s had a little too much sun and alcohol. She practically stumbles onto dry, stationary land and up into the house, heading right for the guest bedroom.
“Is she okay?” Carey asks once they hear the door slam shut. “Did something happen?”
Yes, Augusta thinks. Yes, something did. But Carey isn’t asking her. He’s asking Sam.
“Dude, I have no idea,” Sam whispers. “I’ve never seen her like this. I… I’m going to go make sure she’s okay.”
“You know, uh…” Carey frowns. “There’s a general store like twenty minutes from here. Do you want me to run out and get her Gatorade or something? Hangover supplies?”
Sam gives Carey the sort of appreciative look you might give someone for offering to donate a kidney.
“Really?” Sam asks. “You don’t mind?”
Augusta has to exert actual effort not to roll her eyes. He’s really doing too much.
“Not at all,” Carey says.
“I’ll come with you,” Augusta says. “Give Luana some privacy.”
Carey nods. “Great. Let’s just change, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Thanks, guys,” Sam says.
Carey offers him a comforting smile.
“Anything you need, Sam.”
And Augusta doesn’t know why the way he says it feels like a noose around her neck.
▪️▪️▪️
The car ride is nice. A good change of pace from the rest of the day, which has been tense for Augusta. She can just relax. Windows down, music on, and Carey behind the wheel, she shuts her eyes and feels a sense of ease.
“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Carey asks, when Augusta is silent, eyes closed, for a little too long. “Is there maybe a bug going around?”
Augusta opens her eyes and turns to look at him. His profile looks so beautiful in the afternoon sun, she thinks. The world has a sort of fuzzy, photo quality to it. The sort of thing that you want to just keep staring at, but that somehow feels a little out of reach.
“No, I’m fine,” Augusta assures him. “Just happy for it to be you and me.”
Carey smirks. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she shrugs. “I kinda like you, you know.”
“I think you’re alright,” he replies, cheeks pink.
Augusta smiles. It’s so much easier, when she’s not worried about the woman she hooked up with once, or the best friend who’s in love with her boyfriend.
“Weird about Luana, though, right?” Carey asks. “I mean, I guess you don’t know her. But really, it’s so unlike her to be, like, messy. She’s usually so together. Like you’d think she was one of those self-insert perfect Mary-Sue types in a novel she’s so flawless.”
Hmm. Two thoughts. One, of course that’s what his publishing brain goes to. A character archetype. Two, does he sound jealous? Maybe Augusta is reading too much into it. Maybe she’s sensitive to the idea right now. But he sounds jealous.
“Well, she warned us she’s nervous on boats,” Augusta says. It’s a shady misdirect. She knows that. “Maybe we should have skipped it?”
“Yeah,” Carey sighs. “My bad. It seemed like she was having fun at first.”
Augusta twinges with guilt. She doesn’t want him to feel bad or responsible. Hell, out of everyone here, he’s the only person she thinks isn’t guilty of some sort of lie or secret.
“No,” Augusta shakes her head. “No, Carey, it was really nice. I loved it. I’m glad we went.”
“Yeah?” Carey asks. “You are?”
“I am,” she insists. “This place is amazing. I’m really grateful you’re sharing it with me.”
Carey smiles. His cheeks go a little pink.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “You know… You know my childhood shit… It’s always complicated. But this place never felt complicated. It always feels like the world is still here.”
“I like that,” she says.
She wishes she could say her experience so far has been the same. But nothing has felt still for her. Not since that moment on the dock, when Sailor came barging into their little slice of Heaven.
“Can I ask you something?” Augusta asks, voice low and quiet. She’s risking ruining the moment, same as the dog.
“Yeah, Gus. You can ask me anything.”
Augusta takes a deep breath.
“Does Sam know about you?” She asks.
“About me?” Carey asks.
“He knows a lot about you,” Augusta asks.
“Yeah, he’s my best friend,” Carey replies. “You know a lot about Alannah.”
More than she’d like to, sometimes.
“Does Sam know you’re bi?” Augusta asks.
Carey’s face freezes for a moment. The warm, honey-sweet look vanishes.
