After the Rain

by Bruce, Brandy

  “Okay, I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  She fell into step next to me. “I’m Mikayla, by the way. Do you go to church here?”

  “No, I’m just friends with Ben.” And I realized I meant it.

  “Hmm,” she said, and her tone struck me as weird.

  I took a moment to study her. “Do you work here?” I asked.

  Her head bobbed. “I’m the children’s ministry pastor. We’re prepping for tomorrow.”

  At that moment, Ben walked up. “Debra, ready for our life-threatening zip-lining adventure?” He was smiling and teasing, but I watched as Mikayla’s face fell.

  Oh dear.

  Someone who appreciated Ben’s charms in a more romantic kind of way.

  I wanted to assure her that he was just being nice, that I was a wayward soul he hoped to bring back to the fold, and that my heart wasn’t available regardless. But none of that would be appropriate. So I just smiled and we both said goodbye to Mikayla; then Ben and I went outside to his parked jeep.

  “I think Mikayla may be interested in you,” I told him once we were on our way to the zip-lining place. Since guys tend to be clueless about girls, I figured I could help her out on that point, at least.

  Ben turned up the radio like I’d brought up a nonissue. “Nah. I think she’s dating someone else.”

  Doubtful.

  We drove to the zip-lining place and I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked up at the structure. “I think I just want to watch you do it,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No way. We do this together. Come on. It’s a very Colorado-type thing to do.”

  “I’m not a real Coloradan.”

  “That’s okay—most people here are transplants. We’ll make a real Coloradan of you.”

  “I don’t know that I’m staying,” I said, my eyes still upward.

  “Really?” Ben asked. I glanced at him. Why had I said that?

  “I mean, of course I’m staying.” But my heart fluttered. Did I want to leave? And go where? Minnesota? Never Texas. Never again. I needed to stay. Plug in. Buy a place. Advance my career. Hold on to what I had. Ben didn’t say anything, but I wanted to get past this moment. I looked back up at the lines so high above us.

  “Let’s go to the top. If you still don’t want to do it at that point, I’ll go alone. But if not, we’ll do it together,” Ben said.

  “Fine.” We signed forms and Ben insisted on paying since it was his idea. I told him he was trying to make me feel guilty if I didn’t go through with it and he just laughed. We got to the top and Ben told the people who worked the lines that we needed a minute to decide whether I wanted to do this. I liked how he said it, simply, again, just keeping things real. For a rock-star kind of guy, he was very undramatic.

  I stood at the edge. Ben stepped back, and I looked out at the line, going all the way to the next structure on rock formations that looked, to me, too far away. A sharp, warm breeze whipped past me.

  What was I afraid of?

  Not this. Being hurt again, yes. Being alone forever, yes. Losing myself, yes.

  Not this, though.

  I looked at Ben. “I’m ready.”

  He stepped forward like he’d known all along. “Cool. Let’s do it.” We were strapped in—despite my sudden bout of courage, I was very relieved that we were doing this tied together. And in a moment, we were flying. Brave or not, I screamed.

  “Ben!” We’d just made it back down from zip-lining and were halfway to the parking lot when someone called Ben’s name and we both turned.

  “Drake, hey, man, how’s it going? I didn’t know you were coming out here today,” Ben said as the guy stepped close and patted him on the back. I vaguely remembered Ben mentioning the name Drake.

  “Are you here with Venture?” Ben asked.

  “Just a couple of the guys. It’s not an official youth group outing.”

  Right. The youth group.

  Ben introduced me, and Drake reached out to shake my hand. “Debra, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

  I felt the smile freeze on my face. I half expected him to tell me he’d been praying for me. At that moment, the teens Drake had been talking about surfaced, all obviously excited for zip-lining or whatever else they were doing, surrounding Ben and talking over each other. I moved to the side. Ben glanced in my direction.

  “All right, we’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys later.” Ben extracted himself from the group and we walked together.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, once we reached the jeep.

