by Ava Moreau
“Do you want us to—”
“No, no, please, don’t even get up. I’m the kind of girl who likes some control over her life, right? The last thing I want is to lose control in front of you. Don’t want your last view of me to be a big sobbing mess.” She pressed her wet eyelids against her sleeve. “I’m just going to leave. Big graceful exit.”
At Jack’s bedroom door, she turned. “Keep in touch with me. Please? I mean that.”
Trent nodded. “Of course we will.”
“Do it. I mean it.”
And then, just as swiftly as she’d come into their lives, she left again. Trent had the mad urge to stop her, to get up and grab her and bring her back to bed, to convince her to stay, but Jack’s strong hands were on his arms.
“Let her go,” his friend whispered. “You have to let her go.”
25
No one was there to greet her at the Corinth Regional Airport. She looked around at the crowds, at the bustle that was so much greater than down in Myers Lake. There were probably more people in the airport right now than the entire population of her hometown. Normally this huge a crowd would have excited her, as she sensed the potential of all these people, all these relationships.
Now she just felt lonely and sad, looking at them finding one another, the hugs, the slaps on the back, the laughter.
She was in no rush to get home, so she stopped to get an airport cinnamon bun, and sat down on a bench to watch the people go by.
Of course she hadn’t gone straight to the airport from Jack’s place. There was still family to consider. She had to say goodbye to Sarah. Sarah, who didn’t even notice Becca had been crying…or perhaps thought that Becca was too strong and independent to want to talk about it.
Damn it, Sarah, you could have at least asked. You’re so convinced you know me, but I don’t think you ever did know me. You never understood why I had to get away, but that’s because you never asked.
They’d shared an uncomfortable cup of coffee. “You’re going to come back when we sell the house, right?” Sarah had asked. “One more time for old times’ sake? Besides, you totally missed Mom and Dad on this visit.”
She’d hemmed and hawed, and eventually her sister had dropped the topic and given her a brusque goodbye hug.
The cinnamon bun was too sticky, too sickly-sweet. She really didn’t want it, it was just an excuse not to move. She stared down at it, all shiny and perfect and artificial. I’m just postponing the inevitable. I have to return to the real world sometime. No sense in dragging things out by giving myself a stomachache with this thing. She reached over and dropped it in the bin.
Her apartment was smaller than she had remembered, as though during her absence someone had come in and pushed all the walls closer together. It felt claustrophobic. Her furniture was plain and depressing, utterly functional, cheap and visually displeasing. The way you treat a place when you’ve got no intention of spending time in it. A dressing-room, a staging area, rather than a home. She dropped her bag in the living room and walked around the counter into the small kitchenette. She started some water for tea.
Maybe it was better this way. The guys wouldn’t have fit into this apartment at all. Those big shoulders would constantly be swinging into a wall or doorway. Jack would probably crush the chair if he sat in it.
Myers Lake had seemed so small to her, but as she looked around, all she could remember was the lake itself, and that big open sky all around. The feeling of their arms around her, the strength of her two men (her two exes, now) lifting her up, loving her, making her feel more special than this city had ever made her feel.
She walked into her bedroom. There was a suit, still in its dry-cleaning bag, hanging from a hook over the door. Shoes neatly lined up on the floor, since there was no real closet space here.
And there was the vision board. The whole five-year plan, in all its glory, laid out on one wall. From their first clients, all the way up to being CEO of her consulting company. All the stages and steps she could imagine, every single complication noted and accounted for.
Well, almost every complication.
Because rule one of the five-year plan was No Boyfriend. It had seemed like such a simple rule, she hadn’t developed a plan for what would happen if she fell in love…nor a plan for if things didn’t work out.
“Guess I’m not so smart after all,” she said to the empty room.
She lay down on her unmade bed, kicking her shoes off and staring at the board. Maybe if she’d been smarter. Maybe if she’d just taken into account that she’d meet someone. Why had she not planned for love? Why had she assumed it wouldn’t come to her?
Why hadn’t she fought harder to force the guys to come with her?
She needed to call Kaylee. To admit defeat, to get back to work like a good businessperson. Get those powerpoints and spreadsheets back up, pin the hair back and hunker down.
But not yet. Not while she was in this much pain. She needed a little while to just lie here and hurt.
It’s all my fault, said Jack. He was behind the desk at his parents’ business, back to work after a long weekend. Time to get back to normal. Get back to filling out tickets, greeting customers, the big fake smile that didn’t used to be fake.
If I had just said fuck it and agreed to go up there, things would be different. Why did I have to put up such a damn fight about it?
Jack wasn’t used to being at war with himself. Life had been good to him, and he liked to think he’d been pretty good to life in return. Never really complained, never wanted more than he’d been given.
Maybe that had been a mistake. Not the complaining part. Maybe it had been a mistake not to want more. To reach, to grasp for something higher than he had been given.
Because Becca had fallen into his life, and now she had fallen back out of his life, and he was left with his hands open and empty, wondering what just happened, like his hands had no practice at grabbing things as they passed by.
