Where Life Takes You

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Is Greg an alcoholic?” I shut down my phone, before I continued making a fool of myself.

  “Yes.” Ty scratched his head. “Vodka, but he never saw it as an addiction before. Like Lisa, he never listened to me, or went to a counselor to deal with the loss of Mom. How about your mom, will you get tested for her?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t hesitate to answer. Of course, before I got tested, I wanted to discuss her prognosis with Raj. “No matter the circumstances, she’s my mom. What would you do?”

  Tyler agreed with me, you love your parents no matter how inept they are. I rested my head on the seat and closed my eyes, before the cascade that had been threatening to spill since the confrontation with Greg made its way out. Spent, I wanted to get home, crawl inside my bed, and never wake up. Instead, Tyler drove us to the bistro down the street from home without asking. I didn’t complain when I realized he parked in front of the valet parking. Dinner sounded better than my pity party.

  Robert, the owner and a college friend of Ty and Dan, awaited us inside the cozy restaurant. The handcrafted furniture from Vermont, and carefully executed wood ornaments perched throughout, gave a country-rustic vibe to the establishment. Not only did it have a main dining hall, but also offered three different private rooms with floor to ceiling fire places.

  The fire crackled, and the table was ready with a few appetizer artichokes, fried calamari, and olives galore—my favorites. The pink tulips on the center of the table made me smile.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Tyler asked me, while I read the menu for the third time. “Is it your Mom?”

  “One percent of them are about Mom, the other ninety nine is all Dan.” He missed me, but didn’t want to see me. The gestures had never stopped, but I haven’t heard his voice or seen his face in what felt like an eternity. “I don’t understand him.”

  “Funny.” His wicked smile became an out loud laugh. “You know him better than anyone else. It’s the protective, macho side that you don’t get. Give him time, for now I’m here for you.”

  Here for me sounded odd after what our family went through. Tyler distanced himself from Greg, Mom, and me. Up until today I swore he blamed me for Lisa’s death, like everyone else involved.

  “How did you keep it together?” I asked. “Your mom killed herself, Greg’s an alcoholic who blamed you for that death, and Lisa… well you know.”

  “Mom’s parents.” His Adam’s apple moved slowly after gulping his water. “They offered help after her death, but Dad refused. But I stayed in touch with them and went to all the counseling appointments they scheduled for me. I was terrified to be bipolar like Mom, and end up inside a bathtub lifeless, hurting the ones I loved. After Lisa’s, I went for a second round of therapy. I dealt with the loss of my sister, but still struggle with you.”

  “Me?” I responded. So I was right. He hated me, blamed me—no, I stopped and remembered our conversation in the car. “What about me?”

  “I abandoned you.” He did? I tilted my head and continued listening to his side of the story. “You asked for help, and instead of listening to you, I stirred the pot upsetting her and perhaps igniting the fire that ended her life.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” I put my hand over his, comforting him, or better yet, looking for comfort myself. “I could’ve used your support, I won’t lie. However, the things that happened that day had nothing to do with you.”

  “What happened, Becca?”

  Saved by Robert, who joined us for dinner, I didn’t have to find a way to evade his question. It wasn’t the time for me to bring up that day. I hoped we never had to touch the subject again. While dining, we touched on light subjects like Ty’s family, Robert’s trip to France, and what I wanted him to donate for my Gala Dinner. We finished the meal with a flourless chocolate cake drizzled with raspberry sauce; dessert hit the spot to complete my day.

  When we arrived home, a brand new charcoal Aston Martin occupied the Bentley’s spot. Dan’s, I guessed. I rushed upstairs, but the apartment still stood empty. Sorrow overcame me; he didn’t want to be around me. I faked a headache, and Ty left. When I walked into the bedroom, a vase next to my night table held a single pink crystal tulip. Carefully, I picked it up and caressed it. A pang in my heart released all the tears I held since Dan left me.

  Miss you

  Said the card next to the vase. I didn’t know what it meant, or why he bothered sending it. Every day I had more questions than answers about what had become my lonely life.

