Wanderlove - Rachel Blaufeld

by Rachel Blaufeld

  I wasn’t sure it was a great idea, but I couldn’t say no to Emerson . . . until I could.

  Emerson

  “One sec,” I called from behind my bathroom door.

  “No rush,” Price hollered back.

  That was good because I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if I looked different. Like I wasn’t a virgin.

  It was another one of those moments where I wished for my mom, someone to confide in or who could tell me I looked like the same damn woman.

  Young woman, obviously, but woman all the same. My heart rate sped up when I thought about what I did. What we did.

  I’d known Robby most of my life, and I couldn’t come up with one decent reason why I should have shared this moment with him.

  Smoothing my palm over my neck and down my chest, I closed my eyes and remembered the exact moment Price was fully inside me. It had stung, but then felt more than right. Like we belonged. I wondered if it was normal to feel that way.

  Again, I needed a mom.

  This made me open my eyes again and get moving. After slipping on some clean clothes, combing my hair, and adding a touch of makeup, I was ready.

  “Let’s do this,” I told Price, who was sitting on the edge of my bed with his phone in his hand.

  “Everything okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, my dad, apologizing, saying he wants to come here in a few weeks. Same shit, different day.” He took my hand. “Are you sure you want to go see Sheila?”

  I nodded.

  Johnny picked us up in front of the building, and we settled quietly in the back seat. It was obvious I needed time to think, and Price was giving it to me.

  When we arrived in front of Sheila and Bev’s building, I felt bad, knowing it was sneaky to come when Bev was teaching dance, but I couldn’t help it. I asked Price to wait in the car.

  “I need to do this on my own,” I said.

  Darting to the door, I buzzed Sheila, who let me in the building and didn’t seem surprised to see me when she opened her apartment door and asked me in.

  “Emerson, I’m glad you came. Sit down,” she said, patting the chair next to her.

  “I want to say, I really love Bev. This truly was coincidence. God works in weird ways.”

  “You could say that,” she said, and I didn’t really know what she was getting at.

  “I wish she and I could make up. I hope we do,” I told her.

  “You will. Bev can’t keep a grudge long. She’s like me. I mean, if your mom walked through this door right now, we’d pick up where we left off. No joke.”

  Sheila’s eyes watered a bit, and I took in how weak she looked. No scarf today, only her buzzed hair.

  I nodded, not knowing what to say.

  Sheila went on. “Your mom isn’t a bad person. I’m sure you feel differently, but I promise you she’s not.”

  I leaned forward, not wanting to miss a syllable of what she was saying.

  “Paula, from the outside, looked like she had a good life. Gorgeous, always the best clothes, money, freedom. But her dad was tough. Had a string of lovers, and her mom couldn’t leave. She was bound by money. She would have none if she left, and she placed more importance on the money. Anyway, Paula looked at your dad as a chance to break free from it all, but things didn’t work out that way. Then she met the man she married, and in the end, his money won out with her too. She’d always had an addictive personality, but after she left you, it got worse. She couldn’t stand herself.”

  “But I—”

  “I don’t want you to confuse this as being your fault. It’s not. You were a baby. That was her choice to let you go without anything. But she went downhill after she left you, until she got married. Then she cleaned up for a while . . . but only a while.”

  “Look, I don’t care. I want to see her.” I stood and paced. “Price . . . he came with me. He’s waiting outside.”

  “Price?” Sheila asked.

  “My friend. Boyfriend, I guess. Remember, Bev told you?”

  “Oh, right,” she said, waving off her confusion, but it felt like something more. I didn’t know.

  “I want to see my mom. Do you know where she lives?”

  “I understand what you’re asking, but I don’t know. She’s been MIA. For a while, she was living across from the park, right near Columbus Circle, but she hasn’t been there in a while.”

  “Can you try to find out? I know I shouldn’t burden you. And I’m sure Bev will be pissed, but you’re my only chance.”