  “What have you told Drake about me? He acted as though he’d already heard about me from you.”

  Ben faced me. “Yeah, I saw him later in the evening, that day we went to the zoo. So I told him about you.”

  “I see.” I looked down at the pavement.

  “Hey,” he said in a slow, easy voice. “Why? Is this a secret?”

  “What? Us hanging out together? No, of course not. We’re just friends. It’s not a big deal.” I pursed my lips, went to the passenger door, and climbed inside. Ben got in the driver’s side and turned the ignition.

  “I just …. I don’t want to be on anyone’s prayer list. And I don’t want anyone talking about me behind my back.”

  I snuck a fast glance over at him and saw his jaw tighten and his brow furrow.

  Not happy.

  “First, you’re not on any prayer lists. Except mine. And I can pray for you if I want, so don’t argue that one. Two, I’m not talking about you behind your back. Everything we talk about is between us.”

  I didn’t say anything as we drove back to the church, but I couldn’t help feeling slightly chastened. I knew he wasn’t talking about me like that—why was I so defensive?

  Because my life has taken a painful detour and I don’t trust anyone. And if that’s not obvious to him … then he’s less intuitive than I thought.

  The rest of the drive was entirely silent, and I kept thinking I should apologize, but it felt too hard. I just wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and avoid people for the rest of my life.

  Ben swung the jeep into the parking spot next to my SUV and I got out without a word. He jumped out.

  “Debra.”

  I turned halfway to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  We said the words in sync and I couldn’t stop the teeny smile that crept up on my face. He moved to stand right in front of me.

  “You don’t trust me,” he stated.

  I leaned against the car. “Ben, we’ve known each other just a few weeks. And I don’t trust easy anymore. But …” Again I wondered why he wanted to spend time with me, with so many options. What was he looking for? I decided I’d just ask. “Ben, are you ever lonely?”

  He pressed his lips together in a straight line for a moment. “Everyone’s lonely at times, Debra.”

  Nana had said the same thing. Maybe it was true. I looked at him, trying to ignore how attractive he looked in that moment, casual in every way, except for those eyes, staring at me so seriously. I crossed my arms, just for something to do with my hands. “Ben Price, you are my second friend. If I lose you, I’m down to one. Which is kind of sad.”

  Lines crinkled by his eyes as he smiled. “Well, it’s nice to be needed.”

  Tuesday morning after my shift ended, Andy informed me that Producer Mark needed to talk with me in his office. I made my way down the long hallway from our studio to Mark’s office, then took a seat in a bowler chair across from his cluttered desk.

  “We’ve been amazed by how popular the Miss Lonely Heart segment is, Debra.” My stomach tightened at the producer’s words. “But over the past two weeks, to be honest, you seem a bit lackluster when it comes to taking calls and giving advice.”

  I held my hands tight together in my lap and tried to act indifferent. “The thing is, I’m not a professional counselor. You know this, right? I’m not an unending well of advice.” I chuckled uneasily, hoping to keep the conversatio
n civil. Mark gave me a tight smile that didn’t feel very friendly.

  “Our numbers spike during that hour. People love listening to the show and they love calling in and talking about their problems. I’m not asking you to be anyone’s therapist, Debra. You’re there to be entertaining. And you are. We feel very fortunate to have you on our team here at KGBL. You have a very bright future with us here. Andy likes you. And you came up with this segment—”

  “Not exactly,” I reminded him. “I talked about my ex, and I said, ‘You can just call me Miss Lonely Heart.’ That’s it.”

  “Well, it stuck. And it’s a hit. I’d like to see you perk up a bit more during the calls.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The call yesterday—”

  I knew we’d get to this eventually. The reason I’d been called in to see Mark, without Andy. “I was fairly perky yesterday.”

  Mark’s gaze narrowed. “The caller was highly offended.”

  “So was I. She chose to call in, and she’s a moron, and I called her on that.”

  “Calling our listeners morons isn’t what I’m looking for in a morning show cohost.”

