by Grea Warner
“Better off.”
“Better ...” She brought a bottle momentarily up to her lips. “Off.”
“That’s him?” I asked as the video ended. “When was that?”
“Sheez!” Ryan swirled around on my voice and put the tablet down. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Ry?”
It was hard to exactly pinpoint his disposition. He seemed slightly jittery—no, distracted—as he stood. “Where are the kids?” he asked, and I realized his fear of them seeing what I had.
“Rebecca has them for a bit.” When he breathed out a small pant of air, I asked another question, “Is that online? What is it?”
“It’s cell phone video of her last night alive.”
“Oh.” Oh. Oh. Oh, wow. Oh, dang.
“Someone just posted it today. There were calls coming into the office. I decided to leave for the weekend. I ... geez. Really? There’s already tons of hits.” He partially grumbled.
“Why now? Why didn’t whoever filmed that post it before? I mean ... right when she died?”
“Probably thought they would get more coverage now when there isn’t so much stuff out there flooding the sites.” Ryan really did think like a manager. “And it’s her birthday and a month to the day since they found her ... since she died.”
“Oh,” I practically whispered again.
I hadn’t realized either of those facts. It wasn’t like I was counting days ... not when we were simply trying to get through and find some kind of normalcy. But when I mentally backtracked, I realized it was, indeed, exactly a month since our world went from white lace and promises to a black Cadillac hearse. And it would have been Kari’s birthday? Figures. The double whammy.
“I didn’t know that,” I admitted. “Do the kids?”
He sighed. “No. I’m sure they don’t. Kari didn’t like to celebrate or even acknowledge her birthday. She hated getting older. She was even pissed that Wikipedia had her birthdate listed.” Did he notice how hard I was trying not to roll my eyes? “And she was usually away this week, singing somewhere for the Fourth. You remember last year.”
I did. Ryan and I had the kids for the neighborhood party then, too. So, at least Sallie and Joel wouldn’t have an association with their mother for the holiday. They could hopefully enjoy the fireworks and picnic the way it was supposed to be.
“They can’t be anywhere near press for the next couple of days.” Not like Ryan wanted them ever to be. “Bethany, I ... geez, he was telling me the truth when I saw him. She was really upset about us getting married.”
“Ryan!” I couldn’t help but yell. “We were—are—allowed to be happy. She never said anything to the contrary. We coexisted well this past year. Please, please don’t take this on. This isn’t your—"
“All right,” he abruptly shut me down, and then a tad bit softer, but still distant, said, “Let’s see what we need to do to get ready for tonight. It’s the worst timing.”
“Yeah.” I sighed.
***
Although the timing could have been better, meeting with a few television network executives wasn’t altogether awful. For one thing, it was taking place at the house. Therefore, Ryan wouldn’t have to be in public and have the potential of someone—good intentions or not—approaching him regarding the latest Kari commotion. There were times when he was recognized for his onscreen judge role and his place in the media world and he didn’t mind. He was usually brief but gracious. But I knew it wouldn’t have been the case that day. Our home could at least bring him a certain comfort level. And, because of the timing, it would actually help keep his mind focused on something other than Kari, her birthday, and her last night alive.
The reason for the gathering was because one of the big execs was in from New York and wanted to meet with the talent in person, since all three were once again signing on for another year of Singer Spotlight. The show was a double-edged sword for Ryan. He didn’t like the fanfare, but it gave him a chance to really enjoy the artistry and creative side of music, rather than just simply the business. And, it was how we met ... so it definitely had good vibes.
The two other judges—pop artist Jorja and rocker Calvin—joined the three executives and Ryan in the living room. I talked with them for a bit as they arrived and then went about the task of cutting and serving an array of desserts, including my chocolate wafer recipe and the delicacies from the coffee shop. Besides drinks, that was all we served since the meeting was later in the evening. Once everyone seemed content and business talk commenced, I excused myself to check on the kids, who had done as they were told—gone to sleep after one more chapter for Sallie and ten more game points for Joel. I then browsed my social media accounts and went into the kitchen to start brewing coffee.
