“I didn’t want to turn him down.”
“You are excited,” she says a bit more forced.
“Not even a little bit.” I shake my head.
“Not even the itty bitty slightest?”
I blow out a breath of air. “Fine, maybe a little.”
“Just a little?” she holds her fingers out pinching them together slightly.
“Maybe a little more,” I admit. “I haven’t been on a date, not a real date in public.”
Her expression drops into horror. “What? You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, in high school there was only me pinning after Mischa, and he was my first. At St. Cecilia’s I didn’t have time to date, you know that, and now I frankly don’t feel like it.”
She jumps up and down, squealing like a monkey in heat. “This is so exciting. Aw. Your first date.”
“This isn’t a real date. It’s just a funny, interesting guy who invited me to a dinner.”
“You forgot smart. Engineers are like super smart.”
I open my book back up. “Whatever, I need to study.”
When six o’clock rolls around, I’m completely panicked. Now that all my test stress is out of the way, my mind is kept running with thoughts about how this dinner is the worst idea ever. Lydia has decided to stay in but insists I don’t worry about entertaining her and enjoy the party. Bassam shows up right on schedule. Points for him. He’s dressed in a pair of brown pants and a very expensive looking sports coat. When he smiles at me with a mouthful of perfect teeth, I try to relax and breathe. I shouldn’t get worked up over nothing.
“You look great,” he says nodding toward my plain black dress.
“Thanks, I wasn’t sure how formal it was, so I decided black was a safe bet. You look great as well. I love that coat.”
He tugs on the sides of his jacket. “Yeah, my father bought this for me when he found out about this dinner.”
“Your daddy dresses you?” I try and cover a snicker with my hand.
“Hey, only when it comes to special occasions like these. We’re knee deep in alumni involvement and making sure the engineering department gets what it needs.” He holds an arm out, which I graciously take. “Nah. It’s not that bad. None of my family will be there. It’s just me, you, and a hundred other people we have to suck up to.”
“Even worse.” I grimace. We leave the apartment and get into his car, a Prius, which doesn’t surprise me. He looks like a hybrid kind of guy. Save the world, do-gooder. Whatever you want to call it. I bet he recycles.
“Nice ride,” I comment. It’s lame, but I don’t know what else to say. At least I’m not talking about the weather.
“Thanks. I got it my first year here. I couldn’t do the whole walking everywhere thing, and the bus here is freakishly empty all the time.”
“Tell me about it. If I need to leave campus, I end up taking that bus.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“I had a car, but…it’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
“I wasn’t allowed to have a car at my old school so my parents sold it, and I just never got a new one.”
“You weren’t allowed to have a car?”
“They were a little old-fashioned. It was a Catholic boarding school.”
He looks at me, eyes wide in amazement. “You went to boarding school? Didn’t you miss your friends and family?”
I shrug. “It was only for my senior year. I missed my friends, but my parents and I were never really that close.”
“You didn’t buy one after school?”
I hate admitting this next part and look out the window as I say it. “I’ve never had a job.”
He does a double take, and I have to bite my tongue from yelling at him to watch the road. “So you rely on your parents for everything still? Man, and you gave me shit about my dad dressing me.”
“Is that a crime?”
He shakes his head. “No, you just don’t seem like the type of girl who would depend on anyone but herself. You come off as very independent.”
I fiddle with the heater on his dashboard. “Never mistake fierce for independent.”
I’m not independent. I’m very much a dependent people pleaser. “You from around here?”
“About an hour or two east of here. You?”
“A really small town outside of Atlanta called Betty.”
“How small?”
“Everyone all up in your business small.” I don’t want to talk about that place and change the subject. “Anyway, I’m interning with my father at the hospital this summer and in return he promises to buy me a car for my nursing clinical. Provided I actually get in.”
“I’m sure you will. Your father must be proud.”
I want to laugh but hold back. I don’t want to come off as cynical or whiny. “Let’s just say he likes that I’m in the medical field.”
“Ooh, sounds like he wanted you to go all out? Doctor?”
I nod. “He’s a little disappointed.”
“Same thing with my old man. He’s all about family commitments. It’s why I chose chemical engineering.”
“It doesn’t interest you?”
“I love it. Science has always interested me, and I plan on finding a cure for cancer or something, but I’d rather be…now you can’t laugh.”
“What?” I lean forward. He’s put too much suspense on it not to tell me now.
“I’m really into archery.”
My mouth drops. “Like a bow and arrow? Do people make a career of that?”
“Not unless you go pro, but I’m actually here on an archery scholarship. I play in a few tournaments throughout the year and they pay half of my tuition. Considering I still need to get my master’s and doctorate, I’m already going to be knee deep in debt.”
“They have archery scholarships?”
“Apparently. I’m also a range master and make money by teaching archery in the summer. Camps, private lessons, things like that, so I get some money from that as well. You ever shot a bow?”
I shake my head. “Can’t say I have, but I can play a mean game of darts.”
“You should come shooting with me sometime.”
