The Webster Grove Series

by Puckett, Tracie

Calvin started talking to a female employee in the kitchen and shot away to observe an issue in the walk-in freezer.

  “Listen,” Nick said after we were alone. “I know you're a little unsure about me. I never meant to give you the wrong impression,” he assured me. “You just remind me so much of someone—”

  “Oh...”

  “I'm not a creep,” he promised with a smile.

  “Good to know,” I nodded. “Bridget really thinks a lot of you—”

  “It's a mutual feeling.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, what's for dinner, Steph?”

  “You're the one with the spatula,” I smirked, suddenly realizing that maybe Nick was just as likable as his son.

  “I'm gonna blow your mind, sweetheart.” He winked and dashed away.

  “He's a pretty great guy, huh?” Calvin reappeared.

  “I guess.” I shrugged and took a seat on a tall stool in the corner. “Everything okay?”

  “The freezer is acting up again,” he said. “Damn thing has been busted for days.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Be patient,” he continued. “I'll just need a few minutes to do a quick-fix and make a call to have someone come in and take a look at it.”

  “No hurry. I have a plate on the way.”

  “Yeah?” he smirked. “So you're gonna eat?”

  “I eat!” I lied.

  Unless you count water and crackers three times a day, I hadn't eaten a solid meal in weeks. Just a month ago, mom made herself perfectly clear: Baby, the dress isn't too small. You're too big.

  I pulled the cell phone from my pocket once again.

  (Abcdef Ghijk to Alexander Rivera)

  I miss you.

  Calvin's 'quick fix' wasn't as quick as he'd hoped. An hour passed and I was still sitting with my butt planted firmly on the bar stool.

  “How is the culinary industry working out for you?” I asked Nick from the other end of the room.

  “It's been a blessing. I didn't think I'd find work when I moved up here.”

  “Call me crazy, but I thought Isaac said your company is why you ended up in Webster Grove in the first place?”

  “Did he? Oh, well...”

  I watched Nick move nervously around the kitchen. His glasses started to slide down his nose and he pushed them back with ease; he was simply a dork of a man at home in his element.

  I couldn't forget the hype he and Isaac had caused when they came to town. No one trusted them, including Nate and Alex. I'd originally convinced myself Isaac was up to something. He always seemed to poke his nose where it didn't belong and could never keep his stories straight. He reminded me a bit of mom in that sense— constantly struggling to remember which lie he was supposed to be living.

  “Is Webster Grove anything like your life in New Jersey?” I asked him.

  A test. When Isaac first moved here he'd told me they were from New York. Later, Bridget recalled his story being North Carolina.

  “Not at all,” he said, fumbling with a pan. “The weather is completely...uh... wait...I'm—”

  “Trying to remember where you're supposed to be from?” He turned away and started to chop the celery. “I'm not judging,” I continued. “I've moved a lot in my time too. There's magic in starting over. You get chance to leave the past behind and look toward a bright, new future.”

  “I guess,” he mumbled. “What kept you on the road all these years? Did your mom have an important job?”

  “Ha!”

  “No?”

  “No,” I assured him. “It's kinda a long story, but I'll give you the Reader's Digest version.” I readjusted myself on the stool and rested my elbows on the table in front of me. “Mom got pregnant young. Her boyfriend was an abusive drunk. She was scared, so we moved. And anytime she felt like he was on her tracks, she ran again. It's been a lifetime cycle of hide and seek.”

  “What made her stop with Webster Grove?”

  “Calvin... that, and Richard is locked up on pending homicide charges.”

  “Richard?”

  “My biological father.”

  “Ah,” he nodded.

  Our conversation continued a while longer. After pretending to eat the fish Nick had prepared, I tossed it in the garbage and rested my head on the table. It had been over an hour since I'd sent the text message to Alex.

  I checked the phone again to find no response.

  Waiting? It's almost as if he's completely freezing me out.

  “Compliments to the chef!” I heard a familiar voice yell from across the room.

  I shot off the stool and ran past the large, stainless steel center island to greet him with a grin. “Alex!”

  The smile quickly vanished from my face.

  He stood there, dressed to kill in a light blue cashmere sweater, tan slacks, and brown shoes. His hair was trimmed shorter since I'd last seen him in school the day before. His lips were inviting. His dark skin was as intriguing as ever... the only sickening part about this picture was the tall, gorgeous blonde hanging from his arm.

  “What is she doing here?” Miss Holt said, pulling her red, strapless dress up to cover her increasingly exposed chest.

  My heart fell to my stomach.

  I stared at Alex and pointed at the freezer. I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Chef Rivera is attending to an issue,” Nick stepped up behind me and addressed Alex directly. “Thank you for your compliments, but I'll have to ask you leave now.”

  “I—”

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Rivera,” Nick continued. “You'll have to go.”

  With one last look in my direction, Alex and his date turned and disappeared behind the door. I stood motionless for another few seconds before Nick wrapped me into a hug.

  I should have pushed him away.

  Rejected his embrace.

