by Kelly Myers
I check the call time. Almost five minutes. Not bad for a daughter who hasn’t chatted with her mom in 10 years.
It’s not much, but it’s something.
I don’t feel a knot of dread about my mother either. I’m not already imagining the day she inevitably lets me down.
It’s possible she’s changed for the better, but it’s also possible that she hasn’t. She might go spiraling again, but this time, I’m not dependent on her. If she lets me down, I have other people to hold me up. My grandma. My friends. Zach.
I feel a small flutter of excitement as I head back to my desk. Before I get back to work, I send him a text. Just to let him know that I called her. And that I would prefer he not answer any messages she sends him with questions about me. He answers within minutes, assuring me he won’t. If he’s surprised or curious about my sudden desire to call Claire, he doesn’t say anything.
All afternoon, I get an endless stream of texts from my mom, most of them just saying how happy she is, and how this is such a big step on her journey.
I turn my phone on silent. No one said it was going to be easy. These days, however, a little complication isn’t looking like such a dire thing.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My friends want me to come and hang out with them so they can comfort me and shower me with love and affection. Zoe promises fine wine, and Marianne tells me she’ll give me a sneak peak of her latest original song. Elena says she just wants to hug me.
I remind them that it was just a five minute phone call, and I head home.
Zach is waiting outside my building when I get there. I try to walk up to him, calm and collected, but I can’t manage it. I start to run so I can jump into his arms. He picks me up and spins me around. When he sets me back down on the ground, I’m laughing.
“We obviously need to establish a few things,” he says.
I give him wide faux-innocent eyes. “Oh, like what?”
He lets me tug him by the hand into my building and towards the stairs.
“First of all, no slinking off in the middle of the night.” He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me against him as we walk. “I want to sleep beside you all night and wake up next to you.”
I flush at how open and affectionate he’s being. This is a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it.
“Don’t throw stones from glass houses,” I say. “You did it first.”
We arrive at my door, and I dig around in my purse for my keys.
“That was different,” he says.
I shove my door open and roll my eyes. “How was that different? We had sex, I fell asleep, you left.”
“Yes, but that was back when you were totally unattached to me and just using me for my body.” Zach pulls off his coat and hangs it up, then takes mine and hangs it as well. “Last night, I thought I made it clear how deeply attached I am to every facet of your being.”
“Ok, spare me the poetics.” I turn my back, a grin on my face, but Zach ounces before I even turn fully away.
He pulls me against his chest and kisses me hard. He pushes me against the wall and lifts his head to look down at me.
“What’s the second rule?” I look up at him and run my fingers through his hair, enjoying the feel of his soft locks.
“Huh?”
“You said the first rule was no sneaking out in the middle of the night,” I say. “So what’s the second?”
“Well, do you promise to abide by the first rule?” he asks.
I raise my hand in the air and put on a sober face. “I solemnly swear to never sneak out of your bed in the middle of the night.”
Zach catches my hand and kisses it on the palm. “This is the wrong hand, it’s supposed to be your right.”
“Whatever,” I say. “Tell me the second rule.”
“Well, it’s more of a question.” Zach gives me a sheepish look. “And it feels kinda dumb, but I have been wanting to ask for 10 years.”
I place my hands on his chest and step away. He fingers a lock of my hair between his thumb and pointer.
“I’m serious about you, Bea,” Zach says. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”
My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. I start laughing, and I can’t stop.
“What?” Zach asks.
I take a few deep breaths as my laughters die down. “It’s just, this is everything my seventeen-year-old self ever wanted.”
“Well, your younger self clearly had amazing taste,” he says. “I was the one who never had the balls to ask you out.”
I shrug. “You were coping with other stuff. Besides, we never would have made it back then.”
“Yeah, you were too set on going to a fancy college.”
“And you were too busy dealing drugs for your dad.”
Zach tips back his head and laughs, and I stand on my tiptoes to kiss along his neck.
“Are you gonna bring up the mistakes of my youth every time you want to win an argument?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “I’ll never bring it up in front of other people, that would be awkward.”
“Oh, great, good to know.”
He pushes me into the kitchen and starts opening my fridge.
“Are you gonna cook for me?” I ask.
“I’m your boyfriend now, it’s my job,” he says.
We mull over our options for a while, until at least we settle on pasta with a tomato sauce and a side of butternut squash.
I start to boil the water for the pasta, while he stirs the sauce.
I admire his shoulders as he focuses on the sauce. He’s a construction guy, used to long days lifting things out of doors, and yet he looks so right in my kitchen.
“Aren’t you going to ask about my mom?”
Zach glances up, worry etched on his brow. “We don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to. I’ve already decided I’ll cut off contact if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t have to,” I say.
I stare down at the steaming water. I can feel him watching me.
“Does she always ramble on and on, or is that just with me?” I ask.
Zach laughs. “She is a bit of a babbler, but I don’t actually chat one on one with her often.”
