Table of Contents 8 страница

“A lot can be said about a person through their taste in music. Pretty sure I read that in one of the books you gave me. If you would have picked a band I hated, it would have been a major turnoff.”

“Well, you might still hate them once you listen to them, so we aren’t in the clear yet.”

“In that case, I’ll never listen to them, ” he says confidently.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

“What’s your favorite lyric by them? ” he asks.

“It changes depending on my mood.”

“Well then, what’s your favorite lyric right now? ”

I close my eyes briefly and hum one of the songs in my head until I get to the lyric that fits this moment. I open my eyes and smile. “You’re so gorgeous, ’cause you make me feel gorgeous.”

A faint smile works its way across his mouth. “I like that, ” he says, brushing his thumb across the skin of my waist. We stare at each other for a while. I can see the rise of his chest becoming more prominent, and knowing he’s getting worked up despite having a needle piercing his skin makes me feel a little triumphant.

I think about maybe just leaning forward and giving him a small peck on the mouth, but before I can, the tattoo artist says, “Done! ”

I slide off his lap and we look at the finished product before it’s bandaged up. It turned out great, but I still don’t know what prompted it or why he needed it tonight, but I’m glad I got to be here with him while he had it done.

He stands up and pulls his wallet out of his pocket to tip the guy. When he takes my hand in his to walk me to his car, every step I take grows heavier and heavier, because I know with each step, we’re closer to another goodbye.

On our drive to the airport, I’m on edge the entire way. I keep asking myself if this new urge to not want to get on that plane to go back to New York is a result of my feelings for Ben or for New York.

I know I told him at the beach that I’m happy in New York, but I’m still almost as unhappy there as I was here. I just don’t want him to know that. I’m hoping my involvement in the community theater will help me make a few more friends. After all, it’s only been one year. But it’s been a tough year. And as much as I tried to stick with the homework he gave me, going on audition after audition is exhausting when all I get are rejections. It makes me wonder if my father is right. I might be dreaming too big. And despite Ben having given me a lot of my confidence back, it doesn’t make an industry built on looks any less shallow.

And Broadway is so far out of my reach it’s laughable. The amount of people who show up for auditions makes me feel like a small ant in a massive colony. The only chance I probably have of standing out is if the role requires someone who actually has facial scars. And so far, I haven’t gotten that lucky.

“Do you need another dramatic airport scene? ” he asks as we approach the terminal.

I laugh and tell him absolutely not, so he parks in the parking garage this time. Before we walk inside the airport, he pulls me to him. I can see sadness in his eyes and I know without a doubt he can see in my expression how much I don’t want to say goodbye. He trails the backs of his fingers down my cheek and I shiver.

“I’ll come to New York next year. Where do you want to meet? ”

“In Brooklyn, ” I tell him. “That’s where I live. I want to show you around my neighborhood and there’s this really great tapas restaurant you have to try.” I type the address to one of my favorite restaurants into his phone. I also type in the date and time, not that it’s easily forgotten. I hand it back to him.

He slides the phone in his back pocket and pulls me in for another hug. We hold the hug for at least two solid minutes, neither of us wanting to let go. His hand is cradled around the back of my head and I try to memorize how his hand feels there. I try to memorize how he smells just like the beach where we spent over three hours together tonight. I try to memorize how my mouth rests right at the height of his neck, as though his shoulders were made for me to rest my head on them.

I lean into him and kiss his neck. A soft peck and nothing more. He lifts my head off his shoulder, tilting my face up to his, scrolling over my features. “I thought I was tougher than a word, ” he says. “But I just discovered that having to say goodbye to you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

I want to say, “Then beg me to stay, ” but his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me, hard. He’s saying goodbye with the way his lips move over mine, the way his hands caress my cheeks, the way his mouth moves to my forehead and presses one single, gentle kiss right in the center of it before he releases me. He practically pushes away from me, as if putting distance between us will make this any easier. He walks backward until he’s at the edge of the curb, and all my words are lodged in my throat, so I press my lips tightly together and try not to let them loose. We stare at each other for several seconds, the pain in this goodbye evident in the air between us. And then he turns and jogs back toward the parking garage.

