Stuck With Me: A With Me in Seattle Universe Novel

by Melissa Brown

  “Mama, this isn’t a good time,” I said, rounding the corner, getting as far away from Dev as I possibly could.

  “Lyra, thank God you’re there. Abuela’s had a heart attack.”

  “What?” My feet stopped working and my stomach dropped to my knees. “Is she okay? Is she alive?”

  “Yes. But you have to come home, mija. It’s…it’s not looking good.”

  A knot formed in my chest. “Mama, you’re scaring me.”

  My mom cried into the phone. “Because I’m scared, mija. I think we’re going to lose her. Please. Please come home as soon as you can.”

  “Of course,” I said, attempting to be strong for my mother. “I’ll get on the next flight out. I promise.”

  “Text your father before takeoff. He’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  Wiping the tears from my eyes, I hailed a cab and searched my phone for flights as I rode back to my apartment. There was no time to spend worrying about or even thinking about Dev. My focus was one hundred percent on my family. I could only hope I’d get to L.A. in time to see my abuela.

  “Please, God, don’t take her,” I whispered to the heavens as I climbed out of the cab and walked into my building.

  God didn’t answer my prayer.

  By the time I reached the hospital, my abuela had a massive coronary that took her in an instant. There was nothing the doctors and nurses could do to bring her back. I stood in shock as my mom held on to me for dear life, sobbing into my shoulder. I clutched her back, holding her close as my own tears poured from my eyes. This was a pain I’d never experienced. It was all consuming; it was as if a part of me had died.

  “I need to see her,” I said to my father moments later when my mother had taken a seat in a boxy wooden chair with shabby fabric. My father nodded, took my hand, and led me to her room. I stood in the doorway for a moment, unable to coerce my feet into walking into the room.

  “It’s okay, mija. You need to say goodbye,” he urged me on.

  I nodded as tears dripped from my eyes like a leaky faucet. It felt like I would never stop crying as I stood above her. Her skin was ashen, her eyes closed and surprisingly peaceful. I took her hand and sat in the chair beside the bed.

  “It’s me, Abuela. It’s Lyra.”

  She said nothing and I chided myself for being foolish enough to think she’d actually be able to respond. The sudden realization that I’d never hear her voice again hit me like a bullet train as I pressed her hand to my lips, kissing her cold knuckles, aching for the warmth and unconditional love that only Abuela could give.

  “I hate that you were in pain. You must have been so scared.” I stroked the top of her hand with my fingertips as if I could heal her somehow, as if I could take that pain away.

  “I’ll miss you so much. So much, Abuela. And I’ll take care of Mama. I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise.”

  After spending a few more minutes sitting in silence, I studied her face, knowing it was the last time I’d ever have the luxury of seeing it. I studied the lines that creased her forehead, the way her skin sagged from her cheeks and the plump, perfect lips that I’d always admired and wished genetics had given me. I stood, kissed her on the cheek, and said my final goodbye.

  It was time to honor my promise. It was time to take care of my mother.

  Four days later, we were sitting at St. Mary’s Catholic Church, listening to the priest talk about my abuela. Calla lily arrangements surrounded the pulpit. My mother sat next to me in her black dress, squeezing my hand as we sat uncomfortably in the creaky wooden pew.

  I hadn’t had much contact with my life back in Seattle. Vern had been more than accommodating. Spring break was approaching, and he’d told me to just take all the time I needed before the break and after if necessary. Maren told me she and Peter would be at the services. I hadn’t seen her yet, but knew I would eventually. My abuela knew a lot of people during her lifetime and was an active member of St. Mary’s, so I was proud to see that the church was filled with family members, friends, and fellow parishioners who were there to pay their respects.

  Dev had started texting me the night I left the bar.

  12:22am: Did you get home okay? I shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.

  12:45am: Please Lyra, just let me know you got home safe. I’ll be waiting.

  9:16am: I’m an asshole. I don’t remember everything I said last night, but I know I fucked up. Please forgive me.

  10:04am: I’m outside your building. Please buzz me up.

  10:30am: Okay, I get it. I’m going home. Really hoping to hear from you.

  After that, the texting stopped for a day, but each morning I woke up to the same message.

  I can’t stop thinking about you and wishing I’d done everything differently.

  I’d ignored every text. Every last one. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about Dev. In fact, I worried that I cared too much. But I had to focus on my family. I had to give Abuela the attention and respect that she deserved during her passing. While on the phone with Maren, she’d asked me why I hadn’t told Dev about Abuela’s heart attack and I didn’t have an answer.

  “I don’t know,” I had said. “I just… I can’t deal with it. With any of it. I need to get through this first before I can see straight. I need to climb out of my grief, I think, and then I can start to consider letting him in.”

  Maren understood and didn’t push; she just reassured me that I would have her support and that she’d see me at the church.

  So, here we were. After a seventy-five minute service and mass, it was time to walk behind Abuela’s casket. My father, my uncles, and my male cousins were the pallbearers, so my mother and I walked behind them along with my aunts and female cousins.

