I tilt my head up slightly and lower it slowly. It’s a lazy nod that allows me to think about what to say next. It doesn’t matter though, because Anthony’s moved on to something else.
He opens the small ice chest on the floor next to his feet. “Did you know you have all kinds of food in here?”
My gaze flickers over to the container of carrots, the pulled pork sandwich wrapped in tin foil, the bag of potato chips. My mother packed it for Brynn, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t need to. I couldn’t eat it either, even though I was starving when I finished this afternoon. Despite Brynn needing a lot of direction on the job, having a second set of hands was more helpful than I realized. I need to start looking for someone to fill her spot, but I don’t want to have to tell my parents she’s gone. That conversation will have to happen soon enough, delaying it a few more days isn’t going to hurt anything.
Brynn’s helpfulness wasn’t the only thing I missed today. I missed her presence, her laughter, her chatter and the way she hummed songs without realizing it. She would’ve loved seeing the old photos I was hanging today as a part of a gallery wall. I didn’t ask the homeowner, but I’m assuming the people in the photos were her grandparents.
It started with a black and white photo of a couple in a church and went all the way through a lifetime until a recent photo of a large family, including the now white-haired couple, and younger people surrounding them. If Brynn had been there she would’ve asked about the collection. She would’ve pointed out different parts of the pictures and commented on what she saw. The job would’ve taken an hour longer because she would’ve been making a friend while I re-configured her measurements.
“What?” I ask when I realize Anthony is staring at me.
He points down. “The food in the ice chest.”
“Oh. Um. Yeah, I knew it was in there.”
“You don’t want it?”
Instead of answering, I use my teeth to rip open a corner of the plastic bag and pour in a mouthful of sunflower seeds.
“More for me, then.” Anthony pulls out the tin foil and unwraps it. “Yes,” he hisses, grinning and taking a big bite. A little slaw falls off the sandwich and onto the spread out foil on his lap. “Your mom should sell this. Forget Vale Handyman Services.”
I swallow my mouthful and take a drink of water. “Are you trying to put me out of a job?”
“You’re going to be a famous painter. Brynn can run the handyman biz while you paint all day.” He tilts his head and squints at me. “Maybe I’ll get you a beret for your birthday. It’ll look good on you. Bring out your cheekbones.”
“Don’t be surprised when you hook a fish wearing a beret.”
“Hah,” he barks and takes a huge bite of the pulled pork. “So why are you going all the way to Sports House? Can’t you find what you need at the supply store in town?”
“No.” I can tell he’s dying to hear more, but I’m not sharing. If I tell him what I’m after, he’s going to want to know why the hell I’m buying it. I’d rather not have that conversation when we’re stuck in this car and I can’t get away from his questions.
Anthony finishes the food meant for Brynn and tosses his trash back into the ice chest at his feet. He opens his mouth, and when I’m certain he’s going to ask about Brynn, he asks if I want to hit bags tomorrow after work. I agree quickly. The tension inside me is building every minute, every fucking second.
When we get to Sports House, I head right for the emergency preparedness section at the back of the store. On my way, I pass a display shelf and pick up a medium-sized maroon backpack with a million little compartments. Once I’m in the section I came here for, I grab a LifeStraw, two mylar blankets, a pocket knife, and waterproof matches. I don’t know what it’s like where Brynn is going, but she’s going to have what she needs to survive. Water, fire, and shelter.
Anthony says nothing. He watches the items as I toss them into the cart, and when I’m finished, we walk over to the fishing section. He grabs what he needs from a massive selection. To me, it all looks the same and has the same function—catch a freaking fish. To Anthony, everything is different and meets different needs. He grabs worms from the cooler and goes to check-out.
On the drive back, when I think that perhaps, by some miracle, I’ve gotten away with not hearing any commentary from the peanut gallery, I’m proven wrong.
“Why didn’t you know Brynn’s with Julia? Why are you free tomorrow night, when you haven’t been available for weeks? And for fuck’s sake, why didn’t she eat the lunch your mom packed for her today?”
