Delicate

by K. L. Cottrell

  After he lets me go, I answer, “Your girl is good.”

  “Splendid. How was work?” He steps back so we can walk into the house.

  “Also good! Busy, but that isn’t news for a Saturday. How are you? Mama said earlier that you’ve been working on a new table.”

  He hoots in excitement. “I sure have, and it’s a beauty! I’ll show it to you in a bit!”

  “Okay!”

  He picked up woodworking some time ago and has been excelling at it lately. The last few pieces he made really were beautiful. I can’t wait to see this table.

  ‘You’re unfairly and fantastically beautiful,’ zips through my mind.

  Hot on its heels is the flashing memory of Beckett’s serious, slightly wide gaze.

  My breathing is interrupted just a little, little bit.

  That happened, what, five hours ago? I’m still as struck by the echo of it as I was in the moment itself. It wasn’t a bad moment—the shock of his words was pleasant and sweet—but still, it hasn’t left me alone. It keeps coming back, whispering through me like a breeze through fallen leaves.

  I shake it off once more. I don’t have time to dwell on Beckett liking how I look.

  It isn’t a big deal or anything, I remind myself. I’ve known he was beautiful since the first time I saw him. Same as with Cliff. It’s one of the plain facts of life: people need oxygen to live, time waits for no man, and Beckett Slater is beautiful.

  What I need to think about right now is visiting with my parents and Theodora before they go to the trampoline park. What began as an afternoon together has turned into a sleepover plan, so I went home and packed a few things for her—mainly the stuffed animals she wants to show off to Grammie and Papaw. She stays the night over here often enough that they keep most essentials on hand.

  My dad and I find her in the kitchen with Mom.

  When they notice us, Theo holds up sticky-looking hands and exclaims, “Mommy, we’re making cookies!”

  “Ooh!” Smiling, I go over to inspect their progress. Ah, man, I’m hungry. “Oh, yum—chocolate chip?”

  “Mmhmm! With extra chocolate chips!”

  “Nice!” I bend down and smack a kiss onto her head, then step to the side and hug my mom’s shoulders. “Hi, Mama.”

  She turns her head and blows me an air-kiss. “Hi, sweet love. How are you? How was work?”

  I tell her what I told Dad, and then I hear a recap of their afternoon. She texted me pictures of this and that during the rest of my shift, so I know they had fun at the park and at a couple stores, but I still enjoy them telling me about it. Theo is especially happy to report that Mom bought her an ice cream after she ate the cheeseburger she wanted.

  I gasp in playful surprise. “It didn’t turn you into a snowgirl to eat ice cream and then go play outside in the cold?”

  “Nope!”

  “Wow! I can’t believe it!”

  She and my mom giggle.

  The latter brushes at her brown bangs with one wrist, then says, “Okay, I think it’s time to scoop some cookie dough! Noelle, honey, wanna grab that sheet pan over there?”

  I do that and then have fun watching the two of them portion out the dough and put it on the parchment-lined pan. Theo’s first few portions are hilariously small—apparently, they’re the appropriate size for stuffed animals. We manage to convince her to make regular-sized ones for the main pan and then set aside the small ones on a different pan.

  When they’re all ready to go, I take a picture of Mom and Theo holding their pans, grinning, slightly yet adorably messy.

  I think about sending it to Beckett because that’s something I would ordinarily do. Then my stomach flips because I’m recalling again what he said to me. Then as I’m trying to push that away for the hundredth time, a text notification pops up on my phone because he’s sent me a message. Then the stomach flip doubles instead of going away because his presence has doubled in my mind.

  Sighing, I blink a long blink.

  Being hungry is officially making me crazy.

  But honestly, okay, I get it: the reason his words affected me like they did is because they were new. He hasn’t been that kind of candid with me before. No, it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was different, and things that are different stick in the mind, at least for a little while. My responses to it make sense. After all, I didn’t miss the way he looked when he said it or when I gave the sentiment back; he knew how different it was too.

