PAIGE TOLD ME ABOUT YOUR GRANDMA.
Oh dear. I imagined him working that jaw, trying to figure out how to let me know he was hurt I hadn’t told him but still let me know he was worried and cared. I just waited.
IS EVERYTHING OKAY? He finally texted.
SHE’S DOING BETTER. I’M OUT HERE FOR THE WEEKEND. IT’S GOOD TO BE HOME.
I sent the message and stared at that word.
Home.
I could sense the conversation that wasn’t happening.
Why didn’t you tell me?
Because we broke up.
You mean you broke up with me.
Ben.
Debra.
Okay! I love you. I’m sorry. You haven’t kissed Rachel, have you?
Don’t be crazy.
Instead, I sighed and punched in another text. MAYBE WE CAN TALK WHEN I GET BACK.
He didn’t have to tell me he’d be praying. I already knew he was. It didn’t change anything. I already knew who Ben was.
I sighed and fell back on the pink quilt.
I wanted to know who I was. Where I belonged.
My phone dinged again and I held it up over me to read his text.
IF YOU NEED ME, I’LL COME.
I set the phone aside and climbed under the quilt.
I heard noises in the kitchen the next morning and jumped out of bed. Nana stood at the stove.
“I wanted to make breakfast!” I argued. “Nana, you’re sick! At least let me cook for you.” She waved me off and handed me a cup of coffee.
I breathed in the smell of hot coffee before placing my lips to the warm rim of the mug.
“I scrambled up some eggs.” She motioned to the skillet on the stove. My stomach rumbled, and I grabbed a plate and scooped up a healthy serving. “There’s toast too,” she told me.
We sat together at the round table I’d missed so much and ate our breakfast. I told her all about the move and the job and hiking and Paige and even white-water rafting.
“Sounds like you got a boyfriend,” she said. I blushed. I couldn’t help mentioning Ben in all my retelling of my Colorado adventures.
“We’re just friends.”
“Hmph.” She smiled, then reached over and took my hand in hers. “I sure am glad you came. I’ve missed you so much.”
My heart couldn’t take that comment. I started bawling.
“What on earth?”
“It’s okay, Nana.” I wiped my eyes. “I’m okay.”
She sighed. “You keep saying that, Debbie. No one believes you, honey.” She stood, walked over to the counter, and grabbed a brown bag. “It’s a good thing your mother left us these too.” She pulled out a pastry from the bag and set it on my plate and then took one for herself.
“Tell me the whole story. Start with Texas,” Nana instructed.
An hour passed easily. We finished the pastries. Nana’s brow furrowed more and more as I told her about Luke and Sara getting engaged. About my therapy sessions. About Ben and his tattoos.
And over second cups of coffee and cherry-filled croissants, the tension in my shoulders eased a bit. A few wayward tears surfaced as I neared the end of my story—my conversation with Ben.
“It’s been a difficult year for you,” Nana said softly. “Maybe it’s time to come back home,” she suggested.
I didn’t respond. Was it? Was that the answer I kept chasing?
“I’ve changed since I left,” I told her.
Nana nodded. “Of course you have. But when it comes to your people, your family—we have to accept each other just as we are. If you want to come back, Debbie, we’d all be thrilled. You don’t have to worry about that.” She stood up again and I noticed that she supported herself with one hand by clenching the back of the chair.
“How are you feeling really, Nana?” I asked. She inhaled and gave me a smile.
“I’m feeling old, honey. And Iike I’m recovering from pneumonia. I’m going to go back to my room and take my medication and maybe sleep for another hour or so.”
I jumped up, put an arm around her waist, and walked her back to her bathroom, where she waved me off and told me she’d be fine. I showered, dressed, and washed the breakfast dishes.
Then I did what I’ve always done at Nana’s house—wandered around. I looked at all the old collages of family photos she had on the walls. Checked out her record collection that had belonged to my mom. I found a vintage Purple Rain record and thought how Ben would have loved it. Every corner of the house felt familiar and comforting. As though, maybe, part of me had been left here, in the cracks in the walls, in the weathered tiles on the floor, in that antique kitchen table that I’d sat at so many times.
