The Way to Her Heart

by Amy Reece

  Josh disappeared for a few minutes and returned with salads and bread, as well as a pitcher of iced tea. They chatted amiably while they enjoyed their first course. When Bernie dropped her usual guard, she was able to hold an intelligent conversation. Josh was fun and easy to talk to, and she was surprised to find they had a lot in common. Well, maybe not in their life circumstances, but they had a lot of the same opinions.

  Maurice brought their main courses, standing by the table as they took their first tastes. Bernie watched Josh to see how he dealt with the paper-wrapped fish.

  “This is great, Maurice! Are a lot of people ordering it?”

  “It’s doing pretty well,” he answered, vainly trying to hide his proud smile. “What do you think, little missy?”

  Bernie didn’t know how she felt about being called that, but Maurice seemed so nice, she didn’t say anything about it. She took a bite, enjoying the delicate flavors and the moist fish. “Wow, this is really good. Thanks. I’ve never had salmon before. I like it.”

  “You’ve never had salmon? How is that possible?” Josh asked.

  She shrugged. “My mom doesn’t cook much.” Slight understatement.

  They rounded out the meal with crème brûlée, which instantly became Bernie’s new favorite thing. Josh showed her how to hold the butane torch above the surface of the dessert until it was a beautiful golden brown and let her do the second one. She didn’t know how to eat it but copied Josh, breaking through the crispy caramelized sugar to the creamy custard. She hoped she didn’t groan aloud in ecstasy, but the amused smile on his face made her think she might have.

  Later that night, huddled in the backseat of her car, wishing she had another blanket, she pondered the events of the afternoon and evening. She very much feared she was in trouble regarding the status of her heart as it related to Josh Harris. He was nothing like she’d expected.

  ***

  Friday after school, Bernie stopped by the police department substation near her trailer park to check in with the detective assigned to Gabby’s case. She made it a point to stop by once a week to see if any progress had been made and to generally be a pain in the ass so the cops wouldn’t forget about Gabby.

  “No, Bernie. There’s nothing new. Sorry.” Detective Garcia met her in the lobby. He had stopped inviting her back to his office cubby weeks ago. Now he tried to get rid of her as quickly as possible.

  “Nothing at all? Have you talked to her dad again? Maybe he remembers something else,” Bernie said.

  Detective Garcia took her by the elbow and ushered her toward the door. “Bernie, let us handle this. Seriously. I don’t need you playing amateur detective.”

  She pulled her arm away and planted her feet stubbornly. “You still think she ran away. Don’t you?”

  “Bernie, in cases like these—”

  “You mean cases where the girl is from a trailer park and Hispanic?”

  “I resent that, young lady! I’m Hispanic, in case you didn’t notice! Over half the population of Albuquerque is Hispanic, by the way.”

  “I’m just saying it sure doesn’t get the kind of police or media attention it should! If Gabby was white and from the good side of town—”

  “Knock it off, Bernie. It has nothing to do with her ethnicity or socioeconomic status. It has everything to do with her history. She was a troubled girl, and all the evidence points to her being a runaway.”

  “I don’t believe that. I can’t believe Gabby ran away. I knew her. We were best friends,” Bernie argued.

  “By your own admission, you haven’t been best friends in over two years. People change. Now I’m sorry, but I have a ton of work to do. Please stop coming by every week. I swear I’ll let you know if we get any more information.” He took her arm again and towed her to the front door.

  She turned back to argue with him more, but he was already rounding the corner of the reception counter on his way back to his office.

  She was late to the candlelight vigil. By the time she arrived, Natalia was already welcoming everyone—the fifteen or so people who had actually bothered to show up—and was launching into a truly awful poem she had written about Gabby.

  “Hey, Sofia.” Bernie grabbed a candle stuck through a plastic cup and lit it from the guy standing next to her. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem. I’m just glad you could come. We have to create so much positive energy to bring Gabby home.” Sofia was part of the drama club and said weird, over-the-top stuff like this frequently.

  “Uh, yeah. Well…”

  “Natalia’s bummed that none of the news people showed up. She invited all of them. Oh, wait, there’s Univision! Oh good!”

  The Spanish news station stayed only a few minutes, barely long enough to get a sound bite, which Bernie would be surprised to ever see on the airwaves. She hated this kind of thing but tried to understand that everyone had their own way to grieve. She looked around to see who else still cared enough to show up nearly four months after Gabby’s disappearance. Conspicuously absent was Gabby’s boyfriend, Diego. They had supposedly been together that night and he was the last person to see Gabby, as far as the police knew.

  The rest of the crowd was comprised mainly of Natalia and Sofia’s friends. Bernie had watched them suck Gabby into their circle of vapid teens whose primary concern was when and where the next party would be held. Bernie had seen first-hand what partying did to a person with her mom, so she had no desire to join in, even if she’d been asked. But nobody had asked her. Ever.

  As she looked around at these supposed friends of Gabby, saw their tears, heard their bad poetry, she realized she didn’t belong here. Nobody here was concerned with where Gabby really was; they were only concerned with putting on a show. She needed to figure out what had happened to Gabby. Nobody else was going to do it, and the police clearly didn’t have a clue.

