by Gunn, Jenna
“Yeah,” I answer.
‘Brandon, are you coming to pick me up?”
“No. I’m not.”
“But—“
“Something critical came up. I’ll see if Tyson can take you.”
“But, Brandon… I wanted you to come.”
“I’m not that person anymore.”
Her voice pitches into a whine, “I thought you cared…”
“Stop. Samantha, I do care, and I’m glad you are taking care of yourself by going to rehab, but it’s time I take care of what’s important to me. I’ll see if Ty can take you.” I disconnect.
I ring Tyson, “This is a big fucking favor, are you free to do something for me?”
“I think so. I’m just lying around, learning a new song on my guitar.”
“Samantha needs a ride to rehab tonight. I’m seeing someone, and I need to be here tonight to work out some problems.’
“Samantha’s still a mess, huh?’
“Of course. She hasn’t called in years, and she fricking calls today, one of the messiest days of my life.”
‘Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
He sighs, “Man, I’m sorry. I’ll deal with Samantha. You do what you need to do.”
“Thanks, I owe you. I’ll send you Samantha’s number.”
‘No problem, bro.”
The night ticks on. The street goes quiet as the town falls into a slumber. The lights in Anya’s house get turned off one by one.
I’m at war with an ugly green monster inside me that is trying to get me to think about Bishop crawling in bed with Anya.
I’m in agony.
Self-fucking-created agony. I don’t have to sit here and stare at the house.
Just go home.
No. I want to go drag Bishop out of the house by his damned hair. But that would be another cruel blow to Anya, and she’s taken enough pain from me.
I start the truck and twist on the headlights. My eyes flick to the door one last time. And in that instant Bishop steps out onto the porch, under the dim light coming from the wall sconce. His eyes are on me.
I don’t drive away.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and strolls toward me, his eyes never leaving me.
His expression is unreadable.
Bishop walks in front of the truck and gets in the passenger side.
He sighs. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’d like for you to leave.”
My teeth grind equally as hard as my heart squeezes. “I figured.”
“Why don’t you go home, get some rest?”
“Are you staying?”
He turns his head toward me slowly. “I won’t leave her alone, if that’s what you mean.”
My lips twist into a snarl as I restrain the question I can’t put into words.
I guess Bishop sees my agony because he answers my question. ’Look, if you think I’m stepping in on your relationship, you obviously don’t think very much of me as a brother.”
He drops a hand on my shoulder, squeezes those long fingers of his hard. “Brandon, I want you and Anya to be together. She’s perfect for you. And you are just the man she needs. You deserve to be happy. But things are fucked up right now, and she’s my friend, so I want to help her too.”
“I’m a total fucking mess. Honestly.”
“As is she. She’s hurting. And it’s only partly because of today. She’s grieving a lifetime of hardship right now.”
My hands flex hard on the steering wheel. “Man, I just want to help her, to take care of her, to make her life better.’ I flip my hand toward the house, “To take her away from all of this.”
“She needs you.” He says, holding my gaze.
“If she’ll ever have me again.”
“Give her time.”
I swallow the pins in my throat, “Do you think…”
“That she’ll see you again? I do, but I think it might be awhile. She needs to come to terms with what’s going to happen to her brother first.”
“Will you tell her something for me?’
“Sure, man.”
“Tell her I’ll be by her side through all of it, I promise. I’ll do everything I can to help her and Cameron.”
“Alright. I will. Now why don’t you go home and get some sleep. I’m going to crash out on the couch, and make sure she’s safe and doesn’t need anything tonight. And I promise to call you the instant we need something, or she wants to see you.”
I hate the idea of leaving.
“Go. You need some sleep to think clearly.”
“I do.”
He hops out of the truck, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Bishop.”
He closes the door and walks across the street; he tosses up a hand before he closes himself inside Anya’s house.
26
I call out sick for the first time ever.
I couldn’t put on a happy face for students today no matter how hard I try.
Rich doesn’t ask a single question when I call. Which I appreciate more than anyone will ever know.
Bishop makes coffee and eggs for us, quietly moving around the kitchen. He refuses to leave, but he doesn’t say much at all. Bishop is kind of like that.
Solid. Strong, and a man of few words.
I’ve always wondered if he was like that all his life or if something made him pull back from the world.
Regardless, he knows how to be the perfect companion for me with my current state of mind.
I use the space and quiet to contemplate far too much.
In between bouts of staring at whatever object happens to be in front of me, I organized the items that Arthur is buying.
The money will be good for something… I hope.
Looking around, I can’t imagine what it’s like to live in a house that’s not filled with reminders of my parents’ abandonment.
When I look for Bishop, he’s in the backyard, with the door to the shed open. “What are you doing?”
“Getting the lawnmower.”
“Why?”
“So I can mow the grass.”
I frown. “I’ve been meaning to do it.”
