Advice from a Sunflower

by Jen Stevens

  “I-I don’t know what to say. I thought you said we could never be sure with these things.”

  “There’s still a lot of obstacles to go through but either way, we did it! We got one of your books sold for movie rights. Don’t worry about the logistics right now. Believe me, there will be tons of time for that. Celebrate, bitch! We’ll get together when you come home, and I’ll explain everything else then.”

  I nod, realizing she can’t see me. “Okay. Okay, I’ll call you later.”

  “Call me tomorrow. Celebrate tonight. I’m so proud of you, Lay. I can’t think of anyone else more deserving. I love you.”

  She’s finally calmed down, speaking in a regular tone as she says the words I’ve craved my entire life. Natalie throws them around as if they mean nothing, unaware how much it means to me that she cares so much.

  “Love you too,” I say before ending the call.

  Silence fills the cab as I process the new information. Eli gives me a few moments before he finally speaks, pulling the truck into the parking lot of a fancy Italian restaurant two towns over. I didn’t even realize we’d been driving that long.

  “Good news?” his low voice wonders, deep brown eyes watching me carefully.

  I nod before finally allowing myself to smile, quietly mumbling, “My book is being made into a movie.”

  Saying the words aloud seems to help fight through the shock. I’m still in disbelief, floating on a cloud of oblivion when Eli rounds the truck and opens my door for me, offering his arm to help me down.

  “That’s pretty amazing news,” he admits, careful not to let his touch linger any longer than necessary once I’m safely out of the cab. It's obvious that this nice-guy charade is killing him to keep up. “But I knew you could do it. Don’t forget who used to spend their weekends editing your work.”

  I consider that for a moment, grateful that the lobby of the restaurant is packed enough to make carrying on a conversation difficult. His words weren’t venomous or rude like usual, but something about the way he says them feels like they might have been intended that way and I can’t for the life of me figure out why he would be angry.

  Eli leans over the podium to speak directly into the young hostess’s ear, his proximity igniting a rosy blush in her cheeks and chest. He acts completely unaware, even when she reaches out to lightly touch his hand before leading us to our table.

  Which apparently, he had reserved beforehand.

  I ignore the disgruntled scowls and murmurs coming from the waiting crowd, watching the floor as we’re led to a table set for two in a back corner.

  “Do you take all your friends here?” I tease once the waitress turns to walk away, but not before touching his shoulder and assuring him she could take care of anything he needs tonight.

  With a negative shake, he opens the large menu on his lap. “No, I come here a lot for work.”

  He doesn’t explain any further than that and I awkwardly stare at him for a second too long before opening my own menu to hide behind it. The rational side of me remembers that a lot of time has passed since we last spoke like friends. People don’t remain the same people they were when they were eighteen forever, right?

  But the immature coward inside me is once again screaming to get out of this restaurant as fast as I can and take the first flight home just to get away from the stranger that’s inhibiting the body of the man I once knew. Marnie would understand, wouldn’t she?

  “Do you still only live off pasta?” he asks, pulling my thoughts away from my escape plan.

  “Excuse me?” My voice comes out a little harsher than I intend it to. I don’t correct it though, because for some reason, he’s turned the temperature of his attitude down about fifty degrees since we stepped into the restaurant. Hell, since I took the phone call from Natalie on the way over, he’s been chilly and distant. Maybe he’s one of those weird people who are put off by people using their phone on dates. Although, this isn’t a date… is it?

  He sets his menu on the table and sips from the water sitting in front of him, surveying me over the glass through narrowed slits. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he planned for the night to be this painfully awkward—that he was trying to make it so.

  “Do you only live off pasta?” he repeats, lowering his voice to make it harder to hear.

  Is he taunting me?

  “Last I remember, you were practically living off carbs to save the chickens or something.”

  I plaster the fake smile I perfected for book signings across my face as a defense mechanism. I don't know why he’s turned this into such a tense dinner, but I’m not going to let him steamroll me the way I would have in the past.

  I’m not even sure if he realizes that the question isn’t only a dig at me, it’s evidence of the wedge that was driven between us all those years ago. He’s referring to a phase I went through sophomore year, when I watched a load of documentaries on the mistreatment of animals that were bred for human consumption. I refused to eat meat for six months and Denise refused to buy anything else. The money I made at the diner was minimal at the time, so I was stuck eating pasta for nearly every meal.

  Eli mocked me for it every time he came near me, teasing that one small girl in a town that couldn’t even be found on the map wouldn’t make a difference to an entire industry. I gave in and ate a hamburger shortly after Eli joined the baseball team and my body punished me for days. I vowed to take less extreme measures next time I wanted to support a cause.

  “Working on fighting any other losing battles lately?” his sardonic voice pushes from across the table.

  The shield I’ve put up is finally penetrated and my smile falters. This is supposed to be a night of celebration. Of two friends catching up—you know, the way normal people do, without their faces pressed between each other's legs. Forget the fact that there wouldn’t be a need to fill in seven years of distance if he hadn’t turned his nose up to me all that time ago. He has no right to act as if I’ve somehow wronged him.