  Chapter Three

  Josh

  “What smells so good?” Claire breezed into the kitchen, fastening an earring. “Morning, sweetheart.” She reached up to kiss his cheek.

  “Hey, Mom.” He pulled her close for a quick hug and kissed the top of her head. Some guys his age might not appreciate their moms, but he’d seen how fast someone he loved could be taken away. He’d promised himself he’d never take her for granted. “It’s a frittata.”

  “Oh my goodness! That sounds amazing, sweetie! What time did you get up?” She grabbed his face, looking deeply into his eyes. “You couldn’t sleep again?”

  He shrugged. “I slept. I woke up around five and couldn’t get back to sleep.” It had been closer to four, but he didn’t want her to worry.

  “Hey.” She put her hand over his as he tried to open the oven door. “Are you taking your sleeping pills?”

  “I don’t like how they make me feel.” He gently removed her hand and pulled the frittata out of the oven. “I’m tired of being a zombie all the time.” He served the frittata along with a fruit compote he’d made; he’d had plenty of time to kill.

  “How about a compromise? How about you ask Dr. Monahan for a smaller dose? Don’t you have an appointment today? This is delicious, by the way. Thanks for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled at his mom. They had to stick together. They had no one else anymore, so he swallowed his irritation. “Yeah, I see him this afternoon. I’ll talk to him about a lower dose. That’s a good idea.” He focused his attention on his plate, determined not to let the memories, the emotions swamp him. He was doing fine until he heard his mom sniffling across the table. “Aw, Jesus, Mom.” He stood up and walked around to pull her into his arms.

  “I’m okay,” she said as she sobbed against his shoulder. “I’m just so proud of you, Josh.”

  “Don’t cry, Mom. Please,” he pleaded.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve cried enough tears in the last year to fill an ocean.” She pulled away to wipe her eyes on her napkin. “Okay. I’m done. Sorry about that. So, tell me about your project with Bernie.
How’s it going?”

  He sat back down and stabbed a bite of frittata. “Well, it’s going, I guess. She’s…I can’t figure her out.” He took another bite. “I took her to the restaurant for dinner last night. Do you know she’d never had salmon before? Or crème brûlée.”

  “I get the feeling she hasn’t had a lot of things in her life,” Claire said softly.

  “Yeah, me too.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, I’m taking Kayleigh out tonight.” He didn’t want his mom asking too many questions about Bernie. He had no answers for those questions and didn’t really want to think about why.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize…well, that’s, uh, great.”

  “You don’t like Kayleigh?” He knew he sounded defensive, but he couldn’t stop.

  “No, not at all! She’s wonderful. I just, I didn’t know you were still together, that’s all. You haven’t talked about her for a long time.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I know. I haven’t treated her very well. She’s been great this whole time and I’ve just—”

  “Hey.” She reached across and grabbed his hand. “You’ve been through hell, Josh. I’m sure Kayleigh understands. So, where are you taking her?”

  He blew out a breath. “I’m not sure. Shit, I’ve forgotten how to do this. Sorry.” He had the grace to look abashed.

  “I’ll forgive your potty mouth this once,” she said with a smile as she pushed her smooth, blonde hair behind her ear. “But don’t make it a habit. I’m sure you’ll remember how to date. It’s like riding a bike. How about taking her to a movie and then to the restaurant for dinner? Best food in town, you know?”

  He laughed, glad to break the tension. “Yeah. Best food in town. Thanks, Mom. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve been dating her for over a year.”

  “I don’t think this past year really counts as quality dating time, do you?”

  He shook his head. “No, probably not.” They ate in silence for a few moments. “We’re doing better, aren’t we?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “I think so. Most days, anyway. I’m going to ask Dr. Monahan to start weaning me off the antidepressants. I think I’m ready. I’m tired of being a zombie too.” She smiled weakly at him.

  “You don’t think…?” He let his words fade, unsure of how to express what he was thinking.

  “Tell me, son. Please.”

  “They won’t think we’re trying to forget them, will they?” he whispered, unable to look at her.

  She stepped around the table and put her arms across his broad shoulders, laying her head atop his. “No, sweetie. Your dad and brother would never think that.”

  He couldn’t stop the hot tears streaking down his cheeks. “I miss them so much, Mom. It still hurts so bad.”

  There was nothing she could possibly say to ease his pain, so she simply cried with him.

  ***

  “Who is that, Josh?” Kayleigh asked as she plucked a French fry from his tray. She always ordered a salad, was always on a perpetual diet.

  “Who?”

  “That girl over there. The one with the short hair. You’re staring at her.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said and looked away quickly. He had been staring at her, of course, wondering why she sat alone in the cafeteria. She was nice and they’d had some interesting conversation the other night at dinner, so he didn’t understand why she wasn’t sitting with friends. Plus, she was really pretty. Didn’t any of the guys around here have eyes?

  “Do you know her?” Jeez, Kayleigh was a pit bull. The last thing he needed was a jealous girlfriend. She pinned him with her gaze, eyebrows raised, demanding an answer.

  “Um, yeah. She’s my econ partner. We got assigned to work on a project together.” He tried to downplay their relationship.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Bernie.”

