The Beard

by Stella James

  “Kyle, let’s just- “

  “No, mother, let’s not,” he says. “Shit, would it seriously kill you to loosen up?” he asks Byron.

  I reach under the table and place my hand firmly on Kyle’s leg. Whatever’s gotten into him is giving him one hell of an asshole complex. I can feel Will’s eyes on me and when I look over at him, I can see the tension in his jaw.

  “I imagine it’s easy for one to remain loose, when the only responsibility that person has is to gel their hair and smile for the camera,” Byron says tightly. “Not everyone is afforded that kind of lifestyle.”

  “Byron,” Maureen chides.

  “Kyle, come on bud, let’s go for a walk,” Will says.

  I look at him gratefully while Kyle sneers beside me, “I’m not going anywhere with you and that stick up your ass. You’re just as bad as he is,” he says, flicking a careless wave towards his dad.

  I feel like I’m in the middle of an episode of Dr. Phil. I try again to get Kyle’s attention but he suddenly pushes his chair back and clumsily stands from the table.

  “I’m out of here. Enjoy your supper,” he says.

  The look on Maureen’s face nearly breaks my heart, as Rose pats her hand. Byron orders a drink from a nearby waitress and Will and I find each other’s stare…my bewildered to his apologetic, it seems. I glance in the direction Kyle went stalking off in and decide that I better go after him. I excuse myself from the table and make my way across the manicured lawn, past the amazing smelling buffet that instantly has my stomach rumbling in appreciation.

  I am going to kill that little shit.

  I round the corner just in time to see Kyle stumble down a set of concrete stairs that lead to the beach. I jog to the railing and see his drunken form laying at the bottom of the landing. He’s holding his knee and what the fuck? Is he laughing? I swear. I am going to kill him.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the emergency waiting room with Maureen, eating a bag of peanuts while Kyle gets his knee checked out. It was a pretty quiet drive over here in the same black SUV that picked me up when I first arrived. I could see a flash of worry on Arnold’s face as we loaded Kyle up, which quickly turned to irritation when Kyle began impersonating Queen Elizabeth.

  “I know what you must be thinking,” Maureen says quietly. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, right?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Families are complicated. You should see mine.”

  “Kyle’s always been such a free spirit,” she says with a smile. “It’s not that Byron doesn’t love him or even appreciate him. He just doesn’t understand him.”

  “Well, with all due respect, Kyle was a grade-A asshole tonight,” I say. “But regardless, I imagine the whole father/son relationship deal is tricky.”

  “I just wish I could fix it,” she says. “The Edwards men are so damn stubborn.”

  “They’ll figure it out,” I tell her. “I’ll speak to Kyle and give him a nudge.”

  “Thank you so much for being here, Poppy. I’m so relieved that Kyle finally found a nice girl to settle down with.”

  Except he hasn’t found a nice girl, because your son totally loves another man. The guilt seeping from my pores is overwhelmingly potent. As if the universe can hear me and decides to give me a break, the doctor walks into the room and interrupts our conversation before I spill the beans and out Kyle to his mother.

  Turns out Kyle’s little impromptu stroll has left him with a badly sprained knee which requires a brace and light duty for the next couple of days.

  “I suspect once the liquor wears off, Mr. Edwards will be in a fair bit of pain and discomfort,” he says. “I’ll send some pain meds with you but don’t let him take any until the morning once he’s sobered up.”

  “Will do. Thank you so much,” I reply.

  By the time Arnold and I stuff Kyle’s flimsy body into the car and make it back to the hotel, I can hardly keep my eyes open. I send Maureen off to bed and get Kyle situated on his own bed. I fluff the last pillow surrounding his injured knee and figure he’s passed out or close to it. I’m about to sneak out of his room when he shifts slightly on the mattress, ruffling the covers.

  “Poppy,” he says sleepily. “I’m sorry.”

  I turn back around and sit carefully on the end of the bed.

  “What happened tonight?”

  “I called George while you were getting ready,” he says. “There was, I mean, I could hear someone in the background. A man. George said he couldn’t talk, said he was busy.”