  “I’m not sure what your problem is, Eli. If you don’t want to be here, we can leave. This was your idea.”

  “No."

  His hand balls into a fist on the table and for the thousandth time tonight, I’m reminded that the man before me is a stranger.

  “I do remember,” I mumble, grabbing at my own water to hide the scarlet blotches I know are staining my cheeks. I'm probably rivaling the hostess at this point.

  “What?”

  “I do remember the person who spent their weekends editing my work,” I begin to explain, but stop to meet eyes with the waitress who finally decides to greet us.

  Eli ignores her, his stare once again pinning me to my seat as I fumble over my words to make up for his rudeness. Once we have our orders placed and she walks away with our menus, he finally speaks in my direction.

  “Is that what you call seven years of silence?”

  His words come out in a whisper, but the impact they have on my heart feels like they’ve been stabbed directly into my chest. My mouth opens to speak and nothing comes out. Funny, my entire career is centered around my ability to express myself through words, yet I’ve always been so weak in that department.

  “Exactly,” he mutters in self-assurance, thick fingers raking through his styled hair, leaving a spiky, aimless mess behind.

  Just as he has done to me.

  “Are we really doing this again, Eli? What do you want from me? Did you take me out to dinner so you could berate me more about the past? You weren’t perfectly innocent through it all either. In fact, most of it is your fault.”

  Once I find the courage to talk, the words pour out of my mouth like vomit, landing between us and fighting through the icy wall he built the moment we sat down. I hate how whiney I sound—an echo from the girl I was before, when no one bothered to listen and all I wanted to do was scream at the top of my lungs for all to hear. The people around us start to feel the tension radiating from our table, their eyes casting side
ways glances to pick up bits of the conversation.

  Eli doesn't care. He releases a loud, sarcastic chuckle, his eyes hitting everywhere in the room but on me. “That's convenient.”

  “Did you expect me to drop everything and stay in The Hollow with you?”

  “No,” he insists, leaning further into the table as we gained the attention of more people. “I wanted you to include me in your plans to leave.”

  “I couldn’t do that for someone who found it so easy to drop me the moment something better pranced along. I couldn’t risk my only ticket out for that.”

  "I never dropped you."

  I scoff at that, crossing my arms over my chest in a defiant pout. Is he really this disillusioned? "Big surprise. You can't acknowledge the truth for what it is," I spit, too angry to even look at him.

  “You're so infuriating. What do you want me to say? You were so far out of reach to everyone here and we all knew it. If I hadn't started living my own life, I would have ended up with no one. You pulled away before I ever even thought of it.”

  “That’s not true,” I defend, and Eli shoots me a doubtful look, his left brow raised in challenge.

  “Yes, it is. You thought any kind of relationship with the people here would anchor you to this place and stop you from getting out the way you always wanted, so you isolated yourself. You can’t be mad that no one stepped in your way. None of us could compete with your dreams.”

  My mouth opens in disbelief at his accusation. The truth is, he’s right. I did feel that way back then but only after years of being shown that was the only way.

  “So, that means everyone had to ostracize me? To act as if I didn’t even exist? Maybe I wouldn’t have hated it here so much if you people would have given me a chance.”

  “I tried to give you a chance.” His hands have found his hair again, nails scraping against his scalp in frustration.

  “No, Eli, you didn’t. You couldn’t even keep up with our friendship once your social status rose.”

  “That’s a lie. I’ve always tried to maintain our friendship because that was the only way you'd let me in, and then suddenly, even that was too much for you.”

  “I don't have time to go back and forth with you over this. I was there; I lived it. You fell for Marnie the day she twirled her hair and introduced us to you. Everyone else was invisible after that. Besides Emma.”

  “That's bullshit and you know it. Sure, I liked her in the same way everyone here always has. She's one of my closest friends. But I loved you, Mouse. I cared for you beyond anything I'd ever experienced before and all you could do was stick your nose in the air and pull away every time I came near you. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you to change your mind? We both know how impossible that is. I knew I had one last shot to get you, so I took it. And once again, you ran away.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, once you make your mind up about something, there's no turning back. You decided that I was too much of a risk for you, so you did everything in your power to push me away.”

  He's wrong. My entire teenagehood was centered around falling for the boy next door as he brought every other girl to her knees, his attention never truly directed toward me.

  “If that's true, then why did you let Emma and all your friends treat me so horribly? Why would you let them run me out of town if you so desperately wanted a chance? Why didn't you come back for the iPod? Why did you marry her if you were so in love with me?”

  Why are we arguing about a past that seems like eons ago?

  He sighs, a deep crease digging between furrowed brows. “I have no idea.”

  We let the silence blanket us for a few moments as the reality of our argument settles in. For the first time since my return, I let myself stare without regard to how it makes me look. I allow my eyes to roam his face the way I would before, noting the slight effects that time has had on him. Life has drained him, dragging down his happy features until they formed a permanent frown.

