by Aven Ellis
“We’ll be back,” Ethan says.
Aside from my dad, who is out of earshot, we’re alone.
“They like you,” I say softly, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.
Brody exhales. “I’m glad.”
“You had nothing to be anxious about.”
“I know,” Brody admits. “I should have known they’d be like you: genuine and honest. I like them, too.”
“We’re all going to have so much fun at the gala,” I say. “The National Museum of Natural History is a great venue for the event. It’s in Ocean Hall.”
“Can I surf?” Brody teases.
“Goofball,” I say, shaking my head.
“I want to go surfing during the All-Star break in July,” Brody says. “I miss it.”
“Where are you thinking about going?” I ask. “Delaware?”
“I don’t know, where do you want to go?”
“What?”
“I was thinking we could go somewhere together, if you could get a few days off,” Brody says. “Maybe down to Miami?”
He wants to take a trip with me, I think, my heart soaring.
But then I remember I don’t get vacation time until I’ve been at work for six months.
“No?” Brody says, reading the frown on my face.
“I would love to go to Miami,” I say, “but I won’t have enough time at work to take vacation days in July.”
An expression of disappointment passes over his face, and once again, I feel I’m not as good as the girlfriends and wives who can travel.
“No big deal,” Brody says, shrugging.
“But you should go,” I say, encouraging him. “Maybe with AJ or something.”
“Nah, it was just an idea.”
A knot forms in my stomach. It shouldn’t. It’s stupid, but I can’t help but feel this will be the first of many things I have to tell Brody I can’t do. I can’t travel because of my job. I can’t go to every game. I can’t stay up late without falling asleep in his lap. I don’t have supermodel hair. Let’s not even talk about clothing in single number sizes. I can’t even get a pair of size eight pants past my thighs.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
I have to do better if I’m going to make this work for the long run.
Because I’m not enough, a tiny voice inside my head whispers as I stare at Brody.
Brody hasn’t done anything to make me think this. I know he’s genuine in what he says and does, but I can’t help but worry about two months from now, three months from now, when we’ve been together and reality hits him that I have a job and struggle with losing ten pounds and I’m not in the stands the night he hits a monster home run. How will he feel when this is ongoing? I’m his first serious girlfriend. Will he realize he has a million different options of women who suit him so much better than I can?
“I don’t want you to give up a chance to surf for me,” I say.
Because I don’t want him to resent me having a job if he doesn’t go.
“Please. I can do a quick trip to Virginia and surf and be home the next day,” he says, leaning forward and brushing his lips across the bridge of my nose. “See? I get surfing and you, that is perfect.”
“Hayley, can you bring me that platter on the table?” Dad calls out from across the patio where he’s flipping chicken on the grill. “Corn is ready to come off, chicken is next.”
“Let me bring it,” Brody says, getting up from the table.
I watch him pick up the cobalt Fiestaware platter and take it to my dad, and I can see him smiling and hear the sounds of their voices as they chat.
I need to quit obsessing about what might happen but rather, as my workbook points out, take a moment to live in the present.
I reflect on today’s question about what is going right in my life. The blessings are indeed rich: my family; my friends, both new and old; and my job, which now has a lot of possibilities for growth and making a huge difference for both the cause and the organization.
And Brody.
I watch him laughing with my dad, seeming so at ease here on the patio on this chilly spring night.
Brody is right. I need to let go of these insecurities and live in the present and trust that we are going to continue to grow in our relationship.
In love.
And with this belief, we’ll end up exactly where we need to be.
Together.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Ultimate Modern Girl’s Guide to Self-Motivation, Zen, and Being the Absolute Best You Now!
Today’s Question: What are your actions guided by?
“I’ve scheduled promotion across social media today and tomorrow,” I say, going over my portion of responsibilities for the gala with Belinda in her office. “I’ve also updated the information on the website to promote that tickets are still available.”
Belinda smiles at me. “Excellent.”
“I’ll be there early so I can get plenty of pictures to share across all our social media platforms. I’ll also do Instagram live throughout the night.”
Belinda smiles. “We haven’t had our Instagram tutorial yet, but I trust you.”
I smile back. I have finally earned her trust, and Belinda has completely relaxed around me. She has given me more freedom to do my job and is willing to learn new things, even if they seem foreign and scary to her.
I rise from my chair. “Instagram next week?”
“Do you think I’m ready to move on from Twitter?” she asks.
“Your tweets this week were A plus,” I say, grinning. “You’ve graduated to Instagram.”
She laughs, and I head out her door and back to my desk, where I see Addison hovering.
“Hey,” I say as I approach. “Looking for me?”
Addison turns around, flashing me a smile. “Yeah. Brody was just here.”
“Brody?” I ask, confused. “Why is he here?”
Brody has never been to my office, and he’s not the type to drop by without asking me, especially because he knows how I’ve just finished my first thirty days and am still trying to keep everything buttoned-up professional.
Meaning my boyfriend doesn’t just drop by the office.