He shook his head. Quit being so fucking metaphorical, he thought. You just ruined your whole life.
A simple break-up would’ve been hard enough. One boy, one girl, some hard feelings and tears, that would’ve been rough to get through.
But he had the feeling he hadn’t just lost Becca. Something had been growing between him and Trent, too. Something that would be gone forever.
Oh, they’d probably still be friends. But it would be different. He wasn’t even thinking about the sex. As hot as that had been, he understood that Becca’s presence had been integral to that. But how could they remain best friends, knowing how they’d ruined their chance at something special with the three of them together?
They hadn’t spoken much after Becca had left. For a while they just sat there in stunned silence. It was like emerging from a dream, where you eventually pass a point where you realize you’re awake, you’re back in the real world, the drab day-to-day world, and you have to get up and go to work.
And now that he was at work? He couldn’t concentrate on anything but his own guilt. He pulled out his phone, and opened the photo app. There they were, smiling at the diner, all pressed into the same booth.
Becca was so gorgeous. She was strong, she was capable, she knew what she wanted in life.
It hurt to look at her. It hurt, knowing that one of the things she’d wanted in life was Jack.
This was the right choice, as much as it sucks, he thought.
Small comfort there. But he knew he was right. If he had gone up to Corinth, no job, no prospects, it would’ve been okay at first…but the resentment would begin to grow. Becca didn’t want a boyfriend who washed dishes in the back of a restaurant. She wanted a success, someone whose ambition matched her own. It wouldn’t be right away, but eventually, she would come to realize Jack wasn’t the man she’d hoped for. Things would get strained, and they would break up, and he’d be right back where he started.
Jesus, you’re a fucking optimist, he told himself. Doomed from the sta
rt, is that it?
He got up from the counter and walked outside. Maybe some sunlight and fresh air would do him good.
The street was still and quiet. And…narrow. The buildings were all small, squat, red-brick. Nothing over two stories. It was all so tiny. That had never occurred to him before. Myers Lake looked like a toy town, like something you might build when you were a kid.
He understood that he was seeing it through Becca’s eyes, and could feel a rush of dissatisfaction with the town he’d loved so much.
Had he really loved the town, or had he loved the fact that the town loved him? Would he think it was so great if he hadn’t gotten all those trophies in high school, if his life hadn’t been one sports success after another?
Hadn’t all that praise gotten a little quieter, when he didn’t make it through college?
People were still happy to see him, but not excited, not anymore.
There was only one person in the world who had been excited by him lately.
And she was gone.
Trent was at the water’s edge. The breeze made gentle waves over the lake, lapping at the shore. He knelt down, looking at the tiny minnows, the way they were almost transparent, bottle-green, coming up close to the shore then scattering when they saw his finger dip into the water.
Watching them escape, the way Becca had escaped from him.
He had his resume with him. He had folded it carefully, folding, turning, flipping, folding again, until it was in the shape of a little paper boat, the kind he hadn’t made since he was a boy in school. Funny how the memory of how to fold it came back to him. He set the resume on the surface of the water, and watched the little boat fight against the current, coming in to shore, then being pulled back out. The water must seem very tempestuous to a vessel that small.
Eventually he was going to have to apologize to Jack. He wondered if they were going to fight. Jack had every right to be furious at him.
My failure has wrecked the relationship.
They’d gotten so close. He really thought he could convince Jack to come, as long as Trent had gotten the job. He knew Jack was really old-fashioned about having Becca take care of him. There was no way Jack was ever going to get past that. But Trent also knew that Jack accepting help from his best friend was different, and that he could’ve talked him into it.
What Jack never saw was how great he was at anything involving other people. He thought he didn’t have any skills in the world, but the fact was, his easy confidence in dealing with other people would carry him far…if he just took a chance and went somewhere that had careers waiting for him.
That was what stung so much about this failure of Trent’s. It wasn’t just his own failure. It was his failure to help his friend.
He sat on the sand and watched the boat make its way deeper into the lake. Water had soaked its sides, and it wouldn’t last long now. Eventually it would sink under its own weight.
He’d found something with Jack and Becca he didn’t think would ever have been possible. It was like a door had opened in a spot where before he had only seen a wall. How had he been around Jack his whole life and yet never felt this rush, this urgency of need, that he felt now? Becca had unlocked that inside him.
She’d unlocked so much inside him. He felt like he’d finally found someone who understood him, who understood his need to make more of his life than Myers Lake could possibly offer. She understood the need to grasp life with both hands. To have so much love, it took two lovers just to keep up.
And he’d blown it. He hadn’t paid close enough attention to the quiet, invisible social rules that mandated he be the first person to call to accept the job. He’d been going with his heart, thinking everyone was as generous and good as he felt he was. He hadn’t thought things through well enough. All heart, no head.
The wind caught the little boat, and it suddenly traveled far, as though it had a new lease on life, as though it had finally discovered its purpose, and was rushing towards the opposite shore.
Then the water overcame it, and it sank, flattening out, becoming just a piece of paper again, the ink smeared by water, slipping into the depths of the dark, turbulent water.