  Sheila nodded and closed her eyes. “I will for you. But you need to go talk to Bev. Later this week. Make amends. She has a lot on her plate with me, and she truly looked at you like a good friend. So, go to the bakery and hash this out, okay?”

  “Yes. And thank you. So much.”

  “I’ll call you, okay? And I will act like I don’t know a thing when it comes to Bev. She needs a friend, and so do you. Remember that.”

  Price was waiting outside the car, his ass leaning into the door, and walked my way as soon as he saw me come out.

  “It go okay?” he asked, wrapping an arm around me.

  “Yeah, I think so. She’s going to get me an address. But she wants me to make amends with Bev.”

  He opened the door for me to slide in as Johnny waited in the driver’s seat.

  “It’s not going to be easy,” I said, the back of my bare legs sticking on the leather as I slid inside the car.

  “Nothing worth it is easy, right?”

  “Is that right?”

  “Well, being with you is . . . so, maybe I’m wrong.”

  He kissed me, and off we went.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  Johnny pulled up in front of Price’s building, but instead of going inside, Price tugged me out of the car, took my hand, and crossed the street.

  “Tuck?”

  “He’s with the dog walker. Come on,” he said, entering Central Park.

  I’d been in New York for a couple of months, but I hadn’t even ventured inside the park.

  “Pretzel or hot dog?” Price asked, nodding toward some street vendors.

  “Pretzel.”

  “Done.”

  We jumped into line for a pretzel, and after Price paid for two of them, we walked and munched.

  “They say it’s the water that makes them so good,” he said. “New York water . . . for both the pretzels and the dogs.”

  “Ha! I guess so.”

  “Same with the bagels.”

  “There’s nothing like the bagels here,” I said. “At the beach, people used to talk about the bagels from New York, and I thought they were kidding. Or exaggerating.”

  “Nope. They’re pretty fucking good. Though, I miss some stuff from home. It was fresher or some shit,” he said, looking wistful.

  “You should’ve gone home.”

  Price shook his head. “Nah, it’s all good. I’m just thinking out loud.”

  “Oh yeah, about what?” I tossed my pretzel wrapper in the garbage, tucked my hair behind my ear, and looked up at the man who was stealing my heart.

  “I was thinking how I could bring a piece of home to the city.”

  “Um, I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way, you said you didn’t like it here.”

  “It’s growing on me,” he said before swooping me up in one huge lift and tossing me over his shoulder.

  “Put me down! I just ate,” I said, but who was I kidding? I would have stayed.

  When he put me down, I asked him, “So, what could you do?”

  “I don’t know. My final for my econ class got me thinking about some sort of urban-garden-type restaurant. It’s been done before, but I could do it better. Make it down-home, authentic.”

  “Sounds so cool. You said the same kind of thing this morning when we were eating pancakes. You should look into it. Make some plans.”

  “We’ll see. Right now, I’m living on borrowed money.”
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  “The zoo,” I said, seeing the sign as we approached. “Oh, I’ve never been.”

  “Come on.”

  As soon as we went through the gate, I squeezed Price’s hand. “Thanks, this is fun.”

  “We didn’t even see anything yet,” he said with a quizzical look.

  “I’m telling you now because I know it will be awesome.”

  Right there under the tree at the zoo entrance, Price kissed me. He kissed me hard first, close mouthed, and then soft, not letting up. I didn’t want him to stop.

  “I like you, Emmy B, and don’t you forget it,” he finally abandoned my lips to say.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “Come on, let’s see some penguins.”

  Price

  “Let’s go somewhere, get away from all this bullshit. It’ll be fun,” I said, Emerson’s feet up on my lap as we chilled out on the couch.

  It was Thursday, and the first time I’d seen her since the zoo. She’d spent most of her free time over the last few days dealing with her obnoxious boss at the restaurant, and trying to find a moment alone with Bev. Every time she went into the bakery, Bev busied herself in the back.

  Emerson sat up and stared into my eyes. “You’re such a softie. You want me to make up with my dad, don’t you?”

  “I do, but I also want to go in the ocean.”

