Be All

by Marie Wathen

  Her final method of coercion works on me. In the end, my own inadequacies, plus not wanting to hurt her, leaves me doing the right thing. Looking up, I see that she is staring at me through the mirror while fingering a stray lock of hair back into her French twist that must have popped out during her meltdown. I offer her a smile, but she doesn't reciprocate.

  She's frustrated with me because she cares and doesn't like me being alone. I just wish that she would leave me the hell alone. I don't need a man or anyone else for that matter, not even friends. I've told her this forever, but god if she will ever listen to me; it would be a freaking miracle. I need to be alone. It’s never going to happen.

  Being so focused on her while going on about Morgan for the past twenty-five minutes, I suddenly realize the misery in his situation. If any of what she’s told me about him is true, I can't help but think about his tragic life; gorgeous, but reclusive. Is he really so pathetic that he can only get a date with the one girl in town who despises dating? For his sake, I hope that she is lying.

  Intent on seeing her happy, I resume digging through my closet again, searching for my damn stilettos. It’s a giant walk-in closet, overflowing with trendy jeans, shoes, and accessories. However, my favorite part of this closet rests on the back shelves.

  Two full walls, floor to ceiling, stacked with every concert t-shirt known to humanity. I have a freak obsession with collecting them. It’s strange and sad to admit, but it validates me. If I have the shirt then I was really there in that moment, proving I exist; existing means I have survived a lifetime without the kind of love that most people share: love of a parent, a lover, or friends. I think that I have done a pretty good job of it because I don't love anyone, not even Anna.

  It's a sad thing to admit, but it's the truth. When others would have crumbled from the lack of love, I survived from it; true survival, not just existing. As much as I want to escape life and all the pain it offers me each day, I refuse to be weak.

  Weakness is a mental deficiency that I can’t afford. I found an outlet for dealing with destiny’s bullshit and while maintaining my sanity. Exercising is my drug of choice, and literally my answer when everything goes wrong. In addition to a twice-daily five mile run, I joined the gym in the city center. There, I attend boot camp a few days a week and recently implemented tabata into my routine, talk about a workout. But my absolute favorite workout is boxing. In a sport like boxing, being a small woman is irrelevant. The key is constant training, and I put forth the effort like it’s a job. Mastering it recently, I’m in need of a new challenge. Next week, I’ll have my first class in learning the art of Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I can’t wait.

  If everything were as simple as exercise and conditional training it would make life a lot easier. I could tear down the wall; perhaps then I would be willing to open my heart for love. Honestly, even with admitting this, I know it would have to be a love so rare that it makes me feel worthy because right now I don’t. But if it’s worth fighting for, I will definitely choose it. The truth is, I know my true survival will one day depend upon that type of love. My heart aches for it, but terror always denies me. Luckily for now, I haven’t met that person yet. I’m waiting for him.

  Wow, what him? My mind just traveled a pathetic path, led by my stupid heart. Feeling ridiculous, I decide rather than continuing to daydream, I must focus on the task of finding my damn heels again.

  "Ah ha, found them!" I say, hoping to calm her slightly. "Wow, I thought for a second there that I had lost my best heels."

  My perverse game of procrastination is Anna’s cause of stress. Shamelessly, I must admit that watching her like this is fun stuff! It's not like she doesn't deserve it a little. She is involved in this whole ridiculous debacle to get her pathetic friend a date – hell, she’s probably the mastermind. But it’s not just a date; it’s a blind date with Tristan's cousin, Morgan Walker.

  Apparently, Morgan moved back to Willow last month. According to Tristan, they will attend Stanford together in the fall. I guess I can believe Anna’s story that he’s hard up for a last-minute date. How lucky is it that the honor falls on yours truly? Kill me now!