26
I say this as your best friend: Becca, you look like shit.”
Kaylee held her at arm’s length, her brow furrowed as though she were trying to figure out why Becca looked like such a mess.
“Have you been crying?” she asked.
Becca shook her head. “No…well, yes. But also no. Crying interspersed with periods of not-crying. It probably averages out to only half-crying, or a third-crying.”
“Jeez, what happened?” Kaylee pulled her into a hug, and Becca felt herself go limp against her friend.
You wouldn’t think something like a hug would set off more tears. That was for sappy people, stupid people who couldn’t keep their emotions under control. Becca could keep hers under perfect, tight control. Usually. Couldn’t she? So why was she bawling now?
Kaylee’s arms were so thin compared to Jack and Trent’s. Her best friend’s hug was warm and comforting, but it wasn’t quite the same as the huge bear-hugs her big men could offer. The sense of protection, of being wrapped up safe. It just made her cry harder.
“God, I must look like a fucking madwoman,” she said, her voice choked with sobs.
“Would you just sit down and let me pour some wine down you, so we can figure this out?” said Kaylee. “Are we fighting? Is that why you’re crying? Is it because I got mad at you on the phone? Because I promise—”
“No, no, it’s not that. I mean it’s sort of that, but it’s like a hundred other things too, and I’m a mess, and I’ve totally ruined my life, and you should just stop being friends with me and cast me off on a little raft out to sea, I’m such a failure.”
Kaylee stared at her for a long moment. “Damn. This must be serious. I’d better add some cake to the mix as well.”
As Kaylee busied herself in the kitchen, Becca looked around her living room. Kaylee hadn’t used any five-year plan as an excuse to put off decorating. Her place was so comfortable and warm. Pretty needlepoints on the wall that her grandmother had made, family pictures on the mantle (I don’t even have a mantle! she thought), and furniture that didn’t come in a box and require assembly. She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself. She sniffed it, and it smelled like Kaylee’s laundry, the drops of lavender essence she always put into the washer.
“I’m sorry I was such an asshole on the phone,” said Kaylee, emerging from the kitchen with a bottle and two glasses. She uncorked the wine and poured Becca an extra-large glass. “I just panicked when you said you’d be gone a week.”
“No, I was stupid, I shouldn’t have said that. The whole idea was that I’d rush down, clean out a room, then rush right back and get to work. I had no right to spring the idea of staying longer on you.”
Kaylee started to sip her own wine, but paused. “You said you met someone. Can I assume from all the tears and carrying on that it didn’t work out?”
“Oh god, can we not even talk about that?” She gulped down the red wine like it was water in the desert. “Can we pretend it never happened? I’m so ashamed, Kaylee.”
“See, I told you those small-town boys were no good for you. Nothing but puffed-up liars, all of them. Did you let one of them sweet-talk you?”
Becca blushed. “It was so much worse than that. I can’t even talk about it.”
“Oh no!” laughed Kaylee, almost spilling her wine. “Did you sleep with him? Becca, you were only there for a few days, you wretched thing!”
That made Becca sputter with laughter, and she had to set her drink down. “If I tell you something, do you promise never to tell anyone? And by anyone, I also mean you can’t ever mention it to me, either; you have to have immediate amnesia the minute I tell you this, so you’re not constantly bringing it up and making me realize what a fool I was?”
Kaylee raised an ey
ebrow. “Tell me you’re not pregnant.”
“What? Oh my god, no! That wasn’t the point at all!”
“Well don’t make me keep guessing!”
By now she had picked her glass back up, and was staring down into its ruby depths. She took a long, long swallow for courage, feeling her cheeks warming from the alcohol.
“The thing is, I didn’t just meet a guy, singular.”
Kaylee was puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“It was two guys.”
“Oh. Oh. Damn, when did you have time—”
“Two guys together.”
Her friend’s jaw dropped, but her look of shock turned quickly to delight. “You are the baddest woman I have ever met. Oh my god, Becca. Are you sure I have to keep it a secret? I want to tell everyone! What was it like? It was at the same time? Wasn’t it…was it… Oh god, I don’t even know what to ask!”
Becca laughed and let herself fall against the back of the sofa. “It was fucking wonderful, Kaylee! I can’t describe it, it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. These two guys—hot guys, soooo hot—they worshiped me. And it wasn’t just, y’know, lust either. I really felt something for them. I still do. I do, right now, and it’s breaking my fucking heart.”
“Oh no, baby, don’t cry again! Come here!”
One more time, Kaylee’s arms were around her.
“I’m such a mess,” Becca said. “I know it’s ridiculous to say I love them, but I do, Kaylee, I love them so much, both of them, but they’re down there and I’m up here and when will I ever see them again?”
“It’s not ridiculous,” said Kaylee in a soothing voice. “Not at all. People fall in love all the time, it just happens, it doesn’t follow any rules.”
Becca sat back, dabbing a napkin to her eyes. “That’s kind of you to say. I feel like a fool. A failure. I really do. First our business bombs, and now this.”