And I try not to cry, because that would be silly.

Right?

• • •

I’ve never liked window seats, so when I hear the woman in the aisle seat say something to the affect of hating aisle seats, I offer her mine.

I’m not scared of flying unless I’m looking out the window. And if I’m in a window seat, I feel I’m taking it for granted if I don’t look out the window. And then I spend the entire flight staring at the world below us and it makes me panic more than if I just don’t put myself in that position.

I set my purse beneath the seat in front of me and try to get comfortable. I’m relieved Ben is coming to New York next year because the flight from L.A. to New York is one of my least favorite things.

I close my eyes and hope I can get a few hours of sleep. I won’t have time to sleep before rehearsals tomorrow, and I would just sleep in, but tomorrow is opening day and I have to be there for the last rehearsal.

“Hey.”

I hear Ben’s voice and smile, because that means I’m definitely going to sleep just fine if I’m already confusing reality with dreams.

“Fallon.”

My eyes flick open. I look up to see Ben standing next to me. What in the ever loving hell?

I look at his hand and he’s holding a plane ticket.

I sit up straight. “What are you doing? ”

Someone is trying to squeeze past him, so he moves to where he’s standing as close to me as he can get. When the man passes, Ben kneels down. “I forgot to give you homework for this year.” He hands me a folded sheet of paper. “I had to buy a plane ticket in order to get it to you before you took off, so that means you have to follow through with it or I’m out a lot of money for naught. And who actually says naught? Anyway. That’s all. Totally not an alpha-move, but whatever.”

I look at the paper in my hands and then back up at him. Did he seriously buy a plane ticket just to give me homework?

“You’re insane.”

He grins, but then has to stand again to let someone else pass. A flight attendant tells him he needs to clear the aisle and take his seat. He winks at me. “I better go before I get stuck on the plane.” He leans down and gives me a small peck on the lips.

I try to hide the flicker of sadness I know is evident in my eyes. I force a smile just before he turns and makes his way toward the exit. A flight attendant intercepts him and asks why he’s not in his seat. He mutters something about a family emergency, so she allows him to pass, but right before he’s out of my line of sight, he turns around and winks.

And then he’s gone.

Did that really just happen?

I look down at the paper in my hands and I’m nervous to even open it, wondering what homework assignment could possibly be worth the purchase of a plane ticket.

Fallon,

I lied. Kind of. I don’t have a lot of homework for you because I think you’re doing a good job at adulting. I mostly wanted to give you this letter because I wanted to thank you for showing up today. I forgot to thank you earlier. It sucks that you have to go a day without sleep, but it means a lot that you sacrificed that sleep to follow through with our arrangement. I’ll make it up to you next year, I promise. As for this year, there’s only one thing I want you to do.

Go visit your father.

I know, I know. He’s an asshole. But he’s the only father you have, and when you told me you haven’t spoken to him since last year, I couldn’t help but feel at fault for that. I feel guilty for the fight you guys got into because my butting in didn’t help matters. I should have stayed out of it, but had I stayed out of it, I wouldn’t have had the privilege of finding out what kind of panties you had on. So I guess I’m saying I don’t really regret butting in, but I do feel bad that maybe your relationship with your father wouldn’t be so strained had I just minded my own business. So for that, I think maybe you should give him another chance.

When I realized I forgot to ask you to do this one small thing, it was worth the $400 plane ticket I just had to buy. So don’t let me down, okay? Call him tomorrow. For me.

Next year, I want all the hours of November 9th I can get with you. Let’s meet an hour earlier and I’ll stay until midnight.

In the meantime, I hope you still get laughed at.

Ben

I read the note through again before folding it. I’m happy he’s no longer on the plane, because the smile on my face is embarrassing.

I can’t believe he just did that. And I can’t believe I’m going to suck it up and call my father tomorrow simply because Ben asked me to.

But even more than that, I’m in shock he spent that much money on a plane ticket just to give me this letter. That seems like more of a grand gesture than an inconsequential moment. And I love it just as much, if not more than the inconsequential things he does.

