by Grea Warner
“I do,” he practically pleaded.
“I’ve put up with a lot, Ryan.”
“I know you have, Lenay. I know.” He sounded defeated.
“You know what’s sad?” My rapid dialogue and emotional eyes were no doubt because of everything I had been trying to hold back for a week and a half in order to be a supportive fiancée and future stepmom. “May God send a lightning bolt down right now to strike me. A little terrible part of me thought, well, she’s gone, I won’t have to worry about her interference.”
Ryan’s slightly bulging eyes made me feel even worse for the words I meant but shouldn’t have said. It wasn’t really that much different than him damning her the night before. I guess we both needed to get some things out. And I was on a roll.
“Now you get in a fight in a bar over her. Geez! What do I have to do? I’m never good enough. I’m always just so close ... but second best ... not worth—”
“What? That’s not true. I know you know ... not with me.” He spoke with determination.
But I knew otherwise. It was my life, after all. And it had been one full of almosts but not quites. I hadn’t known it at the time, but I had simply been a placeholder for the guy I dated in college. I was good enough to have around until it was time to go back to his high school sweetheart. I moved to Los Angeles because I was offered an entry-level job in music media. But, oh, no. Almost. Sorry. They decided to give it to someone else at the last minute. And rejections in the music field? Ryan was even a culprit in that one. I was good enough to try out for Singer Spotlight. But it was definitely a no to move on. There are others way ahead.
I shook my head, feeling my life bombard my brain. Everything was getting to me. I had been able to hold it all together because Ryan and the kids needed me to, and I knew the real tragedy wasn’t that we didn’t exchange a couple of rings. But he was off fighting over her when he was supposed to be home with me? I just couldn’t.
“I told you, you should have let me be.”
“No.” He sighed. “No. I’m ... no. As far as tonight ... it wasn’t over her ... not like ... With what that jerk was saying ... what he said happened? Honestly, Maks had every right, and I had a couple beers in me. I wasn’t—"
“Bad decisions drunk,” I recited, letting the statement hold its own for a second or two.
I had made a couple of those before knowing Ryan. And he knew it. The momentary pause at least calmed me enough to offer a solution to the merry-go-round of hurt and blame we were riding.
“I really don’t want to be arguing with your parents in the next room.” When he blinked, I continued, “It’s only a night layover before they go home. Spend some time with them.”
“What about you?”
It didn’t go unnoticed that I was his first concern. But, nonetheless, I needed to put some distance between him and me for all of our sakes. If his parents were not there, it might have been a different story. I could have retreated to a different area of the house or we could have hashed it out. But, no ... not with the Thompsons nearby. And to sit in a room with them and pretend everything was all right? Nope. I was not good at pretense. I considered it a lie.
“I need to take a drive.”
“I think I liked it better when you didn’t have a car.”
I tried a smile at his reminisce of the days when we had first met and started to get to know each other. I never owned a car in California. I couldn’t afford one when I first arrived, and it wasn’t a necessity. I could walk or get a car service to anywhere I needed.
My shoulders dipped as did my lips. “It’s your car.”
“Come on ...” he tried.
Ryan had bought a new, additional car, which just happened to be the car I had teased about getting when I initially dreamed about making songwriting money. We both knew the silver convertible Audi was for me. And, indeed, I was the one who drove it. But it was technically his car.
“Go be with your parents.” I used a softer voice. I needed to. I needed to not let myself get too emotional and overreact.
“There’s more I need to tell you.”
“More?”
That did it. The last time he said something similar, our wedding was canceled. And his “more” sounded just as ominous as then.
“I definitely need a breather.”
“Bethany ...” he started.
But Ryan knew. He knew to let it go right then. We rarely argued, and, if we did, it was over silly things like hair clogging the drain or not replacing a light bulb. But he knew when I needed my space to give it to me because me digging in would not help either of us.
“Don’t be long,” he said, and then added, “Please.”
***
Even though I was upset, I was responsible and considerate enough to let Ryan know where I ended up, and to reassure, true to my word, that I was not bailing. I just needed a break. I found myself in a dark movie theater ten-plus minutes into the actual film. It was really ideal—no one could see me, and I didn’t need to focus. I could let my mind go blur.
Movie? Was his text reply to mine. When a screenshot was my only response, he texted back, OK. Thx for letting me know. C U after. And when I didn’t reply, he followed with, For Real.
I looked at my phone screen and then buried it into my purse ... deep down. I shouldn’t have been texting during a movie. And ... I didn’t want to.
***
Silence in the Thompson abode was a rarity. Between the kids, dog, music, and much more, we normally lived in a lively residence. But silence was exactly what I returned home to much later that evening.
Figuring everyone was asleep, I started toward the staircase, only to spot the light coming from the floor lamp in the living room. “You’re still up?” I asked as I entered the room and spotted Ryan on the sofa softly petting Lyric. “And with the dog.”
I wasn’t really shocked. Ryan pretended Lyric was an annoyance, but he loved the puppy as much as the rest of us did. And even though Lyric loyally followed me around—especially during my early-morning-rise routine—and was so sweet with the kids, he constantly looked for Ryan when the music mogul wasn’t home and lavished up his approval when he was.