  * * * * *

  Dear Lisa,

  After you died, they handcuffed me and took me for interrogation. They were going to charge me with multiple homicides.

  “How did I kill her without a weapon?” I asked the detective.

  “Your mother said you killed her,” he said accusingly.

  Henry, Dan’s lawyer, arrived in the nick of time, halting the interrogation. “No more questions,” he said in his courtroom voice. “I need to talk to my client before we continue.”

  A few minutes after I talked to him, they tested me for gunpowder residue, and two hours later, Henry had me out of jail. Social Services drove behind Dan’s car…. They threatened to take me away because of you.

  Are we each other’s victims? I’d contact a medium to ask you, but you’d refuse to cooperate.

  Enjoy hell,

  Rebecca.

  Chapter 11

  Trying to find a parking space at seven o’clock on a Monday night in Boston was almost as exasperating as the traffic. The drive to Café deBlazz had taken longer than planned, and right away, when we entered, Bryan pointed out Connor waiting for me. He sat next to a curving stairway with a cast-iron railing. Annoyed, I looked toward the coffee bar on the other side of the café. A display of decadent desserts waited, but after therapy, I had succumbed to exhaustion and was unable to walk to the counter.

  “Decaf? Or do you prefer tea?” Bryan asked, offering to order for me.

  “Tea and a white chocolate mousse, please.” I turned toward the reading section. The space invited me to sit and read a book. Dan brought me at least once a month to enjoy the desserts. I sighed, pushing back the nostalgia that tried to dampen my mood. Instead, I walked towards Connor, who finally spotted me.

  “You’re still walking with crutches?” Connor stood up to help me with the chair. “When did the cast come off?”

  “A couple of days ago.” Bryan handed me my tea, while setting the mousse and a chocolate drizzled cupcake on the table. He pointed his head at the counter, where Heidi—the owner—waved and smiled. “Thank you, Bryan.”

  Bryan nodded, and went back to the counter to return the tray and grab his order.

  “This is entertaining.” Connor sipped from his cup, I guessed a cappuccino—he was a caffeine junkie. “First, a man rushed through your Mom’s house while Matt Damon on steroids waited for you inside a nice SUV.”

  “His name is Bryan.” I pointed out to Connor.

  “Today, Bryan bought you coffee, which by the way, I’d planned on doing. Oh, and let’s not forget Dan, who ‘wants you home.’” I didn’t care for his tone, or his hand gestures. “I gather Tyler Sanders is Lisa’s brother, right? Dan is your boyfriend, and you came with Bryan?”

  “God, you make everything sound weird.”

  Dan’s my best friend, who assigned Bryan to be my security detail because…. I don’t know. And when I said ‘we paid’ I meant Bryan, with the corporate card Dan gave him… so yeah. My life was like a reality show, and he might be onto something. Though I didn’t voice my thoughts.

  “Yeah, he’s that Tyler, plus he’s Dan’s best friend. You met Dan Brightmore a couple of times, when Ty visited. Didn’t you?”

  “Holly shit. I’ve met Brightmore and never connected Tyler’s friend with the billionaire.” His face lit up, and he smirked. “Say no more. Everything makes sense.”

  Someone understood, finally. Could he explain it to me? I didn’t ask, and let him go on with his mono
logue while enjoyed my mousse cake. Connor brought up all the memories of us while growing up. He remembered the small girl with dark piggy tails and bright yellow dress. The one who climbed trees with the boys next door to fit in. Most of the memories from our childhood involved Ian; thankfully he didn’t mentioned him once.

  “Your grandma’s death changed you.” I scowled, and clenched my jaw, getting ready to leave the encounter. “Ian became your only friend.” His voice radiated bitterness. “No one in the world came between the two of you. He fixed everything for you… until—”

  “It’s getting late.” I cut off the conversation.

  “Mom is expecting us for dinner next Sunday.” He stood and helped me with my coat. “Ryan and I will pick you up around four. Text me your address.”

  Connor walked me to the car. Bryan tailed us and opened my door helping me with the crutches and closing it before Connor could give me a hug. Frowning at Bryan, he waved goodbye and walked to his own vehicle.

