by Linda Seed
“Anywhere but here.”
Delores jumped up from her chair and followed Joy, her voice becoming loud and shrill. “Do not walk away from me, Joy. Stop. I told you to stop and listen to me!”
Joy kept walking, but she paused when she got to the door, her hand on the knob.
“I suppose I should expect this of you,” Delores said. “Walking away. Or, running away, I should say. It’s what you do, isn’t it, Joy? I don’t know how I raised a daughter who’s such a coward.”
Joy turned around slowly. “What did you just say to me?”
“Oh, don’t take that wounded tone. You’re a coward, and you know it. You ran away from Los Angeles, ran away from that man you were dating. You’re running away from your weight problem, and now you’re running away from me.”
In that moment, Joy might have raged, and she might have fallen apart. Instead, a sense of calm came over her. For the first time, she could see her mother for what she was—a flawed, scared woman who’d tried to love her daughter but didn’t know how.
Joy didn’t feel anger in that moment. She felt pity.
“I know you did your best, Mom. I know that.”
“Joy—”
“But your best isn’t good enough for me if you can’t accept me the way I am. It’s just not.”
She opened the door, walked through it, and didn’t look back.
As Joy drove from her mother’s place to Amber’s, she ran over the entire exchange in her head.
Her mother was wrong about so much, but she’d been right about one thing: Joy was a coward. She really had run away from L.A., and she really had run away from Nix. She’d fled one life, created another for herself, and then fled that, too.
At some point, she had to stop running, didn’t she?
At some point, she had to trust someone. Trust Nix, trust herself.
If she couldn’t find it in herself to take some kind of leap of faith, she was going to end up alone. Not because of what she weighed or how she dressed or how she looked, and not because she wasn’t worthy of love. She was. But because she was too scared to accept all of the things life was offering her.
She went to Amber’s and didn’t talk about any of it. They ate lunch together because Joy hadn’t eaten at her mother’s house, and they went to the theater.
She was quiet, and Amber asked her if she was okay. She assured her friend that she was.
It wasn’t until halfway through the show that she broke.
The show was Wicked, and the song was “Defying Gravity.” Okay, so it was a song about a witch deciding to unleash her evil powers on the world. Joy wouldn’t have thought it would apply to her.
But as Elphaba threw off the restrictions of trying to be what everyone else wanted her to be, as the music swelled with her revelation that she had to be fully herself despite the expectations and judgments of others, Joy felt it like a bolt of lightning, like an earthquake.
The song spoke of the pain of trying to conform to someone else’s standards in an attempt to attain love, and how the cost of that was far too high.
First Joy’s eyes started to sting, then her tears began to fall. And then her shoulders shook and she began dragging in deep, shuddering breaths.
“Are you okay?” Amber whispered, her hand on Joy’s arm.
“I … I …” Joy couldn’t even get out more than the one syllable, and a deep, animal wail started to come out of her. She got up from her seat and scooted out past the knees of other audience members.
It wasn’t until she’d burst into the lobby that she realized Amber had followed her.
“Hey. Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Amber uttered comforting words and rubbed her friend’s back.
“It’s … I …” Joy was crying too hard to speak.
“Come on. In here.” Amber took Joy’s hand and led her into the ladies’ room.
They realized their mistake when the theater let out for intermission and the ladies’ room was flooded with audience members who’d been holding their bladders for three numbers.
“Let’s find somewhere more private,” Amber said.
“Can we … can we just … go?” Joy managed in between heaving sobs.
“Yes. Of course we can.”
“But … you’ve been … wanting … to see this … show … forever.”
“That’s true. But you’re more important, Joy. Let’s just go.”
By the time they got to Amber’s car, Joy had mostly gotten hold of herself. Who’d have thought she would be so affected by a song about being yourself even if it meant unleashing flying monkeys on an unsuspecting populace?
“I’m sorry,” she told Amber. “Not for … you know. The crying. But for making you miss the rest of the show. You should have been able to enjoy it.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Amber sat in the driver’s seat in the parking lot, rubbing Joy’s arm. “You’re what matters.”
“I love you,” Joy said.
“I know.”
They didn’t talk about what she was feeling, because it was too big for that. Too big for discussion or description. Her feelings were immense, uncontrollable.
And necessary.
What kind of power might Joy have if she were to let herself be who she wanted to be? What kind of life might she have if she let the … okay, the flying monkeys … run loose? She’d never know if she continued to be scared. If she continued to be a coward, like her mother had said.
“I need to see Nix,” she said.
“Oh, boy.”
“I need to go now. Can you take me back to your place so I can get my car?”
Amber assessed her friend. “I’ll take you to your car, but I’m driving you to Cambria. You’re too upset to make that trip on your own. Besides, I want to see what happens.”
They went to Amber’s place, grabbed Joy’s overnight bag, and got on the road immediately after.
Since it was already late afternoon, they figured they wouldn’t get to Cambria until eight p.m. at the earliest—that was if they didn’t make any stops and if the Los Angeles traffic was good to them, which it almost certainly wouldn’t be.