When I reentered the living room, the New York gentleman was speaking. “I never had a chance to send my condolences about your wife.”
“Thanks, Sonny,” Ryan dutifully acknowledged as he stood to grasp my hand. “But this beautiful woman here is who I consider my wife.”
I met his eyes for a splinter of a second and did the tiniest of smiles. While I knew he said those words to drive a point to the exec, I also believed he meant them. And that was the sweet sentiment I held close.
“Of course.” Sonny smiled at me. “No disrespect. I meant Kari.”
Ryan nodded, let go of my hand, and repeated, “Thanks.”
“Bethany is one of our great success stories,” Cord, the executive producer of Singer Spotlight, broke the tension by singing my praises. “It’s nice how much you’re accomplishing with your songwriting.”
“This is just the beginning.” Ryan beamed at me and then turned to Cord. “And don’t try claiming stakes on my discovery.” He was teasing but also accurate. Ryan had brought me to his agency separately.
“Your discovery?” Jorja laughed. “You were the first one to tell her no on the show.”
“Yeah, Ryan,” I played along, knowing we could and had joked about it in the past.
“I never live it down, believe me,” Ryan mockingly complained.
“All right, before we start a lovers’ quarrel, can we agree that Bethany—well, the two of you—provided us with one of our most-watched shows?”
I knew Cord was talking about the time I—at the last minute and with his encouragement—surprised not only the audience but Ryan and myself by going on stage and singing at the end of the show. It was immediately after Ryan confessed to the world that he and Kari were divorced and he loved me. Neither of us had certainly done either of those things for ratings but, at the same account, had no regrets, for it led to us finally, truly being together. And any blowback turned positive for all parties involved—Kari had gained the sympathetic vote while Ryan and I got the hopeless romantics.
“She’s a showstopper.” Ryan smiled in my direction.
He was saying all the right things. But I knew part of it was his businessman persona. I knew the difference. While things in general had started to improve, he most definitely seemed distracted after watching the video on the patio and maybe, when I thought of it, the day before, too.
“Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I steered the conversation back to where I meant it to be originally. “I wanted to find out if anyone needed anything. Coffee? Something else?”
As everyone declined, insisting they were fine and that everything was so nice, Ryan said to me, “You should stay.”
I didn’t completely know my part in the evening. We hadn’t specifically talked about it. But I wanted to respect his work, and it really wasn’t a part of me.
“Yes, yes, please,” Sonny chimed in. “This is just a get-together, really. Wanted to meet up ... touch base. It’s lovely getting to know you.” He nodded at me. “I’m sorry my wife couldn’t make it this trip.”
“Well, I only came because I thought the neighborhood bouncy house was included,” Calvin razzed.
On everyone’s collective laughter, Ryan tossed in, “We
should see if we can negotiate that into our contract.”
“Thompson, I think you could successfully negotiate anything.”
Before Ryan could reply to Calvin, we heard a “Daddy?”
Ryan slightly shook his head at Joel’s voice and joked with everyone in the room. “Well, except with a five-year-old. I don’t seem to have any leverage in getting the staying-asleep-for-the-night deal closed.” He looked at me. “You would have thought all the activities next door would have tired him out.”
“Probably overstimulated,” I suggested since Joel had worked really hard at trying to stick with the sleeping contract. “I’ll check on him.”
“It’s fine. I’ll go.” He left so quickly it made me wonder if he chose the task because it was his name Joel had called out or if it was just to give himself a break from the room.
“Bethany, so ... what’s new for you?” broad-chested Sonny asked. “Anything on the horizon? Writing the next chart-topper?”