“I’ll take care of it. You just do your thing in the house.”
He goes back to fiddling with the old mower.
“Hey Bishop, would you help me look for another place to rent?”
He glances at the house. “Yeah, sure.”
When I return to the house, I feel lighter and heavier at once. These decisions are hard. But it’s the right time for me to move on with my life.
As I pull down some LPs from the shelf, an envelope falls onto the floor. Pictures spill out. I scoop them up. What are these?
Cameron is a baby. I’m maybe four years old with my hair in pigtails. We’re on the back of a pony in one. And at the beach in another. My mom is holding my hand as we walk through a park in yet another.
I don’t remember any of these scenes. We look happy. Did years of hardship make me forget the good times?
Flipping through the other photos takes me along a journey I’ve never taken before. A couple of photos of my dad as a teen, all bright faced and excited to be holding a new guitar at Christmas. And there are two photos of my mom with her parents, camping.
Happy times. Family times.
A lonely ache fills my chest.
I think about Bishop and Brandon and the other Archers. How lucky they are to have each other, to have the solid foundation of being part of a tribe.
Bishop finds me in the living room, lost in thought, sometime later.
“Hey, Arthur called. He’s ready to come get the rest of the stuff. Are you okay with that?”
“Sounds great.” I shove the photos back into the envelope and onto the shelf next to some of my old sketchbooks.
Bishop glances around. “A fresh start! This place will be pretty empty when he takes the albums and the furniture.”
“That’s what I’m hoping fo
r,” I say, as I lunge for my ringing cell phone. The call is from a local number that I don’t recognize.
‘Hey Anya,” Cameron says.
My heart floods with relief. “Oh, my god. I’m glad to hear from you.”
“Look, I can’t talk long. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be doing some work for the county, I can’t say much, but it’s going to help me out, and help them out, and get me out of a long sentence. It’s sort of a plea deal. I can’t turn it down.”
“Really? This is good, so good.”
“It’s dangerous because I’ll be getting information for them. But I have to do it. I’m going to make things right. I just called to tell you I love you. And thank you.”
“Cam…”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch when I can. Is Brandon there with you?”
‘Uh… not right now.”
“Stick with him until Carlos is in jail. Okay?”
“I’ll stay safe. You be careful. Please call me when you can.”
“Promise.” He says before he disconnects.
* * *
When I walk from my bedroom to the living room, I’ve got to pinch myself. Wow, this is really happening. The house is practically empty.
Sold!
And the rest of the money Arthur has promised is in a fat briefcase on my dresser, just waiting to be deposited in the bank.
Bishop’s standing at the counter, stirring something into his coffee. “Morning, Ms. O’Reilly.
“Good morning, Mr. Archer. I still can hardly believe that really happened.’
‘Does it feel good?”
“In a weird cathartic way, yes. But I also feel like I’m uncertain of what the future looks like.”
His eyes harden for a second. Then he’s back to the neutral expression I know so well. “Aren’t we all uncertain of what our future looks like? What are you going to do with the money?”
Sighing, I say, “I’ll save it to see what Cam needs.”
A frown creases his tanned face, “Why don’t you do something for you?”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know what to do. It’s like I don’t know how to do something for me, I guess.”
“Well, moving into another place is a good start. Or, if you like it here, Brandon and I could help you give this place a makeover.”
My insides flutter uncomfortably at the mention of Brandon’s name.
It’s like my heart got shell-shocked. Just the mention of him sends all kinds of haywire signals through my body.
I need to call him, need to tell him about Cameron’s opportunity to get his sentence reduced, but this thick weight of mistrust hangs between me and him.
Seeing Cameron’s life catapulted into the lowest-low ever tore a hole in my insides. Stupid as it might seem, and as much as I know Cam brought all this on himself, my heart wants to blame someone…
And Brandon is the only one within my range of fire.
I realize how ridiculous it is.
But that doesn’t make it any easier to overcome.
Trust…
It has to be the core of a relationship.
How can I feel so betrayed when Brandon was just doing what was honorable? Doing his job—doing what is really the best thing for me and Cameron.
But realizing that my only connected family member is going to prison, left me feeling perilously alone.
“I’m glad you heard from Cam,” Bishop says as he sits at the table across from me, jolting me back into the present.
I nod as I wrap both my hands around the hot mug of coffee. “I feel better and terrified at the same time.”
His eyes hold me steadily, “It’s all going to work out.”
“I sure hope so.” Even though I have no idea what all means.
* * *
“There’s a package for you at the front counter, Anya.” Rich says as he breezes through the break room.
Another brown paper bag with the Beach Vibes logo is sitting next to the register. My name is written on it. I peer inside and see that today it contains a sandwich, two cookies, and a folded note.
“Whatever you need, I’m here for you, B.”
Five days. Five lunches. Five notes.