“Oh, uh…” He frowns. “No. No, I haven’t mentioned it to him yet.”
Augusta’s stomach sinks. Her chest clenches.
“You-you haven’t?” She stammers.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I mean, it’s new, right? Like… It was so new, and then I got with you.”
“Right,” Augusta says.
“Hey, I’m not ashamed of it,” Carey tells her. “You know I’m not.”
“I know,” Augusta nods. That’s not why she feels ill.
“And if I’d started dating a guy, I would’ve told him, you know?” Carey shrugs. “But I met you, and… And you’re who I want to be with, so… There’s really no rush. Is there?”
Augusta shakes her head. “No. Of course not. There’s no rush. You don’t… It’s your choice.”
“Is that a problem?” Carey asks. He looks nervous. “Gus, I-I know you’re really proud of who you are, and-”
“It’s not,” she finishes quickly. “It’s not a problem. I just… I didn’t know if he knew. That’s all.”
And she’s pretty nervous of what will happen if he does.
“Do you think I should tell him?” Carey asks.
Fuck.
Shit.
She’s done this to herself.
This is a predicament. What can she say? Her honest advice removing herself from the equation? Yes. She should tell him. If Sam is his best friend, Carey should be able to tell him this part of who he is. If he can’t, that’s sort of a red flag for their friendship. But if he does tell him, then there’s the risk that Augusta loses him. There’s a huge risk of that. Unless Carey just wouldn’t be interested in Sam back, but… But somehow, Augusta doubts that.
“Well…” Augusta says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Um, what do you think he’d say?”
Carey thinks for a moment. They’re getting close to the little town where Augusta presumes the general store is. Maybe this conversation will end too soon, without any firm plans.
“I think he’d be cool,” Carey says. “I mean, he’s like, not at all knowledgeable about any of it. Different identities and stuff, you know?”
Maybe that’s true, but Augusta thinks Sam may be more aware than Carey knows.
“Right,” she says.
“His parents are super conservative,” Carey explains. “So he has all these rules and expectations he’s, like, half-unpacked. But he’s never been hateful or unkind towards anyone.”
Augusta nods. “I mean, that’s mostly good.”
“Yeah,” Carey agrees. “It is.”
Augusta knows she can’t be completely selfish here. It’s the best thing for Carey to come out to his friends on his own timeline, whatever that may be. But she also can’t bear to be completely altruistic.
“Maybe you should wait until sometime when it’s just the two of you,” she says. Like, after the trip. “That way, no matter how it goes, you both have the space to work through it.”
Carey nods, pensive.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, I think you’re right. After this week, maybe.”
She feels like she’s bought herself just a little bit of time. But, still, it feels like Augusta may be fighting a clock.
Eight Months Ago:
“Do you think I should ask Luana to marry me?” Sam asks.
The question catches Carey entirely off guard.
“What?” He asks.
They’re sitting in Carey’s living room, watching a football game. Carey has never been a huge fan of watching American football. It’s slow and doesn’t hold his attention. But Sam’s father is a Packers fan, so Sam is a Packers fan, as are the rules of genetic sports teams inheritance. Or, they should be. Carey’s own father was a big Ottawa Senators fan, but it never made Carey like hockey. Regardless, Carey likes watching the game with Sam. Mostly because Luana doesn’t. Not that he doesn’t like Luana. He does. He swears. Just… It’s nice to get Sam alone.
“Do you think I should ask Luana to marry me?” Sam asks again, as if Carey simply misheard him. It’s the start of a commercial break. This is meant to be a quick conversation.
And, truth be told, Carey feels a gut wrenching sense of panic. Again, not because he doesn’t like Luana. He does. It’s just… Well, he and Sam don’t have a great track record with Sam getting married.
“Uh…” Carey stalls.
He has no idea how to answer. Honestly? No. He couldn’t do that. What would he even say? The thought of you ever marrying anyone again makes me physically ill, so maybe don’t do it!
“Uh, what?” Sam asks, frowning.
“Uh, isn’t it too soon?” Carey tries.