  When we got halfway down the aisle, I spotted Maren and Peter. Maren had tears streaming down her cheeks and she blew me a kiss. Peter gave me a closed mouth, supportive smile. I nodded at both of them, mentally thanking them for their support, for their friendship.

  When we reached the final pews of the church, my breath caught as I saw his face. Dev. Alone, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie, standing with his hands folded in front of him, his eyes focused on me, his eyes apologetic and vulnerable.

  I hadn’t asked him to be there. But he was there.

  And it was there that I lost it. The moment we entered the vestibule, I grabbed hold of my mother, and I sobbed into her shoulder. She wrapped me into her arms, stroking my back with her palm, her voice a soothing whisper.

  “Let it out, mija. Let it out.”

  I hated myself for being affected by his presence. But I was. I wanted his support, even when I was angry with him. Even when I wasn’t sure we had any chance of a future at all; he was that important to me. And the fact that he showed up meant something to me. In fact, it meant everything. But that didn’t mean I was ready to deal with it.

  After the service, friends, family, and church parishioners paid their respects to my parents and to me. I noticed Dev standing with Maren and Peter beneath a palm tree. His expression was solemn and every so often he’d look over to where I stood before returning his attention to Peter and Maren.

  I knew I had to talk to him eventually.

  May as well rip off the damn band-aid.

  “Excuse me, Mama,” I said, rubbing her back gently as I walked toward Dev and our friends.

  “Hey,” Maren said, greeting me with a warm hug, pulling me in tight. “How you holding up?”

  I shrugged. “I’m okay. Worried about my mom, but she’s holding it together. For now, anyway.”

  “Great turnout. It’s obvious your abuela was a very loved woman.”

  “Thanks, Peter. She was.”

  Dev leaned over to kiss me on the cheek and I froze in place. “I’m so sorry. Can, uh…can we talk?”

  I hesitated for a moment, worried that I’d bitten off more than I could chew by being near him. I wasn’t ready to get into it with Dev. I wasn’t ready to face every
thing I was feeling. “I should really get back to my parents.”

  “It’ll just take a second, I promise.”

  “We’ll give you guys a minute,” Peter said, taking Maren’s hand and leading her away.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Dev beat me to the punch.

  “Look, before you say anything, I’m not here to talk about us, okay? This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “Oh.” I was surprised, but touched. And a little relieved.

  “I’m here to tell you how sorry I am about your abuela. I know she meant the world to you. I know you spent hours cooking in the kitchen with her. I know she’s the reason you can make the most amazing pancakes I’ve ever tasted.”

  A small laugh escaped my lips and tears formed in my eyes. I hadn’t laughed in days. Even when I felt swallowed by grief, even when our future was completely uncertain, and even when I was insanely mad at him, somehow Dev always managed to make me laugh. He was living, breathing levity.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m here because no matter what happens with us, no matter what you decide, I always want you in my life. I’m not going anywhere, Lyra. You’re important to me and always will be, even if I’m not lucky enough to be with you. I’ll still be there for you.”

  I was overcome, speechless, but still not ready to be vulnerable with him. So I nodded and simply said, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “Of course. I’m staying at the Hilton, just like Pete and Maren. I have to head back tomorrow, but if you need me, I’m here.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I really hope that when you get back to the city, we can talk. About whatever you want.”

  “I’ll probably only want to talk about Abuela,” I said with an honest shrug. At that moment I couldn’t imagine talking about anything else. My brain was flooded with memories of my childhood. Small moments, big moments, and everything in between.

  “Then that’s what we’ll talk about. It’d be an honor, actually.”

  Part of me wanted to sink into his arms and cry, to pull him close and ask him to take my pain away. But I knew he couldn’t, and I knew that despite his presence, we weren’t okay. I didn’t know if we’d ever be good enough to get past what happened at the bar. I wanted to, but in my haze of grief, it felt impossible to feel optimistic about anything in my life, let alone my shaky relationship.

  “I need to get back to my family,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye. He passed me a handkerchief embroidered with his initials. I wiped my eyes and tried to hand it back to him.

  “Keep it,” he said, reaching for my hand. I hesitated but finally allowed him to take it in his. He simply squeezed it and said goodbye.

  When he walked away, I felt empty. Completely empty.

  Slowly, and in a daze, I returned to my family.

  “He’s awfully handsome,” my mom said. “Who is he?”

  “Long story,” I said, watching him rejoin Peter and Maren under another tree.

  “Mija,” she said with a sigh as she wiped her eyes with a tissue, “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  “Yeah, I guess we both do, huh?”

  I wrapped my arm around my mother’s waist, pulling her close. My dad encircled us with his strong arms, and for the first time that day, I felt whole again.

  My focus was my family. The rest of my life would just have to wait until I returned to Seattle. And I wasn’t exactly sure when the would be.

  Chapter 25

  DEV

  When Trupti broke up with me two years ago, I thought my world was ending. Turned out, I didn’t know true pain until I had tasted life with Lyra and then lost her. I hadn’t seen her since her abuela’s funeral three weeks ago, and every single day had been more painful than the one before it. If I hadn’t been an idiot and screwed everything up, I would have been in Los Angeles, supporting her and meeting her family.