  For a fleeting second, I let myself believe him. I accept the possibility that this broken man may have actually pined for me before, the same way I had for him, and I was just too blind to see it.

  Would it have changed anything?

  I can tell he's struggling with his next words, considering whether or not he should say them before he subtly shakes his head and spits them out. "I didn't bring you here so we could argue. I've made up my mind already. You're leaving no matter what, and I can't stop you."

  "That's right."

  "But I'm going to make sure leaving is the hardest thing you've ever done. Yesterday was only a taste, Mouse. You have no idea what you've done by coming back."

  The waitress picks this moment to deliver our food, lingering a little too long in front of Eli to ask if there was anything else she could get him. I take the opportunity to let his promise sink in. His tone sends chills down my spine.

  Because I can tell he means every word.

  “I’m not looking for a second chance with you. I don't give a damn about whatever hang-ups you have back in your posh little life. If you stay, I'm taking what was mine to begin with and I'm going to make sure there's nothing left when I'm done.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “And if I say no?”

  He laughs. Actually laughs out loud, as if this is just a fun little joke. "You won't be saying no. You'll be begging for more."

  Chapter 17

  Eli

  I told her I didn’t want a second chance with her. Explained how I'm going to destroy her, and then have her begging for more. That once we're through, there won't be anything left of her to give to Brad or any other guy who steps into her path from here until infinity.

  And I will.

  I want to bend her mouthy little ass over the table and show her what a shitty hand I’ve been dealt over the past seven years while she ran off and lived her dream. How cruel reality is for those of us who aren’t capable of creating entire universes to escape into. I want to shatter her idea of romance and teach her that the things she writes about in her books—the happily ever afters she polishes each story with—are all bullshit.

  No one gets a happy ending, no matter how many she tries to write for herself.

  I had no intention of our night taking the direction it did. I planned an impressive dinner at one of the nicest restaurants this shitty state has to offer. Made reservations ahead of time and insisted they set us up in a quiet corner, just in case she was as uncomfortable in crowded rooms as she had been before.

  I wanted to make up for the fact that I got away from myself before issuing a proper warning. But something inside me snapped on the way over, when her annoying friend screeched into the phone about B-List Brad moving in with her. She tried to skate over the subject, and I knew it was on my account.

  Then, she hangs up and tells me—in complete wonder and disbelief—that her book is being made into a movie. As if she couldn’t comprehend the possibility that something so amazing could happen to her. That she could ever have the talent to achieve such a thing.

  The girl I once knew peeked out from the shadows and reared her familiar, insecure face.

  And something in my mind disconnected from the present and plugged into the past. In an instant, we were teenagers again and she was the completely unattainable little mouse wandering the town, while I was the stubborn cat chasing her around. I don’t think I need to explain what happened next.

  But I will.

  I acted like an asshole and she accepted it as if she had deserved that kind of treatment. Which pissed me off.

  Until she started mouthing back and that only pushed me further over the edge.

  It was irrational. Unprovoked. Unjust.

  But hey, that’s who I am now, right? The poor divorcee who’d lost everything in an instant and set his dreams on hold to take care of his crazy mother. I accused her of closing herself off and refusing to be tied down to the place that made her feel unwelc
ome her entire life as if it offended me, but the truth was that I was jealous of her ability to do so. Because I wasn’t strong enough for that and I ended up getting screwed over in the long run.

  “You’ve changed,” she mumbles from the passenger seat as we turn onto our street. When I look over, I notice that her head is down and she’s fumbling with her hands.

  “So did you, Mouse.”

  She has. But not in the negative way that my tone accused her of. She's changed in the best way possible. She set a target on the person she’d always wanted to be and took the shot.

  Guess what; she hit it, dead center. While I veered somewhere off into the woods, as far away from the target as possible.

  I don’t even have the truck in park before she's whipping her door open and walking toward her old front door. Walking. Not running, the way she would have in the past if I had hurt her this bad. No, the new Mouse sashays across the lawn as if to say, "Nice try, mother fucker, but you don’t get to watch me run away and cry anymore."

  That's okay. There will be plenty of time to prove my point to her later.

  “Where have you been all night, Bryan? Off with that woman? Eli has been asking for you,” my mother hisses from her chair when I walk through the front door.

  “It’s me, Ma. It’s Eli,” I give her a half-hearted smile, knowing she won’t be able to see past the illusions in her head. I used to fight them harder, but it only makes things worse for her.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m here all day with him while you’re off doing lord-knows-what. He needs a father, Bryan. I can’t raise the boy on my own…”

  I head into the kitchen and crack open a beer while she continues on her rant, taking the steps up to my room two at a time before I close the door on her. She’ll go on for the rest of the night now.

  For as long as I can remember, my father was a lying, cheating, useless piece of shit painted as a military hero. I used to get pissed when people told me how lucky I was to have such a brave role model who was willing to sacrifice time with his family to serve our country.