Sam’s expression twitches a little. “Is it?”
“I mean… Potentially,” Carey says. “You know what they say about men who jump from marriage to marriage.”
“Do I?” Sam asks. “And that’s not what I’d be doing!”
“Well…” Carey tries. “Like a little bit, wouldn’t it be?”
Sam’s expression twists with irritation. “Carey, it’s been years.”
“No, I know,” Carey says. “I know.”
“We’re not kids anymore. I was… I was so young when Blair and I got married.”
“I know,” Carey says again.
“So, what’s the issue?” Sam asks.
The game starts up again. Sam doesn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t know!” Carey sort of whines. He does. “It just seems soon! I didn’t realize the two of you were that serious.”
Which is true! That is true. Carey hadn’t been expecting this. Sam has never talked about Luana in a way that made him think uh oh, here we go again. Which is maybe not a good way of thinking about that anyway… Why does Carey think like that about Sam finding a life partner? He must be a sort of shitty friend.
Sam exhales. “Yeah, okay… I can see that. We aren’t, like, talking about super serious things.”
“So you don’t know if she wants to get married?” Carey asks. That’s good. Maybe she doesn’t. He could see that. Luana is so strong and independent. Maybe she doesn’t like the idea of marriage.
“Maybe?” Sam says. “I don’t know. She was engaged once. In university. She was really young.”
“Didn’t go through with it?” Carey asks.
Sam shakes his head. “No. She was smarter than me.”
His voice is laced with guilt, the way it always is when they dance around the topic. Not that Carey has ever asked him to be guilty. He forgave him, wholeheartedly. Or at least, he said he did. He thought he did. But here he is, feeling anxious as all shit, at the idea of Sam doing the same thing. Does forgiveness mean you trust the person not to make the same error going forward? That you trust them not to hurt you again?
“Maybe you should talk to her about future goals first,” Carey says. And that’s not even selfishly given advice, that’s just good sense. “I mean, you’re not even living together.”
Sam frowns, like he knows Carey is right, but this was not the answer he was hoping to arrive at.
“I guess that makes sense,” he says.
“What’s the hurry?” Carey asks, nervous. “I mean, there isn’t one, right?”
“I guess not,” Sam says. “I mean… I do want… I do want a family and a life with someone, someday.”
I’m your family, Carey’s brain rattles off jealously. It’s stupid. He knows what Sam means. He means a wife and kids. What he thought he might have with Blair. Carey’s friendship was what Sam needed when he lost that, but it’s not what he wants exclusively, forever.
“I know you do,” Carey says quietly. “You know I do, too.”
And he does. He just… Well, he’s always had trouble imagining who would take that place. He’s dated women. Lots of them. He really liked some of them. Approaching love, maybe. But every time he thinks he’s found the woman for him, it’s like his brain hits a wall. He can’t picture their future together. Like his usually overactive imagination just quits on him. The only consistent thing, when he imagines his future, is his friendship with Sam. He’s not going to let that go again.
“Can I be honest?” Carey asks after a prolonged pause.
Sam nods. “Yeah… I… Sorry if you thought you couldn’t be.”
Carey shakes his head. “No, no… Not like…”
There’s so much pain there, still, between them. So much they decided to forgive, but never spent any time addressing. Sam called, Carey came, he told him it was all in the past. But the fear is still there.
“I don’t mean it like that,” Carey clarifies. “I just… I like Luana, okay? I think she’s great. I could see her as that person for you.”
“But?” Sam asks.
“But I’ve never seen you act like she is,” Carey says. “I never get the feeling you’re, like, swept up in love with her. It always just seems like she’s… She’s just someone you like having around.”
Sam looks away, expression flinching a little.
It’s not a lie. Even if the truth isn’t entirely altruistic, it’s not a lie. Sam and Luana don’t give Carey the impression of two people wildly in love. They just seem comfortable. Friendly. And that’s fine. Maybe that’s fine for both of them. Who’s Carey to judge? Except, he knows Sam. He thinks Sam wants to be wildly in love with someone.
“Sorry,” Carey mumbles.
