Some Sort of Happy
Page 5
“I think he’s just shy.”
“I think he hates me,” I said, swallowing the last of the cookie and eyeing another one. “Just like the rest of the world.”
“So what happened to you today, anyway? Why were you so mad when you walked in?”
While she swept up, I told her about being fired, about my brilliant idea to work for the festival, and about the humiliating meeting with Joan Klein. Then I reached for a second cookie.
“They took your crown away?”
“Yes!” The outrage hit me all over again. “So I smashed it!” I took a giant chomp out of the cookie as Natalie burst out laughing. “It’s not funny!” I yelled, crumbs flying from my mouth.
“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s just so silly. Who cares who was queen all those years ago? It’s ridiculous.”
“I care!” I thumped my chest. “It was the one thing I had, the one great achievement in my life, my mantle picture! And now it’s gone and I have nothing! My life is a complete mess and I’m a total failure at everything I do!” I threw the cookie down, put my face in my hands, and finally gave in to the urge to cry like a baby, which made me feel even worse about myself.
Natalie came over to sit beside me, leaning the broom against the counter. “Hey,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. “Don’t say that. You’re not a failure. You’ve had plenty of great achievements. Look at all the starring roles you had around here growing up. Mom has entire albums full of your pictures on stage.”
I picked up my head, tears leaking from my eyes. “Yes, I was a big fish in this little pond. But I wasn’t good enough to make it for real, Nat. I didn’t even like trying. You know what I liked best about acting?”
“What?”
“The curtain call. The applause when it was over.” I sat up straight and sniffed. “Let’s face it. I’m shallow and vain.”
She slapped my shoulder gently. “Come on. Everyone likes to hear praise sometimes. And OK, maybe you’re a little vain, but you’re a hard worker too—you just need to find what it is you like to do. If it’s not acting, it’s something else.”
“But I’m not good at anything,” I fretted. “I’m not smart and ambitious like you and Jillian.”
“Stop it, yes you are. And you could be good at anything.” She slung her arm around my neck and squeezed. “You’ll figure it out, Sky. Things will work out.”
“How? The entire town, possibly the entire country, hates me, I have to go home and ask Mom and Dad if I can move in with them because I was canned, and a really cute guy just gave me the brush off.”
“Mom and Dad will support you no matter what, and so will I, and so will Jillian. That’s what family does.”
I swiped at my nose. “I’m just so fucked up compared to you guys.”
“What?” She leaned away from me. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Jilly did everything right. Your lives are perfect.”
“Now you’re just talking crazy. No one’s life is perfect. Jillian was just complaining to me the other day that she wants to date but can’t meet anyone worth her time, and she’s buried in student loans. Running this business is exhausting and I’ve got a bunch of debt from it, and if you want to know the truth, I think Dan’s cheating on me.”
I gasped. “What? No way. You guys have been together forever.”
She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything. I saw some text messages on his phone from a girl at his office that have me wondering.”
Dan was like a brother to me, since he and Natalie had been together since high school, but I’d kill him if he hurt her. “You need to talk to him. Right now.”
“I will. Maybe it’s nothing.” Her expression said otherwise. “Anyway, we were talking about you. Are you going to be OK?”
“Yeah.” I sniffed. “I need a tissue.”
Natalie reached for the napkin dispenser and slid it over to me. “You still have plenty of old friends here. Why don’t you look them up? You work all day and spend all your downtime working on those guest houses. You should get out a little.”
Plucking a napkin from the dispenser, I blew my nose. “I don’t know. I only stayed in touch with a few people after I left. And everyone who stayed around here is either married and pregnant or married with kids. It’s hard to relate.”
“Well, then, I think you should make a new friend.” She flashed a meaningful look out the door.
I considered it. He was cute, and smart, if a bit socially awkward. Maybe I could draw him out. That was one thing I was good at, talking to people. “I could ask him if he’s going to the reunion, I guess.”
“There you go.” She stood and picked up the broom again, resumed her sweeping.
“How can I find him?”
“He’ll probably be back in here first thing tomorrow looking for that notebook. I’m surprised he’s not here already.”
I thought for a second. “I do need a job. Want to hire me?”
“You know what?” She stopped sweeping and looked at me, resting her chin on the top of the broom. “I was planning to hire someone part time since the tourist season is picking up. I can’t pay you what Rivard paid you, and you won’t like the hours, but the job’s yours if you want it.”
“I’ll take it. At this point, I don’t even care what it pays, I just need something to do while I figure my life out.” I picked up my half-eaten cookie. “These are amazing. I’m going to get fluffy working here.”
Natalie groaned. “They are, and I’ve eaten way too many today so I’m heading to the gym after this. Want to go for a swim with me?”
Natalie had been a champion swimmer in high school. Her definition of “go for a swim” was not the same as mine, which involved more floating than laps, preferably on a raft with a cupholder for my frozen daiquiri.