  “You don’t know for sure that he was actually with someone,” I reason.

  “He said he wants a break, Poppy,” he says. “He had time to tell me that. I just want to sleep.”

  I rest my hand on his other leg and once his breath evens out and I’m certain he’s asleep, I quietly leave the room and head for my own bed.

  Chapter Ten

  It’s Complicated

  With my eyes still closed, I feel the warmth of the sun and just when I’m about to fall back into a dream that I’m pretty sure involved a pineapple farm and Viggo Mortensen, the covers are ripped off my body and I instinctively curl into the fetal position.

  “Up and at em’ girl! You’re leaving in less than an hour,” Rose chirps, setting a bowl of fruit and a cup of coffee onto the nightstand.

  “Errm, okaaay,” I say, clearly disoriented. I look at the clock beside the bed, it isn’t even eight thirty and I didn’t get to bed until almost two last night. Rubbing my sandpaper eyelids with the heels of my hands, I try to gather my bearings, “And what exactly am I doing in an hour?”

  “I’ve got you booked for a helicopter tour,” she says simply.

  “Okay,” I say, taking a sip of hot coffee. “I’m pretty sure Kyle is supposed to take it easy for the next couple of days so I think we might have to take a pass.”

  She stops fluttering about and begins making the bed, shooing me off the mattress, “Kyle’s not going anywhere, dear. I’ve just doped him up. I’ll stay here with him while you’re gone.”

  “What about Maureen and Byron an- “

  “I’ve got Maureen booked in the hotel spa for the day and Byron will be golfing,” she says.

  “Wow, you’ve thought of everything,” I reply. “But really, I’d feel bad leaving Kyle. I don’t think it’s a good idea, and it would probably make me a super terrible girlfriend.”

  “Honey,” she says, taking my hand. “Unless you’re packin’ salami underneath those pajamas, you don’t have to pretend around me.”

  “Wha-wait, you know?”

  “Of course I know. I’ve known since that boy was twelve years old,” she says.

  “Does he know that you know?”

  “No, dear, he doesn’t. He’ll tell me when he’s good and ready I imagine, or maybe he never will. But I won’t make that decision for him.”

  Huh. Well then.

  “I didn’t, I mean, I don’t want to hurt anyone by lying,” I say sheepishly. “Kyle and I are friends and he asked me to come.”

  Guilt is a heavy son of a bitch and he’s practically sitting on my chest right now, slapping me across the face while I gasp for breath.

  “Of course you don’t,” she says. “You’re young and no offence, but you look like you could use some fun. You shouldn’t waste your time here sitting in a hotel room. I’ve got it covered for today. Go out and do some exploring.”

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t want t- “

  “Go! I’ve got magazines, room service and daytime T.V.”

  “You’re kind of like a bossy fairy godmother, you know that?”

  “Aren’t you sweet?” she says. “Get your ass in gear, honey, the clock is ticking. I’m going to go raid your mini bar and make myself a Bloody Mary.”

  She exits the room and leaves me standing there while my conscience battles itself. I should stay with Kyle. But it’s not like he’ll be alone. Plus, he’s on painkillers and he’s hungover, so he�
��ll probably sleep all day anyways. He probably won’t even notice I’m gone.

  Take a detour, Poppy.

  *

  My guilt over leaving Kyle begins to dwindle as I make my way down to the lobby. When I’d peeked in on him before I left our suite, he was sprawled out on his bed, snoring like a rhinoceros. Rose had her feet propped up on the coffee table, a Bloody Mary in her hand and an episode of Judge Judy blaring on the T.V. He’s in good hands.

  I step off the elevator and make my way towards the front doors. Rose said that Arnold would be taking me to the tour centre. I’ve gotten used to the humidity in the two days that I’ve been here so I hardly notice the thickness of the air as I step outside. Arnold is standing beside his SUV and I wave as I approach.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  “Miss Kramer,” he nods, efficiently opening the back door for me. I slide in without paying much attention and shriek when I realize the back seat isn’t empty.

