Beck beat her cellphone on the palm of her hand and paced the length of my living room. Fifteen minutes and one iced tea later, she slammed her glass down on the kitchen counter and declared a road trip.
“What?” I asked.
“I thought about it,” she said.
“Well, that’s—”
“I need to talk to my parents. And you’re right, I should think about it first. I can do that in the car. It’s nearly a six-hour road trip. That’s plenty of time to figure out what to say or ask. God damn it, I should have seen the writing on the wall! Our parents were in that parenting group when we were young, and after you mentioned you were adopted, I realized that’s what the group was for . . . I just never thought my parents were there for them. I imagined they were there to support your parents! God, I can be so dense sometimes!” Beck rambled on at the speed of light.
“No, don’t say that. It’s easy to overlook something when your heart steps in the way.” Our minds played tricks on us all the time. Most people couldn’t see anything clearly if they were emotionally wrapped up in it. And this was very emotional for a first-timer.
“I’ve got to go.” Beck checked her watch. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning?”
I smiled and nodded, not entirely convinced that come morning, she’d still want to confront her parents in person. I’d be by her side either way.
9:00 AM struck, and I was all but sure that Beck had given up on talking to her parents. Though that hadn’t stopped me from packing a bag as soon as I woke, and it sat ready by the front door. I sipped my third cup of coffee, staring at my unfinished wall while I replayed her reaction over again in my head. I wondered if she would feel up to painting today after school; if she even made it, that was. If Becca was anything like Everly, she’d skip school and lay in bed wasting away. But what I was coming to believe was that Becca was a stronger version than the girl I had known before.
One hour and one fresh coat of paint later, a long honk blared in my driveway. The low rumbling sound of bass grew before a car door slammed shut. I opened my front door, paintbrush in hand, to see Beck bounding forward with bright eyes and beautifully short shorts. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I asked.
“What do you mean? I thought we were going to see my parents?”
“Oh, yeah, of course! I just thought that maybe you would have changed your mind once you . . . had time to think about it some more.” I set the paintbrush in the paint tray, and Beck took a step inside.
“Then what’s that?” She pointed to my bag by the door.
I shrugged. “Proper planning?”
“Come on, let’s go.”
I looked around the tiny house with longing, but there was nothing here that couldn’t wait a few days. “Give me a minute to lock up.”
“OK, I’ll be outside!” Beck said.
I hammered the lid onto the paint can and changed out of my construction clothes. When I stepped outside, the first thing I noticed was that Beck wasn’t driving her truck. A black jeep sat eagerly in my driveway. The second thing I noticed was that Beck wasn’t driving. Brooklyn was. I turned my back on the jeep and locked my front door, then swung my bag over my shoulder as I approached the back passenger’s side. Brooklyn waved excitedly, and it was clear that I wasn’t the only one who’d had three cups of coffee this morning. She and I hadn’t talked since the day she accused me of “not knowing,” whatever that had meant. But I could see by the smile on her face that it was water under the bridge. And if I was going to spend six hours with her in a car, I was happy to dismiss it as well. Just not forever.
I threw my bag into the back, wincing when I saw how much luggage had fit into Brooklyn’s trunk. Not as much as they had packed for Las Vegas but similar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch how long this trip was, and by the looks of your truck, I may or may not have . . . grey hair by the time I return,” I said as I crawled into the back seat. I’d never understood the obsession of needing so many options. That is what was behind me, taking up half of the Jeep. It was shoes. I knew it. “Good morning to you too, Easton!” Brooklyn said.
“Good morning, Brooklyn.” I shook my head, giving her an eye full of unfinished business.
Beck reached behind her seat to hand me a hot coffee they’d picked up while filling the vehicle full of gas. She shot me a glance that could only be described as “I’m sorry,” but I didn’t mind. In fact, despite our last heated conversation, I thought Brooklyn was good for Beck.
“I’m not sure if you knew this, but Brooklyn and I went to high school together. So when we were looking at colleges, Brooklyn found Norton University and practically begged me to come with her.” Beck rolled her eyes.