“You don’t?”
“She hangs out a lot with this guy Bruno who has known my dad and me forever, so we’re mostly connected through that mutual friend.”
I nod and add some salt to the water. Zach reaches over and puts his hand on my neck. He massages with gentle fingers, and I relax.
“We’re having coffee this weekend.” I give him a sharp look. “But that’s it. I’m not Mother Teresa just because I’ve spent a few weeks with you.”
Zach smiles, and I can tell he’s just happy I’m able to tell a joke in a conversation about my mother.
“I’ll be ok, you know,” I say.
“You will,” he says. “Because I’m going to take care of you.”
He lifts me up then and places me on the table top. My legs swing down, and my knees brush against his thighs as he leans over me.
“I love you.” The words come flying out. I’ve been wanting to say them all day. I wanted to say them yesterday, but we had already said so many heartfelt words, I held them in.
Zach blinks in astonishment.
“I understand if you’re not ready to say them back, just please know that I really mean it, and I love you so much.”
Zach silences me with a kiss. He holds my head in his hands as if I’m made of some china glass.
“Don’t say it twice before I say it once,” he growls into my ear. “That’s rule number 3.”
I clutch his shirt in my hands and lean back so I can see his face. I need to see his face when he says it.
“I love you, Beatrice Dobbs.” Zach grins down at me. “I always have.”
Epilogue
I step out of the office building and take a deep breath of the hazy summer air. July looks so good in Chicago th
at I don’t even mind the heat.
I start walking down the quiet street, enjoying the sight of the sun shining down through the green leaves. Zach is picking me up today, and he usually meets me at the corner.
Sometimes I miss the hustle and bustle (and all the dining options) of the Merchandise Mart, but ever since I left sales to work for the Youth First non-profit, I’ve felt much better when I get out of work. I feel like I’ve actually made a difference, even if it’s been a long day of helping a high school junior deal with an overwhelming amount of paperwork as they apply for financial aid packages for college.
Youth First is dedicated to helping lower income students aim for higher education. We provide counseling and outreach and help with everything from college essays to tutoring to arranging travel for interviews. I discovered it last summer, and as soon as I described it to Zach, he told me I had to apply.
His truck pulls up, and I grin from ear to ear. Even after eighteen months of dating, I never get tired of the sight of his dusty pickup.
I haul myself into the passenger seat. He leans over and kisses me as a greeting. There’s a sheen of sweat on his tan forehead, and it makes my stomach squirm with desire.
I fan myself with an envelope I was holding. “Is your AC broken?”
“I have a surprise,” he announces.
“Is it a new AC?” I ask with a grin.
“No.” Zach winks at me as he accelerates. “I like to see you all sweaty.”
I lean back and roll down the window.
I note that he’s heading for the highway.
“Please don’t tell me it’s another dinner with my mom at an Olive Garden.”
My mom and I are getting along as good as we ever have. Which is to say, she definitely enjoys spending time with Zach more than me, but that tends to happen when your daughter has seventeen years of sub-par memories of you.
Most of the time, we’re ok. I just sometimes lose patience, like when we were in Olive Garden for a Mother’s Day dinner in May, and she threw a fit that I didn’t take her somewhere more expensive.
For the record, she loves Olive Garden. She raves about the breadsticks and the virgin cocktails all the time.
“No,” Zach says. “Unfortunately we are not going to get to see you make a waiter cry today.”
“I was not the reason he cried!” I reach over and smack Zach’s shoulder. He manages to snag my hand and give it a squeeze.
“Your comment about how maybe if he brought out the breadsticks faster, Claire would stop whining to him was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
I roll my eyes, but don’t argue. He’s probably right. And it feels too good to just hold his hand and enjoy the wind blowing in through the open window as we hit the highway.
We drive for about fifteen minutes. I tell him about my day, and he describes the infinity pool his team just finished.
Every few minutes I try to guess the surprise. I guess a fancy dinner, a beach day, a surprise weekend trip to Paris.
Zach denies them all, and I don’t get too creative. Zach calls everything a surprise. Once he unclogged my shower drain early on a Saturday morning and called that a surprise.
Don’t get me wrong, it was a lovely thing to do, but I would hardly call it a “surprise.”
Zach drives down the Main Street of one of the suburbs. It’s a cute one, with little cafes and a park in the center of town. I see a bunch of kids playing soccer in the distance.
We turn onto a Haven Street. It’s quiet with a tiny cracked sidewalk, and each house has a little stone walkway up to the wooden front doors.
The street is devoid of houses towards the end, but tucked away behind a few pine trees is an old grey house. It looks empty and a bit worse for wear. It’s got a big porch that’s sunken in. But there’s an old-fashioned elegance to the structure. I admire the sloping shingles and the turret tower on one side.
Zach parks outside. Before I can even form words, he’s hopped out of the car and walking to the passenger side to open the door for me. He takes my hand and helps me down. He’s holding a few sheets of paper in his other hand.
