I Am Me

by Kai Strand

  “What?” I almost toss the breadstick I’m about to place on a plate when I jerk around to glare at Victor. “You think I’m pretentious?”

  Victor opens his mouth as if to apologize, but then closes it and wrinkles up his face in a pained expression. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t. But when I first met you…”

  I’m too stunned to respond, so I turn back to the line and force myself to smile and make eye contact and not cry.

  Victor explains without my asking him to. “I don’t think you even mean to. It’s your demeanor. The way you enunciate your words. Your straight, straight posture. Your fine clothes. Your perfectly coifed hair.”

  “Wait a minute. I know him from the Build Together job site and my hair is a nightmare when I’m working there.” I don’t mention the fact that Rodney made a similar observation about my clothing.

  “I didn’t say your hair is neat and styled.” Victor juts his chin toward Rod. “Look at his little brother. He’s in obvious need of a haircut. Your hair never looks like that.”

  I make a conscious effort to loosen the muscles of my face, so I don’t end up glaring at the last few people in line as they pass by for their bread. I feel and smell cold outside air rising off of them. “So, I should buy cheaper clothes and let my hair go longer between trims so that I seem more—what—approachable?”

  Victor’s smile is extra kind. “No, dear. I personally don’t think you need to change a thing about yourself. You are one of the kindest, most genuine people I know. It’s not a bad thing that you come from a family with money. You haven’t even let that define you.”

  “But you said…”

  “I said at first I thought you were pretentious. I was stereotyping you. Why would you change because of my failing?”

  I cover the extra breadsticks with their original bag, keeping it open to serve the final three men who just grabbed plates at the beginning of the line.

  “Mr. Whitman was rich. Or rich enough, as his daughter put it. He was the mystery benefactor who paid for the surgeries and text books and stuff.”

  Victor leans forward. “Mr. Whitman? Really?”

  I nod. “That’s how I want to be, Victor.”

  He squints at me. “You want to look poor even though you aren’t?”

  “Think about it. He didn’t actually look poor. We just assumed his clothes were old because he was poor, not because he preferred the style of that era.” Victor nods. “No, I just want to be accepted as me. Not as who you assume I am.”

  Victor shakes his head and grumbles. “I don’t think that’s possible, Lola. You can’t control what people think.”

  “Maybe not, but I can steer it a little better.”

  “By buying cheaper clothes?”

  I looked across the room at D who talks animatedly while Rod listens intently. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Chapter 25

  I know it’s a shameful bribe, but I sneak into the back and make a cup of hot chocolate. I set it down in front of D as I slide onto the open seat beside him.

  “Shhh. Don’t say anything. It isn’t an item we ever offer.”

  D looks at Rod, who prompts, “What do you say?”

  “Thanks!” His voice is whispered excitement and touches my heart.

  I continue to watch D while I speak to Rod. “I’m torn between being ashamed of my obvious advantage—wanting to erase all evidence of it—or throwing it in the air for all to see. Seriously, Rod, I’m not the one with the money. It’s my parents. I’m just trying to make it matter. Why do I feel so guilty for it?”

  I glance at him. One of his eyebrows is arched and his mouth is twisted into a comical line. I laugh. “Sorry. Changed the subject too fast, didn’t I?”

  Understanding softens his features. He nods and plays with his plastic fork, tumbling it along the edge of his paper plate. “Lola, I’m—”

  “No.” I surprise myself by cutting off what I assume is an apology. “Rod I don’t even know what our argument was about, but I’m pretty sure you were right. Whatever it was, I’m sorry it happened. I’ve missed you.”

  My heart is pounding loudly in my ears. My skin heats with embarrassment. I’m scared to death Rod will dismiss my apology and me. There is no reason for him to care if we make up. I’m nothing to his life, but somehow, he became something important in mine. He stares at his empty plate with that annoying blank expression of his and I think I might burst into a fit of tears or pound the table like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

  “I’d say I missed you too, but I haven’t.”