  “Really? That’s kind of fun, huh? Why is she by herself? Go ask her to come sit with us,” she ordered. Kayleigh was such a social butterfly he was sure she could never imagine someone might enjoy time by themselves.

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” He panicked, positive it was a terrible idea for his girlfriend to meet his econ partner. Kayleigh was far too perceptive and was sure to pick up on his latent attraction to Bernie. “She’s, um, she’s shy. Yeah.”

  “Oh, Josh!” She sighed and pushed him. “Go!”

  He went, albeit reluctantly. “Hey, Bernie.”

  “Hey.” She looked up briefly before returning her attention to her burrito.

  “So, um, do you want to, um, come sit with us? Over there.” He waved vaguely toward his table.

  “I’m sitting here.”

  God, had he really thought she was easy to talk to? “Oh. Okay.” He turned to retreat and bumped into Kayleigh.

  “Hi! I’m Kayleigh,” she chirped and plopped down across from Bernie.

  Bernie looked at her with a completely blank expression before turning her questioning gaze toward Josh. He had absolutely no answer, so he merely shrugged.

  “Josh says you’re his partner for economics. That’s great! I love your name!” The thing was, Josh knew she was sincere; she really thought it was great and she really loved her name. Kayleigh was the kindest person he had ever met. “I’d really love it if you came and sat with us. Please?”

  Bernie stared at him again, her jaw tense. She looked pissed. But she nodded and began to gather her lunch. Kayleigh elbowed Josh, so he took the tray from Bernie and carried it to their table. Kayleigh performed the introductions all around; Bernie gave a slight smile and nod to their friends but didn’t say anything.

  Kayleigh didn’t seem fazed by Bernie’s silence; she kept up a constant chatter throughout the rest of lunch period, which only required an occasional nod and a noise of agreement from either of the other two. Her voice became a vague buzz in Josh’s head until he happened to glance across the table at Bernie. She was staring at her lunch tray, and it looked like she was trying not to laugh. She met his eyes, and they shared a secret, slightly guilty smile at Kayleigh’s expense. The bell rang, and Josh kissed Kayleigh good-bye briefly before heading off to economics. Bernie had already left, choosing not to wait, which irritated him for some reason.

  “Sorry about that,” he said a few minutes later as he slid into the desk behind her. “Are you still mad?”

  She shook her head, but then took pity on him and turned around. “I was at first when I thought she was making fun of me, but I don’t think she was.”

  “No, she wasn’t. She’s not like that.”

  “She’s going to expect me to eat lunch with your little group every day, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “But I can tell her to lay off, if you want.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. You don’t need me crashing your lunch party every day.”

  He thought he caught a hint of vulnerability in her face—a tiny bit. God, she was so pretty. “I’d like it if you’d sit with us. I don’t—well, I don’t have much in common with them anymore. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to.”

  She raised her eyebrows, as if questioning his sincerity. She must have realized he was telling the truth because she nodded once. “Okay. I guess. Maybe.”

  He gave her a half-smile. “Cool. Thanks.”

  She turned around as Mr. Griego called the class to attention and began his lecture.

  ***

  He changed his shirt three times. Then he shaved again. And put just a little more gel in his hair, trying to coax his blond waves into some semblance of a style. He couldn’t remember whether he put aftershave on, so he did it again. Then he worried he had overdone it, so he tried to wash some off. Oh, for the love of God! Get your shit together and go pick up your girlfriend! He stared at his reflection, trying to convince himself he could do this.

  “Oh, honey, you look wonderful,” Claire exclaimed when he entered the kitchen. She set down her glass of wine and gave him a hug.


  “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered against her hair.

  “You’re nervous.”

  He nodded. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “Not at all. It’s been a while, that’s all. You’ve got this, Josh. You look great, you smell great. Go have a fun date.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He pulled away and grabbed his keys.

  “You do have, um, well…” she trailed off, unable to meet his eyes.

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, Mom. The same one Dad gave me three years ago before my first high school party.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, amused. “And it’ll still be in my wallet when I get home tonight, believe me.”

  “Okay. That’s fine, honey. I just thought, I mean, you’re eighteen and—”

  “And eighteen-year-old virgins are as scarce as hen’s teeth, right?”

  She laughed. “Where do you get these sayings? You crack me up, Josh! So, do you have any questions or—?”

  “Oh my God, Mom. No. I really don’t. I know all about the birds and the bees.”

  “That’s not what I meant! Of course you know about sex. I just thought maybe…”

  “I’m not gay, Mom. I like girls. I’m just not ready to have sex with one of them.” He softened his voice, realizing his mother wasn’t trying to antagonize him. “I guess I kinda want to be in love first. Like you and Dad.”

  “Wow. Okay. That’s great, Josh. Good. Well…”

  “Good night, Mom. I won’t be out too late.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek before he let himself out. He sat in his truck for a few minutes, head back against the headrest, and groaned. Good Lord, his first date in over a year and a sex talk! And the evening was still young! All right, Harris. Get your ass in gear and get going. He wondered what Bernie was doing and then felt guilty for thinking about her before he went on a date with his girlfriend.