I could clearly see me and Brian and our cousins running through the house, like ghosts drifting through the hallways. I could close my eyes and hear yelling and giggling and parents scolding. A wash of emotion flooded me and I had to sit down. Because those days were gone forever. I’d loved them so much, and they were stitched on my heart like rings on one of Nana’s quilts—but still, they were my past.
Could a new version of them be my future? What if I married and settled in this area or close by? My children and Brian’s could run through the house as we had.
There was a loud knock at the door, and I jumped, startled out of my nostalgia. I rushed to the door, not wanting Nana to wake up.
“Brian! Carol! Jude!” I squealed with glee at the sight of all three of them. Jude held back but managed to mumble “Hello.” I didn’t mind. Maybe at seven they don’t remember well aunts they rarely see. I gave him a side squeeze and Carol a full-on tight hug. Since she and Brian had been together since high school, she was absolutely family to me. Brian carried grocery bags into the kitchen.
“We brought stuff to make sandwiches for lunch this afternoon, in case Nana’s running low on groceries,” Carol said, walking with me back to the kitchen. I explained that Nana was taking a little nap.
“It’s good to see you,” Carol said in that calm, restrained way of hers. We put away the groceries while Brian turned on cartoons for Jude. When Brian joined us in the kitchen, I rambled on about how I’d been having a blast-from-the-past moment before they arrived, reminiscing about childhood days.
“It’s so nice for you guys that you’ve never left. You get to keep making more memories here,” I said, sadness tingeing my words.
Carol rested her chin on her folded hands and shrugged. “Believe me—there have been days we’ve wished we’d gone a bit further from home.”
Brian nodded. He wiped his hands with a dishtowel, then opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a can of soda. “Yeah. Things haven’t changed here much. You moved away and saw new things. I always knew you would.”
I absentmindedly ran my fingers over the worn table. “How did you know?”
Brian and Carol laughed. “Deb,” Carol said, “whenever I hear the expression that someone needs to ‘spread her wings and fly,’ I think of you. You were ready for adventure from the time you were in middle school.”
I supposed she was right. “Nana says maybe it’s time for me to come home.”
The two of them exchanged a glance. They reminded me of Andy and Lana.
“Speak,” I ordered. “No silent communication.”
Brian chuckled. He sucked down half the soda, then sat down. “Dad said you were buying a place in Denver. Did something change out there?”
Only Ben becoming a rock star and me getting left behind again.
“No. He’s right. I’m buying this great townhouse. I get to pick out everything—colors, carpet, countertops. I’ll be broke, but I’ll be living in style.”
Carol sighed. “That sounds wonderful. Not the broke part—the choosing part. I’d love a new house. Tell me about Colorado.”
I launched into the beauties of Colorado and all the pros of living out there.
“Sounds like the perfect place,” Carol said wistfully.
“It’s wonderful. You guys should
come visit.”
“You’re always the lucky one, Deb,” Carol said, and I couldn’t help the almost manic burst of laughter that erupted from me. I coughed and tried to rein back in the crazy.
“No, dear. I’m not.” I tapped the table. “Let’s not forget what drove me to Colorado. Remember the getting dumped part?”
“He never deserved you,” Brian said gruffly, taking off his ball cap and then putting it back on with a vengeance.
I managed a small smile at his loyalty. “Well, it’s over now and I’ve moved on. Literally, come to think of it.”
“If you’ve bought a place, you can’t seriously be thinking of moving back here,” Brian pushed.
I pushed my hair out of my face. “I don’t know what I want, I guess. I’m a little lonely out there.”
“You? Lonely?” Carol said in disbelief. She and Brian exchanged more annoying looks. “It’s just”—Carol shifted in her seat—“you always make friends so easy. It seems like you find a tribe of people wherever you go.”