“I’d like that.” I tuck my hair behind my ears and look out the window as he pulls into a parking spot. Did I just agree to meet him again? It’s too late to take it back now.
“It’s a date,” he says proudly.
The party goes by fast. I meet a bunch of his colleagues, to whom he introduces me as a friend. The entire place is high-class fancy. Sit down with white linen tables and five-course meals. I have a feeling this is one of those fundraisers that cost $250 a head. He keeps his attention on me the entire time. Asking about my home life, what I like to do, and my hobbies. I tell him all about Nona, and how she is the only relative I feel connected to. I tell him about Lydia and how I’d backed out of our plans to attend Columbia at the last moment to go to nursing school. I tell him how nervous I am about submitting my application to the upper-level nursing school next year. They only take a handful of students, and from what my professors told me, they only take the best of the best.
At the end of the night, I realize I’ve only talked about myself and know nothing about him.
“I feel like a hog. Tell me about you,” I insist.
“I have an obnoxiously large family of six brothers and two sisters, of which I am the youngest. I have a gazillion cousins and every birthday party consists of third cousins half-removed or something crazy like that. Which, by the way, is cool because you get lots of gifts. I was born here, but my Dad is from Turkey and my mom is Lebanese. I’m not sure there’s much else to tell.”
“I’m sure you can think of something,” I press on.
“Oh, I’m a certified genius.”
I cock my head to the side.
“No, really. I am.”
By now, I’m certain going out with him isn’t a mistake. He is a nice guy and has a lot going for him
. He is smart, funny, and extremely dedicated. He’s everything Mischa wasn’t. He has ambition and drive.
“It’s late. I should get you home,” Bassam says, looking at his watch.
I don’t argue because I’m ready for bed. We leave, and when we pull up to my apartment, he walks me to my front door. I’m even more confused than before. Will he make a move? I fumble with my keys before turning to him and notice one of my curtains rustling from the corner of my eye. Probably Lydia playing spy.
“I had a great time,” I tell him.
“Me too. I’d like to hang out again sometime. As friends or as a date if you’d like.”
“Of course. Actually, I’m going with Lydia to New York for Christmas, but I’ll be back when the spring semester begins. Maybe we can hang out then?”
“Sounds good.” He pulls out his phone and gets my number before leaning in for a lingering hug. A small part of me wants him to kiss me, but that may only complicate things. It’s better to be safe than sorry. I watch him walk back to his car before going inside, drunk on excitement.
Lydia is waiting by the door and hounds me instantly. “How was it?”
“Wonderful. He’s a really great guy once you get past the holier than thou attitude.”
“I happen to like that,” Lydia calls out before walking into the bathroom.
“I bet you do.” I throw myself on my bed and listen to my heartbeat. It’s fast but soon steadies into a familiar rhythm. My phone vibrates in my purse, and I pull it out. Who would be calling me this late at night? As I read the name on the screen my heart speeds again. I stand up and answer it.
“Hello?”
“Cody?”
“Yes?”
“Hey, it’s Mischa. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
I sit down and pull off one of my black heels and toss it on the ground. Mischa calls—every once in a while—just to talk, or so he claims, but I know better than to let anyone know. It’s our little secret.
“No, no, I’m fine.”
I want to know how he is. How Violet is. I miss her. I wish our friendship had ended on better terms.
“I was thinking about you. Remember that first time we met?”
“It was my first party with Violet.” I lie back on my bed and begin doodling in the corners of my school notebook.
“I remember thinking, what in the world is Violet doing hanging out with this goody two shoes?”
“Really?”
“Don’t get me wrong, you looked good. I remember seeing you in the tutoring program so—” He stops speaking and there’s a muffled sound. “Yeah. I’m talking to Violet. I’ll see you later, babe.”
I stop breathing. He’s talking to Kate. I should hang up. I should do something, but I can’t move. I’m frozen in this spot, listening to the girl he chose, the girl he loves. When he gets back on, I’m seconds away from crying. Kate. The girl he wants to be with, and I’m just the girl he sneaks around talking to.
“I got to go. I just wanted to talk for a minute. We can catch up soon. You coming into town for Christmas?”
“Maybe.” I don’t want to say too much.
“Good. We’ll talk soon.”
I hang up. My former mood is now but a speck in the wind. How can I pretend to be happy when I’ll always feel second best?
“Was that him?” Lydia is standing in the doorway with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.
“No, it was my mom.” I sit up and open my nightstand. There’s only one thing inside of it. The necklace Mischa gave me. Clutching it in my hand, I lie back down and scoot far under the comforter.
“Are you okay?” Lydia calls out.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Don’t lie to me. That was Mischa on the phone, wasn’t it? Why do you talk to him? It’s so pathetic. And speaking of former men, have you even tried calling Killian?”
“I have. I’ve sent him a dozen texts and emails. He doesn’t answer, and I don’t blame him.”
“Well, get over Mischa then.” She scoffs and goes back into the bathroom. It’s pathetic. I am utterly and unreasonably pathetic, but I can’t let him go. Not right now. Not yet.
