by Aria Ford
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling tears come to my eyes as my dad’s voice hissed those words at me across the gap of years. I reached unconsciously for my drink. Wash it away. Shut it up. Close it down. I drank. When I had taken a big mouthful, I turned to see Bethany staring at me.
“What?” I said harshly. I instantly regretted the tone of my words, but what could I do?
She looked away, twisting so that the back of her head faced me. I could see the very elegant way she’d styled it, and the soft glowing tresses. It was beautiful. It was dumb, but it really hurt to have someone so beautiful ignore me.
Great. Now she hates me too. I never get anything right, do I?
“You ordered something? I…oh!” Rod smiled as his dinner appeared before him, the waiter carefully setting down three plates—Rod, his uncle and aunt—and then going away.
“Yes, I did,” his sister agreed. “I’m sure it’s coming soon.”
It did, but then when it arrived I had no real appetite. I soon got my appetite back again and actually enjoyed my meal—as much as I could when I kept on thinking about Bethany and what I had done to upset her.
Well, Kyle, I told myself harshly, what did you expect? Your own mom didn’t want you. So why would you think anyone else would do different? That was my life. No one actually really wanted me. Maybe for my money, but not for me. I might as well get used to it.
Chapter 3: Bethany
I woke up the next morning with a weird restless feeling inside of me. I couldn’t have said exactly why, but I felt distracted and kind of scratchy, like everything was sandpaper on my skin.
“Bee!” Rodney greeted me in the kitchen. He was seated at the table, a cup of coffee steaming before him. “Slept well?”
“Kind of,” I said listlessly. I went to the coffee maker. I needed a good cup of coffee. Once I’d woken up a bit, this distracted feeling would go away. “Is Mom up?” I asked as I waited for the coffee to come through.
“She is. I think she’s washing her hair or something.”
“Mm.” I could hear a hair dryer and smell that hot-air smell mingling with the scent of daisies in a vase. Daisies!
I meant to do some work today, I recalled suddenly. I sipped my coffee, focused and realized nothing was coming to mind. All I could see, weirdly, was Kyle’s face.
I hadn’t realized how much he had threw me off.
“That guy from last night,” I said slowly.
“Sorry, Bee,” Rodney said instantly. “I…that was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have brought him along. I…”
He trailed off as I gently interrupted him. “It’s not that, Rodney. I just wanted to ask you about him. There’s something about him that unsettled me.”
“Oh?” Rodney frowned at me. “What, Bee?”
I felt frustrated. “I don’t know.” I couldn’t put my finger on it, which was unlike me. “He just…disturbed me.”
Rodney frowned. “He was rude to you?”
His brow had lowered and he looked angry. I felt touched. Trust my brother to go wanting to fight battles for me.
“No, Rodney—he wasn’t…well, actually, he was. But not on purpose—not really.” I blinked in surprise. If I thought about it, he had been rude. I realized what had hurt me most was his coldness. Just as we were getting around to having a decent conversation—something I enjoyed—he had closed up. And looked so shocked when I just gave him a friendly touch on the hand!
Rodney sighed. “I’m sorry, Bee. It was a mistake to bring him.”
I shook my head, feeling irritated. “No, it wasn’t. Why do you always think you screwed up? That isn’t my point!”
He looked hurt. “Hell, Bee. No need to shout.”
I regretted it instantly. “Sorry, Rodney…Really. I’m sorry. I’m just moody today. Probably didn’t sleep enough.”
“You’re tired. I get it. You did just fly for hours and hours.”
I had to smile. “Yeah, I did.”
He grinned, a small embarrassed grin. “And then I dragged you out into a party. I know. I know.”
“Never a dull moment, eh?” I said fondly. He laughed.
“I guess. Mom! Hey!”
My mom appeared, her reddish hair fluffed out around her face. She was smiling.
“Guys! Hey!” She bounced over to the coffee machine and took out a big mug from the cabinet. “Great party!” She said to Rodney with a grin.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” Rodney said, smiling into his coffee. I felt silly. I should lighten up more. Why couldn’t I just go out and have a good time and then forget about errors or awkwardness?
It’s not my nature to be like that.
I just think more about details. Maybe that’s what makes me good at what I do? Who knows.
I took some muesli and another cup of coffee over to the table where Mom and Rodney were engaged in a discussion about baseball.
“Come on, Mom,” Rodney was saying. “The Dodgers are going to come up this season. I know it.”
Mom laughed. “Rodney…you and the Dodgers. You know the Yanks are going to smash them. Just you wait.”
While I listened to them talk, I tried to think about work—just because I was taking a week’s holiday here didn’t mean that I was going to take time off my job. It was, in fact, an ideal opportunity to open my mind and be creative.
Except that nothing was coming up.
Nothing except that handsome, distracting face. I closed my eyes a moment, thinking about what it was that disturbed me about it. It was, I thought, the contradictions.
