Delicate

by K. L. Cottrell

  “Oh!” hits the air from both guys at the same time, startling us. The music in the game takes on what sounds like a triumphant tune.

  “Finally!” Cliff says. “Whew!”

  Theo gives a, “Woo!” of her own, her attention now on him. “Dada, Dada, Dada!”

  It makes the rest of us laugh.

  “Aw, thank you, baby girl!” he tells her cheerfully. “Being your Dada is the best thing I’ve ever done, and you’re the most special cheerleader in the world! I love you so much!”

  She still doesn’t have the hang of eloquently forming her own I-love-yous, but this one is as heart-melting to us as all her other attempts.

  I ask Cliff, “Did you win?”

  “Not the whole game, just that boss! He was annoying, but I got him in the end.” He turns to Beckett, and they do their guy-hand-slap thing. “But I couldn’t have done it without Beck!”

  Beckett chortles. “Yeah, you could have! My backseat driving wasn’t that valuable. Plus, you know there are guides all over the internet for if you get stuck.”

  That last part has me chortling too. I’d have to seek such assistance right away if I ever tried to play a game as complicated as this one.

  Cliff is denying it for himself, though. “Guides? Psh. Figuring this shit out together is the old school way. Your backseat driving is appreciated.”

  “Aw,” I murmur. That’s so sweet.

  Beckett looks a touch bashful as he and Cliff stand from the couch. “I guess it is, huh?”

  I know he’s talking about the old-school thing, not about their friendship being sweet, but it still makes me smile to myself.

  Cliff shuffles over to us girls.

  “And how are the holders of my heart doing?” Eyes shining, he kneels and gently strokes at the back of Theo’s wispy golden hair. “Winning at being spectacular?”

  Lord, the way he looks at her.

  It’s even more marvelous than the enamored way he has always looked at me.

  You hold our hearts too, I think at him.

  Out loud, I say, “Well, she’s winning at being spectacular. Noelle is winning at being tired and—”

  On cue, the oven timer starts beeping from the kitchen.

  Cliff and Beckett both supply, “Hungry?”

  “Yep.” My knees ache as I get to my feet, making me groan. “Y’all ready to eat?”

  Two hearty yeses come back to me.

  Cliff says, “Babe, I’ll grab the hot food out of the oven if you’ll get dishes. Beck, wanna bring Theo to her highchair?”

  Beckett’s gasp is as light and happy as it always is when he gets to hold her. Baby talk is well on its way, I know; he absolutely loves her and doesn’t mind showing it.

  Sure enough, as he comes to pick her up, he starts in with a honey-sweet tone. “Of course! Of course I’ll bring her to her chair! Come on, The-o-dor-a, it’s time to zoom over to the dinner table!”

  He sweeps her up with a silly airplane noise, and it brings a giggle out of her, which makes me giggle. My precious girl.

  In the kitchen, I find Cliff humming longingly at the baked alfredo pasta he’s pulling from the oven.

  He says, “I love this stuff, Noelle!”

  “Me too,” Beckett chimes in. “Thanks for making it for us. I know Theo would love it, too, if she could eat it.”

  “For sure!”

  In fact, the boys love it so much that as soon as we’re all seated around the small table, their goofy asses start digging into the food even though it’s steaming on their plates.

  “Be careful,” I warn.

  It does no good, of course, and they’re instantly trying to chew and breathe through the discomfort at the same time.

  In her highchair next to me, Theo is concerned with the bowl of mashed potatoes she has, but I still tsk at her. “My love, what are we gonna do with your daddy and Uncle Beck?”

  The guys laugh, then cough, their expressions showing off how painful it is to swallow their hot bites of food.

  These two. I swear. I shake my head at them.

  “Take it as a compliment,” Beckett tries and fails to tell me casually.

  “I do, but y’all are still crazy.”

  Cliff nods fervently.

  Now I snicker. “You agree you’re crazy?”

  He keeps nodding as he reaches for his glass of water, but he winks at me.

