Chapter Seven
You could get lonesome being that free.
Funny Girl
I patted the sweat from my forehead with a napkin and slid my shades up like a headband. Ben came running back over with two lemoncellos.
I reached for mine. “Fabulous. I’m thinking Denver could rival Texas on heat today.”
He shook his head. “It’s a dry heat, Debra.”
I dug my spoon into the icy lemon treat. “So you keep telling me.”
We found a shaded bench and looked over the zoo map. The truth was that I had only vague memories of going to the zoo as a child, and I found that, hot as it was, I loved the Denver Zoo.
“We still have to see the gorillas. I saw a sign saying they have a baby gorilla, which I need to see,” I informed him.
He was halfway through his lemoncello but he nodded his agreement. “I want to see the penguins.”
I paused and looked at him, hot and sweaty, damp hair curled up at the neck, bright blue Nike running shoes. He’d taken down the topknot and replaced it with a backward ball cap.
“Penguins?” I echoed, a smile hiding as I watched him study the map.
“Yeah.” He was too busy inspecting the trails on the map to catch my amusement. After our treat, we walked slowly together through the park. Families were everywhere, kids crying, kids screeching, parents talking. I didn’t mind. But I appreciated the simplicity of Ben and me just walking together, stopping when we wanted to. We looked at the gorillas, then the penguins, and yes, we saw a turtle—several adorable ones actually—then stopped again for fries and corn dogs. We sat on two iron chairs at a round table under a red umbrella. A gorgeous peacock wandered too close to my personal space, snagging bits of bread from the ground.
“What were you like before?” Ben asked.
“Before?” I repeated, stalling.
“Before the breakup with Luke.” He dipped his corn dog in mustard.
I stabbed my soda straw down into the cup, past the ice, trying to get the last bit to drink. “I was more like you, probably. But this is me now.” I ate another fry, thinking they were pretty stellar for being zoo food.
Next to where we were eating, an outdoor amphitheater of sorts was filling up for the upcoming elephant show. Ben glanced over as a large family passed by us, looking for seats.
“Thanks for coming today. I was being honest when I said I really like the zoo. My parents used to take me and Sadie to the zoo all the time when we were kids. I’ve always loved it.”
I was glad he’d looked away and that he didn’t see me wince when he mentioned Sadie. I wanted him to feel safe enough with me to mention her, but the story still broke my heart. “Guess what? I like it too. And I need to see more of Colorado, Ben. So thanks for asking me.”
His eyes looked over my crazy hair, to my eyes, to Johnny Cash on my shirt, and a smile filled his face. “Want a cotton candy and then we can watch the elephants swim?” he asked.
I nodded. “I absolutely want a cotton candy and to see the elephants swim. Good plan.”
We left the zoo after four, both sweaty and tired and yet in great spirits. Ben took me back to Whitestone. On the drive back, we hit traffic and I rested my head on the back of the passenger seat.
“I need a shower, something to eat, and sleep. Five in the morning comes early.” My eyes couldn’t stay open.
“But you had fun, right?” Ben asked.
I turned my head and my eyes slanted open. “I had so much fun.”
He grinned. “Me too.
The next thing I knew, someone was calling my name. I opened my eyes and jolted up. Ben’s lips were pressed together, his eyes bright with amusement.
“We’re here.”
“What?”
“We’re here. That’s the second time you’ve fallen asleep with me, Debra Hart.”
I wiped my mouth quickly, hoping I hadn’t drooled. “Sorry. It was a long day.”
“It was,” he agreed. “But it was a really good day. Thanks for that, Debra. I hope we hang out again soon.”
I grabbed my purse. “You’re one of my only two friends. I’m the one who’ll be hoping we can hang out again.” I opened the door and looked back at Ben and there was a moment that scared me to death. Him, looking tired and beautiful and smiling.
And me, suddenly panicked that even being friends could lead to me being hurt.