“That was Texas. And yes, I did find a great tribe of friends. Then it all went up in flames.” I took a breath to steady myself. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. “I’ve made a few friends in Colorado.” I looked around the kitchen. “It feels like everything’s the same out here.”
“But it’s not,” Carol contradicted softly. “We’ve changed too. Not so much, maybe. But Nana’s getting older, more frail. Your parents are aging. Brian changed jobs last year. We—we—” Her words caught in her throat and she looked at Brian. My eyes darted to him.
He cleared his throat. “We had a miscarriage two months ago.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh, Carol.” I reached for her hand. “No one told me.”
She nodded stiffly. “We didn’t tell too many people. We’ll try again.”
“Sure, you will.” I squeezed her hand and she gripped mine in return this time.
“You needed to go, Deb,” Carol reminded me. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Just because we stayed doesn’t mean we’ll never leave. Brian might get transferred somewhere and we’ll move. Or maybe we’ll stay here forever.”
“We’ll do what’s best for our family,” Brian agreed.
“How do you know?” I asked in a small voice. “What’s right for your family?”
Brian smiled. “Trial and error, sis. Hey”—he leaned closer across the table—“Nana’s right. You always have a home here, and if you want to come back, we’re here for you. I know a couple guys I could set you up with.”
Carol laughed and I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but I’ve met someone.”
“The singer?” Carol asked, intrigue lighting up her eyes.
Word gets around.
“Update: we’re not really together. But if I found one rock star, I’m sure I can find another.”
“Rock star?” Brian echoed. I inhaled and then explained the situation of Ben’s band getting to go on tour. Carol’s eyes rounded larger as I spoke.
“But that’s so exciting!” she said with as much animation as I’d seen from her.
I nodded. “It is. But it also means that things are happening for him. I don’t think living in Denver is going to be in his immediate future.”
“And you’ve bought a house,” Carol surmised, wincing. She got it.
“If you stay out there, Deb, we’ll come visit. I promise,” Brian piped up. I felt relief just hearing him say the words.
The sound from the TV in the living room grew louder and Carol jumped up to check on Jude. There was another knock at the door and I rushed to answer it. My parents came in. There were more hugs. My dad held me tight, kissing the top of my head. Then Jude was tugging at his arm, dragging my dad into the living room. Mom had brought a cake and wanted to start making sandwiches in case Nana was hungry when she woke up.
Just like that, I was surrounded by my original tribe. Every breath felt like home.
“Deb, take this tray to Nana. Tell her she does not have to get up—we’ve got everything under control.” Mom handed me a plastic tray that held a roast beef sandwich and chips, along with a glass of water. I disappeared down the hallway to Nana’s room and quietly opened the door. Nana motioned for me to come in.
“What’s all the noise out there?”
I smiled. “Ninety percent Jude. Ten percent the rest of us.”
She chuckled and then yawned. “I like hearing my family in the next room.”
I propped pillows up behind her and set the tray on her lap. She popped a chip in her mouth. I sat on the edge of the bed. The four-poster, cherry-wood bed frame was more worn and scratched than I remembered. And the ancient matching vanity in the corner was covered with boxes and clothes, but it was still there. The room smelled the same as it always had. A little musty, a little like old perfume.
“I miss you too, Nana,” I told her, needing her to know. “All the time. I watch musicals and remember all the nights I slept over here. I sing showtunes and think of us dancing.”
Her blue eyes welled up with tears. “I’m old now, Debbie. I feel it so much right now. And I felt it so much in that hospital. There’s nothing that makes you feel old like getting sick does. But you won’t ever forget, will you, all those times we’ve had together?”
I rubbed the blanket that covered her, feeling her bony legs beneath my fingers, and my fragile heart broke in two all over again. “I’ll never forget. I promise.”
“I’m so proud of who you are. All those people listen to you on the radio. Sometimes your mother comes over and finds the radio station on the internet, so we can hear you too.”
I couldn’t breathe. I bowed my head and tears fell to the blanket. “Maybe I should come back. I don’t know. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I love being here so much. But something in me still feels restless.”