  Beckett decides, “Yeah, I’m gonna let mine cool for a minute like Smart Stuff Ellie over there.”

  “Ooh, Smart Stuff Ellie,” Cliff teases.

  That has them laughing together once more, especially when I click my tongue and shake my head again.

  Up through the sound comes the ring of a cell phone. Beckett digs his out from his pocket and looks at the screen—and his expression stutters into nervousness.

  Cliff sees it just like I do.

  With fading amusement, he asks, “Who is it?”

  Beckett silences the ringing, then sets the phone down on the table. “Unfamiliar number. Probably spam or something.”

  But as the seconds pass, his glances toward it give away how part of him fears that’s not true.

  His parents. He’s worried they’ve found his new phone number somehow.

  Familiar anger roils up in me at the thought. He changed his number not too long ago in an attempt to further separate himself from them, and it may not be likely that they’ve discovered the new one, but it certainly isn’t impossible. None of us are sure whether their connections inside the police force could be helpful to them on that front.

  Cliff’s tone goes calm. “Yeah, it’s all right. It probably is spam.”

  Beckett nods. He wants to believe his friend and himself, and I know that in a big way, he does. But—

  “And if it isn’t?” he mumbles.

  Cliff’s eyes soften as he watches Beckett scoot his pasta around with his fork.

  After a long few moments, he turns back to his own plate.

  “Then you do the only thing you can do,” he replies steadily. “Either go back to blocking wherever they’re calling from or change your number again, and then keep going forward with your life. It’ll be shit if it turns out they’re still bothering you, but it can’t stay that way forever. You’re getting away, Beck. You’re doing great. Keep it up no matter what they try.”

  The only sounds are those of their forks lightly scraping their plates, Theo smacking her mashed potatoes off her baby spoon, and all of us breathing in the silence.

  Then Beckett shifts in his seat. “I can’t believe I’m grown and still nervous about….” He clears his throat and frowns. “I—I can’t believe I’m grown and scared of…. It makes me feel so stupid.”

  Just like that, Cliff’s fork is down and he’s facing Beckett again, reaching out, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  My heart thumps a little harder at the intense compassion in his expression and at the flickering shame in Beckett’s.

  “None of that, man,” Cliff refuses. “You got nothing to be embarrassed or upset with yourself about. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  Beckett swallows hard. “I’m twenty-four and my good mood with my best friends just plummeted because of the tiny possibility of—”

  “Of being harassed yet again by the people who’ve made your life hell since you were born.” Cliff scoffs, but the sound is warm. “That’s natural, not stupid. I was always anxious about hearing from my parents, too, because their behavior trained me to instantly put my guard up any time they opened their mouths. The same thing has happened to you, only worse thanks to how horrible your folks are. That’s not easy to shake. Like I said, you’re doing great.”

  I realize I’m nodding my fierce agreement.

  He takes his hand back from Beckett’s shoulder, but his attention doesn’t waver.

  “Go easy on yourself,” he says.

  Theo interjects some indecipherable babbling, her voice high-pitched and cute, which has Beckett smiling a little. After a moment, his s
houlders relax. He finally blinks his gaze up to Cliff, then to me, then back to him.

  “Yeah, you’re right about…all that,” he concedes. “I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head and fix Theo’s tipped-over sippy cup while Cliff responds out loud. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re good.”

  Beckett says, “Thanks, brother,” more quietly.

  More calmly.

  Once again, Cliff has helped him.

  “You know it, brother,” he returns easily.

  I love that so much. Cliff is always there to help Beckett no matter what the trouble is. He never thinks his friend is weak or being dramatic.

  And I happen to know how much he appreciates that Beckett has never stopped being equally supportive of him right back.

  Indeed, after Beckett excuses himself to the restroom, Cliff turns affectionate yet sad green eyes on me. “God, Noelle, I hope someday he’ll internalize the truth about how completely okay he is.”

  I nod, listen to Theo chatter some more, watch him drum his fingertips on the table.