  Holy heartbreak. He’s not going to accept my apology. Staring at the spaghetti sauce stains on his plate, I nod. Maybe I can claim I have to help clean up and make a quick exit. I brace my hands on my thighs and turn my attention to D, spooning cocoa onto the inside of his cup and watching the rivulets stream downward. I open my mouth to make my getaway, but Rod speaks again.

  “I haven’t had a chance, at least. Jay has kept me updated on you, his broken heart, your broken heart—oh, and did I mention his broken heart—on a weekly basis.”

  My mouth remains open. Probably rather unattractively as I try to source out what Rod is saying.

  “We’ve both been volunteering at the Humane Society on Saturdays.” Rod smirks. “What did you do to that poor guy?”

  I force my mouth shut before I drool or something, and huff. “I don’t know. I never knew…I’ve known him forever, but…well, I don’t feel the same way he does.”

  “Not even after that other guy dumped you?”

  I gasp and again I’m catching flies. “He told you about Rome?”

  “Who names their son Rome, anyway?” Rod rolls his eyes.

  “It’s short for Jerome.” But I’m trying to suppress the urge to grin, while also ignoring the pang that shoots through my heart at the mention of Rome’s name. “And technically, I think I dumped him when I caught him with another girl.”

  “Ouch.” Rod winces. “Sorry, Jay didn’t seem to have that info. I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

  I shrug. “It wasn’t like we had specified that we were in an exclusive relationship. I just didn’t feel comfortable with it.”

  I realize the room is almost empty and the food is all put away. We’re going to be kicked out soon.

  “Hey, are you guys fond of pie?” I ask quietly, as if I can keep D from hearing. His head snaps up and he looks eagerly at Rod who shakes his head. “Oh, please let me put some of this privilege to use and buy you dessert.”

  “We actually have to catch the bus in ten minutes.” Rod says.

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  “Please Rod,” D pleads.

  Rod studies his brother before looking at me. I sense residual hostility in his tight shoulders and clenched jaw.

  “Rod, I really have missed talking to you.” Again, my heartbeat threatens to drown out all sound in the room. I don’t understand why his acceptance is so important to me, but I do know I’m not ready to leave him yet. I have no idea when I’ll see him again. “We can walk to the restaurant. It’s just two blocks down.”

  “Lola…” His voice is low and raspy with either frustration or another emotion.

  I hold my breath and refuse myself permission to beg, but I know my eyes are doing it anyway.

  He sighs heavily, his gaze darts to D. “Okay. But he has homework, so we can’t stay too long.”

  D and I share a triumphant look before I pop to my feet. “I’ll get my stuff.”

  Chapter 26

  D walks ahead of us, balancing on the edge of the sidewalk like it’s a tightrope.

  Rod and I stroll next to each other. I assume a casual observer would think we were at ease with one another, but my insides are tumultuous, like molten lava. My breath fogs the air as I prattle about stupid things like school and the nursing home and everything but the things I’ve wanted to talk to Rod about since our argument.

  At one point, my foot slips on a patch of ice an
d a high-pitched squeak escapes me as I fight to regain my balance. Rod grasps my elbow and we come to a stop. His bare hand must be freezing in the single digit temperatures, but I think I feel heat through my wool coat. Maybe it’s just the pressure I feel. Maybe my mind is imaging the heat of his touch. He lets go as soon as I’m settled, only having gripped me for mere moments, but it feels significant. Lasting.

  Suddenly I’m mute. Was I always attracted to him? Did I always have these feelings for him? Does it even make sense that I do?

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I assume it’s a follow up to my having slipped, but then I realize we’re standing inside the restaurant waiting for the hostess to come seat us. My gaze darts around the restaurant as if it can tell me how I appeared inside.

  “Lola?” Rod touches my other elbow, because he’s standing on that side now. “Are you okay? Should we do this another time?”

  I look up at him and I’m flooded with panic and longing and other indefinable feelings. He’s so beautiful. His expression so honest. His attention so focused. Holy hell. When did I start liking him so much?