Bishop’s been steadily staying at my house each night. And when I turn off the last lights, I look out and see Brandon’s truck parked on the street in the shadows between streetlights.
Being his solid, steady presence as he always seems to be. He’s like the rock and I’m the leaf twisting and turning in the current of rushing water.
I need to talk to him…
I want to talk to him…
But for some reason my words seem to be clogged up, like they are in a drain that’s full of lint and tangles of hair. Remnants of things that should long be gone down the drain, but aren’t.
Bishop hasn’t pressured me. But I feel his waiting eyes on me as we talk about options for updating the house each night.
Something inside of me feels ready to break. But I’m not sure what’s coming when it does.
27
With each passing night, the nail gets driven farther and harder into my heart. Sitting on the street in front of Anya’s house every evening is killing me.
Each day the ray of hope I had gets smaller and smaller.
Each day that is more confirmation that she doesn’t want me.
Foolishly, I thought it could be me.
But every night, she sits at the table with Bishop. I just picture them pouring over the stacks of magazines he’s been carrying into the house, laughing, talking.
Every morning he follows her out the door to her car. Driving in the reality that he could be the one that has everything she needs…
It’s stupid, really. But old fears die hard. Or sometimes they don’t die at all. They just lie in wait.
There’s a knock at my door, right as I’m about to leave for work. I swing open the door to find my father standing on the doorstep, a grim expression on his face.
“What’s going on, son?”
“I’m leaving for work.”
“No, I mean what’s really going on, between you and that girl, and Bishop?”
I sigh, great. Here we go.
“Nothing to worry over.”
“Bullshit,” he barks as he takes a big step, planting himself right in the foyer. “What is your brother doing taking care of a woman you’re seeing?”
“It’s complicated, Dad. And she doesn’t want to see me right now.”
His brow drops. “And what are you doing about that?”
“Dad, please. I’ve done all I can. I’m not what she wants.”
His hard eyes flash to me, “Do you love her?”
“I do.”
“Then you haven’t done enough.”
I grit my teeth. My jaw aching from the crushing force “I…”
“You’re not a damn quitter. I can tell you that. I’ve watched you knock down every barrier you’ve ever faced with more grit, more tenacity than any man I’ve ever known.”
As I look at the tender emotion in his eyes, this hard man, I’m stunned speechless. I’ve never heard him speak like this.
Tears sting my throat.
“Brandon, I’ve pushed you because you have so much potential.”
“And I’ve failed to rise to it. Like I’m doing now.”
Dad moves on me suddenly, gets right in my face. “The only one who sees failure is you. I see you… a strong, capable man.”
I bark a harsh laugh, “Says he who has always acted like I was the disappointing son.”
He steps back suddenly, his face filled with hurt. “I’ve never seen you as anything but strong and worthy. And now I see a man that will make a great husband, and an amazing father.”
He pulls me into a hug suddenly. “I want to see you happy, go make it happen.”
Then he’s gone, out the door and down my sidewalk as fast as he came.
28
I’m pulling weeds in the back ya
rd, when I get a call from an unknown number. My heart hammers when I hear Cam’s voice. It’s been seven days since he last called. Every moment has been agonizing.
“Carlos is in jail. You can stop watching your back.”
I gasp, “Really? And you’re finished?’
“Oh no, I’m not near finished, but this was the first, and most important thing to make sure you are safe.”
Tears slide down my cheek. “Cam….”
“Look, I’ve got to go, I’ll be in touch. I’m fine, I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Love you, sis.”
I sigh, “Love you too.”
I rush into the house and find Bishop repairing holes in the wall with spackling. “Cam called. Carlos has been arrested.”
A big smile brightens his face. “That’s great news.”
“You can go sleep in your own bed now.”
“You mean give up this couch?”
I laugh. “I should have that thing ripped out.”
He shrugs, “I still think moving out of here would be better.”
“I’m not sure yet. You gave me hope with all the redecorating ideas.”
“Your landlord would be a lucky man if you did anything to this POS.”
A knock on the door grabs my attention. For a second, I tense. Then I remember Cam’s call saying Carlos is finished.
When I pull open the door, there’s a gigantic bouquet of roses on the stoop. “Oh my goodness.”
Kneeling down, I pull the card free with shaking fingers. I read over the words three times. “Pack a bag, a car is coming for you at seven.”
I shake my head. Dammit.
Hefting the giant bouquet, I mutter, “Nothing subtle, huh?”
After placing the flowers on the table I corner Bishop, “What do you make of this?” I read the card to him.
Bishop grins. “I dunno.”
“You do know. You devil.”
He goes back to smoothing the patches on the wall.
“Pack a bag,” I mutter as I walk toward the bedroom. “What does that mean?”
“Probably means you’re staying overnight somewhere.” Bishop yells from the living room.
“Smart ass.” I yell back.
