by Jamie Beck
Levi,
I know we parted on bad terms. I’m sorry I tried using you in my venture without your knowledge. If you’re reading this, then we never mended the fence, but I’m no longer able to do so, either.
I won’t win any Father of the Year awards, but I did love you, boy. I’m real proud of how you turned out. I know it was mostly your doing, but I’d like to think some of the things I taught you paid off. That, and all them damn books.
Anyway, I know you don’t need any money, but Mr. Harper will be sending you an insurance check and some other things. You’re the only person I’ve cared about in this whole damn world, so I wanted to leave you something to remember me by.
The only other thing of real value I can give you is your mama. Her leaving filled me with rage. But age mellows a man. I don’t know if she ever looked for you, but I’d made it hard for her with all the moving around, phony names, and such. At the time, I didn’t think she deserved any second chances, so I didn’t care if she couldn’t find us. I admit I was too full of hatred then to consider how my decisions affected you. I still think you were better off with the clean break, but maybe you disagree.
I hired someone to track her down. As of 2010, she was married and living in Atlanta as Sue Ellen Sinclair Thompson, 760 Martina Drive. She doesn’t know I found her, and I don’t know if you want to see her, but I thought I’d do one thing right in my life. I know it burned you when she left. Maybe if you talk to her, you’ll get closure one way or another.
I’m sorry for dragging you all around the country. I’m sorry I never gave you a decent home or a normal life. I hope you know you’re the one true, good thing in my life. I thank you for sharing my many adventures and not judging me too harshly. You were a blessing, son.
Love,
Pop
My throat tightens and I shiver while holding my pop’s final words to me. I clear my throat to dislodge the heavy lump stuck inside. When rereading the letter, I take the time to notice each word. In my mind, I hear his voice as if he’s speaking to me. He had a hypnotic voice—deep and Southern and smoother than mine.
Frankly, I’m shocked he used his death to drag Mama into my head. Why would he think I’d ever want to see her, and why’s he forcing the issue by giving me her address? Hell, now I can’t even fight with him about it. That makes me madder than a wet hen!
I don’t want to see Mama. Even if those years on the run made me hard to find, I’ve been using my own name for more than a decade. If she wanted to locate me, she’d have done so by now.
Not surprising she hasn’t, really, since she never much liked my company. She’d shoo me away while she stared out the window, smoked a cigarette, or watched television. Lindsey’s been more nurturing this past week than Mama ever was.
Why’s Pop encouraging me to go to her? Did he know something more about why she left? If so, do I want to know it, or will it just make me feel worse?
I can’t believe these are his final words and wishes. My heart rate’s climbing, but I can’t throw anything or go anywhere. I can’t even get up and move around. I’m stuck here on this damn sofa with no way to escape my thoughts.
Sue Ellen Thompson—married in Atlanta. So nice to learn she started a new family as if I never existed. My stomach twists in an angry knot, and this tension is aggravating my back pain. I take quick, deep breaths, blowing steam through my nostrils. For more than twenty years I kept thoughts of a reunion at bay because I didn’t know where she lived. Now Pop force-fed me that information and I’m choking on it.
I wish I’d never called the damn lawyer. And I don’t want Pop’s tainted insurance proceeds, either. No doubt he bought the policy with money stolen from the suckers he fleeced. I’ve had my fill of bad karma for more than one lifetime.
I throw the letter on the coffee table and close my eyes. All the years of locking my past away have been undone in a few short weeks. Pop’s death liberated memories I now can’t seem to escape. Can things get worse?
Lindsey
Last night Levi turned into a bear. He barked at me over every little thing, but I gave him extra latitude since the arrival of his father’s ashes obviously affected him. Still I question why I got myself more involved with him, but he’s so pitiful, I can’t quit.
From what I’ve read online, injuries like his cause significant agony. Oddly, the pain is the one thing he’s taking well. He never complains about the accident or his discomfort, but I’ve caught him wincing when he moves. He’s not taking the full dose of his pain medication, either, like he’s afraid of it or something.