  Plus, you know, there’s the fact that I’ve never been described that way, period. Kind of hard to just forget about it.

  I see Mom and Theo have traded being cookie models for getting the pans in the oven. Finally feeling a bit more settled, I deal with the text message.

  BECKETT: Are you at home?

  ME: No, not yet. Theo decided to stay at my parents’ house tonight, so I brought her stuffed animals to her

  Out of nowhere, worry spikes through me.

  ME: Why? Are you okay?

  Does he need my help with something? Was the cookout a bad idea?

  Then, before I can quiet it, my worry goes even further—to an older, deeper place.

  Beckett’s dad can’t bother him anymore since he’s no longer alive, but his mom could if she had the mind to. She hasn’t tried in years, possibly because her husband was the bigger source of hatred and violence; I always wondered if she would be a different person outside of his shadow. But even though she has been as silent as Cliff’s parents have, the fact that she’s still around has to be in the back of Beckett’s mind.

  She better not be harassing him, I think with a swell of anger. She better not be. I never got the chance to tell Mr. Slater what I thought about him, but if that woman tries to hurt Beckett again in any way, I—

  The vibration of a new message catches my attention.

  BECKETT: Yeah, I’m great! Just wanted to bring you something :)

  My anticipatory protectiveness abates. Relief takes its place.

  And then amusement trickles in.

  He wants to bring me something?

  It’s a grilled hot dog.

  I just know it—I know it. I can feel it in my heart and in my stomach.

  ME: Oh, okay :) I’ll probably be there in half an hour or so. My parents and Theo are leaving for the trampoline park soon

  BECKETT: Aw, what, I wanna go

  ME: I bet you do

  BECKETT: Well, yeah, I gotta work on my superhero flips and whatnot

  “All right, share the joke with the class,” comes from behind me.

  I turn and look up at my dad. Belatedly, I notice I’ve been giggling to myself.

  “Beckett is so silly,” I answer.

  He grins. “Yeah, he is. Good guy. What’s he up to?”

  I don’t mention the superhero thing, but I let him in on my suspicion about the food surprise. He agrees that that sounds like something Beckett would do. Then my mom chimes in with the story of how he tricked me into slapping myself in the forehead earlier, which is funnier than before, somehow. Even Theo teases me about it now.

  “When are we all gonna sit down and have dinner again?” Mom asks. “It’s been too long.”

  Theo gasps. “Today!”

  That makes us laugh.

  My dad says, “Naw, little one, not today. Too short-notice.”

  “We can do it!” she insists. “Pleeeease? Please? I want to!”

  “Theo, love,” I interject more firmly, “I’m sorry, but the answer is no for now.”

  She huffs in disappointment.

  “It’ll be okay,” I assure her with another little laugh.

  My mom tells me, “Well, you just let us know when a good night is. He’ll probably need to check with his girlfriend.” She squints. “I sure can’t ever recall her name.”

  “It was Jenna,” I say. “I mean, it is Jenna—nothing happened to her or anything. Her name is still Jenna. But Beckett isn’t with her anymore.”

  She raises her eyebrows, and my dad as
ks, “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Even though I still feel a bit bad about me and Theo being such a big part of their breakup, I have to smile at how his happy, playful nature hasn’t taken a hit whatsoever. Such a relief; I hate to even think about him being hurt, much less see it.

  “How’s he doing with that?” Mom asks. “He feeling all right?”

  I nod and assure her, “Totally fine. Better than before, really, it seems like.”

  “Huh,” Dad murmurs.

  I tilt my head at him, curious.

  He crosses his arms. “They were together for some time, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah, several months.”

  “Huh,” he repeats. After a moment, he gives a blithe shrug. “Well, I’m glad he quit bothering with a relationship that he wasn’t his best self in!”

  “So am I!” my mom agrees. “Sometimes it takes a while to figure out what you want, but what matters is that you figure it out.”