Maybe I don’t know the first thing about falling in love, because I’ve been telling myself I’m not falling for him yet. That it’s too soon.

But it’s not. What’s happening inside my heart right now is way too consequential to deny. I think I’ve been misjudging the whole concept of insta-love. Now if I can just figure out how we can finish these next few years with a happy ending.

Third November

9th

She “loved me” in quotations

She kissed me in bold

I TRIED TO KEEP HER in all caps

She left with an ellipsis...

—BENTON JAMES KESSLER

Fallon

I brought a notebook to the restaurant with me.

It’s a little embarrassing, but so much has happened this year, I started taking notes back in January. I’m also a neat freak, so Ben is lucky in that regard. He won’t have to do much research on me, because it’s all here. All four guys I went out with, all the auditions I went on, the fact that I’m speaking to my father again, the four callbacks I received, the one (very small) role I actually landed in an off-Broadway play. And how as excited as I was about it, I miss the community theater more than I expected to. Maybe because I enjoyed everyone wanting my advice. Now that I’ve got a small role in a slightly larger production, it feels different. Everyone is trying to climb their way to the top and they’ll crawl over anyone to get there. There are a lot of competitive people in this world, and I’ve discovered I’m not really one of them. But today I’m not going to dwell on what is or isn’t going right in my life, because today is all about Ben and me.

I have our entire day mapped out. After we eat breakfast, we’re doing typical touristy things. I’ve lived in New York for two years now and I’ve still never been to the Empire State Building. After lunch, though, is the part I’m the most excited about. I was walking past an art studio a couple of weeks ago and noticed a flyer for an event called “The life and death of Dylan Thomas. But mostly the death.” He’s brought up Dylan Thomas’s name a couple of times, so I know he likes his work. And the fact that the event takes place in that studio today of all days isn’t nearly as fascinating as what else I learned from the flyer.

Dylan Thomas died in New York City in 1953.

On November 9th.

What are the odds? I had to Google that information just to make sure it was right. It is. And I have no idea if Ben even knows that about Dylan Thomas. I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t so I can see the look on his face when I tell him.

“Are you Fallon? ”

I look up at the waitress. She’s the same waitress who has refilled my Diet Pepsi twice. But this time she has an apologetic look about her... and a phone in her hands.

My heart sinks.

Please just let him be late. Please don’t let him be calling me because he isn’t coming today.

I nod. “Yeah.”

She pushes the phone at me. “He says it’s an emergency. You can bring the phone back to the counter when you’re done.”

I take it out of her hands and pull it to my chest with both hands. But then I quickly pull it away, because I’m afraid he’ll be able to hear my heart pounding on his end of the line. I look down at it and inhale a slow breath.

I can’t believe I’m reacting this way. I had no idea how much I’ve been anticipating today until the threat that it might be taken away from me. I slowly lift the phone to my ear. I close my eyes and mutter, “Hello? ”

I immediately recognize the sigh that comes from the other end of the line. It’s crazy how I don’t even have to hear his voice to recognize him. That’s how embedded he is in my mind. Even the sound of his breath is familiar.

“Hey, ” he says.

It’s not the kind of desperate greeting I wanted to hear. I need him to sound panicked—late. Like he’s just walking off the airplane and he’s terrified I’ll leave before he has a chance to get here. Instead, it’s a lazy hey. Like he’s sitting on a bed somewhere, relaxed. Not at all in a panic to get to me.

“Where are you? ” I utter the dreaded question, knowing he’s about to give me an answer that’s almost three thousand miles from New York.

“Los Angeles, ” he says. I close my eyes and wait for more words to come, but they don’t. He fails to follow it up with any type of explanation, which only means he feels guilty.

He’s met someone.

“Oh, ” I say. “Okay.” I try not to be transparent, but my sadness is audible.

“I’m really sorry, ” he says. I hear the truth in his words, but it does little to comfort me.

“Is everything okay? ”

He doesn’t answer my question immediately. The silence grows thick between us until he sucks in a rush of air.

