Our Song

by Ashley Bodette

  Here's to hoping, with Asher's help, I can figure out who I am and what I want to be again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Becca

  It was really hard making sure I got out of bed this morning without Asher waking up. I had to ask my mom to set her alarm, then come get me so I could make Asher’s blueberry breakfast cake before he woke up. I wanted it to be true breakfast in bed, even if he did already know it was coming.

  When I get up to the kitchen, mom heads back to bed. But as I’m beating the eggs and vanilla together, Asher’s dad moseys into the kitchen in his pajamas. Thankfully, they are pajamas that include top and bottoms, or this could have been a whole lot more awkward.

  “Good morning, Becca. How’s that blueberry breakfast cake coming along?”

  “I just got started, but everything is ready to go, so it should be in the oven as soon as it finishes pre-heating. Why are you up so early? You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

  Robert sighs. “I’ve always been an early riser. Even when I was a kid. It’s usually a good thing. But then there are other times, like now, where it would be nice to be able to sleep in.”

  “So that’s where Asher gets it from.”

  “Gets what from?”

  I nod my head toward him. “His bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, morning peppiness.”

  Robert laughs. “I guess I’ve never paid attention since I’m usually gone from home before anyone else gets up in the morning, except on the weekends of course. Is he always like that?”

  “Gosh, yes, he is!” I say almost too loudly as I fold the blueberries into the rest of the batter. I lower my volume before continuing. “At first I thought it was great to have someone happy to be awake in the morning at jazz choir rehearsals.” I smile, remembering those early mornings with our classmates three years ago. “But after a few days of that, I realized it was impossible for him to understand that sometimes, we all just need to be tired in peace.”

  Just then Laura walks out of their room, yawning. She wraps her arms around Robert’s shoulders and says, “He’s not bothering you, is he Becca?”

  “Not at all Laura,” I respond. “We were just discussing how Asher must have gotten his morning person traits from Robert.”

  She cracks up. “Well he definitely didn’t get them from me! I would sleep until at least ten every day if my responsibilities didn’t have me getting up earlier.”

  I smile and tell her, “Well, breakfast won’t be ready for another forty-five minutes or so, so if you want to get a few more winks before starting your day, I won’t be offended if you go back to bed.”

  Sighing she replies, “Normally I would, but I think it’s high time I learned how to make this blueberry breakfast cake of yours. Are you willing to share your secret recipe?”

  “Of course! You just come round the breakfast bar here and I’ll show you how it’s done. And I’ll make sure to write it all down for you.”

  “Well,” Robert says, standing from his chair, “since you ladies are going to be hard at work here in the kitchen, I guess I can start packing up a few things to take out on the lake with us the next couple of days.”

  “Oh!” I squeak. I’d almost forgotten they are headed out for the next two days, which will leave Asher and I here alone. How on earth had I forgotten that already? “I’m sure you guys will have a great time. Is there anything I can help prepare?”

  A Cheshire grin comes onto Robert’s face, and I can see Asher got another trait from his father. “I think you have plenty to prepare yourself for, what with you and Asher staying here all by yourselves for the next two days.” He winks at me, then strides back toward their bedroom.

  I can feel the heat creeping onto my face, and it’s not coming from the kitchen.

  “Oh, don’t mind him,” Laura says, smiling in what I’m sure is meant to be reassurance. “Robert just likes to get people worked up over nothing.”

  I’m not sure it’s over nothing, but I keep that to myself.

  “So, as you can see, I already started by whisking together the eggs and vanilla…”

  ***

  I carefully carry the breakfast tray down the stairs, excited to bring Asher his breakfast in bed. When I first lost, I was a bit sad that I would making breakfast for everyone this morning. But now, I’m kind of excited to be giving him such a great gift. His tray looks like a picture from a food magazine. Which is why I took a picture of it before I brought it down here. There are two beautiful slices of cake on his plate, with one piece overlapping the other on one corner. I drizzled some blueberry syrup over it, and across the plate. I also put two slices of bacon, and two sausage links on a second, smaller plate. And I couldn’t forget the orange juice.

  As I push the door to the bunk room open as quietly as possible, I take a deep breath, waiting to fully step into the room until my nerves have calmed down to a low buzz.

  Here goes.

  -----

  Asher

  I take a deep breath, half asleep, when I realize there is a new scent in the room. “Is that my blueberry breakfast cake?” I ask without opening my eyes.

  Becca gasps, then lightly laughs. “Holy Moses, Asher, you scared me! You’re lucky I had already set your breakfast tray on the night stand, or I probably would have dropped your food all over the floor.”

  I roll onto my side and look at her. “Well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

  Her cheeks are a little rosy, but it looks like it’s more from excitement than embarrassment. That’s when I look down at the rest of her, and realize she’s still in her pajamas. All she’s wearing is a pair of boxers and a skimpy tank top.

  Clearing my throat, I look back up at her face, then over to the breakfast tray. “Wow, Becca. That breakfast looks fit for a king!”