  I smile and agree, too, “Yeah,” before pointing at my dad. “It took you a million years to realize you were interested in woodworking.”

  He claps his hands together. “Woo! Sure did! Hey, you wanna see this table?”

  “Yes!”

  All four of us go out to his shed. Theo oohs-and-ahhs over the table with me, but then she prances out into the yard to play on the swing set. I listen, impressed, as Dad talks about his plans to stain the table a glossy dark brown once he has added to the decorative carvings along the edges. Right now, they’re simple flourishes, but he thinks he can fancy them up without much trouble.

  “Just time and patience,” he says, hands on his hips, looking pleased.

  My mom rubs affectionately at his arm. “It’s gonna look gorgeous.”

  I nod. “It is. I love it, Daddy—absolutely love it. Awesome job so far.”

  He beams at me, and so does Mom.

  “We absolutely love you,” she tells me warmly.

  One of Dad’s arms goes around her and the other opens to me.

  I shuffle into the hug. “I love you both.”

  He hums contentedly, and she finds a way to pat my back. Then he calls in a hearty boom, “Theo! Come back in here for this hug!”

  Momentarily, my girl is racing back into the shed. She barrels into us with a squeak, and we get her in the hug with us.

  Wonderful.

  It’d be even better if Beck were here.

  Sadness twinges in me for the umpteenth time over how he didn’t know what loving parents looked like until he met mine.

  At least he does have their love now, though, even if it’s only in spirit a lot of the time.

  We really should make a dinner plan soon. That would be fun. And I could show off my improved kitchen knife skills.

  “Mommy,” Theo says, tilting her head back and propping her chin on my hip, “will you come push me on the swing?”

  I take her ponytail in my fingers, flop it forward, and tickle her face with it. She titters and wiggles out of the hug.

  “I sure will,” I answer, “but only for a minute. Gotta check the cookies soon, and y’all are gonna go jump on the trampolines!”

  “Yay!” She bounds away.

  My parents and I step out of the hug, too, and Mom says, “I better check the cookies now, actually. Her little tiny ones will crisp up fast if we aren’t careful.”

  She’s right about that, so she goes back to the house. My dad and I head for the swing set so I can push Theo—and so he can tell her stories about my childhood. He starts with the one in which I gracefully soared out of my swing mid-air and landed straight in the ant pile I was sure I would sail over.

  I groan. “I swear I can still feel those ant bites!”

  Theo gasps. “You can? Do you need the itchy cream?”

  Even while Dad and I laugh about that, I have to admire how sweet my child is.

  She’s sweeter than her own dad, for sure—Cliff laughed his ass off when I told him that story.

  I don’t think Beckett has heard it yet. Maybe I’ll tell him later and see how he reacts. Find out once and for all who my real friends are around here.

  Then again, my so-sweet child did tease me about Uncle Beck’s fly prank….

  Grinning, I shake my head and sigh.

  What can you do, right?

  —

  I get back home with my heart warm from seeing my parents and knowing Theo will have a great night with them.

  It just about catches on fire when Beckett shows up with a wrapped plate of three grilled hot dogs, half-charred, just the way I like them.

  Laughing, I nearly shout, “I knew it! I knew that’s what you were bringing!”

  “What!” he exclaims on his own laugh. “I wasn’t sneaky enough, huh?”

  “You were not. I know you too well.” I take the plate in one hand and throw a hug around his neck with my other arm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  He catches me up in a much better squeeze than what I’ve managed to give him. “Well, of course. When Beckett’s favorite person is happy, Beckett is happy.”

  Okay, my heart is on fire.

  I turn my head and plant a firm kiss on his cheek.

  My lips are the first to know about his grin, and it makes me so warmly happy that my own cheeks feel pink. It’s like I spent longer than those few moments laughing with him, or like I’ve had the sun beating straight down on me.

  I tell him, “You and Theo are tied for my favorite person.”