  My mouth went dry. Was he going to fire me? I could suddenly see my future in Minnesota, having failed at life at the age of twenty-eight, back at my parents’ house, sleeping on the sofa since my mother had turned my old room into an office for my dad that doubled as a place to store boxes of her collection of ceramic cows.

  Knots tightened in my stomach. “Mark, did you listen to the call-in? Her boyfriend has cheated on her like five times, and she’s weeping about how much she loves him and needs him to stay. Are you kidding me? I told her to get a life and move on.”

  “Yes, I know. You told her she’s pathetic and that he never loved her and he never would and she needed to get a grip on reality.”

  “All of that is true.”

  His lips pressed together and his fingers strummed his desk. “You’re right. It’s true. But did it help her? Did it make anyone laugh? You were the one who ended up sounding cruel and angry. Part of the draw of Miss Lonely Heart is that you empathize with these people.”

  “And part of the draw is that I’m honest with them. Life sucks sometimes and we move on.”

  Mark just studied me. “I want you to go on the air and apologize. You don’t have to call her personally or anything, but during the next segment, we need you to acknowledge that you were a little heartless yesterday and that’s not your intention. Can you do that?”

  I felt like screaming. Instead, I just swallowed and thought of all my mom’s ceramic cows.

  “Okay, fine. Sure, I can do that.”

  His brow smoothed and relief filled his eyes. “Excellent.”

  “And I understand that Miss Lonely Heart is popular for the radio station, but I can’t do this forever. I’m running low on funny ideas for revenge.”

  “Well, our afternoon show has been running the Five O’Clock Phone Calls, where Tim and John let people call in and talk about how much they hate their jobs, for six years. When something works, we keep going until it doesn’t.”

  How encouraging.

  Mark turned his attention to his buzzing phone and spoke without looking up, effectively dismissing me. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Debra. I look forward to hearing the segment tomorrow.”

  Wednesday, after the traffic and weather update, Andy pointed at me, a sympathetic look on his face.

  Yeah, yeah. The apology. I wasn’t going to shirk my duty and chance an immediate future in Minnesota.

  “So . . . things got a bit tense yesterday,” Andy began.

  I sighed, loud enough to be heard on air. “That’s true. And, you know, I think I came across as kind of mean. Not my intention at all. Some girls have unending patience with shmucks. I’m not in that camp. But to each her own.”

  Andy ran one pointer finger over the other. Shame on me. Apparently, the apology wasn’t good enough.

  Grr.

  “So I’m a little bitter. It’s to be expected. I was oblivious to the fact that I was in a dead-end relationship. I hate to see other women in dead-end relationships too. We need more than that.”

  Andy nodded, adjusting his headset. “Fair enough.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “And, Carol from yesterday, if you’re listening … you could have more than a dead-end relationship. You could shut the door on someone who hasn’t valued you as he should and be brave enough to see if there’s more out there for you.”

  Andy watched me, seemingly unsure as to how to respond to that. I was busy trying to breathe around the lump and keep my emotions in check. “Let’s take a call,” I suggested, the blinking lines in my peripheral. I punched a button. “Miss Lonely Heart here. Who’ve we got?”

  A sniffle. “I’m Rebecca. Thank you so much for what you just said. I’ve been needing to close a door on a dead-end relationship. I’ve just been holding on because I hate to be alone.”

  “Well, Rebecca, we get that. Right, Andy? No one wants to be alone.”

  “Technically, I’m looking for more alone time in my life. Timmy has started climbing into our bed at night and we still sleep on a double.”

  “Okay, everyone but Andy, then. Don’t listen to him, Rebecca. Tell me about your relationship.”