I’d been avoiding any kind of social networking for months. Back in Texas, whenever our group would hang together, Addison would post tons of pictures in online albums. She was a picture taker, so every get-together was well documented. “Weekend at the Lake” or “Jason’s Birthday” or “Girls’ Night Out.” Albums for everything. Even before I’d left for Colorado, I’d “unfriended” both Luke and Sara on our mutual networking site and had decided to take a long-term hiatus from any social sites where I might run into photos of the gang. To my surprise, staying away from it felt freeing. I’d gotten to the point where I didn’t even want to check social media anymore.
But this text came to me from Addison Thursday morning:
WE HAD LILY’S BABY SHOWER THIS PAST WEEKEND. THE PICTURES ARE ONLINE NOW IF YOU WANT TO SEE.
I didn’t respond.
Of course, I wanted to see the pictures of Lily, cute and pregnant and glowing. The problem was Lily’s closest friend, also known as Sara Witherspoon (soon to be Sara Anderson), and most likely the hostess of the shower. I couldn’t see Sara. She would probably be beaming and happy and there might be a glimpse of that diamond on her finger. Finally, Friday after my shift, I texted back.
COULD YOU JUST TEXT ME ONE PICTURE OF LILY?
Sweet Addison complied, texting me three pictures of the shower, none of which included Sara. I couldn’t stop the smile that came over me as I studied Lily, that very round belly of hers and the pinkness of her cheeks. Her blonde hair cut short again. A very small part of me wished I could have been there to celebrate her, to touch the belly, and to buy something adorable for baby boy Spencer. Addison and Lily were together in one of the pictures. Addi’s auburn hair was longer than when I’d last seen it. She looked tan—summer in Texas, of course. She had one arm around Lily’s shoulders and one hand on Lily’s tummy, and there were smiles all around.
I reminded myself to buy a baby gift and mail it soon. I wanted there to be something from me there, some mark that I existed in Lily’s life. I was sitting on my sofa, scrutinizing the photos of Lily, when my phone rang. For some reason, hearing the phone ring now made my stomach clench. I hated talking on the phone. A name flashed on the screen.
Paige.
I texted her.
CAN’T TALK RIGHT NOW.
Two seconds later, she texted back.
I’M BORED AND LONELY. CAN I PICK UP A PIZZA AND COME OVER?
I blinked and I looked at my apartment. Clean. But still.
Ugh. I shut my eyes tight.
Pizza sounded good, though.
ONLY IF YOU WATCH A MUSICAL WITH ME.
She sent a string of laughing emojis, along with dancing emojis, and I had to smile.
DEAL.
Forty minutes later, Paige sat next to me on my comfy gray sofa, also cross legged. An open pizza box sat on the round white coffee table. The smell of pepperoni and mushroom and bell pepper and pineapple filled the room. I held a pizza slice in my hand and took a big bite.
“Explain to me again why you love musicals. What’s the draw?” Paige asked, her brows pinched in confusion as she watched the first song-and-dance sequence in Newsies.
“Well, this is one of my all-time favorites. I fell in love with Newsies as a kid. I’ve seen it onstage and it’s life changing.”
“Hm.” Paige stared at the screen, unconvinced.
I reached for my water bottle. “My love for musicals started with my nana, I suppose. When I’d stay with her during summer vacation, we’d watch West Side Story and The Sound of Music and Singin’ in the Rain. I’ve seen probably every movie ever m
ade with Fred Astaire. I think The Royal Wedding is my favorite. Also, we sang a lot at my house when I was growing up. My mother has a beautiful voice. We’d go to Minneapolis and go to the symphony or to the theater. It’s been part of my life forever. I was in the drama club in high school. I just love it. When I’m really happy, I want to be one of those people, dancing around my apartment and bursting into song.”
More accurately, I used to want to be one of those people.
“Can you dance?” she wondered.
I shrugged. “I took tap and ballet as a child. My dad taught me to swing dance when I was in high school. And I used to go out dancing all the time back in college. I would love to ballroom dance. Maybe, if I ever get engaged, I’ll take professional lessons before the wedding.”
“Why wait for that? There are dance studios everywhere. Take a dance class now.”