That’s when I see the SOLD sign.
I gasp and clap my hands to my mouth.
“You didn’t.” But I look at his face, and I know he did.
I can’t speak. I can only shake my head in shock, as he takes my hand and leads me into the middle of the front yard.
“I have plans for a bit of a remodel.” He holds out the sheets of paper so I can see the sketches. “I want to preserve the exterior, just fix it up a bit. And then add newer plumbing and kitchenware, make the living room a bit bigger.”
“Zach, it’s too much.” I finally manage to spit out the words. I want that house more than anything else, but it’s too big of a thing for him to buy for me. We’ve talked about finding a dream home someday. We discussed various suburbs that were ideal locations for the both of us.
“I already did it,” Zach says. “I didn’t want to wait. I want us to start our life together.”
“But you can’t just buy a house!”
Zach shrugs. “I’m in the industry, and I’ve been saving for ages. Since I don’t have to pay for a contractor, it only made sense. I wanted this house. I want to live here with you.”
I gaze in wonder at the plans. I can see it already: a few big chairs on the front porch, a big table where we can have family dinners, and a living room with a ceiling tall enough for a Christmas tree. In a house like that, I bet I could even be nice to my mother, provided she visited only for limited amounts of time.
“It has a fireplace,” Zach says. “A big stone one.”
I can’t breathe as he drops to one knee.
“Yes!” I cry out my answer before he even pulls the box from his pocket.
“Let me ask!”
“My answer is yes,” I say. “Now show me the fireplace.”
Zach tugs on my hand, and I gaze down at him in utter adoration. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
This time he leaps to his feet and picks me. I cling to him and scream with joy as he whirls me around the front yard. Our front yard. Our perfect home.
Zach sets me down so he can slip on the ring. It’s a small ruby, small and practical. He knows I’m not that much into jewelry, and it’s the home we will build together that matters, not the ring on my finger.
I wrap my arms around him and kiss him. I try to pour all my love and happiness into it.
“I wanted this so badly,” I whisper. “The house and the family and the idyllic town, but I only wanted it with you.”
Zach’s eyes are moist as he sets me down and starts to show me the whole house.
He holds onto my hand the whole time, and I know he has no intention of letting go.
And I wouldn’t let him even if he tried.
Excerpt: Breaking All the Rules
I like to play it safe.
And there’s nothing safe about David Russo.
When he walks into my classroom for Parent-Teacher conferences, he turns my whole world upside down.
I know myself, and Elena Ramirez does not take risks.
So I know I should stay away.
I can’t date the parent of one of my students.
Yet I’m drawn to him anyway.
I’m still heartbroken over my ex.
David is way older than I am, and he has two kids.
This will never work.
How long before this whole thing explodes in my face?
How long before the other teachers and parents at my school find out?
And most terrifying of all, how long before his daughters discover our secret affair?
Chapter 1
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the parents in my classroom.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being a teacher, and I respect parents who care about their middle schoolers. But, my classroom is my sacred space. I set it up. I picked out the posters of book covers to han
g on the wall.
I’m not an alpha type. I don’t need to have authority or be in charge. In fact, ask any of my friends, and they’ll tell you. Elena Ramirez is quiet. Peaceful. Plays well with others.
AKA, I’m a team player, not a team captain.
However, when I step into the 7th Grade English Classroom at Lakeview West Middle School, I’m Queen of the Kingdom.
Until Parent Teacher Conferences roll around. All day, I’ve been meeting with parents and trying to assure them that yes, I am qualified, and no, their child is not being neglected.
I glance down at my schedule. Just one more set of parents, and they’re due in ten minutes, which is perfect because I need time to recover from the last meeting.
Mrs. Fontaine seemed to not understand why her daughter failing to do the assigned reading is resulting in a lower grade.
I suppose it’s a good thing. Better an over aged parent than a neglectful one. Then again, I can’t help but think there’s got to be a happy medium. My parents were attentive, but they never waged war against my English teacher.
I sigh and look out at my classroom, the late spring sunlight gleaming through the big windows. I love my job, I really do. I admire the little groups of desks that I assign and mix up every few months so the kids get to sit next to different people. I smile at the wall covered with brightly colored index cards. The students write their favorite lines from To Kill a Mockingbird or Out of the Dust or The House on Mango Street and then we put them on the wall. We’re almost done with the school year, so the entire wall is covered.
I know a lot of teachers that are dissatisfied with the long hours and the low pay, and it can be exhausting. But when I get to see one kid fall in love with a book, it’s all worth it.
I glance down at the list of parents. The last one scheduled is David Russo.
I frown. This one might be tricky. His daughter, Amy Russo, is a great kid, but she’s been up and down in terms of behavior. I only teach her for one period, but the rest of the seventh grade teachers have reported similar things. She was actually in another teacher’s section the previous trimesters, but she was switched to mine this Spring. I don’t know her as well as I would like.
