The sun started to set and Bridget and I made our way back to my sanctuary. After filling a paint tray and holding a roller in hand, I stared blankly at the wall.
“Bridget...I have no idea what I'm doing.”
“It's just like painting a set,” she said. “One stroke at a time.”
She smiled and dipped her roller into the puddle of liquid lavender. With a few strikes against the wall the lime green slowly disappeared. I followed her lead and helped cover the first wall. Then the second. Then the third. And finally, the fourth. By five AM the room had survived a full second coat.
To avoid the fumes, we gathered blankets from the linen closet in the hallway and made a large bed on the floor of the guest bedroom down the hall. Snuggled tightly under the blankets, I rolled to my side and nudged Bridget.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“Your friendship.”
“I’m awesome, I know.”
We shared a sleep-deprived laugh.
“The room turned out great,” I said, closing my heavy eyes.
“Yup.”
“Good night, Bridge.”
“Night,” she said, rolling to her side.
I closed my eyes and for the first time in my life, counted my blessings. Mom has never been much of a mother, only a clueless teenager with a driver’s license. But still, she put a roof (or two) over my head each year. Bridget and Nate were the closest thing I’d ever had to siblings and the best friends a girl could ask for. My designs were getting better with time, and Mr. Rivera himself had recognized the potential. Oh, and speaking of… I’d developed my first real crush. It was hard not to be hypnotized by the sincerity in his eyes--
“Steph”' Bridget interrupted my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Nope.”
“I think I am...”
“With Mr. Rivera?” I teased.
“No.”
“Who?”
Silence.
“Bridge?”
“…Nate.”
Chapter Four
Tuesday September 27
“Shouldn't you be working on the costumes?” Bridget asked as I unlocked the front door.
“Nope. I finished the final designs on Sunday and I'm running them by Mr. Rivera and Miss Holt tomorrow. Once they give me the green light I'll have my crew start constructing the pieces.”
“Can I see whatcha got so far?”
“Sure,” I said, walking up the stairs with Bridget close behind.
It had been a little over two weeks since Bridget and I covered my bedroom walls with a cool, calm, relaxing lavender. Since, I’d taken the time to add personality. I purchased sheer white curtains to cover the large window, reupholstered the window seat cushions, and hung my favorite framed designs on the walls. I went shopping last night for new, matching, cream-colored bedding and lavender accent pillows. I was proud of how much I had, with help from Bridget, transformed the room. Now attached, I'd be devastated if mom decided to uproot again.
“Oh my God,” she said when I opened the door. “It doesn't even look like the same place! We should have taken before and after pictures!”
“I'd rather not be reminded of the before.”
Mom popped her head in. “Bridget, would you mind if I steal my daughter for a second?”
“Go for it,” Bridget shrugged carelessly.
“The production designs are in the blue binder next to the computer,” I told Bridget. “Help yourself.”
I walked out, closing the door behind me. Mom wrinkled her nose— showing an expression I'd grown to know too well.
“When?”
“Huh?”
“We're moving again, right?”
“We're not going anywhere, Baby. I wanted to talk about plans for the evening.”
“We couldn’t have this conversation in front of Bridget?”
“Well, no,” she said. “I wanted to know what you would think about Calvin coming to dinner tonight?”
“You've only known him for three weeks, mom,” I said. “It seems awful soon to bring-”
“Let me put it to you this way, Baby,” she said sternly.
“Calvin is coming to dinner this evening. You can either stay or make yourself scarce, I don't care. But it would nice if you could suck it up and do this for your momma.”
I sighed and threw my head back. “What time?”
“They'll be here at five-thirty,” she smiled.
“They?”
“Calvin wants to introduce us to his little brother,” she said. “And take your hair out of that stupid bun and quit hiding your pretty face with those tacky glasses.”
“Fine--”
“Best behavior, Baby.”
I rolled my eyes and walked back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
Bridget sat on the window seat and flipped through the designs. “Everything alright?” she asked.
I ignored the question. “What do you think of the costumes?”
“They're amazing,” she said. “Where did you learn to draw like this?”
“Self-taught. Theatre, ballet, sports...the typical childhood hobbies...well, they were never an option. When you're on the move as much as I've been, you need a talent that can travel with you.” I sat next to her and stared outside at the large oak tree. “I wonder how hard it would be to climb out and sneak away unnoticed.”
“Planning an escape?”
“Mom's new boyfriend is coming to dinner this evening.”
“Ugh,” she said. “Wanna come home with me?”
“Nah. I just need to get it over with. If not now, soon. She'll be persistent until I agree to meet him.”
Bridget spared the thought of the dreaded meeting by keeping me company for a while. Still, time was destined to pass and I would inevitably be stuck meeting the infamous Chef Calvin.
“Do you mind if I take the book home?” she asked two hours later. “Nate's coming over tonight to run lines and I wanna show him your designs.”