Their progress was slowed further when Joy announced that she had to make a stop on the way.
“What? Where?” Amber asked.
When Joy told her, Amber let out a squeal of excitement. “Oh, boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” She wiggled in her seat like her butt was doing a happy dance.
“I’m probably crazy,” Joy said.
“Probably. But I’m here for it.”
Chapter 36
Nix had waited long enough.
He didn’t want to be lonely anymore, and he didn’t want to be sad. It was time to get out there and meet someone else if Joy didn’t want him.
It had been more than a month since he’d signed the papers—a month since the kiss—and she hadn’t called him yet. Enough was enough. He loved her. He wanted her. But if she didn’t want him, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Determined to move on with his life, he’d started flirting with a pretty barista at his favorite coffee place. Then, when the flirting had gone well, he’d asked her out.
He didn’t expect it to amount to anything, but it was a step, and that was something.
Another step would be to return the engagement ring he’d bought for Joy, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that yet. He’d tried a couple of times, going so far as to drive to the jewelry store with the ring in his pocket, but he hadn’t been able to make himself go inside.
One step at a time. First his date, then the ring.
The woman, whose name was Vanessa, was a single mother who’d moved to Cambria a couple of years before. Nix wasn’t sure he could overcome the challenges of dating a single mother, but he’d never tried it, so maybe he could.
He took her to Robin’s, and they were seated on the patio under a string of fairy lights.
“This is pretty.” Vanessa looked around as she opened her menu. “I don’
t get out that often, with Charlie and everything.” Charlie was her son, a seven-year-old with blond hair and a spray of freckles across his nose. Nix had seen Vanessa and the kid around town a few times.
They talked about the menu, what she was going to order, what he was going to order, and what wine they should get, and the whole time, Nix kept wishing a different woman were sitting across from him.
That wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair at all. Vanessa was lovely, and she deserved his full attention. He applied himself to the task of giving it to her.
It wasn’t as though he was using Vanessa to get his mind off Joy. It was more … practice. He needed dating practice if he was going to get back out there now that Joy was gone. He needed to normalize the idea of moving on.
And he needed to return the damned ring—though that was a matter for another day.
“Are you okay?” Vanessa looked at him with concern, her eyes big and dark and warm, and Nix realized he’d been conspicuously silent for the last several minutes.
“Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Of course.” He shut his mouth before he could throw in an extraneous absolutely.
“Is there something on your mind?” she asked.
The waitress brought their wine, and Nix grasped at his as though it were a life preserver.
He was not going to talk about Joy. He wouldn’t do it even if she, by some miracle, were to appear as an apparition in the middle of their table.
He gave Vanessa what he hoped was a winning smile. “I am completely fine, and there’s nothing on my mind but you.”
Her smile told him he’d been convincing, so that was good.
Joy and Amber rolled into Cambria at around eight thirty, and Joy felt so hopped up on adrenaline and hope that she was nearly jumping out of her seat.
“Please be home. Please be home.” She chanted it as Amber maneuvered her car down the dirt road that led to Nix’s place.
When they got there, the tiny house was dark and Nix’s car was nowhere to be seen.
“Shit. Shit!” Joy smacked the dashboard with her palm.
“Where else do you think he might be?” Amber asked.
“I don’t know. The market’s closed. He could be anywhere.”
“What do you say we get something to eat and then try coming here again after?” Amber suggested. “I’m starving.”
“I’m too nervous,” Joy said. “I can’t eat.”
“Well, I can. We haven’t had anything but that bag of chips back in Goleta. Have pity on a girl.”
The problem with getting something to eat at that time of night was that very little was open in Cambria. They tried the Main Street Grill, but it was closed. Linn’s was, too. They struck out on their third swing when they tried Robin’s on Burton Drive and found that they were no longer seating new parties, and just a few people were left scattered on the back patio, finishing their meals.
“Damn it. I’m going to die. I’m going to starve to death and die,” Amber complained.
“Well … the minimart at the Shell station is open until midnight. We can get some granola bars or something,” Joy said. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you eat.”
“It’s okay.”
They were standing, dejected, in front of Robin’s, as though if they stood there long enough, the sheer force of their will might cause the closing hours to change so they could get some nourishment.
If Amber was crazy with hunger, Joy was crazy with anxiety and longing. So much so that she was hearing things that weren’t there. She was certain she could hear Nix’s voice somewhere in the distance even as they stood there formulating their plan.
“It’s the oddest thing,” Joy told her friend. “I can hear his voice.”
“So can I,” Amber said. “Because he’s right there.” She pointed behind Joy to the restaurant’s entrance. Joy spun around and saw Nix coming out with a dark-haired woman, both of them laughing and smiling.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
The two words kept repeating in Joy’s brain, her heart pounding, a weird buzzing in her ears.
Oh, shit.
“He’s … Who is … Oh, my God. Nix …” She wasn’t making sense, but Amber understood her easily enough.