He looked up at me. “Yeah. He seemed a little lethargic ... a little whiney. And, I needed someone to listen to my woes.”
As if knowing we were talking about him, Lyric made his way off Ryan’s lap, onto the floor, and to me. I picked him up and gave him a cuddle. He did seem a little sleepy but loving just the same ... most likely picking up on all the sadness and confusion in the household around him.
“How was the movie?”
Ryan’s question was an obvious effort to keep everything between us on an even keel. And I played along. We had learned over the year-plus of being together that the tactic worked best with us.
“You would have liked it—good old-fashioned chase scene.” I hesitated but then went for it, knowing it would surely break the niceties, “And the couple had more problems than us. Can you believe it?”
When he stood up to meet me, I noted he had changed clothes since I had left. He no longer had on the plaid shirt and slacks he had been wearing at Kari’s condo, the bar, the station ... He was now wearing a casual, all-black ensemble, which I hoped didn’t represent his mood.
“I’m sorry.” He nodded slowly and methodically before really explaining why he was apologizing. “Not just for the fight at the bar. But for worrying you that I was hurt. And for making you think you aren’t enough or you have to rival her. I need you to know ...” He dipped his head so his eyes would exactly meet mine before he started again. “I need you to know I love you.”
I answered immediately, not only because I had no doubt but because I realized he truly did understand why I was so upset. “Ryan, I do. I know you love me.” I expected to see his shoulders drop a little ... to ease the tension, but they didn’t.
Instead, he said, “And ... you feel the same way, right?”
“Yes.” Of course
, I loved him. “Why would—"
“You’ve never not ‘for realed’ me back,” he spoke of our texting, and I placed the dog on the floor. “You did it on purpose. You know you did.” Even though it was accusatory, he didn’t say it in a mean way. He was just hurt.
“I did,” I admitted with a puff of regretful air. “I was upset and, yes, coming down from being scared about you.” I made sure to meet his eyes, wanting him to know the sincerity in my words. “But it’s not at all how I feel ... will always feel. I’m sorry. I guess I’m not the person you told Maks I was. I’m not a rock or even a pebble. I allow myself to break and be weak when it comes to Kari. I always have a little.”
That was the truth. My insecurities about not being good enough definitely festered and multiplied like nothing else when it came to being compared to an international singing superstar. And, even worse, a woman Ryan had loved.
“You are the person I told Maks you are—even better.” He softly and briefly caressed his hand on mine. “And you are second to no one.”
I smiled at his sentiment and then let out a little air I hadn’t known I was holding in. “What exactly happened with Olsen? You said there was more to it. I’m ready to listen.” I was. I had time to cool off, and Ryan had said all the right things. I not only wanted to know what had transpired with the man whose affair with Kari had broken up Ryan’s marriage, I felt like I needed to know.
“He was the one who gave her the drugs.” He clasped his hands a little at his sides on his revelation.
“Wha ...”
“Yeah.” He swallowed and took in a deep breath before continuing. “She was hooking up with him again. He came over to, y’know, taunt me a little about it. That alone didn’t bother me.” When I tilted my head slightly, knowing Olsen’s revelation had to disturb him a little, Ryan continued to deny it. “Really, Lenay. That is ... was”—he corrected his tense—“her personal choice and one I couldn’t care anything about. She didn’t interfere with our relationship.” I know he noticed my eye roll but ignored it. “And her life was hers. But Olsen was trying to get a rise out of Maks and me. And when he didn’t, he slipped with the fact that he gave her the shit. He said he had no idea it wasn’t going to mix with her anxiety meds and how much she was going to take. He wanted to help her out since she was upset about ...”
“About?” I prompted when he hesitated.
“Our wedding.”
“He said that? She said that to him?”
“Yeah ... I don’t know. Both. I’m sure it wasn’t exactly a day she was looking forward to. I probably should have talked with her or tried to—”
“Ryan, you know what happened wasn’t on you.” What had he said the night before—it was her stupid, tragic choice.
It was hard not to connect the dots of our wedding and her overdose, though. But it wasn’t our fault for being happy, and it wasn’t Ryan’s responsibility to check on how his ex-wife felt about everything. They had coexisted well for the children, and that was what mattered, but otherwise had separate lives.
“I know ... I guess.”
I immediately recognized how his response was riddled with hesitation and uncertainty. So, I tried another way around the same subject. “But it sounds like she didn’t take her own life, right? She just made the wrong decision.”
“Again. About a couple of things. One too many.” He stifled a growl.
“Can Olsen be charged with anything? I mean, with the drug supply?”
Gosh, how easily those words rolled off my tongue. Living in LA and not sheltered in rural Carolina had definitely changed my perspective and knowledge of certain things. Although I would never trade how things were, my previous self could have never imagined the person I had morphed into. Bolder and wiser had both its advantages and disadvantages, but I was proud to have kept my integrity intact.
“That’s up to her family. It’s not my business. But I suspect they won’t pursue. They don’t want Kari’s name tainted anymore.”