Nate's name only came up in conversation regarding the production. The morning after Bridget told me about her feelings toward him, she'd never mentioned it again and neither had I. An unspoken agreement had been made that we'd forget she’d admitted her true feelings.
“Sure. Bring it to school tomorrow, though. I want to get them approved as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” she stood up and closed the binder. “I'll head out then.”
“Wait,” I said quickly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think... I mean, am I…do I look...”
“You're beautiful, Steph— inside and out. Don’t let Caroline tell you any different.”
With a quick hug, Bridget left me sitting alone on the bed. Still wearing the jeans and sweater I'd worn to school, I looked at myself in the mirror. The same ole clothes, hair, and glasses as any other day would have to suffice. I was tired of playing dress up for Caroline's countless beaus. I love her, but I decided long ago that I hate the exploitation. And Bridget was right, I had to stop letting mom use me as her Barbie doll.
The doorbell rang and the sound of mom's heels clapped on the floor downstairs. I heard the door open and voices carry on the level below me.
“Baby,” mom yelled at the bottom of the staircase. I walked out of my bedroom right on cue. “Come on down, sweetheart.”
I moved down the steps slowly, reaching the foyer. Mom wore a gorgeous black dress with her blonde hair swept high in the back.
“Where's Calvin?” I asked.
“He brought his world famous apple pie for des
sert. He's taking it to the kitchen.”
“And his little brother?”
“Parking the car.”
“Parking the-- you said little brother, like he was a child!”
“No, Baby. He's here for you, silly goose.”
“For me?”
“A double-date, honey”
Just in the nick of time; the typical Caroline Ghijk behavior that never ceases to amaze me makes an entrance.
“Mom,” I said. “I'm not interested--”
The doorbell rang again, much to her advantage. I was five seconds away from smacking her square in the face.
A man, who I could only assume was Calvin, walked back into the foyer from the kitchen. He leaned his chin on mom's shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. I ignored the repulsive affection and opened the door, feeling the brain fog set in.
“Come in, come in,” Mom moved past me and welcomed the man into the house. He was tall, dark, and handsome... and well into his mid-twenties. Complimenting his tan skin, his hair was short and dark, falling in every direction. He wore dark fitted blue jeans and a white button-up shirt with a gray vest. Our eyes met for a second time; he smirked and I lowered my head. This was a disaster waiting to happen. Again, I reminded myself, this is typical behavior of the one and only Caroline Ghijk...
“Baby,” mom said. “This is Calvin. And this,” she nudged the man standing next to her. “Is his younger brother Alex.”
“Alex...” I mumbled slowly. “Right, okay. Yeah. Uh, mom, can I talk to you alone for just a sec?”
Without giving her time to respond I ducked out of the foyer and into the living room.
“Baby,” she scolded quietly as she followed closely. “How rude!”
“Mom!” I attempted a yell in a whispering voice. “What is going on in that tiny brain of yours? Do you have any idea how old he is? Or how old I am? Seventeen, mom! A minor! And... God! I can't date him, are you kidding me? He's-”
“Calm down, Baby,” she interrupted. “You'll be eighteen in just a few months and you're already a year older now than I was when you were born. You're mature and intelligent enough for--”
“I'm not disputing my good qualities,” I interrupted. “I'm questioning your quality of judgment. This is highly irresponsible--”
“It's one night, Baby. Help mommy out, k?”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “Mom, listen to me for a minute--”
“He's cute, huh?” She turned on her heels and disappeared back into the foyer.
“Yeah,” I said to myself. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
I walked out of the living room, past the front door, and into the kitchen. Calvin leaned over the stove tasting whatever dish mom had managed to concoct this afternoon. She stood with her hands pressed to her sides and fingers crossed.
“It's delicious.” He kissed her cheek before turning to meet my stare. “Baby?”
“Steph.”
“Steph,” he noted. “It's nice to finally meet you.”
Calvin was handsome— much like his brother— though built larger and possessed a much stronger jawline.
“Alex has moved on to the dining room, Baby. You should go ahead and join him and we'll be in soon with the food, sweetheart.”
I took a deep breath and pushed through the door separating the two rooms. My date, Alex, sat facing me with his back to the windows. He shook his head and bit his lower lip, making my heart race and toes curl. Screw handsome. Screw good-looking. Alexander Rivera was, hands down, the sexiest man I'd ever met in my life.
“Miss Ghijk,” he said, wearing a grin. “This may very well be the strangest thing I've ever let my brother talk me into--”
“I have a proposition to make.”
“Yes?”
“If you don't tell them, I won't kill you.”
His eyes widened. “You drive a hard bargain,” he grinned. “Why the secrecy?”
“Call me selfish, but I'm starting to like the life I have in Webster Grove. Mom, however, doesn't need much persuasion to pack up and leave on a whim.”
“What's that have to do with me?”
“Caroline Ghijk lives in her own world, Mr. Rivera,” I said. “She can't handle humiliation or rejection and she views any negativity as ammunition to uproot and start over. Imagine how she'd feel if she found she set her teenage daughter up on a blind date with her English teacher-”
“Then we don't tell them,” he agreed. “It's one night.”