  “I’ll take it,” he promptly accepts.

  Chuckling, we unravel our hug and shuffle back from each other. His eyes meet mine, and they make him even more fantastically beautiful than before—not because their color is that of the ocean he is to me, but because they’re weightless. They’re open windows to this mood he’s in with me.

  “I’m starving,” I say. “Are you?”

  “I am,” he confirms. He thinks for a second, then points at my plate. “I know you’re excited about those hot dogs, but maybe we could go out somewhere?”

  That would be fun. I hadn’t known what I might do on this night without Theo—sounds about right that I’d end up spending it with Beckett. “Okay. Give me just a minute.”

  “Sure!”

  After I’ve refrigerated the food, I visit the bathroom attached to my bedroom, just in case Beckett decides he needs the guest one. Upon catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, I’m touched once again by that sweet, pleasant shock from this afternoon, when he complimented me.

  I’m not as put-together as I was before work, but I still…I feel beautiful right now.

  Not fantastically so, of course—how does he even think that? But I do love the color of my sweater, and my cheeks really are pink. And best of all, my eyes are as weightless as Beckett’s. They’re showing off my own mood.

  I don’t adjust a thing. Don’t even straighten up the messy knot I’ve got my hair pulled into. I just finish up in the bathroom and go back to the front hall.

  Beckett is where I left him, chewing absently on the tip of his thumb, his other arm crossed over his chest. He perks up and smiles when he sees me.

  “Ready to go?” he asks. “And where do you wanna go?”

  I sling on my purse. “Ready, and I would love to go wherever you want.”

  “Ooh.” He opens the door, his eyebrows lifting with interest. “Wherever I want.”

  “Mmhmm. I’ll eat off the value menu at Wendy’s as happily as I’ll eat a steak. Whatever.” I start stepping outside, but I pause in passing him so I can fix where one lapel of his coat is goofily sticking up. “When Noelle’s tied-for-favorite person is happy, Noelle is happy.”

  He tries to look contemplative, but he can’t keep playfulness out of those eyes. “My, what a sentiment. Where might you have gotten the idea to say such a sweet thing?”

  I press my lips together against a smile so I can attempt seriousness. “Oh, I came up with it all by myself. Didn’t Theo tell you the other day that she has
a really strong brain? She got it from me.”

  “Ah. It all makes sense.”

  “Yep.” We’re finally outside, so I turn and lock the door. “Feel free to use the sentiment all you want, though. You have my permission.”

  “Wow,” he exhales in pretend-awe. “You are as generous as you are original.”

  And that’s the one that cracks us up.

  We end up at Outback Steakhouse. The wait for a table is about half an hour, which our stomachs groan about, and the lobby area is crowded since it’s so cold outside, which isn’t terribly comfortable. But the cramped space does put me and Beckett close together, and I’m never uncomfortable with that. In fact, it makes me feel better about having so many other people nearby—he’s the safe bubble I can always find fresh air in. Plus, it makes holding a time-killing conversation easier.

  As usual, we catch each other up on our days, keeping our voices just under the noise and chatter of the people around us.

  “I had fun at the cookout,” he tells me, “but every now and then, it did feel weird. And that made me sad or something, a little bit. I didn’t wanna feel weird around nice people, but sometimes it was hard not to because they were nice. Cliff was my only friend for so long, and I didn’t wanna….” He frowns. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah,” I reply gently, “I do.”

  That’s the same way I feel about not having Cliff here anymore.

  I lift my shoulders. “It’s like what we talked about recently. Sometimes it doesn’t seem right to have fun or find balance or move on in any way, because the idea of being okay without him can feel so…so….”

  As his eyes hold mine, he nods.

  “Insensitive,” he murmurs. “Like we’re acting as if we didn’t lose something huge. As if we can just put him out of our minds and go on with our lives and be fine.”

  I nod, too, and murmur back, “Exactly.”