I looked at the collective bunch. Even though I wasn’t prepared to talk about myself that evening, I wasn’t nervous in front of the group. After all, I knew most of them casually through Ryan. And when I talked about lyrics and symbolism and harmonies, it got me energized. “I’m always writing, even if the words don’t make it to paper. I feel like every person ... every moment has a story to tell. And the ones I hear over and over again with chords and instruments behind them, I make sure to get them down.” When the musician in Jorja seemed to happily sigh, I added a little lightness to my answer, “And, I write because I like to keep my manager happy.”
“Are we starting to see his beard again? Is Ryan going back to that?”
I turned to the Spotlight producer who had raised the question. “Wha ...?”
“I mean, it’s been a whole season with the clean-shaven look.”
“Uh ... yeah. Right,” I verbally stumbled and bumbled around with my words.
Ryan’s face had been smooth and free of hair ... yeah, at least a couple days before. But when I thought of it, he probably did have some dark shadow. It was one of those things that subtly started appearing and you could miss noticing when you saw a person every day. It hadn’t been like that for over a year. He had shaved the beard off. The show had wanted him to keep it since it was his signature look. But he didn’t care for it and, most importantly, he did it for me, knowing it reminded me of how he looked when he had rejected me on the show. And he hadn’t gone back. Besides, he told me he had only initially grown the beard because he was depressed over his divorce and didn’t put any extra effort into anything. It was before we were a couple. It was his “Under the Bridge” days.
“Hey.” Ryan’s voice broke into my concerned internal thoughts as he reentered the room. “What’s going on in here? Anyone need anything?”
“Is your son okay?” Jorja, a mother herself, questioned.
“Well, get this ...” Ryan swiveled in my direction. “He lost his first tooth.”
“Hmmm.” We knew it was going to happen soon ... the tooth had been getting more and more wiggly. And I’m glad it happened when Ryan was around, since I didn’t necessarily want to pull or yank or see any blood. “How did he know if he was asleep?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “A little glow of his tablet under the sheets tells me he probably wasn’t.” When I let out a click of my tongue for being fooled earlier by the little boy, Ryan turned to our guests. “So, I think I might need to renegotiate the contract. Tooth Fairy money needs to be factored in.”
And there he was, joking and playing Mr. Personality again. Was it all an act? Temporarily out of the conversation, I looked more closely at him. Although in the beginning stages, I feared the beard was on its way back. And I worried that some of the feelings he associated with it were, too. But, why? Why right then? The past four weeks had been hard, but recently there seemed to have been a light ... a brightness ... hope. What was he feeling and why?
***
“He’s really asleep this time.” Ryan reentered the living room after saying goodnight to his Spotlight coworkers and then making his son’s monetary Tooth Fairy delivery.
“Good.”
“Come on.” He nodded toward the hallway. “It’s late. We’ll get anything else in the morning.”
I looked around the room. There really were only a couple of napkins and baskets with mints, which I put in the end table’s drawer. The candles had been blown out. The dishes were rinsed and either in the sink or dishwasher and the food was packed away.
I was the more orderly of the two of us, not that Ryan didn’t like things structured. He blamed it on me being a firstborn child, as if it was a fault. I think I was just used to living in a very confined space before moving in with him. My living area in my apartment had only housed a twin bed, desk, chair, dresser, and closet. The bathroom was shared and the dining area was communal on the first floor. I had learned to have everything have its own spot. Ryan’s home was not only ginormous, but it had two active children living in it.
It wasn’t the tidiness factor that made me pause, though. I couldn’t get my concern for Ryan out of my mind. But it was late, and I didn’t know if I wanted to get into it with him right then.
Instead, I looked for a middle ground. “I think tonight went well.”
He tilted his head toward mine. “Yeah. I’m glad you joined us.”
I appreciated his thought, but part of me wondered how much he was glad because I was his fiancée versus if he just didn’t want to be the only host taking on the pleasantries. Ever since the Kari video and then the beard revelation, I was scrutinizing everything. In the end, though, it didn’t matter. I wanted to be there for him no matter what.