When he talked about street art, he was so passionate. It felt as if the cause really mattered to him. But when he let me in that far, he suddenly withdrew. He was cold and distant instantly again. I saw real warmth in his eyes when we shook hands, and then he suddenly got all cold and snobby. What was his agenda?
I shook my head and reached for my coffee. I was being silly. Why would he have an agenda? So he didn’t like you, Bee. Get over it. Just because you liked him doesn’t mean that he has to like you.
I put my coffee down with some surprise. I liked him? Really?
“What, Bee?” Rodney looked at me with a little frown between his brows.
“What?” I asked defensively. “Did I do something weird?”
“You just look so worried,” Mom said, concerned. “What’s up? If we’re bothering you, we’ll go to the living room—we’ve finished our breakfast. I know you want to work.”
I sighed. “It’s not that.” I’d work if I could! I just can’t focus. It’s not your fault: it’s him.
When Mom looked hurt I felt the restlessness that had been lurking in me take sudden flight. I pushed back my chair and stood. I had to get out of here and give myself some time to think.
“Sorry, guys,” I said ruefully. “It’s not you. I just feel weird this morning. I’m going for a walk. See you later?”
Mom and Rodney exchanged glances that said they were worried about me. Then Mom nodded to me.
“Sure, sweetie. We’re planning to go out to lunch. Meet you at Green Café later?” She sounded concerned and caring.
I nodded. “At twelve thirty?”
“Perfect.”
I rinsed the dishes, loaded them into the dishwasher and headed out. In the street, the sun was shining warmly. I felt it sink into my bones and my mood improved. Out here in the fresh air with no disturbance and a chance to think, I could at least assess what was bothering me.
I liked him.
Okay, I should put that more honestly. When I first saw Kyle Beckham, I thought I had woken up in a dream. The guy was amazingly attractive. With that long, lean face, cool gray eyes and that dark hair, he looked like a cross between Prince Charming and The Terminator. He was stunning.
I couldn’t help that he was also confusing.
“Did he like me, or actually loathe me?” Saying it aloud made me realize that was what was bothering me.
I wasn’t used to people stiffening up and ge
tting all cold on me the way he had. I was used to people being open and friendly and, well, a bit warmer. I caught sight of myself in the reflection of café window. I wasn’t so bad looking! I felt almost relieved. He made me feel like I had two heads or something.
Stupid, I knew. I snorted with laughter. Why was I behaving like a kid? I was thirty-two, for crying out loud! I shouldn’t care so much that one guy treated me a bit like I had a contagious disease. Who cared about what he thought, anyway? He was just one person. Just one person who was taking over my whole brain.
I heard my phone ring as I reached a nearby park. Went in and answered it. It was Carla from work. Since it was a Sunday, that might have been weird, except it wasn’t. Carla was my best friend.
“Hey!” I said. “How’s it going, girlfriend?”
She laughed. “Bee! I missed you. How are you?”
“Good,” I nodded, sitting down on a park bench. Hearing her made me feel a bit better. “Confusing, but good.”
“Confusing?” she sounded interested. “Who’s confusing? Someone new?”
I frowned. How the heck had she guessed? “No one,” I said quickly. She laughed.
“No one? Come on, Bee.”
“What do you mean?” I said guardedly.
She laughed. “Sorry, Bee. You just said that so quickly I guessed it had to be someone. So? What’s he like?”
I sighed. “Carla Macy. I am not interested in any guy.”
“Oh.”
She sounded disappointed. I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just really am in a weird mood today. I guess everything’s just getting to me too much. I am glad you called, though. I feel better hearing from you.”
“Oh.” She sounded pleased. “Thanks.”
I leaned back on the bench. The sky was cerulean overhead, dotted here and there with white clouds. I felt the peace and cleanness of it settle on my soul, making me feel peaceful again. I had an idea. Daisies. Blue skies. White clouds.
“Hey!” I said. “Inspiration!”
She blinked. “Inspiration? Sounds good!”
“It is good. I’ll…I’ll call you back later. Okay?”
It was good that it was Carla. She understands these things, since she is an artist. I grabbed my notebook and hastily scribbled down the words and images in my mind. Then I stood. I could just about head back home now.
I lingered in the park awhile, just enjoying the sunshine and the flowers. It was a beautiful summer day. My watch told me it was ten A.M.—plenty of time to explore and enjoy before I met Mom and my brother. I watched people walking in the park—some jogging, headphones on, smart watches ticking—others walking adorable dogs or out with families.
Young couples walked past, hand in hand. Seeing them twisted something inside me, like it always did.
Why am I still single?
Every time I saw young people—or people my age, that awkward gap between young and family-starting age—I felt at once happy and sad. Happy that they were happy, and sad about my life.
Why couldn’t I find someone myself?
I felt their presence almost like a judgment, a big sign that jumped out at me and told me I had somehow screwed up. If I was more beautiful, more sensible, more…I don’t know, more normal—I would have what they had. I would be “getting it right”.