“I did not beg!” Brooklyn said.
“You did! She did.” Beck nodded before turning back around, laughing.
“Wait, Brooklyn chose Norton?” I tried to read their faces, but the back seat did little in terms of view.
“It’s where I’d always dreamed of going.” Brooklyn glanced into her rear-view mirror, fixing her eyes on me. They burrowed deep into mine, and though I couldn’t read minds, I could read hers now.
“So we moved out here together and got an apartment close to the college. Anyway, long story short, she’s going back to see her parents too. We’ve done this road trip a few times now and really have it down,” Beck said.
I listened to the girls chat about a TV show. They were four seasons deep, and the drama ran as deep as the blue ocean. I stared out the window. When we crossed the New River Bridge, Beck busied herself by digging through her purse frantically. I leaned forward and gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she was so plagued with tension that it was contagious. I, too, became tense.
“Jesus Becca, what’d you forget?” Brooklyn said, trying both to keep her eyes on the bridge and look into Beck’s bag for clues.
Beck threw her purse on the ground, and her eye caught on the window. I watched her reflection as she studied the bridge. I didn’t know if it was the transparency of her eyes or true vacancy, but there was an emptiness in them. “Nothing,” Beck said in a soft tone.
I sipped my coffee even though I was on the verge of being overstimulated and belted in place, no way to expel the energy coursing through my veins. I settled in for the long haul. Brooklyn filled the air with stories of high school Becca, and I wished I could reciprocate my favorite of the times we’d shared in the past. Then, when Beck couldn’t withstand any more humiliation, Brooklyn switched gears to talk about her parents. They were both attorneys, and her brother was in law school. She called herself the black sheep of the family, and I wondered if that was the common thread between Beck and Brooklyn’s friendship. Perhaps that was the reason I took so well to Brooklyn, too.
What should have only taken six hours would turn into an eight-hour road trip. Possibly longer. I learned more about Brooklyn in that time than I had ever aspired to, but I didn’t mind. As much as the girls talked, and it was second to none, they never seemed to mention Beck’s adoption. I gathered that Brooklyn wasn’t yet privy to the information, and therefore, I kept my mouth shut. When the caffeine finally dissipated, my eyes drooped, and I fell into a dream like state of semi-consciousness.
The dream was nothing less than magnificent. The best part was, I was awake enough to control the outcome. Beck and I got to her parents’ house, but they had taken off for a weekend getaway. We had the house to ourselves and treated it like a vacation, lounging around the pool and drinking her parents’ liquor cabinets dry. I spent the days watching Beck under the sun and the nights admiring her new tan lines. One night, I convinced her to skinny dip with me. The water was chilly, but the hot tub was ready and waiting. I watched Beck undress as I stood naked by her side. Our toes breached the edge of the pool. I counted down from three with no intention of taking the polar bear plunge myself. Little did she know, I’d be getting her back for our bungee jump incident.
When I yelled three, Beck leapt into the pool, arms strai
ght in the air and screaming until she hit the water with a splash. I stood at the pool edge bent in half laughing.
“Oh! Is he smiling?”
“What?”
“He is.”
“Bet he’s dreaming about you.”
External whispers penetrated the boundaries of my dream, but nothing was more alluring than Beck’s face when she came up for air to see me padding to the hot tub, dry as could be. I sank back into my subconscious, where Beck showed me just how angry she was with me in the sweltering hot tub. I awoke with a bump. My head slammed against the window.
“Ah!” I grabbed the side of my head and surveyed our surroundings. Brooklyn looked behind her seat and snickered. I pushed myself upright and wiped the drool that was seeping from my mouth while both girls laughed at me.
“Nice dream, Easton?” Brooklyn teased.
“Stop!” Beck sank into her seat.