  Now her blush is turning crimson. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little bit of blueberry syrup, and a quick, easy arrangement.” She turns away from me to pick up the breakfast tray. “So, are you coming down to eat from a lower bunk? Or are you going to make me carry the tray up to you?”

  I smile. “Well, if I get out of bed, that means, I didn’t get to stay in my bed to have breakfast, which kind of defeats the purpose of winning breakfast in bed. However, you also do not have to carry the tray up the ladder. Just bring it over here, and I’ll take it from you.”

  She does exactly that, but once I’ve removed all of the tray’s weight from her hands, she takes a step away, moving her hands behind her back. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your breakfast then,” she says, looking around the room.

  Is she serious? “No. Stay. Climb up here. I promise I’ll make room for you to sit with me.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She looks back at the door to the bunk room, but then moves forward toward the ladder.

  Once she’s made it up, I toss a pillow to her, so she can lean against it instead of the wall. Once she’s made herself comfortable, I dig into my food, and let out an involuntary moan. “God this is good.”

  Becca looks at my plate, then back to her hands, which are currently folded in her lap. “I’m glad you like it.” She looks again at my plate.

  That’s when a thought occurs to me. “Becca? Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

  She shakes her head, still looking down. “No. Everyone else has already eaten, and those two pieces of cake on your plate were the last two.”

  I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. “Are you telling me that you got up early this morning, and made blueberry breakfast cake, and you didn’t even get to eat any of it?”

  “It’s not a big deal. I had a couple slices of bacon while I was cooking, and I’ll just have a bagel or something when I bring the dishes back upstairs.”

  No she won’t. I cut a bite from my breakfast and point the fork toward her. “Here. We can share this.”

  Her eyes widen. “Are you sure? You won this after all.”

  “Becca, I would hardly be able to enjoy this knowing that you didn’t get any of it after all the wor
k you did to make it for me.”

  She leans forward an inch, then hesitates. “Maybe I should go grab another fork.”

  “Becca.” I move the fork right in front of her mouth. “We have shared plenty of germs over the last nine years of our lives. It’s fine. Just take the bite.”

  She wraps her lips around my fork, and slowly pulls the cake off the fork, closing her eyes and savoring what she’s eating. It has me thinking about things I shouldn’t be. Maybe this is why Becca suggested getting her own fork.

  I quickly shake off those thoughts and take my own bite of cake. “Lord have mercy. Becca this is so good!”

  Giggling, Becca looks at me and says, “Well, I’m glad I showed your mom how to make it this morning. Now she can bake it for you whenever you want.”

  “Yes! She’s gonna be sorry she asked you for the recipe. Because I’m going to ask her to make it all the time now.”

  She shakes her head at me while she steals a piece of my bacon. I grab her wrist before she can get it to her mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She grins at me, and I can see that sparkle coming back into her eyes. “What? You said we were sharing this breakfast. I assumed you meant more than just sharing one bite of your cake with me.”

  “Touché,” I reply, letting go of her wrist. I take another bite of my breakfast. “Maybe I’ll have to make you breakfast tomorrow, since you’ve been cooking for me so much this week.”

  “Oh, really?” she asks, one eyebrow raised. “And what would that consist of?”

  “Oh, you know. Hot cocoa. Toast. Fruit. Cereal if you want. All part of a healthy breakfast.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I might just have to take you up on that. And there won’t be anyone else around tomorrow to judge you on your choice of breakfast food, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Believe me, Becca. I don’t need you to remind me that we will be home. Alone. For the next two days.

  Lord help me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Becca

  “Are you sure you’ll be alright if we still go out on the lake for two days? I hate to leave you right now with all of this going on.”

  We’ve already had this discussion three times over the last two days. “I’ll be fine mom. We already talked to his parents, changed my phone number, and he has no access to any of my social media accounts.” Which was not fun. At all. “He’s never been here before, and doesn’t have the address. And I won’t be here all alone. Asher will still be here, and Olivia will be just up the road. I have the Davidson’s phone number, in case we need anything immediately, and you guys have the radio and your phones while you’re on the boat. It will be fine.”

  I don’t know if I am trying to convince my mom, or myself, but I hope it’s working for both of us. Nobody should have to stop their lives because of me and my problems. And it is my problem. I’m the idiot that dated Trip, that didn’t break up with him when I should have.

  Besides, not only did we go into town at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning to report the things that Trip did to me, but I also filed a temporary restraining order, which a judge immediately granted. The sheriff’s department sent all the information to my hometown police department, and they said they'd call when the injunction hearing had been scheduled. And it would be in the next fourteen days, because that's all a temporary restraining order is good for. Which means sometime in the next fourteen days, I'm going to have to be in the same room as Trip. In front of a judge. Possibly having to retell my story, again. I shiver at the thought.

  “Alright. But seriously, if you need anything, you get ahold of us, and we will turn that boat right back around to get to you. You know that, don’t you?”

  My breath hitches in an almost-sob, but I keep it in. “Of course, Mom. I know you guys would do anything for me. But I’m almost eighteen, and I promise, I can take care of myself for forty-eight hours.”

