Beautiful Dark

by Jordyn White

  “Uh-huh”

  “When does that start?”

  “I don’t know. I have to get all the details worked out.”

  “That’s great, honey. I’m proud of you.” He squeezes me again and kisses the top of my head. We take several more steps in silence, him looking around at the beautiful buildings. I’m hoping the conversation is over, but don’t want to do anything to get his radar up. I wait for him to change the subject on his own.

  “What’s that building over there? Is that the library?”

  I unclench a bit. It’s over for now. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. “Yeah. Cool, right?”

  The library is a massive building made of great, gray stones, wide stone steps leading up the front, and square turrets on either side of the central peaked building. “Want to see the research room on the second floor? It’s really pretty. Like something out of Harry Potter.”

  “Sure.” We cross the quad at an angle, cutting across the grass, and I ask myself for the first time what I’m going to do after graduation if my scan in May comes back clean. I feel a surge of anxiety so strong, I tighten my hold on Mason’s waist. He hugs me close in response, then slaps my ass playfully.

  Moments, I remind myself. And this is a good one. But that anxiety lingers with me all the way to the second floor of the library, where it finally retreats. I have another scan to get through before I need to worry about life after graduation. And that’s still a month and a half away. I can’t worry about it yet. It’s too soon. Right now it’s April seventh, and I’m going to let April seventh be its own day.

  As we walk past the dark wood tables, scattered with the occasional student and adorned with brass table lamps with stained glass sculpted shades, I grab Masons hand and pull him into one of the tall rows of bookcases. We’re out of sight of the other students who are working up here.

  He gives me that grin I love, wraps me up in his arms, and indulges in the kind of kiss that helps me forget.

  Mason

  I can’t believe I’ve already been in California six weeks. The days fly by. I love my job. I’m getting more comfortable with the people there, and feeling less like the new guy. It almost seems ridiculous to get paid for what I do. I get to play all day long. On top of that, almost every day at lunch I go for a walk that gives me a gorgeous view of the ocean.

  It’s funny, even though Corrine is a lot closer than she used to be, she still feels too far away. It’s an hour and a half drive between Swan Pointe and Rosebrook, and one of us makes the journey pretty much every weekend. When I go there, I get a room at the Red Lion just a couple blocks from campus. She’s shown me around town and taken me to all her favorite haunts.

  When she comes here, she still technically stays at Lizzy’s, so I usually either end up staying the night with her or she stays the night with me. I’ve had two monthly cousins dinners with her family so far, and I actually look forward to them now. Last time, I brought over my silver box with my poker chips and cards, and we sat around Rayce’s table playing Blackjack and drinking beer and wine. Corrine made Sin in a Pan brownies, and they were fucking heavenly.

  Since the weather’s been so nice, we’ve taken to hanging out at the resort. There’s always something different to do. We’ve eaten at each restaurant and cafe, gone down the zip line, joined an excursion party on the resort’s yacht, and played in every pool on the grounds.

  Our favorite is the lazy river. Once Connor came with us, which Rayce would frown upon as undignified for an owner, but Connor swiped Little Max from Lizzy and Brett and used that as his excuse. It’s pretty clear he’s fond of that kid anyway, but I told Corrine I suspected Connor would go on the lazy river all by himself if his brother allowed it. She laughed and nodded. I’m getting a pretty good feel for this family.

  I’m all the way unpacked and have started some of the upgrades I was originally going to do when I was going to sell the place. I almost decided to do them myself, since I know how and it’s cheaper, but I’m not exactly hurting for money and I’d rather spend my time apart from Corrine in the garage. So the weekend she had to stay in Rosebrook because she had too much homework to justify a visit, I worked on the car while a crew came in and painted almost every room in the house.

  It’s a little strange being here sometimes. Lizzy once asked me if it makes me sad to live here. It doesn’t. But even though this is my childhood home, sometimes I feel like a guest here more than the owner. Maybe it’s all the ghosts living here that keep me from feeling like it’s one hundred percent mine. I don’t know. I hope as I continue to renovate and change things, it’ll start to really feel like my home.

  I’ve spoken with both my mother and my grandmother several times. The conversations with my mother were awkward at first. She seems to have accepted things a little better, even though I can tell it’s still hard, and even surprised me in our most recent conversation.

  “I thought I would come pay you a visit.”

  “Really? I’d love that.”

  “Your grandmother isn’t up for traveling that far anymore, but Peggy said she’d look after her.” Peggy is my grandmother’s neighbor, and getting up there herself, but she’s able to do a lot more than my grandmother can. She’s been helping Mom out by checking on her from time to time, and even running the occasional errand. They do seem to be handling things there without me.

  “When would you want to come?”

  “Mom has her last physical therapy appointment this Saturday, so I was thinking next weekend?”

  “Wow, that’s quick.”

  “If it’s too soon—”

  “No, no, no. That’d be great. I’d love to see you.”

  When my mom first gets into town, I thought I’d bring her back to the house, but she suggests we have dinner at the hotel where she insisted on staying. It’s a place that’s new to her, apparently, which I suspect is the point.