“Really?” He nodded. “Thanks. So, I call you...?”
“Alex.”
“Right.”
“Are you going to sit?”
“Um...”
“You should probably take a seat.”
“Uh-”
“Steph.” He lowered his head and glared at me.
I took his order, sitting next to him and staring at the empty plate in front of me. I tapped my foot on the floor and threw a quick glance in his direction. As he often does, he bit his lower lip.
“So, your brother,” I finally said. “He's a good guy?”
“The best.”
Silence filled the air as we sat staring at the table in front of us. I don't know how long it lasted, but it felt like hours. Realistically, my bet is on sixty seconds.
“Mr. Rivera,” I said quietly, breaking the silence lingering in the room. “How are you able to be here this evening?”
“I'm only a teacher during the days, Steph,” he grinned.
“No, I mean...where does Miss Holt think you are?”
“I suppose she thinks I'm home grading papers.”
“But aren't you two-”
“Contrary to most assumptions, Steph, I'm not seeing Karen.”
“Everyone says--”
“I know what people say,” he said.
“Dinner!” Mom yelled as she and Calvin busted into the room carrying dinner-filled dishes. After the food was passed around and portioned evenly across the four plates, the familiar routine began. “Baby, do you have any questions for Calvin?” I shrugged. “Anything at all?”
“Uh, let's see...are you a serial killer?”
“No,” Calvin said, widening his stare.
“Rapist?”
“Of course not!”
“Married?”
“No.”
“Homosex--”
“That's enough, Baby,” Mom stopped me. “I meant serious questions.”
“In my defense, none of those questions were intended jokingly--”
“It's okay, Caroline,' Calvin told her.
“No, it's not,” she said. “I want you two to get acquainted--”
“Where are you from?” I asked, humoring mom. Plus, Bridget would be thrilled to know that I'd finally nailed down Mr. Rivera's ethnicity; she grovels in the knowledge that lessens his mysteriousness.
“Right here in Webster Grove,” Calvin said, taking a bite of the salad he'd helped mom prepare.
“On a larger scale, though. What about your parents? Hispanic descent?”
Mr. Rivera smirked and lowered his head. “Our grandparents are Cuban.”
And with that, thirty minutes slowly passed. The handsome teacher and I barely spoke a word to one another or to mom and Calvin. The love birds never looked away from the other; they were seemingly head over heels and completely unaware of the world around them.
“Who's ready for pie?” Calvin asked the group a while later, after the main course was eaten.
“Me!” Mom bounced in her seat and clapped her hands, doing an uncanny impression of Rachel Canter.
Calvin collected the dirty dishes and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later he returned while balancing four small plates with a singl
e slice of apple pie on each. He passed them around and regained his place next to his date. “Eat up, hon.”
“Cal makes a phenomenal dessert,” Mr. Rivera said with his mouth full. Unsurprisingly, he's beautiful even when he's sloppy, I noted.
“I agree,” mom said. “He's a genius in the kitchen... and the bedr--”
“Don't say it, Caroline,” I warned her. ”Don't you dare say it.”
The room fell silent again as the Rivera brothers stared between Ghijk women. The quiet lingered for another five minutes. I savored every bite, knowing that the quicker I ate the sooner Mr. Rivera would have to leave. Truth be told, I enjoyed having his company— both as eye candy and for the fact that he helped balance the scales of normality in a typically insane household.
I lifted the fork and took the final bite, knowing it couldn't last forever. Without a moment's notice, a searing pain ripped through my mouth.
“Holy crap!”
Mr. Rivera's hand landed softly on my back. “Steph?”
“Blood,” I said, intending a silent observation. The painful throbbing and bleeding of my gums distracted me from enjoying what could have been a magical moment of comfort from the man sitting next to me. He rubbed his hand across my back and watched with concern. I spit the chewed up pie into my hand and found, mixed into the crusted apple bits, a large diamond ring.
Calvin buried his head in his hands. “Idiot,” he scolded himself.
“I think this belongs to you.” I passed the ring to mom and cleaned my hand on the cloth napkin in front of me.
“Calvin?” she questioned the jewelry with wide eyes.
“Caroline...” He knelt on the floor.
“Oh my God,” his brother said. “Cal, get up.”
“Caroline,” Calvin continued, ignoring the objection to his kneeling. “I know we haven't known each other very long--”
“Three weeks,” Mr. Rivera interjected.
“No one else in the world will ever captivate me the way you do, love me like you have, and complete every inch of my heart and soul as you have done.”
“Again,” I said, reiterating the obvious fact. “Only three weeks--”
“Baby, please,” Mom pleaded. “Hush.”
It wasn't until his thumb began to gently rub my shoulder that I realized Mr. Rivera's hand was still planted firmly on my back. I looked at him, looking at me, sparking an undeniable moment of connection.
The Webster Grove Series Page 3