Winter break goes by in a flurry. Lydia and I spend a week or so in New York. We stay at her parents’ place in Manhattan and catch up. When Christmas Eve comes, I’m back in Betty with Nona at her retirement center. Dad is present, which is a first. Mom likes to spend the cold days in Bora Bora or somewhere equally far away. She sent a gift via the postal service. A huge gift card to Macy’s to get myself some new clothes. I’m convinced she thinks I wander around in dirty scrubs all the time.
“How is school going?” my father asks.
“Going well. I’m just getting my things in order for my nursing application.”
Nona puts a red party hat on my head and kisses my cheek. “Enjoy those general ed classes while you can. Soon your life will be all work and no play.”
I pull the hat off my head. “Why are we wearing these?”
“I thought they would make the holiday more festive,” she says, pushing a party blower into my mouth. “Some kids are coming to sing carols in a little bit. I thought we could spice up the action a little.”
“Mamma…” my father warns. “ Don’t get too overworked.”
She waves him off before leaning in and whispering to me. “Don’t suppose he’s a sourpuss because I wouldn’t let him bring his new girlfriend, huh?”
New girlfriend? When did this happen? My dad and I rarely talk about personal things. If we do talk, it’s to lecture me on school, money, or life.
“Dakota doesn’t care about my love life,” my father remarks from beside me. The room is quickly filling up with other guests, making it hard to hear, but the next few sentences that come out of his mouth confuse me.
“I’d prefer to stay out of Cody’s love life as well, but now I have guys tracking me down and demanding I stop pressuring you and allow you to live your own life. I’d really prefer if you didn’t spread our family business all over town, Dakota.”
“What?” All the color drains from my face. What guy and when did I ever spread our family business all over town?
“The Senator’s son. Killian or something. I had security escort him out. This was a few months ago. I tell you what though, I won’t be voting for his Dad again.”
I’m uncomfortable asking more questions, but Killian hates me. He wouldn’t risk getting arrested so he could yell at my father, would he?
Nona mistakes my confusion for devastation because she grabs my chin like I’m eight years old and pinches my skin. “You’re growing up and that means heartbreaks. There’s no getting around it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m well aware of heartbreak.
She shoves a small red box with a silver ribbon in front of me. “Merry Christmas!”
In return, I pull a poorly wrapped box out of my purse, an old book of poems I’d picked up at an old bookstore in New York. I hand it to Nona and set a card with a restaurant gift card inside in front of my father. I’ve never exchanged actual gifts with him, just gift cards. My mom was the one who always bought things and said it was from the both of them. When they split, he began replacing gifts with stacks of cash. I tear into Nona’s gift and am surprised to find a small, round pin with a red emblem sitting on a bed of blue velvet.
“Nona!” I gasp. “Your nursing pin. I can’t take this. It means so much to you.” I try and hand the box back to her, but she shakes her head.
“My grandfather came to America all the way from Italy with nothing but the clothes on his back. You come from a long line of nurses and midwives.” She glances at my father. “And well-respected doctors. I want you to have it.”
I pull the pin out and clip it to my blouse, my hand shaking the entire time. I’ve always admired the pin from afar. When I was little, I’d spot it sitting in the back of her jewelry box and always wondered what it would be like to have one of my
own.
Nona smirks at my father. “If you’d have gone into nursing like I suggested it could have been yours instead, Kenneth.”
He glares at his mother, a look that only lasts a few seconds before she puts a stop to it. When the carolers come in, it’s too loud to talk. So we sit and listen until the end of the night.
“Are you staying at your Mom’s place tonight?” my father asks. I don’t know if he’s offering to let me stay at his place in some weird way. I assume it’s just a question to be answered.
“Yeah, I’ll go back to school tomorrow night.” The nice thing about going to school in Tennessee is the quick drive home. New York would have been an entire day trip.
“That’s nice. Merry Christmas then… You didn’t open your gift.” His voice is uneasy and there’s a hint of hesitation in it.
“Merry Christmas, Dad.” I pick up the card and tear it open. When I pull out the card, I’m shocked to find it feels a little heavy. The card is plain-looking with a simple ‘Happy Holidays’ written across the front in green script. I’m sure his assistant picked it up.
I gasp when I find a small black key taped to the inside.
“What’s this?” I look up to my father, who isn’t even smiling. He’s watching me intently.
“It’s your new car.”
“But you said you wouldn’t get me one until I began my clinical.”
“You can’t rely on rentals anymore. You need a car. Just leave the rental at your mom’s place, and I will have my assistant return it.”
Nona winks at me, and I get the feeling that she had something to do with him coming to this conclusion. I have a dozen questions. One of them being “What kind of car did you get me?”
“Thanks.”
“It’s at your mother’s home. I have insurance on the car, but don’t let any of your friends drive it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I mean it.”
“No one drives it.”
His eyes narrow. “No guys at your mother’s home either.”
Nona interrupts by squeezing me. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. School will be over before you know it. Use that new car to come visit anytime. Love you.”
“Love you, Nona.”
To the Steadfast Page 18