“He was picking up his gala table tickets,” Addison says. She arches an eyebrow at me. “Man, you guys kept that quiet. You didn’t even tell me. He was slick to order it under Jensen. I had pulled the tickets and wrote the name on them, and I didn’t even think that Mr. Jensen was Brody Jensen because I thought he would have had you bring them home.”
I stare at Addison in shock. Brody bought a table? And didn’t tell me?
Then I remember telling him a few weeks ago we only needed to sell a few more tables before we had all the VIP ones sold out.
He must have bought one then, I think, love surging through me. He did it to help the foundation.
“When the receptionist said Brody Jensen was up front to pick up his tickets, Mariah flipped. She insisted on coming up with me to deliver them when you weren’t at your desk. She asked if he could carve out time in the off season to work with us, telling him how fantastic that would be.”
Alarm bells go off in my head. “She said that?”
Addison nods enthusiastically. “Mariah said she was sorry she kept asking you to ask him and that you seemed embarrassed because you had to say no on his behalf, but if he had time when the season was over, we’d love to have him onboard.”
I go ice cold. Oh, no. No, no, no.
My stomach rolls over as I realize what this means.
Brody knows I lied.
He won’t understand why I lied.
And the thing he loves about me is how genuine I am.
“Um, is he still up front?” I say, panic rising within me.
“No, he just left. You might be able to catch him if you call him.”
I grab my phone off my desktop and sprint down the hallway.
“Hayley?” Addison calls after me, confusion in her
voice.
I’m shaking as I go for the stairs. I run down them as fast as I can and open the door to the main lobby. My eyes search for Brody, but there’s no sign of him.
I run out the front, heading in the direction of the Metro station, which I know he would have taken to get here.
Then I see him.
He’s not that far ahead of me, and his tall frame, backward baseball cap, and red T-shirt makes him stand out in a sea of professionally dressed people.
“Brody!” I yell out.
He keeps walking.
“Brody!” I yell again, running after him.
This time he stops. He slowly turns around, and I see nothing but hurt and anger in his pale-blue eyes.
I’m gasping for breath as I reach him. We’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing people to move around us, and I try to calm my anxiety before speaking.
“You don’t understand,” I say.
Brody glares at me. “I might be stupid, but I’m capable of understanding when someone is embarrassed of me.”
His words pierce my heart. I begin shaking.
“You know that’s not true. I am not embarrassed of you.”
“Bullshit,” Brody says, his voice rising as his normal zen-like calm disappears with his anger. “You didn’t even tell me the foundation wanted to work with me, and there’s only one logical reason why: I’m too stupid to help promote a foundation to help others learn. I’m not good enough for them. You’re embarrassed they’d find out the truth that I barely got through school. The people they are helping have dyslexia, but they are still smart. I’m just dumb. Knowing you’ve always thought that and hid it from me kills me, Hayley. It kills me.”
He begins to blur in front of me as tears well in my eyes.
“You know me better than anyone, and you know that’s not what I think,” I say, my voice growing thick with emotion.
“I don’t know you at all,” Brody says, his eyes reflecting nothing but pain.
“I didn’t want you to think I was using you. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do it!”
“Quit lying to me. You know damn well I never would have thought that.”
My throat begins to swell. “That’s the truth. Besides, I wanted to make a mark on my own, with my own ideas and work, not by using the man I just started dating.”
“Just stop it. Stop. You revealed the truth the moment you lied to Mariah and Addison. You’re embarrassed your boyfriend is a dumb jock.”
“You know what, Brody?” I say, frustration building in me, “Quit projecting your past on to me and my actions. If I was embarrassed of you, I wouldn’t date you. I have enough confidence to want the best for myself.”
Brody laughs harshly. “Confidence in yourself? There’s another lie. If you were confident in yourself, happy with who you were, you wouldn’t be ordering all these appliances you never use, but were supposed to make you do everything just perfect. You wouldn’t need to do the perfect thing at work, on your own, so you could bask in acceptance. You think people only see you when you are doing perfect things. Cooking the perfect burrito. Creating the perfect social media plan. You have it in your head that people somehow like you better if you do everything just right, and if you present yourself anything short of that you’re not noticed. That’s not the actions of a confident woman. So don’t throw that on me when you haven’t sorted it out for yourself.”
I gasp. His accusation cuts me to the core, and every defensive nerve in my body springs to life as anger surges to the surface.
“People notice when things are done perfectly; that’s the only time people notice!” I cry, tears beginning to fall.
“Not with me,” Brody shoots back. “I noticed you the first time I saw you. I’ve never asked you to be perfect.”
“You are the only person who ever has noticed me without me being perfect! And when will that end?” I fight back, my emotions now driving every word out of my mouth. “What about when I can’t travel with you, like other baseball girlfriends? When will you finally notice I wear a size ten? When my stream of consciousness speaking is no longer cute and it grates on your last nerve? I have to be the best where I can be so I can make up for these things in me that are huge flaws!”