  Dressing elegantly in designer gowns for a welcome home party, hosted by Tristan and Morgan's family, is more than a ‘fun night out' and Anna knows it. The celebration is being held in the main ballroom at the illustrious Renaissance Castle. It’s a really big deal and everyone on the island will be in attendance. Anna’s just trying to make light of the event to keep me from freaking out and backing out on my promise. I have a bit of an anxiety disorder; really it’s just that occasionally I panic, pass out, or make shit up in my head. On that last point, she calls me “worst case scenario girl.” Little does she know that I’m currently in the midst of an episode; I just want to hide in here all night and avoid looking like an idiot.

  “Okay, Anna. I know you love Tristan," I resign. As I watch Anna's face brighten with a grin, I instantly feel better seeing it.

  "And I lo –" Holding up my hands, I interrupt her remark; stopping her from saying those three words I can’t bear to hear.

  "As I was saying, going on this date with his cousin will make you happy and will help out Tristan, but I have agreed to this one and only date with Morgan. So I need you and your boyfriend...” I stretch out the word ‘boyfriend’ sarcastically and she snorts, “To just understand I’m only doing this because no one is expecting a second date. Everything is cool, so yes, I am still going with you on this damn date tonight.” Anna lets out a very long held breath.

  “We understand,” she says, giggling.

  I just smile at her acknowledgment and slip into the ninth dress of the night. Standing in front of my full-length mirror together, we grin satisfied with this selection. I swipe light pink gloss over my lips then squirt perfume behind my ears. I smooth over my long, dark chocolate hair, which is pulled into a side ponytail with a black vintage hair clip. Lastly, I step into my heels.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be for my date with Morgan Walker.” I sigh.

  Truthfully, I'm not entirely opposed to dating. I just don’t want to fall in love; it scares the shit out of me to give one man that much of myself. I know that Anna means well, but she has, on more than one instance, attempted and failed at hooking me up with guys that she deems as 'just perfect'. They were which made them safe, but I’m not worthy of perfect.

  I would never tell her this, but I have had a couple of crushes. My most recent crush was on Garrett Sanderson, a cute guy that works at the bookstore in town. I was attracted to him and for once eager to go out. We went on one date. It turns out he only wanted to date me because of a stupid bet. His coworker, Elle, the really hot and ditzy girl that also works there, had bet him that he wouldn’t ask me out. They’re now dating and living happily ever after. It’s fine and I’m over it because that keeps our relationship safe, meaning what he did doesn’t hurt me.

  But honestly, I'm not sure I'll ever get over my other crush. I understand that most would say that at five, I was too young to understand love but I disagree. I understood the love I had for my father at that age so really, what’s the difference in loving a boy at that age? His name escapes me but ours was a relationship made prior to my catastrophe. I met him while he was on vacation one summer in Willow. Too soon, unavoidable circumstances ended our time together. I wish with all of my heart that he could have stayed. Sometimes I still miss him. It’s illogical, yet for some unexplainable reason, the fallout didn’t destroy what I feel for him.

  Anna will never know about either crush. I know that she loves me and wants me to be happy. I’ll admit that sometimes I'm too hard on her, but she doesn't understand that being single is a commitment that makes me happy because it’s what I chose.

  She approaches me with suspicious smile. "You know you really are the best! I love this dress and your hair is amazing but something is missing. Oh! I know. This!" She teases, placing a pair of black diamond drop earrings in my hand.

  She's
always giving me ridiculously expensive stuff, and usually it feels like she's trying to buy me off, but not this time, these earrings are mine. It's a silly little game she started years ago. When either of us has something the other likes, we simply say, "Ooh, I like that,” and the owner of the property must relinquish the item, forever.

  Glancing in the mirror, I slip my favorite earrings in. I check my reflection one last time just as the doorbell rings, indicating Tristan's arrival.

  "I can't believe you are home all summer. It’s going to be the best summer ever! Now, except for all the great times you'll have with me, what are you planning on doing to keep yourself busy?" Anna's enthusiasm is contagious and I smile.

  "I have no idea," I lie. She doesn’t need to know my plans, but spending a summer free of travel is a thrilling thought that causes me to present her with a real smile.