Wrapping my arms around his back, I rested my head on his chest, covered only with a partially opened white button-down. I squeezed extra securely. “I love you, Ryan.”
He pulled me far enough away so we could see each other, and I placed my hands up to those disheartening whiskers and kissed him. When he kissed me back, it was with a bit of greed. I let my mouth match his, needing him to know it was mutual. His hands found the tie around the waist of my gray dress, and he expertly unwrapped it. I snuggled in closer, wanting his body close to mine ... to feel us together and connected.
“Hmmm,” his moan came as I started on his black trousers. And then he slowed and put his hands on my face, releasing our lips. “No, it wouldn’t be ... I’ve had ... too much.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about alcohol. He had been drinking but respectfully. It was something else. Trying to keep the tears behind them, I closed my eyes, regulated my breath, and took a mini step away.
“Okay.” I pulsed more than nodded my head.
“Bethany?”
“It’s okay,” I repeated, wanting to believe it myself but failing miserably, both internally and, I guess, externally, judging by his reaction.
His voice rose. “No, it’s not. It’s not okay. Nothing is okay.”
On the reality of his words, I felt the tears silently rolling down my face. I had really wanted to keep them at bay, but I couldn’t. His face, his disposition, his words, his rejection all saddened and worried me.
“Dang it!” That wasn’t helping my fears.
“Ryan ...”
“I’m sorry. I’m tired, and it’s been a day, and ... Bethany, I can’t right now. I can’t ... I can’t ... anything.”
I stared at him. He can’t anything? He can’t love me? Right then, he couldn’t even look at me. Yet, despite the sting and the hurt, I wanted to help him. But I didn’t know how.
“Okay.”
“Don’t say that.” He admonished the only word I seemed to know right then.
“I don’t know what else to say,” I burst out my own frustration. “You said you can’t. I’m trying to understand. But—”
“I know.” He exhaled long. “I need to have this day be done. I need to sleep. And I would still like to do that with you in my arms, but if y—”
&n
bsp; “Okay.” I cringed on the word and then purposefully slightly changed it. “Yes. Let’s stay right here, all right? Can we just sleep on the sofa tonight?”
As it popped out of my mouth, I wondered why I had made the instant request. But when he brought me immediately into his arms and chest, I knew. He was telling me his honest truth and giving me all he could at the moment. And since it included me ... wanting to hold me ... I didn’t want to detach our bodies or thoughts from that idea, even if to just climb the stairs to our bedroom. I needed the day to be done, too. And even though it had brought additional concerns, at least we were together. As we made our way to the nearby sofa, it turned out I was glad that not all of the napkins were put away because I needed to discretely dry my eyes while hoping for a better tomorrow.
Chapter Fifteen
Upon waking, we didn’t mention the night before, but our location was a direct reminder. It was one of those times when things were a little too raw to get into right away. And, besides, it was the holiday and a very, very busy one at that. We started the Fourth of July with red, white, and blue pancakes—which Joel helped me make with red food dye, blueberries, and whipped cream. Sallie, who was usually my sous-chef, uncharacteristically decided to skip the culinary fun and do some writing. And, unfortunately, Ryan did not help, either. He was busy catching up on the fallout of Kari’s last-day video. But he promised after to leave it all be—going as far as ignoring his phone, except for emergencies, for the remainder of the day. I tried to negotiate the entire extended weekend, but I didn’t seem to be as good at dealmaking as Joel.
Midday was the picnic, worthy of the elite people who lived in the neighborhood—renowned doctors, a lawyer to the stars, news anchors, a chain bakery founder, a multi-award-winning restaurant owner, a professional football player, and the home builder himself. At first, they had all been a little intimidating to me, but the more I got to know them over that previous year, the more—for the most part—normal they seemed. But, why shouldn’t they be? Just because Ryan made a good amount of money didn’t alter the genuine human being he was. And they weren’t any different.