I have some questions of my own, starting with When did you get so observant and Can you go back to being unobservant? To buy time, I scratch the back of my head with two knuckles and roll my neck around a few times. I don’t want to tell Anthony for the same reason I don’t want to tell my parents. Not never, just not yet.
I’m not going to get that option. I’m stuck in a small space with Anthony, and he’s staring me down.
“Brynn and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“I already knew that.”
I sigh and shake my head. I should’ve known. Julia and Brynn have become friends. If Anthony knows about that, then he probably knows that—
“I hear Des is back in town.”
“Yep.”
“Does that have anything to do with you and Brynn calling it quits?” He reaches into the plastic bag on his lap as he talks and pulls out his new bait. Turning it over, he examines it through the clear packaging. I’m glad he’s not staring me down right now, demanding answers with that look he gets when he’s determined.
“Sort of, but not really. Des showed up at my place and tried to insert herself back into my life. Some shit about how she misses me, yada yada. I told her to beat it. Then Brynn drove up with Julia.”
Brynn’s expression on that day pops into my head. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t threatened. Realization was dawning on her as she sat in Julia’s passenger seat.
“Brynn ended things because she has other plans, Anthony. Plans I don’t have any hope of interrupting.” And, maybe, I don’t want to. That’s why I went to Sports House today. That’s why I went to the hardware store when I left her place yesterday. If Brynn needs to leave to feel safe, how can I get in the way of that? I won’t. Instead, I’ll make her feel as secure as I possibly can.
“It doesn’t make any sense to me, man. Either she wants to be with you, or she doesn’t. End of story.”
“It’s not always black and white,” I say, staring out at the dark road ahead of us. “Some stories have a lot of colors.” It makes me think of the Eye of the Storm painting. I still don’t know where to send it. The email said the buyer would contact me with an address.
“Whatever this story is, it must be a fucking rainbow, Connor.”
The thought doesn’t cheer me up. Rainbows aren’t real. They’re what happens when the sun shines through particles in Earth’s atmosphere.
Brynn isn’t the sun. She’s a violent storm, an angry body of water, a churning sea spewing fear, shame, and regret. Emotions strong enough to sink an average human being, a painter masquerading as a handyman, a guy who fears he has the passion but lacks the talent. She’s strong enough to sink a freighter.
Brynn is a category five gale, and I’m fucking drowning in her.
21
Brynn
Julia has too many good qualities to count. She’s caring and compassionate, funny and adventurous, and good at reading people too. Especially me. Today I’m not counting that on her good qualities list. Today I want to be overlooked. I’m tired, cranky, and seeing things that don’t exist. Or might not exist. But they could exist.
When I thought Eric Prince was sending me threatening letters, I could handle that. He had an excuse, and at least I knew who it was, or who I thought it was, anyway, but a female? I never saw that coming. The other letters were written in all caps. I assumed it was him, because who else wou
ld write those words? There was a weird comfort in knowing who was doing it, and now that’s gone. Before, I looked harder at every man who crossed my path, making certain I was safe from Eric Prince. Now I have to look harder at everyone.
Not Julia. This is the third time she has hugged me since I arrived this morning to help her with last minute parade details. I haven’t told her it’s my birthday. Walt drove me here, and I didn’t tell him either. Julia is hugging me because she senses my feelings.
She pulls back from the hug and doesn’t say anything about it. Just goes right on talking with her little clipboard and the checklist I made for her. We’re both wearing the T-shirts I told her to make. I distributed them to shop owners around town, and talked Mary and Cassidy into wearing them for their shifts. The owner of the cafe let all the waitresses wear them, and they said everyone who came in was asking about the parade. Julia was ecstatic when she heard that.
She’s reading off the to-do items on the list when a guy with a camera around his neck taps her on the shoulder.
“Hi, are you Julia?” With a thumb, he points behind himself to a group of people standing off to the side. “They said you’re in charge.”