“Very, very nice,” I said. Both girls laughed with embarrassment, and heat rippled under my skin. Even with my eyes open, I could still see Beck enveloped in steam. I rubbed my eyes, trying to bring myself back to reality. Though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Well, we’re about thirty minutes out.”
“So, we’ll be there in an hour?” I asked. Brooklyn’s jaw dropped, but she had no comeback. I ran my hands through my hair and straightened my back, settling in for the last hour of the drive.
Chapter 21
It was dusk long before we met our destination and I had grown restless. I stretched my arms overhead, a groan escaping my throat. “Call me if you need anything. Love ya!” Brooklyn waved out the window as she drove away. I looked to Beck and then back at her parent’s house. Not only was it massive, but it was dark, too. I was pretty sure that nobody was home.
“Did you tell them we were coming?” I asked.
Beck looked back at the house before pulling the handle out on her suitcase. “No, but I have a key.”
“Well, are they going to be OK with you bringing a guy home?” I followed her to the large wrought iron doors.
“They don’t care! They’re going to be excited to see me . . . and they’ll love you! You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Beck pushed open the door and rolled her suitcase into the foyer, fumbling for the lights.
“Ahh . . .” A woman’s muffled moan snapped us to attention. My pupils grew large, trying to cut through the darkness. My heart beat against my chest as I realized we had made a terrible mistake. Just as the lights flicked on, a naked woman rolled off the sofa and hit the floor with a thud. A man flailed his arms, spewing a long list of profanities as he covered his lap with a decorative throw pillow. The gold tassels swayed as the veins in his neck bulged. Beck cupped her mouth with both hands, dropping her bags to the floor. The suitcase handle slapped against the tile below, and the woman crawled on all fours behind the couch.
“What the fu—” Beck’s dad hissed.
“Oh my god!” Beck squealed as she bolted out of the room, ultimately leaving me behind, staring at her naked father.
I had half the mind to reintroduce myself, but I wanted to make a good first impression. As slim as my chances were now—due to unforeseen circumstances—it didn’t keep me from trying. I acknowledged him with a curt nod before making my slow exit. The panting and cursing faded as I ventured deeper into the house in my attempt to find Beck. I began to meander, though not aimlessly. I dragged my fingers across a full bookcase, catching a few titles I knew and loved. I admired some framed photographs of baby Beck in the hallway. Partially listening to the symphony of her parents’ argument that played softly in the background. When I came upon the kitchen, it was obvious that we had come at a really bad time. Red roses unwound in a tall crystal vase, and the remembrances of mixed drinks lay on a wooden cutting board. Grains of salt and pools of lemon juice indicated a rushed mixing.
I briefly wondered if we’d be getting a hotel tonight when I heard a door slam and an echo in the distance. I still hadn’t found Beck when her dad came upon me in the kitchen. His collar was popped and his pants were falling without the security of his belt. His face was nearly beet red. And if I hadn’t known that Beck was adopted, I might say she’d gotten her complexion from him. I’d seen her flush like that more than a time or two.
“Who are you!?” he barked, still breathing heavily.
“Hello, sir. I’m Easton Green. Um, your old neighbor?” I reached my hand out, but he did nothing more than stare at it with cinched brows.
Beck’s mom rounded the corner, wearing a white satin robe that hugged her body like a second skin. “Who are you? And where’s Becca?” She tied her robe with a fierce double knot.
“Hi. I’m Easton Green, your old neighbor?” I extended my hand for the second time, and much like the first, she denied it too. She looked nothing like Beck with her dark features, and I was surprised that adoption had never occurred to Beck as a possibility before.
I pulled back my rejected hand and stuffed it into the pockets of my jeans, “I’m a—” I began, determined to make them like me.
“You know, maybe now is not the time. You should go,” Beck’s mom said. I had nowhere to go. My mouth fell open, but no words came out. The three of us waded through the awkwardness until Beck rounded the corner with a vengeance.
“What the fuck, Mom?” Beck said, holding her hand high in the air. “Who the hell is that!?” she gestured to the man fidgeting with his belt.