As far as I can tell, no one’s come by to see him—not even Elena. How does a person get to be his age without a close friend or family member in his life?
Jill advises me to read the writing on the wall and get the hell away from him. Based on what little I’ve told her about him, she’s convinced he’s either an asshole or some kind of reclusive psychopath, but I’m sure that’s not the case. He’s distrustful, but he’s also capable of kindness, patience, and appreciation. He treated Carlos with respect and, once in a while, he’s been awkwardly polite—almost shy—toward me. I think his bluster is his way of hiding any weakness.
In any case, my own mood’s fallen today.
I woke up this morning crying on what would have been my wedding day. Instead of preparing to walk down the aisle in a few hours, I’m alone, distracting myself by caring for someone who’d probably rather I didn’t.
Although I left my gown in New York, I did sneak the veil into my bags before coming to California. I don’t know exactly what possessed me to grab it at the last minute, but I did. Maybe I wasn’t ready to accept the undoing of all my wedding plans and bridal fantasies.
Now, standing in the middle of my new bedroom, I regard myself in the mirror, my fingers stroking the length of the fine organza as if I were getting dressed for my wedding march. If Jill were here, she’d be forcing me to drink champagne in order to forget about Rob. But I can’t drink alone, especially at this early hour.
Removing my veil, I tell myself it wasn’t meant to be. I toss it on my bed, then tie my sneakers and head out to the beach.
After my run, I slip into Levi’s house to check on him. I see an ice pack on the coffee table, and the cane is propped up at the edge of the sofa. He’s still dressed in yesterday’s sweats, lying on the couch, staring at his laptop. He trades his own accounts, which explains why he works on New York time.
I wait until he glances up to acknowledge me. His dark-rimmed glasses make him look sharp and smartly sexy. Then again, he pretty much always looks hot. It’s probably a good thing he isn’t too charming or I’d be in big trouble.
“Did you eat yet?” I ask.
“No, you?”
“Nope. Want some French toast?
“You know how to make it?” He arches his brows in jest.
Whew, his disposition’s improved since last night. “I’ll manage.”
Levi resumes trading while I rummage around his kitchen searching for mixing bowls and skillets. Like everything else in his house, the cabinets are immaculate and well organized.
Even his refrigerator’s freakishly clean. On its shelves sit a variety of small glass containers, each filled with unusual condiments. Opening the lids of a few, I sniff them to figure out what’s inside. Turns out he’s created homemade butter blends, mayonnaises, and mustards, with dill, basil, cranberry, and other items. The man is serious about his food.
I keep the strawberry butter out and then whisk together eggs, milk, and vanilla extract. Ten minutes later, I hand Levi a steaming-hot plate of French toast, with fresh berries on the side. His eager grin reflects pleasure and surprise.
“These look mighty tasty, Lindsey. Thanks.”
“Sure. Milk, orange juice, coffee?”
“Milk, please.”
I join him in the living room, although he remains taciturn as usual. His face tenses in physical discomfort, probably resulting from his awkward posit
ion on the sofa.
Between bites, he makes notes and reads his computer screen. I envy his focus and apparent enjoyment of his work. Throughout my life, I’ve engaged in a wide variety of lessons, traveled extensively, and been introduced to countless options. Despite it all, I’ve never found a calling or deep passion.
It goes beyond my lack of enthusiasm for the magazine staff position. I’m coming to realize my personal life also lacked a degree of passion. Life with Rob revolved around his extreme work schedule. I filled some of my free time with volunteer work on fund-raising committees. But mostly I pursued social activities like dining with friends, going to the theater, or sitting at home reading.
Although I’ve done nothing remarkable these past ten days, either, they’ve been eye-opening. I’ve been a good person throughout the years, but not a particularly introspective or engaged one. It’s disturbing to see myself as an empty shell instead of the modern, accomplished woman I thought I was. I suppose technically I’m accomplished, but now I’m aware of my lack of direction.
While taking care of Levi isn’t particularly noteworthy, I’ve enjoyed being useful and needed—so that’s something to consider.