“No way,” I said. “I’m too out of shape to swim with you. But I’ll get on a bike or a treadmill or something.”
“Great. You can come for dinner if you want too. We’re grilling kebabs.”
“The chicken wrapped in bacon?” I asked hopefully.
“Yep.”
“Sold.” I felt a little better. Nothing makes a bad day better like bacon. “What can I do to help you close?”
“Why don’t you sweep, and I’ll do kitchen duty?” She held the broom out to me, and I saluted before taking it from her.
But after she’d gone into the kitchen, I remained on the stool with the broom in my hand, staring at the notebook on the counter.
Sebastian Pryce. After all these years, he was a hot, mysterious lawyer with a firm handshake and a tragic past. Was his standoffish demeanor just a defense mechanism? He’d jumped up to help me at the beach this morning in a heartbeat, so I knew he had manners somewhere under the icy exterior. And those eyes. When he’d taken his glasses off and looked at me, there was something other than anger in them. Was it fear? Sadness? Was he still afraid of being rejected? I flattened one hand on the notebook’s front cover. What was in here?
For a moment, Sebastian’s right to privacy warred with my insane curiosity about him…
How wrong would it be to take a peek?
Totally wrong.
But maybe there was an address or phone number in it? I could justify it that way, right?
You just want to get up in his business.
I ignored that and opened up the front cover. Blank. I flipped to the back cover. Blank.
Well, damn, I thought, randomly flipping to a page in the middle. Guess you’ll have to find me, then.
And speaking of me.
There was my name.
My mouth fell open as I took in all the words on the page, which really didn’t make much sense to me.
Refrain from spacing hangers in closet just so. 50
Write less than eight words on a line. 30
Eat a mint after it falls on floor. 80
Zip up my fly less than eight times. 50
Turn off the television on an odd ch
annel. 60
Lock the front door less than eight times. 70
Sit in a restaurant chair that feels “wrong.” 75
Eat at a restaurant without bringing own dishes. 80
Go to a hospital and sit in lobby. 80
Handle a kitchen knife while others are present. 90
Talk to Skylar Nixon.
What the hell was this?
I read the list again but felt no closer to understanding it. Some of the items seemed like maybe they were things that made him nervous, and others were just odd behaviors. Zipping his fly eight times? A chair that feels “wrong”? Why couldn’t he handle a kitchen knife in front of other people? Was he scared of knives? And hospital lobbies? Maybe that was the germ thing? And what was with the numbers? I felt sorry for him, but boy…this was pretty odd.
If he wanted to have a conversation with me, why hadn’t he done it today? He’d had plenty of chances. Was he just too shy? Biting my lip, I turned the page.
And saw my name again.
Skylar
I think I loved you
is not the best introduction
after we’ve just met
I realize this. And maybe you will
never know
never know
never know
never know
never know
never know
never know
never know
Maybe it is too soon (or too late?)
to tell you about the dream I had
your laugh was a butterfly
Today when I touched you
I felt a familiar chill down my arms. I think it
came from the future (or the past?)
With your hand in mine I saw the
tragedy of us
unfold quite clearly
I have no choice but to
keep my distance
but your beauty is gravity
and terrestrial bodies will always fall
I read it again and again and again, gooseflesh rippling down my arms. He wrote poetry? Had he written this for me today? Did he really feel this way about me? My heart was pounding. I stared at the words, trying to memorize them, scared Natalie was going to catch me snooping but needing desperately to take something beautiful from this day, even if it was sad too.
A few seconds later, someone pounded so hard on the door that I gasped.
Spinning around, I slapped my hand over my heart when I saw Sebastian through the glass. I slammed the notebook shut. Act natural. You saw nothing. You know nothing.
But suddenly I wanted to know everything.
Fuck, I scared her.
I watched Skylar whirl around and put a hand over her heart. When she saw it was me, she picked up the notebook from the counter and walked toward the door. The moment she unlocked it, I yanked it open and snatched the notebook rudely from her hands. I’d been in a complete state of panic since realizing it wasn’t in my jacket, but I felt only mild relief to have it back in my possession. Had she looked inside it?
Fucking hell. I’d die. Die.
“Hi,” she said brightly, coming outside. The door swung closed behind her. “I wondered if you’d come back for that.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye, so I stared at her feet. They were small and narrow, and even though she wore high heels, she was still a good six inches shorter than me.
“No problem, we’re still here closing up.”
I nodded, the tension in my gut uncoiling a little. She wasn’t acting as if she’d seen anything crazy. I risked a glance at her, and those blue eyes cranked my adrenaline right up again.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier. Do you live nearby?” Her tone was light and friendly and she leaned against the door, hands behind her back. It made her breasts stick out a little, and I looked at them before I could help myself. The thought of accidentally choking her jumped unbidden into my mind, and I took a step back.
Shit. Just get the fuck out of here.
“I gotta go.” Without meeting her eyes, I turned and counted off my paces in sets of eight as I hurried away from her.