“Fallon, ” he says, his voice faltering on my name. “I don’t even know how to say this gently, but... my brother? Kyle? He uh... he was in a wreck two days ago.”

I cover my mouth with my hand as his words rush through me. “Oh, no. Ben, is he okay? ”

More silence, and then a weak, “No.”

The word is spoken so quietly, it’s as if he’s in a state of disbelief.

“He um... he didn’t make it, Fallon.”

I’m unable to respond to that sentence. I don’t know what to say. I have absolutely no useful words. I don’t know Ben well enough to know how to console him over a phone, and I didn’t know Kyle well enough to express my sadness over his death. Several seconds pass before Ben speaks again.

“I would have called before now, but... you know. I didn’t know how to reach you.”

I shake my head as if he can see me. “Stop. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, Ben.”

“Yeah, ” he says, saddened. “Me too.”

I want to ask him if there’s anything I can do, but I know he’s probably tired of hearing that. More silence engulfs the line and I’m angry at myself for not knowing how to respond to this. It’s just so unexpected, and I’ve never experienced anything like what he must be going through right now, so I don’t even try to fake empathy.

“This is killing me, ” he says, his voice in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you next year, though. I promise.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear the underlying hurt in his side of our conversation and it makes me ache for him.

“Same time next year? ” he asks. “Same place? ”

“Of course.” I try to get the words out before I burst into tears. Before I tell him I can’t wait another year.

“Okay, ” he says. “I have to go. I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll be fine, Ben. Please don’t feel bad... I understand.”

Silence hangs between us, until he finally sighs. “Goodbye, Fallon.”

The line disconnects before I speak again. I look down at the phone and tears are blurring my vision.

I’m heartbroken. Crushed.

And I’m such an asshole, because as much as I want to convince myself I’m crying over the loss of Ben’s brother, I’m not. I’m crying for completely selfish reasons, and recognizing that I’m such a pathetic human makes me cry even harder.

Ben

I’m clenching the cell phone in my hand in an attempt to avoid punching through my bedroom door. I was hoping the waitress would tell me she wasn’t there. I was hoping she didn’t show up so I wouldn’t have to disappoint her. I’d rather she have met someone else, fallen in love and forgotten about me than to be responsible for the disappointment I just heard in her voice.

I roll from my shoulder to my back and let my head fall against the door. I look up at the ceiling and fight back the tears that have been trying to take over since I found out about Kyle’s wreck.

I haven’t cried yet. Not even once.

What good would it have done Jordyn if I was a broken mess when I delivered the news that her husband died a week shy of their one-year anniversary? Three months before the birth of their first child? And what good would it have done Ian if I had been a blubbering mess on the phone when I had to tell him his little brother was dead? I knew he’d have to make arrangements to come straight home after I got off the phone with him, so I needed him to know that I was fine. I had things under control here and he didn’t need to rush.

The closest I’ve come to crying was just now, on the phone with Fallon. For some reason, it was harder telling her the news than anyone. And I think it was because I knew Kyle’s death wasn’t the real factor in our conversation. It was the unspoken fact that we’ve both been anticipating this day since we had to tear ourselves apart last year.

And as much as I wanted to reassure her that I’d be there next year, all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and beg her to come here. Today. I’ve never needed to wrap my arms around someone more than I do right now, and I’d give anything to have her here with me. To just be able to press my face in her hair and feel her arms around my waist, her hands on my back. There isn’t a single thing in this world that could comfort me like she could, but I didn’t tell her that. I couldn’t. Maybe I should have, but asking her to come to me at the last minute is more of a request than I could ever make.

The doorbell rings, and I stand at attention, pulling myself from the regret I feel over the phone call I just had to make. I toss my cell phone onto the bed and head downstairs.

Ian is opening the front door when I reach the bottom step. Tate steps inside and her arms go around his neck. I’m not surprised to see her and Miles here. Miles and Ian have been best friends since before I was born, so I’m glad Ian has them. It does make me wallow in a little bit of a deeper pool of self-pity, knowing his best friends are here with him and the only person I want is three thousand miles away.