What? Oh, no! My eyes darted from Beck to her father, not father . . . to her mother.
“Uhh, I’m going to get going, Lil,” said the man. He hesitated for a moment before striding out of the kitchen.
“Does Dad know about this?” Beck hissed.
“Your father is away on a business trip,” she said before giving me a long and uncomfortable gaze.
“You know, I should go too . . . I’m just going to go . . .” When my declaration had gone unnoticed, let alone unprotested, I followed the fool who’d walked out moments earlier.
I followed the man I’d thought to be Beck’s second father outside but not before he collected his shoes from under the sofa. I took one last look into the house before I closed the wrought iron door, leaving the argument behind. “So what’s your name, man?” I asked.
He studied me, scanning the length of my body. “Charlie,” he said reluctantly.
“Hi, Charlie. I’m Easton,” I said. The air had grown cooler, and the stars began to shine through the twilight sky. I took a seat on the curb while Charlie approached his car. With one foot on the floorboards of his car, he paused and looked me over one last time.
“Do you need a ride somewhere, kid?” he asked. I would have accepted if I had somewhere to go, but I didn’t know this town from Adam. My time was best spent waiting it out on the curb. I hoped Beck would fetch me shortly.
“No, I’m OK. I’ll be fine here. Thanks, though.” Charlie gave me a quick nod before leaving, and soon I was left to my lonesome. I tried to adjust my seat, but no matter how I sat, the curb was uncomfortable. I spent the next half-hour watching the glowing lights flicker on and off in the surrounding windows—families watching TV—and trying to stretch my hearing as far as it could take me. When I thought they were finally done and it was safe to return inside, it would start up again. The rise and fall of the mother-daughter dispute finally ran its cycle, and I received a text from Beck asking me where I had been hiding.
Beck found me on the curb. I stood, letting her fall into my open arms. “I’m so sorry you had to see that,” I said.
“Yeah. I’m sorry you had to see it too. Apparently, he was her art instructor,” Beck said, and I couldn’t be more grateful her head rest on my chest and she was unable to meet my gaze. I cleared my throat, buying myself time to gather a reply. “You know, I shouldn’t even care. They’re just two random people having sex. It’s not like she’s my mom anyway, right?” Beck pulled away to read my face.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I mean she ra
ised you, right?” I said, and Beck sighed, letting a strand of hair twist around her finger. “Parents are the people who raise you. Sometimes, people have biological parents, and other times, it’s who they learned under. It’s about who made them feel safe and loved. Who taught them right from wrong. And sometimes, that may look more like a village than two people alone. I don’t know, Beck. It’s a perspective, I guess. I think you will have to just see what feels right when the dust settles.” I shrugged, and a shiver rippled through my back. “It’s cold out here. Are you warm enough?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Let’s go inside.”
“What about your mom?” I asked.
“We won’t even see her. Her room is on the opposite side of the house,” Beck said as she pulled on my hand.
“Maybe we should get a hotel tonight. And however long we’re planning on staying. I’m not confident I’m welcome.”
“It’s been such a long day, I just want to forget all about it,” Beck said. I doubted that could happen with her mom still home, and despite the feeling that we were both invading her mother’s privacy, I followed Beck back to the house. I kept my eyes peeled for white satin robe while Beck rummaged through the refrigerator, pulling out an assortment of meats and cheeses. She placed an apple, paring knife, and cutting board in front of me before looking through the cabinetry in search of crackers. I chopped the apple and assembled the charcuterie board that looked surprisingly appetizing for the short time it took to throw together.
Beck grabbed a bottle of wine before meandering into the backyard. “Let’s eat out here. There are space heaters.” I nodded and before picking up the charcuterie board. I gave a quick look around the kitchen, and when I was satisfied that I wasn’t being watched, I stole a red rose from the crystal vase and spread the petals over our appetizer. I hoped the romantic touch would bring a smile to Beck’s face.
The Second Life of Everly Beck: The Tethered Soul Series Book 2 Page 15