Hating myself, I went home and cleaned my house from top to bottom, took another shower (during which I jerked off to her again, which only made me feel more loathsome), ate dinner staring at a stupid cable news show that reaffirmed my belief that the world was a fucked-up place full of greed and cruelty, and went to bed.
Staring at the empty space beside me, I counted myself to exhaustion, and fell asleep.
• • •
The next day was better, although I was angry with myself for being such a dick to Skylar.
To work it off, I went to the gym in the morning and spent the early afternoon working outside at my cabin. The piece of property on Old Mission Peninsula I’d inherited from my mother was small, but it was well off the main road and had about twenty waterfront feet, although no beach. The land had been in her family for a hundred years or so, and when she died, it was divided into three parcels and willed to my two brothers and me. They’d sold their plots to a developer, but I’d held on to mine and built a cabin on it. A contractor had done the construction last summer, and I’d spent my winter working on the interior, installing reclaimed wood floors and kitchen cabinets, stained concrete counters, new appliances, a stone and tile bathroom downstairs. The whole place wasn’t even eight hundred square feet, but it was plenty of room for me.
My latest project was an outdoor shower. With the water line prepped and in place, I began working on installing the solar water heater, so that showers out here would be refreshing rather than dick-shrinking cold. Of course, the entire time I worked I pictured Skylar underneath the shower heard, warm water running down her body, dripping off her curves, clinging to her skin. Oh fuck. Now I was hard. Frowning, I adjusted my jeans and kept working.
Damn it, why did I panic around her? Why couldn’t I manage a simple conversation? I’d been battling obsessive thoughts for the majority of my life, and Ken was right—I had plenty of strategies in place for dealing with them. So what the fuck was it?
Was it her looks? Was it because I felt guilty for the way I used to think about her? The way I still thought about her? Or was yesterday just a bad day? It was almost like I’d had too many good days, and the asshole in me needed to speak up and remind me I wasn’t OK. I’d never be OK. No matter how many good days there would be in my life, I’d always have to battle the fucked up circuitry in my brain.
I wondered what she was thinking. Would she even talk to me again if I approached her? Once something was on my list, I couldn’t give up on it—and if I didn’t work through my issue with her, it would continue to haunt me. This wasn’t a huge town, so I was bound to run into her from time to time, and I couldn’t run away whenever that happened. Ken was right about that too—avoidance never works, not for me.
I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t a goddamn coward. Not anymore.
Next time I saw her, I’d do better.
I started working for Natalie the next day, and by three o’clock, my feet were killing me, my lower back ached, and I was exhausted. My sisters were both early risers, as were my mom and dad, but waking before six AM felt like medieval torture to me, and the weather wasn’t helping. It had been cloudy and gray all day, and the rain had just started to fall. Nap weather.
“Is it over?” I asked, when the final lunch customers had left, opening their umbrellas before heading out. “If it isn’t, I think I have to quit.”
“It’s over.” Natalie grinned at me over her shoulder as she piled dishes from their table on a tray. “We can close up.”
“Thank God.” Wincing with every step on my sore feet, I went to the door to lock it and flip the sign to CLOSED. Then I collapsed on the nearest stool, flopping forward over the counter. “I’ll help you in a second. I need a rest.”
“Don’t close your eyes,” she warned. “You’ll fall asleep, I know you.”
“I’m taking these dishes to the kitchen, and once they’re loaded in the dishwasher, your rest is over.”
“Mmkay.” Drowsy and warm and lulled by the sound of the rain, I’d just started to doze off when a few sharp raps on the glass jarred me awake. “Go ‘way. Closed,” I mumbled without picking up my head.
The knocking continued, growing even louder. What the hell, could this person not read?
“OK, OK.” Reluctantly, I slid off the stool and turned to see a drenched Sebastian Pryce through the glass, rain coming down in sheets behind him.
My stomach jumped, and I rushed over to the door, fumbling with the lock before pushing it open. “Come on in,” I said, a little breathless. All I could think of were his words about me. I could still see them on the page…
I have no choice but to
keep my distance
“My God, you’re soaked.” I looked him up and down, taking in the dark jeans and the light brown jacket, although it was dripping wet, as was his hair. “Can I get you a towel or something?”
“No, that’s OK.”
“How about a cup of coffee then?” I glanced behind me to make sure we still had some in the pot.
“No, thanks. I didn’t come for coffee. I was just running an errand downtown and saw you through the window. I didn’t realize you worked here.”
I smiled. So talkative today—almost friendly. “It’s my first day.” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I leaned toward him and spoke behind one hand. “But you just caught me napping on the job.”
He smiled at me, a slow, sly grin that made my knees go weak. “I won’t tell.”
“Thanks.” I waited for him to tell me why he was there but he said nothing for a moment, his eyes running over my hair and face, lingering on my mouth.
but your beauty is gravity
I licked my lips. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to drink? The kitchen just closed, or I’d offer you something to eat.”