  “I’m unhappy. My boyfriend was great in the beginning—lots of fun dates and conversation. But we’ve been together two years now and we fight constantly. The thing is, I’m about to turn thirty-one … and it sounds stupid maybe, but I want kids … and marriage. What if …”

  My heart pinched. “Rebecca, you are definitely not alone in feeling that way. Lots of us understand that. But if you’re already unhappy now—that’s not a good sign for later. Maybe he’s unhappy too. Maybe it’s time to grab hold of a different dream and go after it. Do you like your job?”

  “Not really.”

  “Maybe this is your year for a job change. Change is good.”

  “I know. And I know I should break up with him. I just need to do it. I think I’ll be lonely, though.”

  A face came into my mind. Dark hair and café-au-lait-colored eyes. “I was talking with a friend of mine recently and he told me that we’re all lonely sometimes, Rebecca. I think he’s right. Be brave anyway.”

  “Thank you for listening.”

  I ended the call, and after one more call-in, we shifted to a music block and I took off my headphones.

  Andy did the same. “Nailed it. Officially out of the woods. Not as much drama as I like, but all those female listeners will appreciate the heart.”

  I sat back in my swivel chair, breathing hard. I hadn’t realized that my hands were sweating. Or how fast my heart was racing. I jumped up, telling Andy I needed a water bottle before the break ended, and went to the staff kitchen as fast as I could.

  At lunch, I went to a nearby deli to meet Paige. I spotted her at an outdoor table. Her long hair was twisted high in a loose bun, a long, beaded necklace around her neck, and she wore black sunglasses. Her attention was on her phone, but I paused at the table to ask whether she’d ordered already, then darted inside to order a club sandwich before joining her at the table. Over baked chips and a delicious club, I told her about the meeting with Mark and the subsequent apology via radio. She ate every crouton from her Caesar salad as she listened.

  When I finished my story, Paige kept digging through her lettuce, looking for croutons. “I listened to the show this morning. I’m kind of addicted, Deb. I have to hear your morning show every day now. I almost called in yesterday to talk about Milo.”

  I laughed, then choked on a chip and had to drink half my water bottle. “If you ever do that, you better change the names. Milo listens in too, remember.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll keep that in mind.” She looked perplexed.

  I picked up my last fourth of club sandwich and leaned over. “So what’s new with you and Milo?” I asked before taking a bite.

  She twisted her mouth and
shrugged. “Same. Basically nothing. Well, sort of nothing. He asked me to help move one of the church interns into a new place—she’s staying in the basement of one of our church families. But it’s not working out—the dogs are making her crazy—so we’re moving her to bunk with another single gal who needed a roommate anyway. I helped out with that last night, which I was happy to do. Then we stopped for burgers after on the way home …”

  I looked up. “And?”

  “Okay, this sounds dumb, but he didn’t offer to pay for me. And I’d just helped move all those crates for that girl! It’s not that I was hoping it was a date, exactly, but—”

  “That would have annoyed me too,” I assured her.

  “I mean, I helped because he asked me. Not that I minded. But I didn’t really know her.”

  I nodded my understanding. “I get it.”

  She propped her elbows up on the table and folded her hands beneath her chin. “So someone else asked me out.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? Who?”

  “My boss’s son. Which sounds weird, I know.”

  “It only sounds weird if he’s ten years old.”

  Paige laughed. “No, my boss, Trisha, is my mother’s age. She’s the manager at the boutique. Her son and I are the same age. He’s military, stationed in Monterey, and he’s in town this weekend, and his mom is trying to set us up. She gave me his email and we’ve been writing back and forth for a week. I’ve checked him out on Facebook. He seems normal.”

  “Normal is good.”

  “He asked me if I’d like to go out to dinner on Saturday.” She paused to look for more croutons.

  “Well, are you going to go?”

  “Maybe.” She tore her baguette in half. “I don’t like the yo-yo thing I’ve got going on with Milo.”

  “If you don’t end up liking Military Guy, will it be awkward with his mom?” I had to ask.

  Paige inhaled and gritted her teeth. “Oh gosh. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  “It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” I said quickly, thinking I should listen more and talk less.

  “Military Guy’s name is Deacon.”