  The last summer that Julia allowed me to stay home, I had been a child. At the age of five, she started sending me around the world. She claims it was to broaden my horizons by learning new skills and languages, making me more valuable in the workforce, and worthy of a good husband – nausea and shivers attack my body at the mere thought of the last reason. I knew the real reason was that she didn’t want me around.

  Because I’m an adult now, she has no authority over me. Beyond the fact that my father is a soldier and Julia reminds me daily how his commitment to our country means more to him than I do, I know nothing personal about the man that he is. So this summer I’m researching my father’s family history. Secretly, I’ll sort through his personal belongings to learn the truth about him and where I come from. The one person who knows everything is a nasty, evil soul and refuses to discuss him. Julia claims it is too painful having the reminders of her loss so close, therefore, she’s packed away most of his things in our attic and the rest she stores in a warehouse near the docks. Luckily, Julia leaves soon to sail the Mediterranean for a couple of months’ vacation, offering me the perfect opportunity to investigate, avoiding her hostility.

  Julia claims that she loves my dad with her entire heart and when the military told her that he was missing, and possibly dead, she says her heart died with him. Her sorrow and concern is a disguise; it hides the truth that she never really loved my father, only I can see through her bullshit. Besides the fact that she never talks about him, I don’t think she’s capable of love. When I was still very young and wanted him home to sing to me or read a bedtime story, she would tell me to stop being so selfish or to just go to sleep. Eventually, I would end up succumbing to her demands and cried myself to sleep.

  She’s gone as far as forbidding me to mention him, claiming that she misses him so much she can’t stand to hear his name. But the cruelest moment came after she told me that it made her sad looking at me because I look so much like him. She took a pair of kitchen scissors to my waist length hair and cut it in a very short bob. That was ten years ago. Now standing here in front of my mirror, scrutinizing my features, I do not understand how she could react so harshly. I don’t remember exactly what he looks like; fading memories and one very old picture are the only things I have left of him. Except for having his eye and hair color, there are no other similarities between us.

  Days after the memorial service, one that she insisted we hold without confirmation of his death, she packed away all photographs of him, including the ones from my bedroom. Only two remain: the forgotten one, on the desk in his study, and my hidden one. I think she leaves the one in his study out for appearances, in the event anyone were to ever visit. My picture is safely tucked away from her wicked, tormenting clutches.

  Wondering what my father would think if he was to see me tonight looking all grown-up and beautiful, I couldn’t help but admit that I look unbelievable. I expected nothing less since I spent the afternoon at the salon, where my personal miracle worker slaved for three hours coaxing, waxing, and camouflaging me so well that I don’t even recognize myself.

  It’s incredible how different I look from my usual no makeup and hair down all frizzy or pulled into a tight ponytail. My standard everyday attire is a comfy pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and running shoes, adding a scarf in occasionally if going out.

  The masterpiece I chose to wear this evening is a floor length, white with black satin and silver sequins trim halter top gown; a spectacular creation for someone so unexceptional. Four-inch black and silver stilettos finish off what Anna calls a 'romantic look'.

  Unlike Anna, the fashion goddess, playing dress up always leaves me feeling so uncomfortable simply because I don’t like the attention I get from men when I dress this way.

  Typically, guys are not instantly drawn to my normal look; I’m cute but nothing extraordinary. My skin is porcelain pale, I’m short at five feet and four inches tall, and curvy, but it’s mostly muscle. My striking gray eyes are the only exception that sets my looks apart from looking completely average. I'm seriously fine with being average, and I say that with confidence because it does not bother me to go unnoticed by men. Dating is a distraction to so many girls and right now that is just not an option for me. So I do what I must to avoid attention, downplaying my looks daily. But since I agreed to tonight’s date, I must dress the part.