  We talk about how things are going back home, and about my job here. At one point she asks, “Are you and that girl still seeing each other?”

  “Corrine,” I say, gently. “Yes.”

  She nods, contrite, concentrating on curling her pasta onto her fork. “Corrine. Right. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She takes a bite and doesn’t say any more about it. We stay a long time, and by the time we’re getting the bill, she says, “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

  “What would you like to do tomorrow?”

  “The concierge was telling me about a place around the corner that’s supposed to have good French toast. Want to go there for breakfast?”

  She’s talking to the concierge about places to go in a town she lived in for years?

  “Have you ever been there before?” I ask, suspecting the answer.

  She shakes her head.

  I sigh internally. She’s avoiding memories. I guess that’s her call. “We can do that. What time?”

  The next morning, we have breakfast and she declares the French toast excellent; I went for the eggs Benedict. We sit there talking so long, I half expect her to suggest we have lunch there, too. Maybe she plans to just hide out here for her entire visit.

  But apparently, she’s done hiding. “So, maybe you can show me the renovations you’ve done on the house?”

  While giving Mom the tour, it becomes evident pretty quickly that it’s a good thing she didn’t stay here. It’s hard on her, and it’s hard on me to watch her walking through the house and be hurting so much, but it’s good too. I end up making her lunch, and we talk about things a little.

  She confirms my memory that the counters used to be green, and reminded me of other things, like the little built-in curio that used to be in the dining room but has since been removed.

  After a while it’s clear she’s had enough, but I feel we’ve made progress, because when she suggests we go for a drive to see Terrace Creek Olive Mill, she caps it off by saying, “Your dad and I used to love going there.”

 
The olive mill is in the hills about an hour outside of town, off the same highway that leads to Rosebrook and Hartman College. They serve lunch and dinner on the patio, which has a nice view of the vineyards, but since we’ve had lunch and it’s still too early for dinner, we opt for drinks instead. It’s a relaxing way to spend the afternoon, and we’re able to talk about things more openly.

  I end up admitting that sometimes it feels off, living in that house. “It’s like it’s not really mine. It sometimes seems like it still belongs to you and dad.”

  “That might be something to pay attention to. It’s not good to live in the past, son.”

  I wonder if she realizes that, out of the two of us, she needs that advice more than I do.

  “Maybe that town isn’t the right place for you.”

  “No. It’s just how I feel about the house right now. Everything else is like... home.”

  She furrows her brows, examining me as if wanting to know whether I’m telling the truth.

  I take a risk, and add, “Corrine, too.”

  She blinks, and her expression softens. “Tell me something about her.”

  “You want to hear about Corrine?”

  She takes a sip of her wine. “I don’t need a novel. Just tell me something. The only thing I know about her is...”

  She doesn’t finish her thought, but she doesn’t need to.

  “Right. Well, she’s a senior at Hartman College.”

  “Wait, how old is she?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Did she start late?”

  “No, but she lost some time because she’s had a couple bouts with cancer. She’s been out for chemo a couple times.”

  “Oh.” She frowns down at her wine glass. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “She’s okay now.” I don’t want that to be the only thing she knows about Corrine, so I’m sure to get in more before she decides she’s heard enough. “She’s getting a degree in Psychology, but she’s actually switching to a different career field. She’s going to start working on an online communications degree after she graduates.”

  She nods, watching me and listening, but she’s fussing with the stem of her glass.

  “She’s really funny and lively. And so kind.” Even I can hear the tenderness in my own voice when I talk about her. “She really likes to embrace life, too. I love that about her.”

  Her eyes are locked on me. “Are you in love?”

  The question makes my heart race a little, but I’m not sure how to answer it. I’m fucking crazy about Corrine, and suspect I am falling for her, but we’ve only been dating three months, and most of that was from halfway across the country. It’s too soon to be making declarations of love. Sometimes people throw those words around like it’s nothing, but being in love is no small thing.

  I don’t think Mom wants to hear all my ruminations on the topic though, so I just say, “We haven’t said anything like that to each other. No.”

  “Well, when have you ever told a woman you love her?”

  I frown. Maybe I’m not the kind of guy to say it much. But isn’t showing it better than saying it, anyway?

  “Besides, that wasn’t my question.”

  I smile. “I like her a lot, Mom.” So much I can practically see love on the horizon, I realize. But we have time. I’ll let it happen when it happens.

  “Okay, then.” She takes a deep breath and sits back in her seat. “She sounds like a nice girl.”

  I smile. “She is.”

  “Maybe I should meet her.”

  My eyebrows slowly raise. Did she really just say that?

  “Hartman isn’t far. Maybe we could go up and take Corrine to dinner or something.”

  I blink. “Really?”

  “I don’t want to meet the others,” she says firmly. “I just want to meet her.”

  “Okay. That’s okay. That’d be great, Mom. Thank you.”

  I set it up with Corrine and within another fifteen minutes we’re on our way. Once we get on the road and head for Rosebrook, I start to feel a little anxious about the whole thing. Mom must be feeling it too, though probably worse than me, because the closer we get, the more she starts digging her thumb into the armrest.