  I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. I want to rise on my tiptoes and tease my fingers into his hair and savor the anticipation as he slowly dips his mouth toward mine.

  I blink and spin away, desperately seeking the hostess. She’s trundling toward us. She yanks menus out from under the cash register and asks D, “Do you want a kid’s menu?”

  His disdain makes me laugh, a distraction for which I’m thoroughly grateful. The hostess pulls a third menu out for him and then grumbles, “This way.”

  Rod and D slide onto the bench on the same side of the booth. I sit across from them. Rod is still eyeing me with suspicion, so I flip my menu over to point out the long list of pie flavors. D is immediately absorbed, but Rod doesn’t even pick up his menu.

  I flip my coffee cup over when the waitress arrives with a pot of coffee. Rod follows suit. I’m not surprised when he doesn’t put anything in it before taking a careful sip. But I like my nighttime coffee sweet, so I dump three heaping spoonsful of sugar and two containers of cream before stirring slowly so as not to make it slosh over the side.

  “You’re not going to get pie?” I ask. The quiet is starting to make me nervous.

  “I am.”

  “He always gets the mud pie,” D says, still studying his menu.

  “Always,” Rod agrees.

  Mud pie is too rich for me, but suddenly I want to taste it again.

  “I tend to stick with lemon or lime myself.” I stir my coffee again before carefully lifting it to my lips. Rod watches intently and my hand trembles under his gaze. “Sometimes I’ll get a piece of fruit pie. Usually in the summer though.”

  I put my cup down, hoping Rod doesn’t notice my shaky grip. When I look up, he’s still looking at my lips and suddenly my lungs are constricted, and my head is light. I have to part my lips to draw in air and swallow, so I can breathe again. Rod blinks and his gaze lifts. I want to know if he’s suddenly as attracted to me as I am to him, but his eyes don’t give anything away.

  I silently scold myself. This is all Victor’s fault. He put the idea in my mind. I don’t have feelings for Rod. I can’t have feelings for Rod. We live such different lives. My gaze shifts to D and I smile at the lip trapped between his teeth. “Tough decision?”

  He looks up. “Yeah.”

  “Do you like peanut butter?”

  He nods.

  “The peanut butter silk pie is beyond amazing.”

  D’s entire face scrunches up as he tries to find it on the menu.

  “Chocolate cream and peanut butter cream separated by a layer of caramel with a layer of whipped topping and toffee sprinkles. I’m telling you—amazing.” D drops his menu on the table. Decision made. “And I get a bite.”

  He grins. “But I get a bite of yours too.”

  Rod chuckles. “We’ll all share a bite.”

  Our order is filled very shortly after we place it and we each take a bite from one another’s piece before focusing on our own. When the quiet drags on too long because we are all stuffing our faces. I break it. “Did you know Mr. Whitman?”

  “Who?” Rod asks.

  “Mr. Whitman, from the community center. He was a regular.”

  “Volunteer?”

  “No. He ate there regularly. At least every second Wednesday of the month, but I know he showed up other nights too.”

  Rod shakes his head.

  “He passed away. He’s the reason why I was there tonight instead of two weeks ago—my normal night.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  He seems unsure if that’s the right response, but I can’t confirm or deny if it is. I shrug as emotion engulfs me. “So am I.”

  Then I remember that I’ve talked about Mr. Whitman before. “Oh, he’s the one who I thought I knew, but…” Suddenly I can’t continue.

  “The guy who almost married someone else?”

  I nod. My voice is quiet even though inside my head it sounds like I’m shouting. “I went to his funeral. I met his daughter. There was so much more I didn’t know.”

  Rod expels a breath. “Lola, you’re not selfish or self-centered or whatever you’re thinking.”

  I try to give him an ironic look, but I can’t even hold his gaze, so I settle for an ironic laugh. “Not at all.”

  “Where are we right now?”

  I raise a hand—palm up—in question. “A restaurant.”

  “Because you are unselfishly and spontaneously treating my brother and I to pie.”

  “It’s totally selfish.” I bite my tongue, because I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “How?”