Julia pushes back her shoulders and pulls the clipboard into her chest. “I’m Julia. Can I help you with something?”
The guy extends a hand. “I’m Craig. I work for the Arizona Times. They sent me up here to cover your parade.”
Julia’s eyes widen. Her fingers grip the sides of her clipboard as she struggles to maintain her cool. “The Arizona Times?”
Craig grabs the yellow lanyard from around his neck and holds it out. Dangling from the end is a laminated card with his picture and the name of the newspaper written in large letters. “There’s a section for events around the state. Brighton is making the news with their first annual Fourth of July parade.” He grins and shrugs. “I need some pictures if you wouldn’t mind. Maybe one of you next to a float?”
“Sure,” Julia says, but she stays in place.
Grabbing her arm, I lead her to the Tonolep Farms float. It’s decked out with bales of hay, red and white gingham fabric bunched between the bales, and a cow statue. “Stand in front of this one. People recognize this brand. They sell their milk in all the grocery stores in Phoenix.” I position her so the cow is behind her head. “Act natural. Loosen your grip on the clipboard. Maybe hold it with one hand and put the other one on your hip.” She listens. I back up and let Craig work.
After he has taken a few pictures, Julia motions me over. “You helped plan it too. Without you, the Arizona Times probably wouldn’t have heard about it.”
Craig swings my direction, his camera still in front of his face. I lift my hands. “No no no. This is your project.” Not to mention I don’t need to give my location away.
Craig lowers the camera. His eyes scrunch, his head tilts. “I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
I laugh, but the sound is too loud and forced. “I get that a lot,” I say, trying to rein in the alarm slamming through me. “I have one of those faces.”
Craig appraises me for one more second before he gives up and turns back to Julia. He asks her to lead him through some of the other floats and introduce him to other people he can interview.
They walk away, and all the frightened air leaves my body. There is nothing for me to slump against, so I settle for letting my shoulders fall and dipping my head.
Crisis averted.
“Thanks for all your help today,” Julia says as we pull up to my house.
Leaning over the seat, I give her a quick hug. “No problem.”
She pulls back but keeps her gaze on my house. “What’s that?”
I whip around, slamming my elbow on the passenger door. Lying at my front door is a dark red bag of some kind, and next to it are flowers and balloons.
“He remembered,” I murmur, rubbing my elbow.
“Is it your birthday today?” Julia’s tone is incredulous.
I turn back, biting my lip and eyeing her. Her mouth is hanging open and her eyebrows are raised. “Yes.”
“Brynn! You let me go all day without knowing. This is not acceptable. What are you doing tonight?”
I catch myself squirming and force my hands to stay still in my lap. “Seeing Walt.”
Julia lightly smacks her steering wheel. “Saturday night. You and me. Girls only.”
“Sure,” I say, guilt devouring me instantly. I plan to leave Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon I’ll be on a plane to Dallas, and from there I can go almost anywhere.
“Good,” she nods, smiling.
I open the door and climb out, telling her I’ll see her in two days at the parade. I back up and wave. She pulls away and I walk up to the house.
I was right. It is a bag, but more like a backpack. The flowers are wild, the kind I see growing all over town, and their stems are tied with red and white kitchen twine. My gaze falls on a card tucked under the backpack, just as the breeze sends the balloons bumping into the house. My name is written on the front in Connor’s handwriting. At least I know that for certain.
Scooping everything up, I balance it in one arm and unlock the door with the other. I kick the door closed, glance around, and re-lock it. After dumping everything on the couch, I fill a water glass and place the flowers inside, then go back to the living room.
I start with the backpack. So many zippers, so many compartments. Am I going on a camping trip that I don’t know about? Inside I find mylar blankets, something I can drink through that has a built-in water filter, a first-aid kit, waterproof matches, and a small tool kit.
I’m more confused than ever. Connor didn’t strike me as a guy who needed much direction in the gift-giving department. Maybe I can drop a hint to Julia and she can—
Oh my god.