  “Whatever . . . I guess we could. I’m not on the schedule for the bar this weekend, and I don’t have the restaurant gig anymore. What a jerk. Can you believe it?”

  “That he kicked you to the curb for a relative? Yes. It’s not like the place was winning best place to work in the U.S. of A. anytime soon.”

  “Hardy-har. I made good money. I may not cover my rent now.”

  Not sure where it came from, but “You could move in here” just dropped out of my mouth.

  Emerson gaped at me. “Stop. You’re crazy. We just met.”

  “Think about it, and also about going home tomorrow. I’d like to see you in a bikini.”

  “Tell my dad that, tough guy.”

  “Well, I was going to be covert . . . just eye you up on the sly, and sneak into your room at night.”

  “Shit, there’s my phone,” she said, interrupting me. “Let me see if it’s Bev.”

  I didn’t mind. Her ass was on my couch, and this whole thing was really killing her.

  “It is,” she said, popping up to pace my living room.

  Okay, my dad’s living room.

  I needed my own place. This joint was too beige. Too fancy. Extra as fuck. I couldn’t move Emerson in . . . it wasn’t even mine.

  “She said she’s sorry to be avoiding me, and she asked her mom, and her mom said there was no reason to be mad at me. This is great news, right? She’s lucky to have a mom like that, so open and understanding.”

  “See? I told you. It’s going to work out.”

  I thought back to my own friendships and relationships, and wondered when I became the least bit qualified to give advice. Basically, I had my beer-drinking buddies and Moira—who’d ended anything we had—and now I didn’t give a single fuck. I guess she didn’t really mean much to me. In a short time, Emerson had come to mean everything.

  “Oh, she just asked if we could do coffee on Monday night!” Emerson was walking around the cream-colored carpet, phone in hand, smiling.

  “You look like one of the penguins at the zoo, hopping around,” I teased her.

  She plopped in my lap. “Shhh.”

  “Kiss me and I will.”

  She did. Her mouth met mine, our lips a frenzy of pent-up hunger for each other, until her phone buzzed again.

  Squeezing her ass, I told her to get it.

  “It’s Bev! We’re on for coffee. You know what? Maybe now that I don’t have the restaurant job, I can work at the bakery. I love to bake, and I could fill in anywhere they need help.”

  “See? Now you’re thinking. And you would need to live over here, so you could move in with me. Done.”

  “Stop. I was just thinking out loud. I’ll agree to go home, make peace with my dad, show you the beach, and then I’m coming back to make up with Bev. Then I can find my mom.”

  “Whatever you say,” I said. But my mind was working overtime, thinking of how to get her in my bed every night.

  I guess I was staying in this cesspool of a city for a while longer . . . but I wasn’t losing my shitkickers.

  “Come on. Let’s take Tuck out, and then I have some plans for you.” With her hand in mine, I helped Emerson up from the couch.

  “You do?” she asked, one eyebrow waggling.

  “How do you do that?”

  “I don’t know. My dad does it. I guess it’s hereditary.”

  “I can’t wait to meet this guy.”

  Emerson snorted out a laugh. “I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same about you.”

  Emerson

  Well, I was completely wrong. My dad seemed to adore everything about Price. Who knew?

  We drove down on Friday. After giving Tuck a short walk, we hit the road before dawn. Price wanted as much time in the sand as possible.

  As for me, I could have stalled. The inevitable fight with my dad loomed over me like a dark sky on a beach day. Of course, there hadn’t been a need for me to pack a bag. All my beach stuff was still at home—where I’d abandoned it.

  Along with my dad.

  My dad sounded excited—or at least he faked it—when I called from the car to say I was visiting for the weekend and bringing a friend. Now that we were here, I saw he was genuinely over the freaking moon. When I told him I was bringing a guy and my dad didn’t even balk, I should have known there was something up. What the heck? Didn’t he remember Robby?

  “Tell me more about your farm,” Dad said to Price over a cold beer.