I offered up my own apology. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay and listen before. Your parents probably think I’m an insensitive drama queen. I’m going to have to apologize for being so rude and leaving."
“First of all, no one would ever accuse you of being a drama queen,” he stated, and I wondered if the emphasis was about Kari and/or her mother. “And my folks? They are ready to give you their prize farm animal and pie or whatever. They lit into me for tonight. I’m in my mid-thirties and they lit into me about all of it—the bar, how I should treat you ... I felt like I was a kid being sent to my room.”
My laugh was more like a breath through my nose accompanied by a closed smile. I could picture the scene he described and appreciated his parents’ support, but also knew I was still a little at fault. “So, you think they’ll still let me go out to Father’s Day brunch with all of you before they leave?”
He touched my arm. “After church?”
“Yeah ... yeah. Is everyone going?” I asked, knowing I attended regularly and Ryan did most of the time, but the kids had usually been with Kari.
“Yeah. I think it would be nice. I know my folks would like that. And me, too. Priorities.” He winked his remembrance of my hashtag.
I took his hand solidly in mine. “Ry? Just so you know ... for real. Absolutely, positively, always for real.”
Chapter Seven
“Hi, there.” I entered the family room with a slight bounce in my step.
“Hey,” he returned my greeting from the sofa. “How was work?”
“Good. It was good being back.” Leaning over, I gave Ryan a quick peck on the lips.
It had felt good to be back at the coffee house. Putting my mind on something else besides Kari’s death and the grief that came from it was a good thing. No one really bothered me, and the unworthy feelings residing in my soul dissipated. I even got to preview a song I had been twiddling around in my head.
“How’s everything here?” I asked, knowing Ryan had worked from home since he took the kids to their first official session with the psychologist.
“We’re good.” He had texted me after the session to let me know everything went fine. “And there’s no backlash from the whole—” He stopped to look over at Sallie, who was coloring at the nearby table. “The bar incident.”
“Still nothing in the press?” I couldn’t help my astonishment.
“Nope. Since it was kind of early, the place was pretty empty and not the normal bargoers who want any kind of action. They seemed more scared or perturbed than interested in who we were or taking pictures or videos. And if it isn’t out by now—two days later—it’s not going to be.”
“You’re lucky, Ryan.” I sounded like my mother ... ugh!
“I know.” His remorse was evident, and I didn’t mind that it still clung a little.
“Where’s Joel?” Time to change the subject.
Ryan lifted his chin toward the open door of the patio, where I saw the little boy with headphones up to his ears and a tablet in front of his face. “A new game. Entranced.”
“All right. I won’t bother him. Sallie’s gonna love this so much more, anyway.” I turned to the blonde seven-year-old only a few feet away. “Sals, guess what I got?”
“Huh?” She looked up slowly. She didn’t have headphones on like her brother, but she may as well have. She seemed lost in her own little world.
“I got tickets to the Princess Perfection movie premiere.” I smiled waiting for hers.
But all she said was, “Oh.”
Ryan, who was shockingly more interested than his daughter was, stood up. “How’d you get those?”
“I make a good cup of java and my customers like me.”
“That’s some tip. Is he expecting something in return?” The left side of his mouth scrunched.
Both of mine went up. “First of all, how do you know it is a ‘he’? But you’re right. And second, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” he mumbled. “
I’m gonna get even cuter if—"
“Palmer Walker.” I recited the name of the gifter, who was a regular customer of mine.
“The movie critic?”
“Yep,” I acknowledged his recognition of the honest and fair reviewer, who also happened to be happily married to a male artist. “He knew the kids could use something nice.” On Ryan’s accepting nod, I teased, “Come on, still be cute.”
“You mean I’m not always?” he joked back before turning to his daughter. “Sals, what do you think? Pretty cool, huh?”
“The princesses are going to be there,” I tagged on.
“I don’t care. Princesses are stupid. They’re not real.”
A little thrown by the girl who usually lived and breathed all things princess, I took a second and then rationally disagreed. “Sure they are. Our country doesn’t have them, but the—"
“I don’t wanna go. It’s dumb.” As she sprang out of her seat, Lyric was forced to jump from her lap, too.
“Sallie Belle Thompson!” Ryan called out in shock, and then with a little more determination as she started out of the room. “Sallie! You need to apologize.”
“Ryan, it’s okay.” I tried a soothing voice, even though, admittedly, I was completely taken aback by the little girl’s behavior, too. Never ... ever since I had met her—even when she wasn’t feeling well—did Sallie remotely act that way.
“No, it’s not.” His voice didn’t raise, but he was determined to have his children always use good manners. “Tell Bethany you’re sorry,” he instructed when the girl stopped and turned. “That is a really big thing she got for you.”
Sallie suddenly looked even smaller than her young age as she looked up at both of us. “Sorry.” She obeyed and then started to downright bawl.
It took both Ryan and me off guard. Of course, the previous few minutes had done that, too. Even Lyric started lightly barking at her, obviously upset by the odd behavior. But before we could say or do anything, Sallie put her hands up to her face and ran from the room.
Ryan’s eyes swung back in my direction. “What? What was that about? She loves princesses. She’s always—”