“No,” Sam shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. I… I don’t know. She checks all the boxes, you know? I’m really happy with her.”
“I know,” Carey nods. “Maybe talk to her.”
“Yeah,” Sam sighs. “That’s good advice. I will.”
Which could lead to them both agreeing marriage is what they want. Which… Which could mean Carey loses Sam all over again. He doesn’t know why he would, but he might. It’s not fair, but the fear just won’t leave him.
▪️▪️▪️
The whole next day, Carey feels miserable. He can’t focus on work. He can’t focus on anything. His brain is solely consumed by a nightmare scenario of his own making. Sam’s imaginary second wedding.
It’s silly. He knows it’s silly. It really doesn’t actually sound like Sam and Luana are anywhere near ready to get married. Luana isn’t Blair. Sam isn’t the same as back then. It’s been years. Over half a decade. Sam isn’t going to just drop Carey like a stone and flitter off into the sunset with Luana.
He’s not.
Except what if he does?
Carey feels like shit. He feels like a terrible friend. Why should he be unhappy? His whole point with Sam not marrying Blair is that she wasn’t good for him. They had different goals and wants in life. Different needs. Conflicting personalities. And at the end of the day, Carey knew Sam was only doing it because of a guilt trip he got from his mother when she found condoms in his bag on a trip home for Easter. You’ve ruined her for anyone else, she’d told him. You have to marry her.
So this isn’t even the same situation!
You’re just selfish, a tiny voice in the back of his head accuses. You always have been. Selfish, greedy, possessive, unreasonable. You always want everything all to yourself. You’re just what everyone always said you were.
So obsession mixes with guilt, and in a flurry of emotions, Carey revisits an old play from his fucked up playbook. He avoids being alone.
It’s a thing he did in university. A bad habit. An expensive one. He goes out to a bar or a club or some sort of social venue, and he just stays until he knows he’s about to hit a wall and sleep like a corpse. Somewhere loud and busy and full of people. Somewhere he can’t be alone with his thoughts. Somewhere he could meet anyone, do anything, like walking into an unfamiliar river and letting the current take him somewhere he doesn’t know yet.
That night, it does just that.
Carey drinks only enough to loosen up. Chats with everyone friendly and approachable in the bar near his work, just enough to draw attention to himself. He’s successful. Really successful, actually. Because before long, Carey finds himself being flirted with by a passably handsome, friendly-but-boring type man with dark hair and brown eyes, who introduces himself as Sawyer. He looks like a blurry image of Sam, really. Like someone took the basic frame of what makes Sam eye-catching, and dulled down the colour and contrast.
The thing is, sometimes men flirt with Carey. It’s not a big deal. He knows he can be charismatic and overly friendly. He knows sometimes people perceive that as flirting. It’s a strange mode he flips on without even really intending to. Like a security blanket. Here’s fun, charming Carey! You wouldn’t really want to exclude or ignore fun and charming Carey, would you?
Anyway, sometimes fun and charming Carey picks up the attention of other men. Usually, he brushes it off good-naturedly. Who cares? It’s not offensive. It’s not uncomfortable. He’s not homophobic! In fact, tonight, with the No Name Brand Sam - or Sawyer, whatever - chatting him up, he almost feels… Intrigued?
He feels intrigued when Not Sam slides a bit closer to him at the bar, and their knees knock together. He feels intrigued when Not Sam’s hand rests over his on the bartop. Intrigued enough to buy Not Sam a drink. Intrigued enough to let Not Sam kiss him in the bar’s back hallway. Intrigued enough to let him put his hands in places he probably shouldn’t, at his age, in public.
It doesn’t go much further than that, but… But it’s enough for Carey to realize it’s more than just being intrigued.
As he’s Ubering home, later that evening, brain spiralling, he receives a text from Sam. Not Not Sam. Sam Sam. The person he doesn’t want to admit he’s been thinking about all evening. All evening.
You were right. Luana is in no hurry to get married. Don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thanks for being honest and calling me on it. You’re a great friend.
A Great Friend :) :) :) definitelyyyyy
Keep them coming! Loving the story so far😊