“It looks like he’s on a date. Come here!” Amber, whispering fiercely, grabbed Joy’s arm and yanked her behind a hedge so he wouldn’t see them.
A date?! No. No no no no no.
Noooooo.
Surely it wasn’t how it looked. Surely she was his sister or his … accountant. Anything other than his date.
As Joy peeked through the hedge, the woman took Nix’s hand in hers and smiled up at him, then leaned her head against his arm.
Oh, shit.
“I’m too late.” Joy wanted to wail it to the heavens, but Nix would hear her if she did that, so she whispered in misery. “I’m too late, Amber.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He’s on a date.”
“But … that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it didn’t go well. Maybe he doesn’t like her.”
“Well, she likes him. Look at her. She’s beaming.”
Amber peeked out from the hedge to look. “Okay, she is. She’s beaming.”
“See? Oh, God. I blew it. I waited too long, and now he’s with someone else.”
“Just because he’s with her right now doesn’t mean he’s … you know. With her.”
Nix and the woman were headed down the sidewalk toward where Joy and Amber were hiding, and Joy scrambled to decide what to do. Say hello and act casual? Say hello and throw herself at his feet? Squeeze deeper into her hiding place so he wouldn’t see her?
“He’s coming. What do I do? What do I do?” she pleaded to Amber.
“Shove over!” Amber nudged Joy farther into the hedge.
Apparently, they were going with Plan C.
Nix and the woman walked hand in hand, focused on each other, and Joy thought she was going to get away without being seen. But just as they passed the hedge where Joy and Amber were hiding, the silk scarf the woman was wearing slipped off. She didn’t notice, and it seemed like they still might not be discovered. But then a voice from somewhere a few feet away called, “Ma’am? Ma’am! You dropped your scarf!”
Damn it. Why did there have to be a good Samaritan right here and now?
“Oh!” The woman turned and spotted the scarf. “Thank you!” She walked over, bent down, grabbed the scarf—and then let out an involuntary yelp when she glanced over and realized there were two crazed women hiding in the bushes.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Suddenly Nix was there, peering into the bushes. His eyes widened when he saw Joy.
“Ah … hi, Nix.” Joy waved weakly with her fingers.
“Hi,” Amber put in.
“What are you doing in the bushes?” he asked.
“We were just … we wanted to get something to eat,” Joy said.
“In the bushes? Were you foraging for acorns?”
“I … just … I can explain,” she said.
“Nix? Are you going to introduce me?” the woman asked.
Joy tried to will herself to vaporize, but it didn’t work. She was still here. And so was Nix, looking as gorgeous as she’d ever seen him.
He also looked baffled as hell.
Nix wasn’t sure what to do or say in that moment. He didn’t know how to feel, and he was pretty certain that whatever he did feel was wrong. If he was thrilled and excited to see Joy—which, he could admit, he was—then it was unkind to Vanessa. If he pretended not to be thrilled and excited to see Joy, it would be a betrayal of everything that combined to make Nix who he was.
In the middle of all that, he found his voice.
“Ah … Joy Maxwell, this is Vanessa Carr. Vanessa, this is Joy.”
“Hello.” Vanessa offered her hand, and Joy, with obvious reluctance, took it.
“I’m Amber.” Amber, whom everyone had forgotten about, offered her hand as well.
“And how do you and
Nix know each other?” Vanessa was looking back and forth between Nix and the women. From the look on her face, she was trying to keep an open mind but having limited success at it.
“I … ah … was his tenant,” Joy offered. “I rented his house for a while. And now I’m just … visiting. As a tourist. With my friend.” Joy pointed at Amber to illustrate.
Okay, that was fine. Telling Vanessa she was a tenant was fine. He could walk away and pretend this was nothing.
Only, it wasn’t nothing.
It was clearly something.
Had she come back for him? The thought of it made his heart speed up and his body tingle. Had she come back for him after all this time?
Nix wanted to grab Joy and pull her into his arms, but he liked to think of himself as a gentleman, and he was with a date who had nothing to do with any of this and who wasn’t to blame for any conflicted feelings he might be having.
“Well … it was good to see you.” Nix gave Joy a smile he hoped would communicate more than mere courtesy. He turned to Vanessa. “You ready to go?”
As they walked away, Nix’s hand on the small of Vanessa’s back, he looked back at Joy, and their eyes met. Then he turned away and walked his date to his car.
Neither Nix nor Vanessa said much at first on the drive back to her place. Mostly because Nix’s brain was too overloaded to accommodate speech.
Had Joy come for him?
No, she couldn’t have. If she had, surely she’d have called him or texted him, and she hadn’t. If she’d come to see him, she wouldn’t have dived into a hedge when she saw him coming. She’d have simply spoken to him.
Wouldn’t she?
Shit. She’d been hiding from him, and when you hid from someone, it was because you didn’t want to see them, and you didn’t want them to see you. You hid from someone when you wanted to avoid them.
Why was she here, then?
It didn’t matter. If she wasn’t here for him—if seeing him was such a negative prospect that she had to hide from him—then the rest of the story was irrelevant.