“What’s the matter?” Levi’s voice catches me off guard.
When I look up, he’s scrutinizing me in his mind-reading manner. He’s very adept at it—a marked difference from Rob, who rarely picked up on my nonverbal cues.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’re brooding over something. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I care to discuss right now, please.”
Levi respects my privacy with a nod and then returns his attention to his screen.
I pick up our empty plates to take them to the kitchen. Since he’s such a neat freak, I thoroughly clean his countertops and return everything to its proper place. I’d do anything to avoid the apoplectic fit that would surely ensue if something were left out of place. As I’m hanging the dish towel to dry, my phone rings. Without looking at the screen, I answer.
“Hello?”
“Lindsey . . . it’s me.”
Rob! Oh, God, not today, not now. Without warning, a single, harsh sob escapes from my throat.
“Lindsey, don’t cry, baby. Talk to me. I need to talk to you today. Please.”
I slide down to the floor, with my legs pressed against my chest, to hide my crying from Levi. After a steadying breath, I hug the phone to my ear. I haven’t heard Rob’s voice in over two weeks.
“I’m not ready to talk.” My voice cracks twice during that short sentence.
“I know, but I can’t think of anything but you today. Everything’s wrong without you here. I can’t fucking believe we aren’t getting married tonight.” His voice is threaded with grief and tension. In this moment, if he were here, I’d collapse against him.
“Please don’t swear at me, Rob. This isn’t how I envisioned this day, either.”
“Then why’d you leave?” I hear him draw a deep breath. “Come home. Let’s fix this now, Lindsey.”
After only a brief time away, I’m already lured to the familiar. Closing my eyes, I picture Rob in our apartment, on the sofa, in jeans and an oxford shirt. I could nuzzle into the clean, lemony-soap scent of his neck. Still, a tiny voice from deep within tumbles out of my mouth.
“Rob, how’d she know where to find you?” I hold my breath.
“What?” He’s thrown by my lack of segue. “Who?”
“The random girl from the bar. She called you at work to tell you about her condition.” It occurs to me he hasn’t asked me about my health, so I decide not to share the good news I got from my doctor. Petty, but it’s one of the few things I can control. “How’d she know where to find you?”
My question’s met with silence, sinking my heart straight into my stomach. “She was at the bar, but that’s not where I met her. Ava works at Goldman. She’s Tim’s new assistant. But I swear, we were together only once. She joined our group after work and we got drunk together. That’s it.”
Ava. Her beautiful name summons an unwelcome image of an exotic siren, one with long legs dangling over a desk amid ledgers thrown to the floor in the heat of passion.
“You’re such a liar!” I shout, forgetting I’m not alone.
“I’m not lying. It meant less than nothing, Lindsey!”
His stern, resentful tone shocks me, but I’ll not be intimidated. I hear Levi moving around in the distance, so I lower my voice before responding.
“When you told me about her, you omitted the fact you see her every day at work. Does she stay late nights with all of you, too? If it meant ‘nothing,’ why didn’t you tell me the whole truth?”
“I knew you’d make a big deal of it. I can’t get her fired, Lindsey. I’d probably be sued on some trumped-up sexual harassment claim if I tried. She’s not my assistant, so I only see her infrequently. Most importantly, I don’t care about her. I love you. I want you to come home now.”
“No. I’m not coming home now. I may never come back to you. God, I really can’t trust you. Unless I know exactly which questions to ask, you won’t give me the full story. I can’t live that way, Rob.” I cringe inwardly at what Levi’s overhearing.
“How long will you make me wait, Lindsey?”
“What?”
“How long? Do you expect me to wait around a month, the summer, until Christmas, what? Tell me the plan.”
I’m aghast at his question and contentious tone.
“There’s no plan. You weren’t faithful when we were together, so I assume you’ll pursue women while we’re broken up. You do what you need to do, and so will I. If we’re meant to be, then it will happen.”
