Be Good

by Dakota Madison

  When he parked the car, he made no motion to get out. That made me wonder if he was just going to drop me off in the parking lot and leave. I could feel tears starting to stream down my face uncontrollably. When I made a motion to open the door, he said, “Where do you think you’re going?” His tone was so harsh it scared me.

  I sat back in my seat and could feel myself cowering a bit.

  Brett was looking straight ahead. I wanted him to look at me but was afraid to ask.

  He drew in an angry breath. “How much did you have to drink?”

  I opened my mouth but no words came out. My throat was suddenly tense. “A lot,” I finally managed to squeak out.

  That’s when he turned to me and his eyes were still ablaze with anger. “How much is a lot.”

  I tried to clear my throat. “Two beers and two rum and Cokes but the rum and Cokes were doubles.”

  He looked at his watch. I wasn’t wearing one but I thought it was probably only around nine o’clock.

  “Why?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure how he wanted me to respond. “Why what?” was the only thing I could think to say.

  “Why did you go out? Why did you drink so much? Why were you with Joey?”

  I shook my head. I really didn’t know. I looked down at the seat and picked at a small ball of lint on the seat cushion.

  “Look at me,” Brett ordered. “What would have happened if I hadn’t stopped Joey when I did?”

  I swallowed. I didn’t want to tell Brett the truth. That as much as I may have wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to say no. I would most likely have hooked up with Joey.

  “Don’t I mean anything to you?” Brett said now more hurt than angry. The pain in his voice and in his eyes sliced my heart and made me wish he was still angry instead.

  Tear were now pouring down my face. “You’re the only one, who means anything to me,” I blubbered between uncontrollable sobs.

  “Then why?” he said but it didn’t sound like a question. I didn’t have an answer anyway.

  “I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “It hurts me when you’re hurting and I hate myself for doing that to you.”

  I could see his eyes were getting watery.

  “Please forgive me,” I begged. I didn’t want to lose Brett but at that moment it felt inevitable. How could he ever want a girl as fucked up as me?

  I was surprised when he made a move to get out of the car. “Let’s get you inside.”

  When we got out of the car, Brett grabbed my elbow and led me to my door. I could feel my heart start to race as he stood at the entry waiting for me to unlock the door. I wondered if he was just going to drop me off or if he’d stay. My heart sank when I realized he didn’t have a bag with him; that seemed to make the odds of him staying low.

  As I opened the door, he followed me inside. Winter was actually pacing the floor when she turned to look at us. “You found her.”

  That explained how Brett knew where to look for me. He had obviously stopped at my apartment to see me, probably surprise me, and Winter told him I was at the bar.

  But what was she doing home? I thought she had gone away for the weekend. As if she was reading my mind, Winter explained, “The trip got delayed it’s raining in Sedona. We’re leaving first thing in the morning instead.” Winter’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of us. “I guess I’ll go to bed now.” Without waiting for us to respond, she darted into her room more quickly than I had ever seen her move.

  Brett pulled me into my room and shut the door behind us. That’s when I noticed he had placed an overnight bag on my bed. My heart stopped racing just a little bit. There was a chance he was going to stay but he could also grab the bag and leave just as quickly, I reminded myself.

  “I think you’d better get ready for bed,” he said. “Where are your pajamas?”

  “I usually just sleep in a tee shirt and shorts.” I went over to my dresser and pulled out Brett’s Green Day tee shirt and sleep shorts.

  As I attempted to pull off my clothes, I got a little tangled up in them. Brett stepped in and gave me a hand until my clothes were replaced with sleepwear. “Do you always wear my tee shirts to bed?”

  “Usually,” I admitted. “It makes me feel like you’re with me and I’m not alone all the time.”

  Brett took me into his arms and held me. “I’m right here, Anna. You’re not alone.”

  I fought back the sobs that were lingering at the surface. He placed the softest of kisses on my forehead.

  I attacked his lips with mine. I felt so needy and wanting. Brett returned the kiss with what felt like equal desire but then he stopped and held my shoulders. “I’m not going to sleep with you tonight, Anna. Not after you’ve been drinking.”

  My heart sank. At that moment, I wanted to be with Brett more than I wanted to breath.

  “I’m going to tuck you into bed and then I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Don’t you trust me?”

  He shook his head slowly as if to make his point clear. “I want you to be good.”

  “I’m always good.”

  Brett raised an eyebrow incredulous.

  “I’m not?”

  Brett placed a hand on my cheek. “There needs to be a little more consistency between who you are and what you do.”

  I knew what he was saying was important but in my half-drunken state, it made my head swim. All I could think about was the pillow and how good it would feel under my head.

  Brett led me to the bed and I got in. He tucked the blanket around me then gave me a soft kiss on the forehead.

  As my eyes closed, I could hear Brett whisper, “Good night, Anna.” I fell asleep before I heard my bedroom door shut.

  Nine

  The next morning, I woke up in a panic. I dreamt that Brett left in the middle of the night. He told me he didn’t want to be with me. That I wasn’t worth the trouble. Not that I hadn’t heard that many times before but it completely tore me apart coming from Brett.