  “Holy shit,” I gasp.

  “Everything okay?” Will asks.

  “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you catching a ride into town?”

  “My grandmother has taken it upon herself to hijack my morning,” he says. “Apparently I’m off to a h- “

  “Helicopter tour of the island?” I offer.

  “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Let me guess, you too?”

  “Yup.”

  “Looks like we’re in this together,” he says.

  “Is that okay? I mean are you okay with that? Because I can find something else to do today.”

  “It’s fine, Poppy. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation. Might as well enjoy the day with company.”

  “Okay,” I reply, just a tad breathlessly. I should not be thinking about how great Will looks in his navy blue polo shirt, or how snugly it fits his muscular chest. I shouldn’t. But fuck it, I am. I am as giddy as a twelve year old at a Justin Bieber concert. And it feels…good. I can’t remember the last time I was giddy.

  “All right then,” Arnold says, taking his place behind the wheel. “We’ll be off then.”

  “Great, Arnold, thank you,” Will says.

  As Arnold pulls away from the curb and blends in with the local traffic, I feel a gnawing urge to fill the silence. Mostly because I want to hear Will’s voice. That’s probably creepy. I open my mouth but before I can start a conversation, Will starts it for me.

  “How’s Kyle feeling this morning?”

  “He was sleeping when I left,” I say. “I think he’ll be okay, just needs some rest. And maybe some good old fashioned hair of the dog,” I laugh nervously.

  “I’m sorry about last night, Poppy,” he says.

  “You’re sorry? Why? You didn’t do anything.”

  “My family can be a bit trying,” he says.

  “Families are complicated. I wasn’t judging,” I tell him. “So, uh, why do you think your grandmother threw us together? Do you think it’s obvious?”

  “Is what obvious?”

  “You know, that we almost, you know, slept together,” I say the last part in a conspiring whisper.

  His full lips curve into a smile, “Mimi does whatever suits her,” he says. “Trying to figure it out might take the fun out of it for her.”

  “Fair enough,” I say. “You just wanted me to say it didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he says casually.

  Silence settles between us for the remainder of the trip. Twenty minutes later we pull up to a large blue building sitting beside a large black landing pad and a shiny red helicopter. The tour is meant to take up most of the morning and, as we exit the car, Arnold informs us that he will be here when we’ve arrived back. We meet with the pilot and he goes over a general what to expect while we’re in the air spiel as well as safety procedures.

  I do my best to calm my nerves as we buckle into our seats and put on our headsets. I glance out the window as he fires up the chopper and take a deep breath. I close my eyes as we ascend into the air, opening them in surprise when I feel Will’s fingers lace themselves with mine. I look over at him but his gaze is straight ahead. My inner twelve year old quickly scribbles “Poppy and Will 4ever” all over her purple binder, surrounded by tiny hearts and the names of our three children: Maren, Jess and Shay.

  Once we’re high enough, we take a wide turn, which would normally freak me the fuck out. But feeling Will’s hand around mine is rather calming. I can’t recall Todd ever being that considerate. I remember when we took our first trip together, six months into our relationship. We were on our way to Mexico.

  Grow up, Poppy, the plane isn’t going to crash into the Pacific. No, Poppy, I don’t think we’re going to end up on an island with ‘the others’ like Matthew Fox on Lost.

  His annoyed voice filters into my mind and I can’t believe I didn’t realize at the time what an inconsiderate prick he was.

  “Poppy?”

  “Hmm, yeah?”

  Will nods towards the small window beside me. I shove Todd the fucker and his pretentious criticism into the back of my mind and focus on the present. I look out, over the massive expanse of blue beneath us. The pilot instructs us that we’ll soon be passing over Mount Haleakala, which is apparently the world’s largest dormant volcano, according to the posters back at the information centre. I ignore that damn inner voice of mine that wonders just how dormant it is and watch through the window as we approach the large mass.