  “He’s better than he thinks he is,” he says, “and I hope one day he’ll realize it. It’s clear he’s getting stronger, right?”

  I nod again. “Absolutely. You guys’ friendship has made each of you better even just since I met you. And I know you’ve both come even farther than I can fully comprehend.”

  He smiles a little, then scratches his fingers into his hair.

  “Kills me to see him struggling. Always has, ‘cause I never had a true friend until I met him, you know? We just got each other. He had it worse in life than I did, but we still understood each other, and he still did something for me that nobody had before: he gave me a chance. He didn’t demand anything of me, just let me breathe, and he liked me for who I was. Babe, I can’t tell you how it felt every new time we hung out and I learned a little bit more that I didn’t have to be afraid of him turning on me. Can’t tell you how it felt when I realized I finally had someone who would never let me down—someone I could really trust.”

  He may not be able to tell me, but I swear I can feel the nearly painful relief of it for myself.

  His gaze goes in the direction Beckett went, eyes narrowing pensively.

  “He’s smart and so genuine. Cool as hell. Truly my blood, it feels like. He was always there for me no matter what my own parents said or did. And he really is tough to have weathered all he’s been through. I’m proud to know him—his parents have literally told him before that they wished they had a son who made them proud, but they’re fools. I’m proud of him. I know he believes me when I tell him so, and I can’t wait for the day he believes it in his own head. He deserves that peace. He has been the best friend to me.”

  My throat aches over the sincerity in his tone, his words. Aches over the fleeting memories of tales I’ve heard about Cliff helping with injuries of all kinds, Beckett siding with him when Mr. Cavill was tearing him down, both of them getting through long days and unfair trials by relying on camaraderie and their built-up hope for a better future.

  Softly, I say, “Yeah, he’s a fighter even when he doesn’t feel like it, and he’ll get to that steady place someday. He’s well on his way. But I’m also so proud of you, Cliff. You decided you wanted to be happy, and you went for it, and you didn’t lose who you were along the way. I can’t wait to watch you teach our daughter to be caring and positive too. We all love you so much.”

  His lips close into half a smile, and he laughs quietly behind it, just once. His eyes find me again.

  “Yeah, this is what it’s all about,” he murmurs. “My girls and my best friend.”

  I return the smile, then ask, “So you’ve told Beckett he’s as much of an inspiration to you as you are to him?”

  “I think so.” He shrugs. “Maybe not in so many words.”

  “Well, make sure you do, because I think that’s really important.”

  He nods and starts to reply—but Theo lets out a sudden shriek of glee that, upon looking over at her, we see has something to do with the mashed potatoes she’s smushing into her hair.

  “Oh, God!” he laughs out. “Bath time is gonna be fun for you, Noelle!”

  I gasp. “For me? That’s got ‘daddy duty’ written all over it!”

  “Does it?”

  We debate it until Beckett comes back.

  Beckett, who sides with me.

  “Noelle cooked this dinner!” he insists. Chuckling, he points his fork at Cliff. “Sorry, dude, but that means you’re in charge of cleanup. Nothing you can do about it unless you’re a time traveler and you can go back and do the cooking. And I suspect that’s a no since your hallway carpet is still purple from the nail polish you made her drop last weekend. You would’ve fixed that already.” His laughter grows.

  So does Cliff’s. He thought it would be romantic to surprise me with a sweeping, spontaneous kiss, but the real surprise came from my open bottle of nail polish ending up on the floor.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, yeah, y’all got me. I’m in charge of cleanup!”

  Laughing, too, I lean toward him for a kiss, and he mirrors me without hesitation.

  After our smooch, he tells me, “I’ll let you in on a secret, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I already planned on handling bath time since I know you got up extra early with Theo today. I just like how cute it is when you get all surprised at me.”

  I have to admit that tracks. He has been at my side every single day since we learned I was pregnant. He has fallen in love with Theo with me, learned with me, celebrated with me, stood with me. Parenting isn’t easy, but we’re figuring it out together, and he is wonderful to both of us.