  Rude―what happened to Bryan’s manners? I grabbed my iPad to check my emails, but most of them were memos or junk from the corporation that I didn’t need.

  “You shouldn’t have mentioned Mr. Brightmore,” Bryan said, taking my attention from the electronic. “Please forgive me for intruding—”

  “I’ll forgive you, after you explain to me how in the world you listened to my conversation.”

  He touched the lapel of my jacket. He’d pinned a listening gadget to it. Had he transmitted the conversation to Dan? Evidently, the security company’s new equipment had arrived and Mr. Brightmore had decided to try them on me.

  “Mr. Patrick likes to climb the corporate ladder,” he paused, measuring my reaction. “He might want to use your connections. I would hate to see him get hurt.”

  “Thank you. Me too.” After my earlier conversation with Connor, I’d let Bryan do his hit man job, no hesitation.

  * * * * *

  The elevator stopped on the mezzanine level—what we called the gym floor. I eyed Bryan, who seemed to be writing a complete speech on his tablet. I’d forgotten to swipe my card to disable the use of the elevator for other tenants, and an entire family crowded inside. We nodded at each other. The mom held the hand of a little girl, maybe five years old. The dad carried an unhappy toddler, whose head rested on his shoulder.

  “Neil, we’ll be home soon and I’ll look at your hand, baby.” The mom rubbed his shoulder with her free hand.

  The husband looked at her affectionately and tilted closer to her, whispering something that made her turn bright red. Feeling like an intruder, I averted my gaze towards the floor, but stopping at the lady’s swollen belly. Longing overtook me. I wanted a family… a partner who’d loved me. I wanted quiet evenings with my husband and children, filled with laughter and fun.

  I must have stared at them too long, since the husband cleared his throat and extended his hand. “William Kessler. I didn’t know we had a new tenant.”

  I shook hands with him. “Rebecca Trent. I’ve lived here for a while…. I just forgot to….” I blushed while he looked over the elevator’s keypad. They lived on the twentieth floor, four before the glowing PH. “It’s a silly thing, I guess.”

  He grinned, and somehow, by the time we’d reached the twentieth floor, I’d exchanged numbers with Pamela Kessler and promised to have them over for lunch that weekend.

  “The children will love the terrace,” I blurted.

  God, I needed to get myself checked out….

  Oh no, wait. Been there, done that.

  While Grandma lived, I had mingled with the entire neighborhood. She was a people person and so, by extension, was I. When had I stopped connecting with others?

  I felt lonelier than usual. The elevator doors opened onto our floor, but I hesitated before walking to Dan’s place. It didn’t feel right tonight. The floor-to-roof windows made the place bigger. The city lights infiltrated from everywhere, swallowing me alive. I felt insignificant, a grain of sand, a speck of dust. Still, I let myself in, closing out the world.

  Bored, lonely, and with a chocolate craving I gathered all the ingredients from Mary’s magical pantry—it never ran out of stuff—and prepared brownies and blondies. I knew the recipes by heart, grandma taught me how to bake before I rode a bike. Connor was right; after she died, I closed myself to the outside world and only let Ian be part of it.

  Ian, who by the end of my thirteenth summer, made plans for us. It all started the night of July seventh. I tried to be brave, and face her indifference with the same value, but I couldn’t. Once she left for the night, I ran towards the tree house, tears fogged my eyes, and I tripped, scraping my knees, and making everything hurt even more. Fat, hot tears came down burning my skin the same way they burnt my insides. Mom had forgotten—or chosen to ignore—the date. I didn’t get a cake, a present, or a happy birthday. Thankfully, Ian hadn’t gone to his grandparents that year. He joined me in the tree house.

  “You never told me she didn’t celebrate your birthday,” he said, after I recounted my day. “I’m glad I brought this with me.”

  He opened a bag that contained a cupcake and a single candle. He lit it and sang a terrible birthday song. I blew out the candle, wishing for normal—a normal life; a normal family. Ian got me; he knew what I needed and always made me happy.