“So that’s it? I can’t believe you ran away and won’t even give me a chance to fix things. What’s that say about you? Yes, I did a shitty thing, but I’m begging and fighting for us. You cut and run at the first sign of trouble. Nearly three great years tossed aside like garbage.”
My mind’s racing while hot tears spill over my cheeks. Is he right? Am I a coward? Worse, have I used his mistake as an excuse to escape? Rob hears me sniffling and changes his tune.
“Lindsey, I’m sorry. I’m not really mad at you. I’m angry with myself. Nothing’s the same without you. I’d hoped you missed me, as I’m missing you. I thought I’d convince you to come home. Obviously, that’s not happening.” I hear him sigh. “I’ll leave you alone to figure out what you want. I’m here when you want to talk. I hope you come home soon. I love you, baby.”
Before I reply, his end of the phone goes silent. Spent, I sit on the kitchen floor, weeping. Within a minute, Levi’s feet appear at the edge of the counter cabinets.
“Lindsey?”
He sounds oddly uncertain. An alien experience for both of us, I’m sure. Our eyes meet, then my face crumbles as the intensity of my crying increases.
“I can’t bend down to you. Stand up.”
He’s authoritative, yet compassionate. When he reaches his hand down to me, I take hold of it to stand. He pulls me into an awkward hug, then slowly strengthens his hold, pressing me infinitesimally closer, while he strokes my hair and lets me cry. Despite my being mortified and hurt, his unexpected tenderness is peculiarly soothing.
“Aw, sweetheart,” he whispers into my hair. His heavenly voice wraps around me like a dense fog. “I knew you weren’t all right.”
The warmth of his breath and term of endearment tease my hair follicles into tingling. In panicked response, I push away from the comfort of his body. He folds his arms across his chest, blocking me from changing my mind and going back for seconds.
“Better now?”
I nod, but it’s not true. Rather than ask for an explanation, he simply waits for me to decide if I want to talk.
I’m puzzled. No one in my life lets me decide anything, ever. My head’s still tilted downward when my eyes look up in shame.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to overhear that discussion.”
“I didn’t he
ar it all, don’t worry.”
I feel sheepish and heartbroken, and the waterworks flow again. He stands solemnly, allowing me the freedom to cry, share, or leave. Needing to fill the silence between us, I divulge the truth.
“Today should’ve been my wedding day. But a couple of weeks ago I found out Rob, my fiancé—ex-fiancé—cheated on me. I was so blindsided, I called off the wedding and left town to think. He claims he’s sorry and it happened only one time, but I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.”
Levi’s face remains impassive as he hands me a tissue to blow my nose, and another for my eyes. I stare at him while I wipe my runny nose.
“What? You don’t have an opinion? Any advice?” I ask, then crush the tissues in my hand and toss them in the trash. “Not even a wisecrack?”
He watches me for another minute, holding my eyes steady with his. When he speaks, his voice is relaxed and calming.
“You seem to have enough people in your life telling you what to do. You’re not a stupid girl and, in the end, my opinion and theirs don’t mean a damn thing. It’s your life. You’re a grown woman. I suspect you already know whether you trust him. When you’re ready to accept what you know and make a decision you can live with, you will.”
He cocks his head slightly, then returns to the living room with the help of his cane, leaving me alone to think. Unaccustomed to being told to trust my gut, I’m out of my depth in the cold waters of independence. Have I subconsciously encouraged my parents, Rob, and others to make decisions for me so I could be blameless if things went wrong? Am I self-sabotaging?
Levi’s implied confidence rattles me. Frankly, I’m still shocked by his brief display of affection. Are we becoming friends? Maybe he’s simply repaying me for my help. Maybe I’d better slink home before I do anything to embarrass myself further.
CHAPTER NINE
Levi
I’m working when Lindsey decides to leave. Promising to check in later, she offers a pathetically false smile before slipping out the back. Today’s the only time I’ve seen her leveled. When she mentioned she should be getting married today, she about knocked me off my feet. An unpleasant sense of possessiveness wrenched my gut, too.