She touched the curls around my face and lifted my chin. “Honey, this will always be your home. But that doesn’t mean it has to be your only. Children grow up and sometimes move away. Oh, it’s such a hard part of life, letting them go. I can’t even put it into words. But you’ve had adventure in your heart since you were a little girl. It’s okay to chase it. This place, all of us, we’ll be part of you wherever you go. And the road home is never too far. You know how to get here, Debra.” She pushed aside the tray and I fell into her arms.
I can’t put it into words either. But it hurts.
I might not have known where I wanted to end up, but I knew in that moment that I would forever be Debbie Hart, born in Minnesota, musically inclined, adventure seeker, loved by her people.
It was enough to keep me going.
Chapter Twenty-Three
And bring me home at last.
Anastasia, the Musical
The next Tuesday on air, during the Miss Lonely Heart segment, I sat nervously, tapping my pencil on the table. Over the course of the morning, I’d shared all about my trip back to Minnesota, making Andy laugh with stories of how my mother’s ceramic cow collection had eerily begun taking over other rooms in my parents’ house and my deep concern over that. But now it was time for call-ins and revenge advice.
Andy took a swig of an energy drink right after we took a call from a woman who secretly missed her ex-boyfriend and wanted to reach out to him. I moved close to my microphone.
“Guys, here’s the thing. I don’t think revenge is the answer. I think, maybe, Miss Lonely Heart has found herself in love again. And while it doesn’t seem to be working out, it’s reminded me that love is an amazing, beautiful feeling and I need to be open to it.”
Andy opened his mouth but I held up a hand to stop him. Then I continued, “I want to hear your stories, and I want to empathize with you. But more than revenge, I want happiness for our listeners. I want happiness for myself.”
“So you’re in love, Deb, with—”
“Andy!” I squawked. He knew I didn’t want to share Ben’s name, especially now. Andy grinned. Of course, I hadn’t told him about me basically
breaking up with Ben.
“Okay, okay.” He held up two hands. “But you don’t think it will last?”
I sighed with theatric flair. “We’re going in different directions, but I only want good things for him. So I’m trying to let him go gracefully.”
“Maybe you should fight for him,” Andy said, an eyebrow raised. I thought about Ben and I couldn’t come up with a witty answer. “All right”—Andy sat back in his chair and tapped the table—“we need you guys to call in. What should Miss Lonely Heart do?”
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I ended up reaching for my phone and stalking Ben. I figured letting go didn’t mean I couldn’t follow him online. I mean, hadn’t I sort of been the catalyst for helping him take the leap to go on tour? I was invested in Twenty-Four Tears’s rise to fame. So I looked at the band photos on their website and read Karis’s most recent tweets; then I went to their Instagram account and scrolled through—unable to find the picture of Ben and the pop star. I kept scrolling—up and down—realizing that several pictures had been deleted. They were still on the pop-star girl’s feed, but they’d been removed from Twenty-Four Tears’s account.
That made me a teeny bit happy.
My relief and happiness ended up being short-lived (big surprise, story of my life) when two days later I just happened upon Rachel de la Rosa’s feed to see a new picture of her and Ben and Seth and Karis, taken at that same festival. She was positioned glued to Ben’s side, sandwiched between him and the others. Wearing a flimsy little slip of something, she had an arm around Ben’s neck, and her lips, spread in an unmistakable smile, pressed into a kiss on his cheek.
I covered her face with my thumb while I studied Ben. The rigidness in his jaw gave me some hope that maybe he felt uncomfortable in that moment. But I was pretty sure that I was the one feeling extremely uncomfortable with the picture, not to mention all the feelings rising up inside me. Jealousy, worry, anger, fear, hurt—emotions that had exhausted me too many times.
Friday, I went to see Dr. Clark. Our sessions had slowed as we’d both felt progress had been made, but I needed to talk, and I felt terrified that holding in such a barrage of feelings would take me back to a place I didn’t want to be.
After the Rain Page 26