Good point. However, I was now paying for therapy to avoid turning into a character from a Lifetime movie. “I don’t think I can afford it right now. Maybe next year.”
Paige nodded, munching on a bite of pizza.
“Tell me about Milo.” I nudged her knee with mine.
She sighed. “It’s not a big thing. He’s nice, and you can see how cute and friendly he is. But he’s like that with everyone. He was dating another girl at church last year, which was fine. The thing is, I do think he kind of likes me. He asks me to help him with projects and we run errands together and stuff. We work well together as a team. But when we’re in groups, he doesn’t single me out for special attention or anything. And when we’re alone, he can be a little flirty with me. But when we’re with other people, he’s not like that.”
“Mixed signals,” I murmured.
“Yeah. But what can I do about that? I’m not ready to put myself out there and tell him that I’d like us to start dating. Because what if he doesn’t want to? What if I’m reading the signals wrong?”
I remembered when I started dating Luke. I’d been crushing on him for what seemed like forever, and at the first sign of interest, I pushed him for more. I told him how much I liked him and that if he was interested, we should start dating. He agreed. Would he ever have pursued me on his own? I had no way of knowing. But his personality was different from mine—more introverted and cautious. I had a feeling I would have been waiting a very long time.
“That’s tricky” was the only response I could think of. I was in no place to offer advice.
“What would Miss Lonely Heart say?” Paige teased.
“She’d probably tell you not to let it reach a point where you feel used. Where he leads you on in private but keeps his options open in public.”
Paige sobered up and I felt bad. I touched her hand. “But I also don’t advise giving much thought to Miss Lonely Heart.”
“No, you’re right. And I think it’s good advice.” Paige reached for another pizza slice. “I want you to know how glad I am that you moved here, Deb. Honestly, I’ve had several girlfriends at church, and I like the women at the boutique, but I haven’t had a really close friend in a long time. Someone to talk to about serious things or to meet up with for lunch—the two of us. With my friends from church, everything turns into a group thing. Which is fun, but it’s hard to share personal stuff in that setting.”
“Well.” I cleared my throat. “Obviously, I’m thankful we met. Since, without you, I would have minus zero friends.”
“Ben seems to like you a lot,” she said, her voice overly innocent.
“I only know him because of you,” I reminded her. “Also, he seems to like everyone.”
She frowned for a moment. “Yes, I mean, Ben is nice to everyone and he’s very well liked. He’s got lots of charisma, as you know. And he’s easy on the eyes. I can tell you now, most girls I know would jump at the chance to go out with him. But honestly, I haven’t seen him single anyone out the way he has with you.”
I waved that off. “The reason is obvious. He’s probably hoping to help me see the light, get me back in church, something like that. Being friends with poor, lonely Debra is the right thing to do—I bet he’s thinking about it in that way.”
She snorted. “He’s not like that. I think because he’s on staff, he’s overly careful not to give anyone the wrong impression. But he seems very interested in you.” She looked at me, a thoughtful expression on her face. “What do you think about him?”
“Well, like you said, he’s nice and good looking. We went to the zoo together.”
Her mouth fell open. “You went on a date with Ben Price and didn’t tell me? When was this?”
I shook my head. “It was in no way a date. We went on Wednesday. Randomly he asked me to meet him for lunch, then after lunch, he asked if we could go to the zoo.”
“Two dates in one day!” she squawked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Neither was a date. I told you we went hiking that one day. Well, I guess we just sort of established a friendship. He told me he wanted to be friends. That’s what we are. We have stuff in common, like music, I guess.”
She nodded. “That’s true. So … you’re not attracted to him or anything?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Just like any girl, I’m aware of how cute he is. But I’m not looking for love at the moment, Paige. You know this. I’m not looking for anything. If I thought that’s what he wanted, I’d run in the opposite direction. Because he’d probably change his mind in the end.”
“Would you get back together with Luke if he wanted to?”
I sucked in a sharp breath and looked at the TV. “He’s engaged to Sara now. We’re never getting back together.”