  Anna’s mother is the reason I own a dress of this magnitude. She is a buyer at a top department store. For years, Anna has been sneaking fabulous items into my closet. I have the latest in fashion, from dresses and jeans to handbags and shoes, practically everything she can get her hands on she crams into my closet. She makes me her personal makeover project every opportunity she can and I hate it. Finding something appropriate to wear for tonight’s event isn’t an issue, but for me to actually feel comfortable in it is another story.

  Anna lets out an awkward laugh. “I knew you were only messing with me about not going tonight. All the time and money you spent at the salon should have tipped me off, but your crappy attitude has me so frazzled that I forgot you went this morning.”

  The doorbell chimes a second time, and I say in my most saccharine filled tone, "Let the fun begin." Turning on my heel, I face a proud Anna wearing a silly smile, forcing another eye roll from me.

  Chapter 2

  Breesan

  I follow an overly animated Anna down the hallway toward the front door. As usual, Anna looks beautiful. Her dress is a strapless aqua gown with an empire waist that she’s paired with glossy patent leather black heels. She is dripping with diamonds and in one word, she is stunning.

  Jerking open the door, I’m nearly trampled as Tristan bounces past me, grabbing Anna around her tiny waist. After swinging her dizzy, he draws her into a sweet embrace. Gingerly, his hands move to the sides of her face, careful not to damage her hair and makeup, as his eyes travel from hers down to her lips.

  Slowly, he lowers his mouth to hers, claiming it in a smoking hot kiss, not desperate just demanding. Her hands, finding their way around to his back, clutch tightly and she pulls him close. After several searing moments, they slowly part. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning like a fool while she continues staring deep into his eyes. They really are precious, but at the moment I feel like I am intruding on a private lover’s moment.

  Tristan Walker, aka BMOC: Big Man on Campus, or because he picks on me relentlessly I like to think of him as Big Meany (who should be) On a Catwalk. Swoon. He is hot. Honestly, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He is six feet tall, has dark blue eyes, a square jaw line, and dark copper hair that is streaked with dark brown low lights and the tips are naturally lightened from the sun. His athlete’s physique is sculpted perfection: muscular with wide snuggly shoulders and a big chest. He has a sun kissed tan that’s not overly done. In Anna’s words, he is yummy.

  He was the star quarterback of our high school football team. A brilliant and goodhearted man, although he annoyingly picks on me like a little brother would his sister, he too exudes perfection. Everyone likes Tristan because he genuinely cares about them. He is very protective and pos
sessive, yet gentle. Truthfully, he is a good guy who also happens to have a pretty face.

  Seriously, the boy should be planning a future as a fitness model instead of daydreaming about playing in the NFL or being a cop. Once he lives out his college football dream, he plans to work in his family’s business that specializes in alternative methods for sustainable island living. With all of the amazing things about him, he’s still sad at times and I think the source is his family commitments, but I don’t ask and he doesn’t discuss it. My personal favorite thing about Tristan is that he always stays true to himself. Even so, his dad has some disturbing control over him that causes him major distress; I hope he can overcome it.

  Tristan and Anna are the perfect couple, matching in amazing good looks as well as generous personalities. Even though they have only been dating for five years, Tristan has been in love with her most of his life. He is completely devoted to Anna, and in his opinion, no better woman exists for him.

  His affections for Anna are so dreamy, if you’re into things like that, which I am not! I don’t have false hope that I will ever have a love like theirs. Dreams of true love are nonexistent in my world. I am perfectly content with this fact. If I were to date, I would choose guys who aren’t looking for love, not that they would get sex from me either; that is easier to say no to.

  Tonight, Tristan is elegantly dressed in a black double-breasted suit with a white shirt, no tie. If possible, he looks even better now than when he dresses casually. He lifts her once again before gently returning her feet to the ground.

  Then, with a soft kiss on her cheek and then on the tip of her nose, he says, “Sweetness, you are so beautiful. And you’re wearing the dress I like.” He drawls it out seductively, causing Anna’s cheeks to blush from his compliment.

  “You’ve never seen this dress before babe, it’s new.”