  My mom reaches over to hug me, and it feels like she’s never going to let go. She whispers in my ear, “Even if you are all grown up, I will always want to take care of you, Rebecca.”

  When she finally releases me, I turn away, steeling my resolve. I won't allow what Trip said to ruin the rest of my vacation. I have two days of Asher all to myself, and I am going to enjoy every single minute of it.

  -----

  Asher

  “So, Becca. Now that we’ve gotten everyone else out of the house and on their way, I was thinking about heading into town to get a few things. Do you want to come with? Or would you rather stay here and chill by yourself for a little bit?” I don’t want her to figure out my surprise for her, but I really am not comfortable with her staying here alone. And I also don’t want Becca to feel like I’m pressuring her to do what I want her to do. Or that she’s somehow incapable, because she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, even if I forget it sometimes.

  “I wouldn’t mind tagging along. I have a few things I’d like to get myself. What are you going to pick up?”

  I grin, relief sweeping over me, and I use her own words against her: “That’s for me to know, and you to maybe find out.”

  She sticks her tongue out at me, then laughs. I join her, happy to see a little of that old light back in her eyes.

  As we’re driving into town, Becca keeps pestering me, trying to figure out what I’m up to. Normally, that would drive me crazy, but I’m so grateful that she’s being a pest, and not silently staring out the window or something, that I just tease her back in response.

  When we walk into the grocery store, Becca says she has a few things of her own to buy, and she’ll meet me back up front when she’s done. I want to ask her what she’s getting, but since I’m not willing to tell her about my surprise, I just smile and grab a basket.

  -----

  Becca

  Asher has been so amazingly thoughtful this weekend. I think it’s time I did something for him. I’m actually kind of glad that he asked me to come into the store with him, because my surprise will be much less obvious now that he thinks I’m just ‘tagging along’ with him.

  I haven’t been to this grocery store in a long time, so I decide to just go up and down each aisle and grab the things I need as I see them. Thankfully Asher was walking straight back to the deli when I left him, and I don’t need anything from there.

  As I push my cart around the corner into aisle three, I spot the first ingredient I need for Asher’s favorite meal: rotelle pasta. This will be easy enough to bury in the bottom of my bag, but all of the fresh vegetables I’m going to need? I don’t think it will give it away, since Asher’s never actually watched me make my homemade spaghetti sauce, but I’m still crossing my fingers, for extra good luck.

  Every time I round the endcap of an aisle, I look both ways to see if Asher is nearby. So far, I’ve had pretty good luck, but now I need to go out into the bakery and produce sections, and that is a WIDE OPEN space. Normally, I would have made my sauce using fresh tomatoes, but it’s much easier to keep a few cans of crushed tomatoes hidden than twelve to fifteen fresh ones! And I’ve already got my non-food items, butter, and shredded Parmesan. So all I need now is garlic, one green and one orange pepper, an onion, fresh basil, zucchini, a small squash, another container of mushrooms, yuck, and a loaf of French bread. I decide to make a run—well, quick walk—for it.

  As I’m grabbing the last thing I need, the bread, I see Asher rounding the corner into the produce department. As much as I’d like to see what he’s getting, I do NOT want him to see what I have in my cart. I toss the bread on top of the rest of my items, and push my cart around the opposite end of the bakery department—right into another man’s cart.

  “I am so, sorry!” This stranger probably thinks I’m just some punk kid, racing around the store. “I just didn’t want to run into my friend, who just walked into the produce section. I’m surprising him with supper tonight.”

  But the older gentleman just smiles. “It’s alright. I’m
pretty sure he must be the young man I was just talking to in line for the deli. He said…well, I guess I shouldn’t tell you, since he said it was a surprise.”

  Well, that’s why Asher wouldn’t tell me what he was buying on the way to the store! And this man is so sweet for keeping Asher’s surprise a secret. “Really? He was talking about me?” I don’t know why this makes me so giddy, but it does. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask what he was saying, and as much as I hate surprises, thank you for not telling me what he’s planning.”

  “Well, it’s obvious that boy really cares about you. So no, I won’t be sharing his secret.” His smile spreads even further into a grin. “And if I run into him again before I leave, I promise I won’t tell him you’re planning on surprising him either.”

  I can’t help the smile coming across my face. “Thank you, sir. And again, I’m sorry for running into your cart. I hope you have a wonderful day!”

  “You too. I hope you both enjoy your surprises.”

  As I walk away from the stranger, I shake my head, grinning. This moment, and some others that Asher and I have shared this weekend, these are the moments that make me think that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to be in a relationship again. Someday. As long as the other person is someone like Asher.

  “Did you find everything okay?” the cashier asks me as I’m piling my groceries onto the conveyor belt.

  “I did.” In fact, I think I found a few things that I didn’t even realize I needed.

  Well, that didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I almost missed them. Driving his parent’s car was smart, but it would be almost impossible to miss the two of them walking down the street together. Besides their fairly significant difference in height, Becca has the hair of a goddess, and she left it down today. And now that I’ve found them, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where they are staying. And once they get back in their car, and I follow them back to their little love nest, well…