“Oh, Debra.” I could hear the ache in her voice for me, and Paige reached over and took my hand in hers. I hadn’t realized how desperate I was for physical touch. Without warning, I squeezed her hand back.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. I swallowed but couldn’t manage to talk. Paige didn’t care. She scooted closer to me, grabbed the DVD remote, stopping and restarting the movie. “I think we need more dancing and singing about Santa Fe,” she said. A small laugh erupted from me and I blinked away the heavy moisture in my eyes.
Saturday, I drove to Castle Rock, about thirty minutes outside the city, and went back to the hiking spot that Ben had taken me to. I hiked up to the top of “the rock” alone, saw the bench, which was occupied, so I found a flat rock to sit on, and I looked out over the town. The sky was so crystal clear that I could see mountains stretched out for miles and miles, blue and beautiful.
Despite the other hikers, including families with young kids, something about the setting calmed me. As I drank in the postcard view and the crisp, fresh air, I stuck in my earbuds and turned on the playlist on my iPhone, starting with Twenty-Four Tears.
An awareness came over me, a feeling of fragility. I didn’t like it.
My body was strong enough to hike this rock. I could run miles in the gym at the condo. I could lift weights. On the radio, I could work and talk and make people laugh. I could pay my bills and take care of myself.
And yet, I felt frail. I could run and hike and be strong, but that wouldn’t mend anything that felt broken. I drew my knees up to my chest, my scuffed-up tennis shoes flat on the rock. Dr. Clark had spoken of new dreams to replace disappointment. She said it would take time.
For some reason, I thought of the verse on Ben’s arm. On my phone, I plugged Isaiah 43:19 into a search engine and waited to see what came up.
For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.
That tattoo, snaking its way down his arm like a river, reminding him of who he was. I read the verse three times; then I pulled up my text messages on my phone and scrolled down to Ben’s name. I typed out a text. He was, after all, my second friend.
I HIKED THE CASTLE ROCK AGAIN TODAY. THX FOR SHARING THIS SPOT WITH ME.
Then I stood up and started making my
way back down the trail. I felt my phone buzz on the way but kept my stride and waited till I reached the parking lot to check his response.
IT’S A GOOD ONE. ANY CHANCE YOU’RE UP FOR MORE EXPLORING SOON? WANNA ZIP LINE WITH ME NEXT SATURDAY?
Did I? I got in my car and turned on the air-conditioning.
SOUNDS A LITTLE LIFE-THREATENING.
WE CAN BRAVE IT. I’VE GOT WORSHIP PRACTICE THAT A.M. COULD YOU MEET ME AT THE CHURCH AFTER?
The thought of a good adrenaline rush did sound kind of fun to me.
I said yes to him.
Again.
Chapter Eight
Seize the day.
Newsies
When I pulled into the church parking lot the next weekend, I sat in my car, watching the minutes on the clock pass before finally deciding to just go inside and listen in on the last few minutes of practice. I could hear Ben before I entered the sanctuary. I stood at the back and watched him, foot stomping in time, playing his guitar like it was easy, his voice filling the empty auditorium. Words about God being the breath in our lungs. I sank down in the last row, watching him. Even in practice, he seemed to give it all he had.
I couldn’t help thinking of my church in Texas, my place on the worship team. Every Sunday, standing to the far left of Michael, the worship leader. My hands outstretched, breathing deep and singing out all those same words now coming from Ben. Believing those words and singing until my breath was lost.
The words seemed fake now to me. All of it felt like make-believe. A show for the people.
Then I looked at Ben. There were no people. Just me, and I barely counted.
And he poured himself out like he meant every word.
The song finally ended and Ben stepped away from the mic and was talking to the worship team.
“Hi, are you waiting for someone?”
I looked to the right and saw a woman with red hair and cute freckles, probably my age, standing at the edge of the pew. It seemed like practice had ended, so I stood up and grabbed my purse. “I was waiting for Ben.”
“He should be finished any minute. The team prays after practice.”
After the Rain Page 8