  ‘I’m gonna be so much better to you than my dad was to me.’

  He has told her that time and time again. Whether she was still in the womb or being held in his arms, whether he was imagining the future or soothing her late-night cries, his promise stayed the same. In fact, he made it to her again just yesterday; the three of us were playing on the living room floor with her colorful xylophone, and the tune he tapped out made her smile, which made him smile in the huge way only she knows how to achieve.

  He has kept his promise to her, and I know he always will.

  All I know to give to him is a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

  He replies, “It’s my pleasure,” and his tone matches mine.

  Beckett says, “You guys are the best damn people I know.”

  With sunny smiles, Cliff and I lean back into our chairs. He points a finger-gun at his friend. “You’re the best damn people we know.”

  I wait for him to tack on some of what we were talking about a minute ago, but he doesn’t. He and Beckett are already stuffing their mouths with the baked alfredo pasta now that it has cooled off a bit.

  It’s okay, though. He’ll tell him in his own time…though maybe I’ll remind him again soon.

  For now, I tend to my rumbling stomach.

  Shortly, Cliff asks, “So, you ready for that job interview?”

  “Mmhmm.” Beckett swallows his bite of food. “At the medical center, yeah. It’s on Monday. I’m really hoping my degree and certifications help me out even though I don’t have the experience they’re looking for. That job is a really good one, and I would like kind of being part of that community, you know? I would feel like I was helping people somehow.”

  Cliff nods. “You would be ‘cause companies rely on technology and computers and the internet and everything. For you to help keep everything running for a place like that would be seriously awesome.” He forks up some more pasta. “I’ve got a good feeling about your interview. I bet important companies like to specially train their own employees. Help them get to know how specific things work in their system or whatever. I bet they’ll wave off your inexperience and welcome you and your education right aboard.”

  Beckett perks up a bit. “Hey, good point about the training! You’re right. Maybe I’ve got a g
ood chance at impressing them.”

  I can feel Cliff’s heart getting ready to shine through once more.

  Indeed, he says simply yet firmly, “I believe in you,” and it rings with truth.

  As I savor my food, I smile at Theodora’s ever-growing mess and at how I can also feel something else: Beckett’s belief in Cliff. It’s all over him, even the way he sits up straighter in his chair.

  I’m so glad they have each other.

  Neither would be who they are right now without the other.

  While I listen to them start talking about the Final Fantasy game again, I notice Beckett hasn’t received any more phone calls. Since we know how relentless his parents can get, I think it’s a fair sign that the first call really was random and unimportant.

  I’m glad about that too.

  Not only does it bode well for us getting back to our fun Saturday night, but it’s true: he really does deserve to feel at peace.

  - 9 -

  B E C K E T T

  now

  As the days pass, my Saturday night with Noelle sticks in my mind.

  Resurfaces in my smiles.

  Tingles in my fingertips.

  Echoes in my chest.

  Funny how she’s every bit as special a friend to me as Cliff was, just in different ways.

  I can’t quit thinking about her saying I’m her ocean. Or about how merrily she laughed during our gaming. Or about how long our goodbye hug lasted, because there haven’t been too many moments in my life when being locked in one place felt good, but that was one of them; in many ways, I daresay it was the greatest one.

  Every time I think about those things and more—every time I think about Noelle—I just feel damn good.

  It has made the times we’ve spoken and seen each other since then feel greater than usual too. Four days have gone by, and the way that whole evening went is lingering like embers from a fire, illuminating and warming everything else, no matter how bright or comfortable anything already is. Laughs feel fuller. Moments of quietude feel deeper. Looks feel more open.

  Like the happy-heart gazes we kept sharing over FaceTime on Monday night, during the bedtime story Theodora insisted they read to me before she went to sleep. And last night, Noelle casually finger-combed my hair back after I met the two of them at the theater for a cheap kid’s movie and she noticed the attitude the wind had taken with me in the parking lot.