  We lower into the centre of the large crater, surrounded on all sides by sloping ash coloured rock. I turn in my seat, my hand still firmly held within Will’s, and try to get a better look. The scene is breathtaking. I can’t help but smile like a lunatic and when I turn back to face Will. He’s not looking out his window. He’s looking at me.

  Hidden waterfalls, lush rainforest and wide, jagged ridges. Each view is more beautiful than the last. I periodically feel Will’s eyes on me and afford myself the occasional secret gawk in return. Fair is fair, after all. Time goes by way too fast and I find myself filled with disappointment when we land back at the information centre. Will releases my hand once the blades of the chopper slow and we’re instructed to unbuckle and hang up our headsets. I stumble slightly when my feet hit the ground and instantly feel Will’s hand on the small of my back.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, air legs I guess,” I laugh. “God, that was amazing! Have you ever done anything like that before?”

  He hesitates for a beat and replies, “No, I haven’t.”

  “Me neither,” I say. “What the hell kind of a life have we been living?”

  “I ask myself that question often,” he says.

  My mouth opens and closes again as Arnold pulls into the gravel lot and Will’s mouth pulls into a tight line. He opens my door for me and I slide into the back seat. Once I’m settled and he’s seated beside me, my stomach releases what I can only refer to as the equivalent of a whale’s mating call.

  “Well, apparently I need to be fed,” I say.

  “Hey, Arnold, take us into town,” Will says.

  “Very well, sir.”

  We emerge back onto the narrow stretch of pavement but this time we head into the opposite direction of the hotel. The sparse landscape eventually turns residential and once we’ve entered what I assume is downtown, Will instructs Arnold to pull over and that we’ll walk from here.

  “Shall I wait?”

  “We’ll find our own way back,” Will says.

  “Very well, sir,” Arnold says.

  My eyes scan the busy streets filled with people, most of them are likely fellow tourists. Small shops and restaurants line either side of the street, the ocean still visible beyond the uniquely shaped buildings and vibrant storefronts.

  I look to Will for guidance as he leads me across the street. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “To get you fed,” he says. “Pick one and we’ll stop.”

  I smile. “Are you sure you want to leave that up to me? This could pot
entially be a losing gamble on your part,” I say.

  “Choose, Poppy,” he says, shoving his hands casually into his pockets.

  I glance up and down the street as people pass by us. I see a rustic looking turquoise painted café with a large patio out front and a sign with no name, just the outline of a tribal looking fish.

  “That one,” I say, pointing.

  We make our way up the street and cross through the parted traffic. We find a small table in the corner of the patio and once we’ve ordered cold drinks, and an order each of what the waitress assures me is non-spicy roasted pork, I lean back in my seat and take a relaxing breath.

  “Not a fan of spicy food?” Will asks.

  Don’t get graphic Poppy. Irritable bowels are not sexy. For anyone.

  “To preserve what I hope is a flattering image of me in your head, I’m gonna play the mystery card here and simply say that it’s not my thing,” I respond with a wink.

  “Fair enough,” he chuckles.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot,” he says.

  “That night, when we met,” I begin. “Why’d you lie to me? I know, I lied too,” I say quickly. “Mostly because I didn’t think, hi there, I’ve recently decided to rejoin the living and although I’m here to pose as my friend’s girlfriend, I’d very much love to have wild sex with you, was much of a proposition.”

  “You’re right. That would have been awkward,” he grins.

  “You know what I mean,” I say. “So? Why’d you lie? Do you often have one night stands with rambling women you meet in hotel lounges?”

  “No, Poppy,” he says, his eyes on mine. “I don’t.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. To be honest, I suppose it was better than saying, hi, I’m Will, I’m a thirty-five year old workaholic and I can’t remember the last time I did something because I wanted to.”

  “You’re right. That would have also been awkward,” I say. “But just to be clear, because nothing could possibly happen between us now, since the moment is gone and all. You wanted me?”

  I don’t know what’s come over me, but I need to hear him say it. The air between us shifts and as he’s about to respond, I lean forward just as the waitress comes back and plops a steaming hot plate right in front of me. The smell of deliciously roasted pork murders the tension between us and all I can do is wonder.