  “You okay?”

  She nods. “Fine. Have you been to any of the wineries around here?”

  “Not yet.”

  “There’s some good ones. Your father and I really liked one over the hill that way. I can’t remember the name of it, though. I could look it up.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Once we hit Rosebrook, she clasps her hands together on her lap, squeezing tightly. She really doesn’t look okay. Maybe this is a bad idea.

  “We don’t have to do this, Mom. If it’s too hard for you—”

  “No, we already told her we were coming.”

  “She’ll understand. I promise.”

  “No,” she says more firmly. She takes a deep breath and unclenches her hands. “I can’t go back still wondering about her.”

  Chapter 25

  Corrine

  I don’t know if I’m supposed to pick a place or if Mason has something in mind, but I’ve gone through the possibilities and come up with a few options. If they want something fancier, there’s The Iron House. If they want something casual, Delsa’s Diner has the best burgers in town. And for something in the middle, there’s Mexican food at El Toro’s, or Italian at Asiago’s. That should cover our bases.

  It didn’t take too long to come up with that plan, though, so I’m spending the rest of the time talking to Lizzy on the phone and obsessing about the whole thing.

  “I don’t know what to say about what happened with his dad.”

  “I don’t think you have to say anything. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, either. She probably just wants to get to know you.”

  “Yeah. But what if she does bring it up? What do I say?”

  “I don’t know. All you can do is say what you feel. Just be honest and be yourself. I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but it’s easy for people to like you.”

  “Well, when I see him, do I give him a hug and a kiss or not?”

  Lizzy laughs. “Just do what you normally do.”

  “I’m not making out with him in front of his mother.”

  “Is that how you guys say hello?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Oh my God, you guys are so adorable.”

  “Seriously, Lizzy. What do I do?”

  “Okay, okay. Look, no, you don’t want to be making out in front of her, but you don’t want to act like you don’t like him. She’s going to want to know that you guys have a good relationship and that you’re happy together. So treat her son the way you think he deserves to be treated, and leave it at that.”

  “Okay. That makes sense.”

  “Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay.”

  That is probably my least favorite platitude in the entire world, but in this particular situation, it does kind of help. I take a deep breath. It probably will be okay.

  I hope.

  Later, when Mason texts me that they’re at the edge of town and stopping for gas, the butterflies start up.

  Mason: Let’s go somewhere casual. A pizza place or something?

  I’m proud of myself for being ready with the response.

  Me: We could go to Delsa’s diner. They have great burgers.

  Mason: The place with the cookie pie?

  Last time he was here, we’d gone there late one night for snacks, so he hasn’t tried any of the regular food, aside from the volcano fries, which we had right alongside our cookies.

  Me: Yes. Do you think she would like that?

  Mason: That’s perfect. Meet you there?

  Oh, I like this meeting-there plan. That’ll save some awkwardness, probably. I head out the door immediately, wanting to be there first.

  When I arrive, I count myself lucky that one of the better booths is available, and hold it for us. While watching the d
oor, I fuss with the stuff on the table, straightening the napkin dispenser, rotating the ketchup and mustard bottles so the labels face out, and moving around the little Specials placard. Like a nervous idiot. Which, of course, I am.

  She comes to the door first, followed by Mason. In the instant I see her, I take in her body language, her facial expression, her behavior, looking for clues to how this might go.

  She has a purse with long straps slung over one shoulder. She’s hanging onto the top of her purse with one hand, and gripping the front strap with the other. Guarded. She scans the restaurant half-heartedly, seeming to wait for Mason’s lead to find me. I don’t know if she knows what I look like, anyway. Has he shown her a picture? How much have they talked about me?

  She looks as nervous as I feel, and my mind flies back to that party on Thanksgiving when Mason came into the lion’s den. I only have one person to meet and we’re in neutral territory. It could almost be considered my turf. How did he do it?

  His eyes land on me quickly. As he points me out and she looks at me, I slide out of the booth and come to a stand.

  They come in my direction, and I grip my hands in front of me. Then I make myself let go and try to stand normally. I give her a smile. I’m nervous, but my smile is genuine. This is Mason’s mother.

  “Hi honey,” he says as he comes up to me. He gives me a kiss that’s the perfect blend of sweetness and affection, and I’m glad he took the lead. He slides an arm comfortingly around my shoulders. “Mom, this is Corrine. Corrine, this is my mother, Nancy.”

  I extend my hand, wanting to put her at ease and keep all the nerves to myself. “I’m so happy to meet you.” Not a lie. I do want this. I have wanted this. I want it to go well. I want to know she’s okay with me, or at least okay enough that there are no problems between her and her son.

  In all my discussion with Lizzy, I somehow failed to realize that one simple thing. My thoughts were selfish. What would she think of me? What could I do to make sure she liked me? But now that she’s in front of me, I’m really more concerned about her.

  “Was the drive okay?” I ask, as we start to sit down.

  Mason sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. Nancy watches that gesture, then brings her eyes to mine. She smiles slightly, for the first time. I wonder whose idea this was. She doesn’t seem prepared for it, any more than I am.