  But I wasn’t.

  Instead, my stupid ass was back on a plane to Seattle the day after the services and I hadn’t heard from her since. I’d sent some texts but was feeling antsy.

  “Why did you call me down here?” Pete asked. He was standing in front of me with a puzzled but amused expression as I sat at a large wooden table at the local library. “What’s with all the books?”

  Sitting at the table, I was surrounded by every book Jane Austen ever wrote. They sat in front of me in an arch pattern as I stared at their worn old-fashioned covers, not sure which one to start first. “I’m trying to feel closer to her.”

  “By staring at old books?”

  “Jane Austen’s her favorite.”

  “And you’re going to read these?”

  “Every last one.”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head.

  “And why did you blow me off this morning?”

  I had told Peter I wasn’t able to go on our weekly Saturday morning run. What I hadn’t told him was where I went instead. But with him standing right in front of me, demanding an answer, I had to cave.

  “I took a yoga class.”

  “No shit, really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Lyra’s class?”

  “No, I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. I went to a different one uptown.”

  “Wow. I took a yoga class for Maren once. It was an experience. But she was there with me. Going by yourself is a whole different thing.”

  “I told you, man, I’m just trying to feel closer to her. I can’t see her, can’t talk to her, can’t touch her. She doesn’t answer my texts. The other night I took a freaking Buzzfeed quiz to see which Jane Austen character I am.”

  “And who are you?”

  “I don’t know; some girl named Marianne Dashwood. I guess she’s a free spirit or some shit. That’s why I decided to read the books, man. I’m lost without her.”

  “Wow. I, uh…a quiz, huh?”

  “Don’t laugh at me, man. I know she’s in pain and I just wanna be there for her, but I know I can’t. She doesn’t want to see me, and frankly, I don’t blame her at all. I was a fucking dick. I even accused her of wanting to date that professor again.”

  “Wait, Professor Pretentious? Why would you do that?”

  “It’s a long story. The point is: I fucked up.”

  “I know.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, picking up one of the books and paging through it. “I just wanna be there for her, you know? I’ve never lost someone, especially someone as important to her as her abuela.”

  Peter got a conflicted look on his face.

  “What is it, man? You look constipated.”

  “She’s home right now.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, she’s back from L.A. And I happen to know she’s home this afternoon. Maren just spoke to her before I came down here.”

  “Oh,” I said, my wheels spinning. I could feel Keith Urban playing in my head as I thought of things I could do to be there for her.

  “You didn’t hear that from me, though. Maren would kill me.”

  “Is Maren pissed at me, too?”

  “Nah, she gets it. I told her about Trupti and Craig…and the desk.”

  “You know, if I was ten years younger, I’d get in my car and drive to that resort and punch that motherfucker right in the face.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sleeping with your girl is unacceptable.”

  “No, not for that. For lying to Lyra. He told her I was a player and I cheated on Trupti. All. The. Time.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit. Why would he lie like that?”

  “Not sure, but I have some theories, and they all involve him trying to get into Lyra’s ski pants back in December.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. He’s a sleaze, isn’t he?”

  “Big time. But Trupti’s the real piece of work in that scenario. I mean, on my desk, dude.”

  Peter shuttered. “I’m surprised you haven’t replaced it.”

  “New one’s being d
elivered Monday. I’ve been working in the conference room lately. Everyone at the office thinks I’m nuts.”

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  “Hell no. Just saying I needed a change of scenery. No one’s pursued it further.”

  “Good. So, why don’t you check out the books and we’ll get out of here?”

  I nodded, putting the books in a stack before having an idea. “On second thought, hold on.”

  I grabbed my phone, found a boxed set of brand-new Jane Austen books and bought them on Amazon. “They’ll be there tomorrow. Brand-new ones.”

  “You want to own them?”

  “Why not?”

  “Wow, you’ve got it bad.”

  “Dude, you have no idea.” I moved the books to the cart at the end of the aisle. “Thanks for coming down here. I appreciate it.”

  “You heading to her place then?”

  “Yeah, just have a couple stops to make first.”

  An hour later, I was standing in front of Lyra’s building, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wasn’t trying to force my way back into her life, but I knew she was grieving and I just wanted to be there for her, to support her in any way she would allow. Just before I was about to press the doorbell, someone opened the door and left the building. I grabbed the heavy door and walked in.

  Carrying my bags up the stairs, I took a deep breath before knocking on her door. I heard shuffling inside, but no one came to the door. I knocked again. Seconds later, the door opened. Lyra looked conflicted. I could tell she was slightly happy to see me, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to tell me so. She looked gorgeous. Her hair spilled down her shoulders in loose waves, and she wore a baggy pink sweatshirt that fell off one shoulder and yoga pants. She looked effortlessly sexy. But then again, she always did. My heart ached just looking at her, wishing I could pull her into my arms.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Look, I heard you were back in town. I just wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “And I brought you some stuff,” I said, lifting up the bags in my arms. “Can I come in? I’ll leave the second you want me to go.”