  Punched him in the stomach for assuming I wanted his sympathies.

  But all I could do was cry.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday March 03

  I spent ten minutes sobbing uncontrollably against Nick's chest. Without a word, he seemingly understood exactly why I needed comfort. Apparently Isaac shared a lot with his father.

  Once in Calvin's arms, he dried my tears and promised me that Alex moving on was best. He told me exactly what I didn't need to hear... all I was to Alex was potential for losing everything he'd ever worked for.

  The sky was dark and the last of yesterday's light snow had melted away. I walked down the sidewalk at eleven at night, after only being home for an hour.

  I moved quickly.

  I had to get there fast.

  I needed to talk to him.

  He was the only person who could make this right.

  After reaching my destination, I stopped and stared at the house in front of me. The windows were dark. Surely he was asleep by now. Regardless, I was on a mission. I stomped up the steps and rang the doorbell.

  After a few lapsed seconds, the porch light came on and nearly blinded me.

  The door flew open.

  “Steph?”

  I fell onto Nate's bare chest and sobbed harder than I had in the previous hours. I couldn't even care that he was standing there holding me in nothing more than his boxers. All I could do was cry.

  “Come on,” he whispered, walking me quietly to his room. He sat me down on his bed and knelt in front of me. “What's going on, Steph?”

  Somehow, through tears and gut-wrenching pain, I managed to re-live the day— from the afternoon text messages to the moment Calvin put me to bed... just before I climbed out the window.

  “I love him,” I mumbled. “And I never got the chance to tell him. He...gave up on me.”

 
“Steph,” Nate tried to reason.

  “No,” I stopped him. “Don't you dare say this is for the best! You're supposed to be on my side!”

  “Steph,” he said again. “I'm on your side… one hundred percent, babe. But, come on...”

  I threw myself on top of the covers and wiped away a single tear. “I don't belong here.”

  “No,” he agreed. “You should be at home... in your own bed.”

  “In Webster Grove... I don’t belong here. I want to leave...”

  “I'll let you get away with a lot,” he said. “But I draw the line at letting you act like your mother. You're staying right where you are.” He stood and repositioned me in his bed. I rested on his pillow as he pulled a large blanket up under my chin. “Do you have Calvin's number?” I nodded and lifted the phone out of my pocket and passed it to him. “I'm gonna send him a message and let him know you're here.”

  Monday March 05

  Most of Sunday was a blur. I woke up at Nate's house to find his mother leaning over me with a tray of freshly made breakfast foods; much like Calvin had done for me in the past. Obviously Nate had fed her a story of heartache and pain. She was more accommodating than any mother should be, especially after having learned that her son had stashed a girl for an overnighter.

  After talking to Cal, Nate returned with a glass of water and a comforting hug. He left me alone to take over his room while he slept on the couch downstairs. I wish I could say I fell asleep easily... but nothing is easy when your heart is broken in two.

  I kept waiting on a message; some kind of explanation about what happened on Saturday night. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nothing. Alex never attempted to contact me.

  I walked into the doors of Webster Grove High, head hanging low. Nate wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. We stopped at our lockers and wasted as much time as we could. When the warning bell sounded we had no choice but to enter class.

  The students were loud and obnoxious.

  Isaac watched me with sympathetic eyes, making it obvious that his father had filled him in. Bridget remained her chipper self, bopping her head as she read a passage from a playbook. Nate and I took our usual seats. Mr. Rivera sat at his desk, looking below him and not making eye contact with anyone.

  The final bell rang and the class immediately quieted down. Everyone stared forward, but our teacher didn't leave his chair.

  “Page 420 to 457,” he said, still keeping his head low. “Start now.”

  We exchanged glances. He'd never given a reading assignment without leading us into the material with a list of expectations and learning outcomes.

  Silence surrounded us as each student opened their literature books and turned to the assigned page.

  Bridget and Isaac exchanged notes back and forth throughout the entire period. Usually this behavior wouldn't go unnoticed or unpunished, but Mr. Rivera hadn't looked up once since I'd walked in the room.

  The clock ticked dreadfully slow. The bell rang to end class and I slammed the textbook shut, having not read a single word.

  “I'm gonna stay for a sec—”

  “No you're not,” Nate said, taking my bag and books.

  “Move it or lose it,” Bridget pushed past me. “I have to pee!”

  We moved slowly toward the door after the rest of the class cleared out.

  “Steph,” Alex said, sounding pitiful and lowly. “Can I talk—”

  “School related?” Nate asked.

  Silence.

  “No,” he replied, finally lifting his head to look at me.

  A dark shade of purple and black covered his swollen left eye. I stared at him, hoping I wasn't really seeing what I thought I was. Someone had taken their frustrations out on his face. Hard.

  I started toward him with open arms.

  “Absolutely not,” Isaac pulled me back. “You don't owe him anything.”

  “Let's go,” Nate said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me out.

  Saturday March 10

  “I think that's a wrap then.” Mom clapped her hands and smiled. “Until next time, ladies and gentlemen.”