Tate releases Ian and hugs me. Miles walks through the front door and hugs Ian, but says nothing. Tate turns around and reaches for one of the bags in Miles’s hand, but he pulls it from her.

“Don’t, ” he says, his eyes falling to her stomach. “I’ll take all our stuff to the room. You go to the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, you still haven’t had breakfast.”

Ian closes the door behind him and looks at Tate. “Is he still not letting you lift anything? ”

She rolls her eyes. “I never thought I’d get tired of being treated like a princess, but I’m so over it. I can’t wait until this baby comes and his attention is focused on her and not me.”

Miles smiles at her. “Not gonna happen. I’ll have more than enough attention for both of you.” Miles nods a greeting at me as he passes, heading toward the guest bedroom.

Tate looks at me. “Is there anything I can do? Please put me to work. I need to feel useful for a change.”

I motion for her to follow me into the kitchen. She pauses when she sees the countertops. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, ” I say, looking at all the food. People have been dropping casseroles off for two days. Kyle worked for a software company that employed about two hundred people and the building is only seven miles from our house. I’m pretty sure more than half of them have brought food by over the last couple days. “We’ve already filled up the refrigerator, plus the one in the garage. But I feel bad just throwing stuff out.”

Tate pushes the sleeves up on her blouse and scoots past me. “I have no qualms with throwing away a perfectly good casserole.” She opens one of the containers, sniffs it and makes a face. She quickly shuts it. “That’s definitely not a keeper, ” she says, tossing the entire dish in the trash. I’m standing in the kitchen watching her, realizing for the first time that she looks to be about as far along as Jordyn. Maybe a little further.

“When are you due? ”

“Nine weeks, ” she says. “Two weeks ahead of Jordyn.” She glances up at me, pulling the lid off another container. “How is she? ”

I take a seat at the bar, releasing a deep breath as I do. “Not good. I can’t get her to eat anything. She won’t even leave her room.”

“Is she asleep? ”

“I hope. Her mother flew in last night, but Jordyn doesn’t want to interact with her, either. I was hoping she’d be able to help.”

Tate nods, but I notice her wipe at a tear when she turns around. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through, ” she says in a whisper.

I can’t, either. And I don’t want to try. There’s too much that needs to be done before Kyle’s funeral for me to get caught up in what the hell is going to happen to Jordyn and their baby.

I walk to Ian’s room and knock on his door. When I enter, he’s pulling a different shirt over his head. His eyes are red and he swipes at them quickly before bending to put on his shoes. I pretend I don’t notice he’s been crying.

“You ready? ” I ask him. He nods and follows me out the door.

He’s been taking this really hard, as he should. But it’s just one more reason why I can’t let this break me. Not yet. Because right now I’m the only one holding us all together.

A few days ago, I assumed I’d be spending today with Fallon in New York. I never imagined I’d be spending it at a funeral home, picking out a casket for the one person in this world who knew me better than anyone.

• • •

“What do you plan to do with the house? ” my uncle asks. He pulls a beer from the refrigerator. As soon as he closes the door, he opens it again and takes out a casserole dish. He lifts the corner of it and sniffs it, then shrugs and grabs a fork from a nearby drawer.

“What do you mean? ” I ask, just as he shoves a spoonful of chilled noodles in his mouth.

He waves the fork around the room. “The house, ” he says with a mouthful. He swallows and stabs at the casserole again. “I’m sure Jordyn will move back to Nevada with her mother. Are you just gonna stay here by yourself? ”

I hadn’t thought about it, but he’s right. It’s a big house, and I doubt I’ll want to stay here by myself. But the thought of selling it fills me with dread. I’ve lived in this house since I was fourteen. And I know my mother is gone, but she would never want us to sell this house. She even said so herself.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

He pops the lid on his beer. “Well if you plan to sell it, make sure you let me list it. I can get you a great price.”

My aunt speaks up from behind me. “Seriously, Anthony? Don’t you think it’s a little too soon? ” She looks at me. “I’m sorry, Ben. Your uncle is an asshole.”