A stunned expression crosses over his face. “You can’t be serious.”
Hot, angry tears begin falling from my eyes. “Don’t you think I’m tortured by these thoughts? Well, I am! So maybe you’re right, I do have issues, but at least I own them, unlike you. They obviously bother you, since you’re the one who brought up my need to be perfect. You can walk away before you have to inevitably dump me.”
He gasps at what I just said, and I desperately wish I could take those words back.
“I-I didn’t mean that.”
“Like hell you didn’t. You think I’d be dumb enough to walk away from the only woman who has ever mattered to me? Don’t answer that. I already know what you think.”
“Stop it. Stop with the self-pity party. I’m sorry your teachers did what they did to you. I’m sorry your parents didn’t advocate for you. I’m sorry it has hurt your belief in yourself, but don’t you dare, don’t you dare, say I’m embarrassed of you or don’t think you’re smart,” I say vehemently. “Those are your thoughts. You need to own those, Brody. I have never believed that about you, never, but you can’t let it go. You can’t let yourself believe the truth. You are brilliant. You are nothing but that in my eyes. Saying I think otherwise is a lie.”
“How would I know if you aren’t lying? You lied to Mariah, and you’re lying to yourself if you think I care about what size you wear or if you can go on a freaking road trip. I don’t care! All I cared about was if you could lov—”
Brody abruptly stops speaking. My heart is pounding.
He was about to say love.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, shaking his head.
“You were going to say love,” I say, my voice shaking. “Brody, I lo—”
“No!” Brody roars, cutting me off. “Don’t say it. Don’t lie. If you think I’m so superficial as to care about the things you’re obsessing over, you don’t know me. You can’t love someone you don’t know. You can’t.”
Then, to my complete shock, he turns around and storms off, leaving me on the sidewalk.
I stay frozen, tears falling from my eyes, aware of the show we put on and the people staring at me. Some have cell phones up recording our fight, and it will probably be online in thirty seconds, but none of that matters, none of it.
Fear has fueled all of my actions, and it has led to me losing the man I love.
Then I realize where I’m standing.
I stare into the window of Mochas & Macchiatos.
We’ve come full circle.
We ended where we began.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I push open the heavy door that leads into my dad’s law office. While my heart is shattered into a million fragments and I’m overwhelmed with grief, my head somehow managed to fight through the storm and tell me this is where I needed to be.
After bawling my eyes out on the whole walk back to the office, I took a moment to pull myself together in the public restroom on the first floor. Then I became the liar Brody accused me of being and told Belinda I had a migraine coming on. I asked if I could work from home the rest of the day. Belinda said I should take the day off and encouraged me to leave and get some rest.
Now here I am, walking into the office, knowing Dad is probably too busy to see me but coming anyway on the slim chance that he might be available.
The receptionist, an older woman named Lisa who has worked here ever since I can remember, starts to greet me with a smile, but it quickly evaporates.
“Hayley? Are you okay?” Lisa asks, taking off her headset and rising from her chair.
The concern in her eyes is too much for me, and I start to fall apart.
“Don’t answer. I’ll get your father,” Lisa says firmly. She
puts her headset back on, and I hear her talking to my dad’s assistant, Tracey, and then she clicks off. “Sweetie, go back to his office. Tracey will be waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” I manage to get out.
I make my way back to my dad’s corner office, where I’m greeted by Tracey.
“Hayley, your dad is in a meeting,” she says softly, “but I’m going to interrupt.”
“No, no, this is stupid,” I say, shaking my head. “I can talk to him later. I don’t know why I came here; he has more important things to do.”
I turn to walk out, but before I can, Tracey’s voice stops me.
“Do you know what your father always tells me?” she asks.
I stop and slowly turn back around to face her.
“He says I need to put my kids first,” she says, her brown eyes shining with sincerity at me. “You know I have the twins who will be entering second grade this year. You also know I’m a single mom, so it’s hard to balance everything. Your dad told me when I started this job his biggest regret as a parent was not giving enough time to you, Hayley. He told me not to make the same mistake. If I needed time for the boys, I could have it. He also encouraged me to give time equally to each boy because you were slighted growing up. He told me he is trying his best to make it up to you now, as a young woman. He would want to know you are here, no matter who he is meeting with. Your father will always be here for you.”
My fragile state unravels from her words. My father is so haunted by the past, the past that has helped destroy my future, that he is warning his assistant not to follow his path. I burst into tears.
“O-Okay,” I say, nodding. “Okay.”
Tracey retrieves a few tissues from the box on her desk and comes up to me, pressing them into my hand and then squeezing it in a comforting way.
“I’m going to the conference room; I’ll be right back,” she says gently. “Go ahead into your dad’s office, Hayley.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t use the tissues. I continue to sob as I enter his office and shut the door behind me, violent sobs that shake me to the core. It hits me that I have allowed my childhood to steal my future. Even though I noticed these patterns, I never truly dealt with them.