  One week had passed since I’d watched the man I love stand arm-in-arm with a tall, leggy, blonde. I used this as an excuse to take the Nathaniel Bryan approach to school; I didn't feel like going, so I didn't. Monday was more than I could handle. I woke up Tuesday and decided I'd spend the next 24-hours in bed. Wednesday played out much the same way. On Thursday, though, I stood in the shower for most of the day. Friday was reserved to continue the sleep routine.

  I felt completely useless. Though, I guess I could thank Alex for one thing; this depression had resulted in the loss of not only five, but eight pounds. Combined with my no-food, tons of water diet, I was going to fit into that size zero after all.

  Calvin and Alex had obviously exchanged words. Unlike most weeks, neither of them spoke to the other for the entire dinner. Mom was too deep into wedding plans to notice any emotional changes.

  “Steph,” Blake wrapped his arm around me. I'd opted to swap Bridget seats tonight, which meant I got stuck sitting next to the creepy Rivera brother. “I'd love to take you out sometime. Whaddya say?”

  “Sure, whatever,” I mumbled, lifting the glass of water to my lips.

  “Steph!” Bridget's mouth fell open. “What about Nate?” I shrugged. “Um, hullo, stupid. Your boyfriend.”

  I looked at Alex, looking at me.

  “If it's okay for one man to have two women,” I started, never breaking his gaze. “Then I sure as hell think it's okay for one woman to have two men.”

  Alex closed his eyes and took the burn.

  “That's the spirit,” Blake grinned, tightening his hold around me.

  “I'll be back,” I said, pushing myself away from the table and out of his grip.

  I moved slowly toward the front of the restaurant. I pushed through the door of the ladies' room and faced the mirror. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me; hollow eyes, brittle hair, skin and bones... as if feeling depressed wasn't enough, I looked like death had come for me.

  I ran cold water over my face and took a deep breath.

  You can get through this, Steph. He's just a guy.

  With one last look at myself, I turned to leave the bathroom to find Alex blocking the exit.

  “What are you doing in here? You can't—”

  He turned the lock so no one else could enter. “Listen—”

  “I don't want to hear-”

  “Then talk—”

  “I have nothing to say to you.” I tried to move past him, but he stepped forward and reached for me. I ducked away and took a step backward.

  “Don't touch me.”

  “Steph,” he started. “I owe you an explanation—”

  “Stop—”

  “Please,” he begged.

  “Are you dating her?”

  The room suddenly fell silent. He stopped protesting. He didn't plea or beg.

  His silence told me everything I needed to know.

  “I want to be mature about this,” I started, fighting tears. “But I don't know how. Okay? And until I can have a conversation with you without wanting to gauge your eyes out, it's probably best that you stay the hell away from me.'”

  “Steph—”

  “After this wedding is over... and I mean immediately afterward… you're out of my life. Assign your stupid essays. I'll do ‘em. You grade ‘em. But that’s as much of a relationship as I want with you.”

  “Please listen to me...” His eyes welled up with tears.

  “Nate was right,” I shrugged. “It's not worth it. Too many secrets... too many lies...too much stress...”

  He stepped forward and took me in his arms. “Steph, I'm so sorry—”

>   “Too little… too late. I'll see you on Monday, Mr. Rivera.”

  He dropped his head as I pulled away and unlocked the bathroom door, letting myself out.

  Chapter Six

  Thursday March 15

  It had been five days since I was trapped alone in the ladies' room with Alex. The following Monday was my first day back in class. The entire school week had been a daunting one; Mr. Rivera tried to make himself known, while I, in turn, ignored any behavior outside the typical student-teacher realm.

  My two male friends had been my support system, though Isaac had to be careful about his words and actions while around his girlfriend. Bridget, as always, was still clueless and in her own world. This, of course, was probably for the best. The less she knew the better. And because of my two closest confidants, I was slowly mending a broken heart.

  “Ah-blah, alligator; blah-blah, anticipator,” Bridget said, opening her mouth as wide as she could with each word.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked Nate, ignoring our other friend as she stared at herself in my mirror across the room.

  “You need me.”

  “But I'm only signing up for costumes—”

  “And who's directing the show?” He kept his voice low.

  “Alex.”

  “Exactly. Someone has to be there to keep an eye on you.”

  “Are you sure it's not because you actually fell in love with acting?”

  He rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile.

  “A little,” he admitted. “It's kinda cool being front and center.”

  “Bridget,” I said. “Wouldn't it be neat if you and Nate landed the lead roles again?”

  “Honduras has horrible hamburgers,” she responded with flailing arms. “And ugly vampires wear extraordinarily yellow zippers.”

  “How long is she going to do this?” I asked Nate.

  “Another hour, at least,” he assured me.

  As promised, Bridget continued speaking in theatrical diction exercises for the next sixty minutes. We finally left my house and headed for the Webster Grove High auditorium. The Music Man auditions were officially underway.

  Much like he'd done for the fall production, Mr. Rivera climbed to the stage with his female counterpart.