I shook my head. It was a stupid thing to think. But I couldn’t shake it. And somehow meeting Kyle, and having him be so weird, had set that feeling off again so badly.
Luke had screwed me up about relationships. He had been demanding, critical and cruel. After picking myself up off the ground after we split, I wasn’t ready for another one. It wasn’t that I blamed him—not exactly. And it wasn’t that I blamed myself. It was just that I knew now that I had a lot to clear out of my head before I found someone.
Why did I think I had to put up with his cruelty? That was my big question. Where had my voice gone?
I was determined to find out before I went putting myself in the same situation again. It wasn’t worth it.
I found my feet had brought me to the park’s gate. I smiled at an old lady walking a fluffy dog, patted the fluffy dog and headed out. In the street, I managed to spend two hours shopping. I came away with a single scarf made of soft silk and patterned with a bright red plaid. I shook my head at myself, amazed at my ability to get distracted.
Luke always said I was the worst procrastinator. It isn’t true. I get lots done once I feel ready to move into action. I put on the scarf—blue and patterned with flowers—and headed to the meeting place.
“Mom! Rodney!”
It was 12:40 P.M. when I got there, and they had just arrived. I sat down at the table and grinned at both of them.
“Sorry, guys. I was shopping.”
“Oh! Great!” Mom looked enthusiastic. “I wanted to go afterward. Want to join me?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “Sounds like fun. Are you looking for something special?”
“A dress for Terri’s sixtieth bash. She’s having it in their home at the coast.”
“Oh!”
We chatted and ordered lunch. While we finished our meals, Rodney got a call.
“‘Excuse me, guys,” he said apologetically and headed out. Mom turned to me.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” she said gently.
I frowned. “I guess,” I said. I thought I had managed to hide the fact that I was still feeling wistful and a bit disheartened. Every time I saw couples come in or go out, I felt a stab of that vague restlessness.
“What does that mean?” she asked with a teasing smile. “I know there’s something on your mind. What is it?”
I sighed. “I guess… Mom? Am I pretty?”
She laughed. “Baby! How can you even ask me that question? You’re stunning. Especially with the genes you got from me.”
I laughed and smiled at her gently. “Mom, I am your daughter. I know you love me and you’re probably biased. But…” I trailed off. “I’m being like a kid, I know.”
She shook her head and reached across and touched my hand. I felt the reassurance of that touch anchor me. “No, you’re not. You had a hell of a time with that guy of yours. Of course you feel unsure sometimes.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Mom. It’s nice that someone knows how I feel.”
She nodded. “I do, believe me,” she said fervently. “Men can be such assholes.”
I blinked. My mom is a vibrant and outspoken sixty-year-old. If I can be like her when I’m that age, I will be so happy. “Mom!” I said.
“What?” She grinned at me and put down her tea. “It’s true, sweetie.”
I nodded. “I know.”
We both sat quietly for a while, letting that truth sink in. My dad and mom had split when I was fifteen and Rodney a little boy. They were still friends—Mom always said they just couldn’t live together. I could understand that. They had argued when we were kids, but not a lot—I think they had the respect for each other to give each other space, which had resulted in a friendly and neutral divorce. We stayed with mom and Dad went back to Wyoming, to start a successful farm.
“Mom, when you met Dad… did you—did you know?”
“Know what?” Mom asked, swirling her tea in the glass and staring into the green tea depths.
“Well, you know—was there some special feeling, something you’d never had with anyone else before?”
She frowned. “Not so much. Not at first. I liked him—okay, make that a lot. He was hot, your father. Sorry,” she added at my shocked grin. “But he was. And the more I knew about him, the more I liked him. The more I realized that there was something special. Something I’d never felt before.”
“What was it?” I asked.
She looked up. “Trust,” she said.
I stared at her. “Trust?”
“Mm,” Mom said, nodding as she swallowed some tea. She set aside the cup and leaned back, stretching. “With other guys, I always felt like there were parts of me they shouldn’t see. I was acting, I
guess. Holding my true self back. With your dad, I was happy. I felt safe to be myself.”
I nodded. She was right! With Luke, I was always thinking. I thought about what he would do, what he would think. What I should say, what I should do. If I laughed too loudly, cried too much, talked too often, he’d think I was dumb. Or ditzy. Or too emotional. I put too much effort into it.
Yes, there was something missing in that picture. The something was myself.
“Wow, Mom,” I said.
She smiled. “What, sweetie?”
“That’s amazing.”
She smiled. “Thanks, baby.”
At that moment, Rodney came in. He looked relieved.
“Shall we go?” he asked. “Sorry—that was Blake. He said he’s found the bug. Our code works now.”
“Oh?” I frowned. “Sounds good.”
“Good?” He was practically shaking with relief. “It’s awesome. Now I can finally relax.”
“Hurray!”
Mom looked from me to Rodney. “That calls for a celebration. Ice cream?”
“Ice cream!” Rodney kissed her hair affectionately and she shoved him in the shoulder.