  They were sitting on the porch, their feet kicked up on the railing, cold ones in hand. As for me, I was an afterthought on the porch swing, sipping on a lemon water with Tuck at my side. I just pumped my feet every now and again, letting the ocean breeze invade my pores, and watched my dad fall for Price like I had.

  A small niggle of worry hit me. What would happen when Price went back to his beloved farm?

  “It’s pretty small as farms go, but we have a fruitful apple orchard and a good many dairy cows. We also raise pumpkins, and Mom makes pies and jellies.”

  Dad nodded, looking impressed. “I’m sure it’s bigger than you think. Sounds like quite the operation.”

  “Eh, I guess. I do love it. Thought I’d be there forever, but I’m adjusting to New York. Hated it in the beginning, but it’s changing for me. Certainly, I never thought I’d be getting a fancy degree. Not sure what I’ll do with it, though. I exactly can’t see myself on Wall Street.”

  My dad raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, the ties could be strangling after a while, huh? And I suspect your liking New York more has something to do with my daughter?”

  “Ha!” Price let out a loud laugh before taking another swig of beer.

  It was a regular Boys’ Night Out before my very eyes.

  “Definitely on the ties,” he said, still chuckling. “Not my thing. I’m thinking about something bigger. Something with an impact on this world. Combining shit—I mean crap—I learned on the farm, and whatever they teach me in school. As for the city, yep, it’s growing on me, thanks to your daughter. I’m sure you have your concerns, but I’ll tell you this. I’m a good guy. I know I’m a bit older than her, but I’m telling you the truth—I’m into her. I really like her for all that is Emerson . . . sir.”

  “Sir? Cut the crap. Call me Bend,” my dad said as he side-eyed my . . . boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Lover?

  “Okay, no prob,” Price said.

  “So, you got a thing for my girl?” My dad lifted his beer to his lips and polished it off in one swig.

  “How ’bout that humidity here in Jersey?” I blurted, unable to stop myself. I didn’t know how we got to this point in the conversation, bu
t I wanted it to stop. Needed it to.

  “Quit it, Emerson. You brought this guy home, and I appreciate he’s sharing his intentions.”

  “Oh my God! Dad!” I stood up, the swing flying back behind me. Tuck jumped down beside me, scared to death.

  “Jesus, Em. You’re freaking the damn dog out,” my dad said as Price sat there watching, smirking, silently laughing.

  “Dad!” I glared at him. “Do you remember why I left?”

  “Yeah, because of that no-good, piece-of-you-know-what, Robby.”

  “Um . . .” I tugged at my messy bun and pulled it out.

  Another smirk crossed Price’s face—he knew he had the advantage. Jerk.

  “Dad, you were the one all buddy-buddy with him when I left. Or did you forget?” I paced back and forth, the small porch not giving me a lot of room to cover.

  My father’s lips twitched. “Yeah, better to keep the enemy closer. You weren’t talking to me, and I had to make sure you weren’t running into that little shit’s arms. He’s a piece of work, running up there to see you. Next thing I know, the idiot’s crying in his coffee over you and some guy. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing.”

  I turned away from him, my fists clenched. The desire to grunt and stomp my feet was almost impossible to resist.

  “Christ. Was I played?” I said without turning around.

  “Language,” my dad said, gently chastising me.

  “You were, babe.” Price came up behind me, whispering in my ear, his arm around my waist. Then he turned to look at my dad. “There’s no father in America who would like that guy for his daughter, right?”

  “You’re my kind of person,” Dad told Price. “Let’s have another beer.”

  And . . . boom, everything was dropped.

  That’s pretty much how Friday evening went. My dad being his straightforward, easygoing self, bonding with Price.

  We ordered in pizza, which we ate on the porch, and after my dad went inside, Price asked me to take a walk on the beach. We’d seen it during daylight, dipping our toes on arrival, Price mesmerized by the crowds and the waves. He’d flopped himself down on a beach blanket earlier and declared, “I’m going to have you on this sand.”