Now that she brought it up, I guess it is in poor taste to be discussing this with me just ten minutes after they show up.

I’ve lost count of who all is at my house right now. It’s almost seven in the evening and at least five cousins have stopped by. Two sets of aunts and uncles have brought us casserole dishes and Ian and Miles are on the porch out back. Tate is still running around the house cleaning, despite Miles’s desperate pleas for her to rest. And Jordyn... well. She still hasn’t left her bedroom.

“Ben, come here! ” Ian yells from outside. I gladly escape the conversation with my uncle and open the screen door. Ian and Miles are both sitting on the porch steps, staring out over the backyard.

“What? ”

Ian turns around. “Did you contact his old job and let them know? I didn’t even think about it.”

I nod. “Yeah, I called them yesterday.”

“What about that friend of his with the red hair? ”

“The one who was in the wedding? ”

“Yeah.”

“He knows. Everyone knows, Ian. It’s called Facebook.”

He nods and then turns back around again. He’s hardly ever here because of his schedule, so I guess showing up and not knowing what he can do to help makes him feel useless. He’s not, though. The simple fact that he’s allowing me to stay preoccupied with all the busy work is actually helping a little bit. Especially after not being able to see Fallon today like I was supposed to.

I close the back door and bump into Tate.

“Sorry, ” she says, sidestepping around me. “I think I’ve convinced Jordyn to finally eat something.” She rushes to the refrigerator and shoots my uncle a dirty look as she watches him dig through each of the casserole dishes.

“Stop snacking and let’s go, ” my aunt says to him. “We have that dinner with Claudia and Bill.”

They hug me goodbye and say they’ll see me at the funeral. When my aunt isn’t looking, Uncle Anthony slips me his Realtor card. When I shut the front door behind them, I lean against it and exhale.

I think having to interact with all the visitors is the worst part of this whole family-member-death thing. I don’t remember visitors being this frequent when my mother died several years ago, but then again, Kyle was alive to play the part I’m playing right now. I sulked in my bedroom like Jordyn is doing right now, hiding away from all the people. The thought of Kyle taking care of things back then when he was so young fills me with guilt. He had to have been hurting over her death just as much as I was, but I needed him to hold things together since I did nothing but fall apart.

I slide my hands down my face, wanting it all to be over with. I want the day to end so we can get tomorrow over with and then the funeral will come and go. I just want things to settle down. But then again, I’m scared of how I’ll feel when the dust finally does have a chance to settle.

I kick off the door and head toward the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Again. I groan, just as Tate passes me with a plate of food. “I would get it, but...” She looks down at the plate and drink in her hands.

“If you can just get her to eat something, I’ll entertain the ten million visitors.”

Tate nods a sympathetic agreement, heading back toward Jordyn’s room.

I swing open the door.

I blink twice to ensure I’m really seeing her.

Fallon glances up at me and I don’t say anything right away. I’m scared if I speak, the aberration will disappear.

“I would have called first, ” she says, looking nervous. “I didn’t know your number. But I just...” She blows out a quick breath. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a hand to stop me. “I just lied to you, I’m sorry. I’m not here to see if you’re okay. I know you’re not okay. I just couldn’t function after you hung up. The thought of not seeing you today and having to wait another year completely gutted me and...”

I step forward and shut her up with my mouth.

She sighs against my lips and wraps her arms around me, clasping her hands together behind my back. I kiss her hard, unable to believe that she’s actually standing here. That she went straight to the airport after hanging up with me today and spent money on a ticket to fly all the way to Los Angeles just to see me.

I continue to kiss her as I pull her into the house with me. My arm is around her waist, securing her against me, afraid that if I let her go she’ll vanish into thin air.

“I need...”

She tries to speak, but my mouth pressed to hers is preventing her from it. She opens the front door and tries to pull away from me. I release her just enough so that she can say what she’s trying to say. “I have to tell the driver he can go. I wasn’t sure you’d want me here.”

I step around her and swing the door open wider. I wave the driver off and then close the door and grab her hand.