He’s preparing me.
He’s trying to take care of me after I leave, for as long as he can. He wants to keep me safe.
I grab the card and pull it from the envelope.
Brynn,
I tried writing you a funny rhyme, but it turns out rhyming isn’t as fun when you’re not thinking on your toes.
I’ve thought of all the ways I could make you stay. I’m not above faking a terminal illness, but then I decided I can’t stop you. And I shouldn’t stop you, either. Not when the stakes are so high. So, instead, I’ll do what I can to get you ready to leave. No, I don’t like doing it, but that’s what you do when you love someone. Yeah, I said it. I wrote in pen, so unless I want to cross it out and make the card messy, I’ll just have to leave it there. It’s fine, because I think if you left and I didn’t tell you, I’d regret it forever.
I hope wherever you end up, you find peace. I hope you forgive yourself. I hope you show life who’s the boss. Me. I’m the boss, remember? Okay, enough. I’m making jokes and rambling because I’m sad, and I love you.
Two times. I said it two times.
Love,
Connor
Ugh. Knife in the chest. Turn the knife, carve out my heart. Connor loves me. I love Connor. And yet, I’m in greater danger than I knew. By extension, so is he. So is everyone here in Brighton. Connor, Walt, Julia.
I’ll tell him in two days, after his show. I’ll tell him I love him, and I’ll tell him about the door and the note. He should know there is still a threat, that I’m leaving for a good reason.
For dinner I make chicken marsala and two cupcakes, and I take it all to Walt’s. I’m not ready to tell him goodbye, so I don’t. He will be my last stop on my way out of town. Walt sings to me, a gravelly rendition of Happy Birthday, and it’s the best song I’ve ever heard. When I get home, my heart is more conflicted than ever, even though I know what I have to do.
That night, I sleep with Connor’s note under my pillow.
22
Brynn
Knock knock knock.
I jolt upright. Sunlight pours in through the blinds. What time is it? I look around, trying to get my bearings.
Knock knock knock.
Oh, right. The door. I climb from bed and go to the front door. Peering through the peephole, I see Cassidy’s worried face.
Sliding the door alarm out of the way with my foot, I unlock the double locks at the same time and open the door.
“Hi, Cassidy.” The bright sky makes my eyes squint.
She looks at my pajama top and boxers. To be fair, I’m wearing a shirt that says ‘GFY.’ I don’t really mean it. It’s supposed to be funny, but I’m aware Go Fuck Yourself is crude and that young kids can read, so it’s a sleep shirt. Just like my twat shirt.
“Are you just now waking up?”
I shrug. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”
Cassidy nods empathetically. “I understand.”
I really hope she doesn’t understand. I pray she never knows the nightmares that plagued me last night. They were the ones I had right after the accident, where I dream I hit Amy and Samuel on purpose.
“What’s up?” I lean against the open door and wait for her to answer.
She twists her hands in front of her. Her gaze is apprehensive. “So, there’s this guy I like and I’ve been waiting forever for him to ask me on a date. He called twenty minutes ago and asked me out for lunch. Today. The only problem is that I can’t find a sitter on such short notice. I really, really want to go and I don’t have a day off for another week.” She peeks over my shoulder. “Is Connor here, by chance? I don’t see his truck, but I thought maybe…”
“Connor isn’t here,” I say irritably. It’s not her fault, and I remind myself that as I ask her why she can’t take Brooklyn on the date. If the guy likes Cassidy, he better like Brooklyn too.
Cassidy gives me a look that tells me how hopeless I am. “Can you come over and play with her for an hour? Max two? You can even put on a movie.” She makes prayer hands at me. “Please? She likes you.”
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m leaving in two days. Maybe it’s my desire to do something nice for Cassidy. She greeted me on day one with a pie. Maybe that’s why I say yes, even though Brooklyn still terrifies me.
The Lifetime of A Second Page 17