  I stare at him wondering if I should answer. His gaze is steady, free of challenge, patient. “I wanted more time with you.”

  His eyebrows arch. His surprise surprises me. It felt like my attraction was so obvious.

  “Why?”

  A quiet groan escapes me. I’ve never felt so exposed before. How far do I want to go in this conversation? I watch D run a finger along his plate, picking up the smears of chocolate and peanut butter cream. He sticks his entire finger in his mouth and I admire his ability to do that without worrying about it being proper table etiquette. The memory of Rod saying, “Your confidence is exuding again,” plays like a banner in my head.

  Yep, my confidence will always exude. I force a smile and refuse to compare Rod’s eyes to a pie topping. “Because I consider you a friend, Rod. And I’ve missed you since you stopped coming to the job site.”

  “A friend?”

  I hate that I can’t read his thoughts. He’s neither disappointed nor relieved in the definition of our relationship. “Yes, a friend. I like talking with you. I like spending time with you. Isn’t that friendship to you?”

  “Sure.” He lifts his coffee cup to his lips, again blocking my ability to read his reaction.

  I drop my gaze to my plate and squint. Is that…? Yep. My pie crumbs have artfully arranged themselves into the shape of a heart. It’s all I can do not to sigh out loud.

  Thanks for that universe.

  Chapter 27

  I’ve never been so happy to have a babysitter. I’m tucked under a fuzzy blanket with a big bowl of very buttery popcorn, leaning against Cyn who is also similarly equipped. Her drop-dead gorgeous babysitter is sitting at the bar, writing a term paper on her laptop while Cyn and I cry and laugh over a cheesy romantic comedy.

  Luckily for me, Cyn’s counselor proclaimed she needed to ease back into social activities so she can learn how to deal with life as it happens. Since I was not part of the incident, and I don’t mind having a nanny watch my every move, I was deemed a safe place to start.

  The final scene of the movie, of the couple kissing after finally admitting their undying love, fades to black and the credits roll. I let my head fall back against the couch and sigh, imagining what it would be like to kiss Rod. To feel his arms, wrap around my waist.
His large, capable hands skim up my back.

  Then I shake my head, because I can’t allow myself to think that way. For so many reasons. I thought I had something special with Rome and look what happened. Plus, Rod doesn’t even like me like that way. I certainly shouldn’t like him that way. It would just break my heart. Leave me wanting. Again.

  “Want to prank call Bennett?” Cyn asks.

  I laugh. “Um, caller i.d.”

  She shrugs. “We could mail him a box of dog droppings.”

  “Ew!”

  “You are not mailing dog shit to anyone,” hot babysitter says.

  Cyn, with her back to the bar, sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes like a two year old. I bite my lip to keep my giggle inside.

  Overwhelmed with love for my high-spirited best friend, I cuddle closer and rest my head on her shoulder. “No droppings required. I’ve got all I need right here.”

  Cyn snuggles closer too, picking up the remote and scrolling through the list of streaming romcoms. “You’re right. We don’t need no stinkin’ boys.”

  I hear the falseness in her tone. “Do you miss Rick?”

  With a sigh, Cyn drops the hand controlling the remote into her lap and her head falls against the couch so that she’s staring up at the ceiling. I study her profile, all sharp lines except her elegant neck. She’s so perfect on the outside and so flawed on the inside. My heart lurches. I want to fix her screwed up life. But all I can do is be her friend. It doesn’t feel like enough.

  “Honestly, I don’t know if I miss Rick or if I miss being someone’s girlfriend. Or maybe I miss having someone who is awed by me.”

  “No, that can’t be it because I’m awed by you.”

  Cyn smiles, but continues to stare at the ceiling. “No, it’s different with him. His awe kicks into high gear when I start to undress. It’s wrapped up with lust.”

  I grimace. “Oh. Yeah, I can’t give you that.”

  Cyn breathes in deeply and then blows a raspberry as she lets the air out. “It shouldn’t matter so much to me. Not the way it does to him at least.”