  “What did you wish for?” He split the cupcake in half and gave me mine.

  “I miss Grandma.” She had given me normal, or as normal as she could. “I wished for normal. I want normal, Ian, a family who cares and… what you have. A proper dad… a mom. You even have a brother. And uncles and aunts and cousins… people who love you.

  “I can’t do anything today.” He smiled at me, but there was concern in his green eyes. “But I’ll share my family with you, and after we finish college, we’ll get married. I promise.”

  When Grandma died, Ian had supported me in everything. Made everything better for me. We were Ian and Becca, best friends. But that night, things changed. We became an extension of each other. He was the head and I was the body, or vice-versa. I obsessed about the future. Those days I didn’t want to continue, the promise of normal kept me going.

  Connor had hit a nerve. I had closed myself off to everyone but Ian. He spoke for me, decided for me, and my world crumbled when he left me. He withdrew from me within weeks of returning from his grandparents in North Carolina. One Friday night, I had waited for him in the tree house, but he never came. Around midnight, I gave up and went home, and caught him making out with Lisa on the front porch. Lisa gave me a wicked smile, but he only turned dull eyes to the floor.

  The sand castles we made disappeared with the high tide Lisa had brought.

  That Thanksgiving, Greg and Mom left me with the Patrick family to go and visit Greg’s parents in Arizona. Lisa didn’t want me around her family, and Mom agreed to her request—anything to please her new daughter. I stayed home, faking a terrible case of PMS. Mrs. Patrick checked on me a couple of times, and brought me some food. On Saturday, I sat on my porch playing with a couple of kids I used to babysit.

  “You should’ve come to dinner.” Ian’s voice came from the driveway. “Mom didn’t believe your excuse.”

  I disregarded his comment and continued playing.

  “Are you going to ignore me forever?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and stared as if he didn’t know me.

  “Do you care?” I asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “The old you would have broken up with me before…. You cheated, Ian. You’ve become someone I don’t like.”

  “Funny.” He laughed without humor. “I loathed that guy.”

  “You like this?” I waved my hands in front of the shell he’d become.

  “I don’t.” He squatted, and his mouth was close to my ear. “I hate both. But I’m not unhappy anymore. The pushover is dead. I killed him.”

  I became painstakingly aware of his presence; his soapy scent had been replaced by the stench of whiskey and cigarettes. I
cried all night for what we’d lost and the future that would never happen. I buried my first—and only—boyfriend, my best friend, and my dreams alive. My normal left me, but I promised myself I’d create my own life.

  Ten years after those plans, I no longer sought normal. Old me had needed a family, because no one cared. Now my friends remembered my birthday, and sent me Christmas cards. People asked after my health and cherished me. They cared. Now, I craved the real deal. A loving husband I adored, a few children I’d love unconditionally, and all the perks.

  But I’d dared to dream too soon. A dagger in the form of a memory pricked my heart. Things weren’t that simple for me.

  * * * * *

  Dear Lisa,

  Did you really get everything you wanted? Or did you take because others had what you didn’t? Were you happy… or only numb enough not to know?

  Did you enjoy hurting me, or just feel better because my life sucked more than yours, thanks to you?

  Last night I had a nightmare—the day you died came back. Everything, plus a new memory. After you were dead, he told me, “I fucking hated her. She disgusted me. I didn’t leave, because she had money. I couldn’t afford my needs without her.”

  You didn’t destroy me, but you killed him. I know you’re not with him. Are you alone?

  Disturbed and highly confused,

  Rebecca Trent

  * * * * *

  To: Dan

  From: Bex

  Subject: oops… guests for lunch?

  Last night I forgot to swipe the bypass card while riding the elevator, and I met the Kesslers—nice family, cute kids. I invited them for lunch. Will it bother you if I have them over on Saturday?

  Letting them come will make up for the stunt you pulled, listening to my conversation. I hate two things about it. One: I’m not mad at you. What is wrong with me? I should be screaming at you. Two: If you heard, then you know I needed you and you weren’t here. I hate this. The big wall you built. And, most of all, that the wall is a good thing for us too.