  I breathed a small sigh of relief when I realized Brett was in bed with me. He must have snuck in sometime during the night while I was asleep.

  He stirred. “Is everything okay,” he asked still groggy with sleep.

  “I had a nightmare,” I replied but didn’t elaborate.

  I was surprised, and hopeful, when he gave me a kiss on the cheek before he rolled out of bed.

  “Do you have anything I can cook for breakfast?” he yelled from the bathroom.

  “We have eggs and bread for toast.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he headed for the kitchen. I rolled out of bed and followed him. He was already removing items from the refrigerator in a flurry of activity.

  “You have everything I need to make Fresh Toast,” he said. “Even cinnamon.”

  If we had cinnamon, it was probably because Winter needed it for one of her witch potions. I’d never seen her cook.

  “I love French Toast,” I said eagerly.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Brett still wasn’t looking at me. I knew what I had done the night before was probably unforgivable but I wanted more than anything else for him to forgive me. But did I even deserve his forgiveness? Did I even deserve Brett at all? Did I deserve to be loved by him?

  It didn’t take long for the apartment to fill with the wonderful smells of cinnamon French Toast. Brett definitely knew his was around the kitchen. It was one of his many talents.

  I set two places at our small kitchen table and Brett brought over the pile of French Toast. Of course, it was enough to feed an army.

  “It looks great,” I said.

  “Thanks.” Brett still wasn’t quite himself. I knew it was going to take a lot for him to trust me again, if he ever could, and that made me miserable. I sighed.

  He glanced up at me and said, “There’s somewhere I’d like to take you today.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, thinking he’d elaborate but he didn’t.
>
  ***

  A few hours later, Brett was driving us out of Phoenix on Highway 60. He was quiet, deep in thought. It made me nervous because he wasn’t sharing what he was thinking and I was afraid to ask. I didn’t want him to share his disappointment in me and I definitely didn’t want to hear that he was ready to end things between us, which I had a horrible feeling might be coming.

  As we got further out of the city, and out of civilization, I began to wonder why Brett was bringing me out this far into the desert. There wasn’t very much between Gold Canyon and Globe, which was almost 50 miles away. And the stretch of highway to get to Globe was treacherous and scary, with steep and windy mountain passes. It was a stretch of road I would never drive myself and didn’t even like being a passenger on the drive.

  Brett pulled off the road at one of a few small areas where there was actually space between the road and the steep cliff below. This definitely wasn’t a place I found conducive to sightseeing. I didn’t want to get out of the car.

  But Brett didn’t make any move to get out of the car, either. We just sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes.

  “This is where my mom died,” Brett said finally.

  I looked over at him but he was staring straight ahead. He continued. “This is where she drove off the cliff.”

  Oh, God. I didn’t know how much more I wanted to hear. She was driving drunk. She drove off a cliff. Was it an accident or did she mean to kill herself? My stomach was already churning.

  “Like Thelma and Louise,” I blurted without thinking, because it’s one of the things I’m so good at.

  He actually gave a stiff laugh. “Except that she was alone in the car and she wasn’t on the run from the police.”

  I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Everything he had told me about his mom was so horrible and tragic, it was hard to swallow.

  Without another word, Brett put the car into drive, pulled a U-Turn and headed back to Phoenix.

  “There’s somewhere else I want to stop.” He didn’t wait for my response before he turned off the road.

  A sign said: Boyce Thompson Arboretum. We pulled into the driveway and headed for the parking lot, which only had a few cars.

  “I have no idea what an Arboretum is,” I admitted.

  Brett parked under a tree. “Guess.”

  “Well, knowing you, it’s probably some kind of garden.”

  “Pretty good guess.”

  The Arboretum was more like a nature preserve with numerous gardens and nature trails connecting the gardens. It was a beautiful day, great for a walk through nature, but I wasn’t exactly wearing the appropriate footwear.

  “You could have told me to wear hiking shoes.”

  “I wasn’t planning on coming here but it was one of my mom’s favorite places.”

  I made a mental note not to complain about my footwear again.

  The place was beautiful and serene. I could certainly understand why Brett’s mother loved it so much. Brett didn’t say much for most of the hike but he did hold my hand the entire time, which I thought was a good sign.

  As we got near the end of the main trail, there was a small but lovely lake. It was quiet and peaceful, so we sat down on a bench near the water’s edge.

  After a moment, Brett spoke. “My dad still feels guilty about my mom’s death. It was eleven years ago and he’s still not over it.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I just let him talk.

  “I didn’t know my mom’s parents. They both died when I was a baby. My dad told me they were alcoholics. A few years after my mom died, when I was in high school, my dad and I talked about it. He told me that my mom was physically and emotionally abused by her parents and the abuse ruined her life. He didn’t realize until they were married and had me how damaged she really was. She was broken. Dad cried when we talked about it. He tried everything but he just couldn’t help her.”

  When Brett looked at me, he had so much pain in his eyes, it took my breath away. I knew then that he wasn’t just talking about his mom. He was talking about me, too. He wanted desperately to fix me. He wanted to save me because he wasn’t able to save his mom.

  “You can’t fix another person, Brett. People have to fix themselves.”

  We both looked at each other for a long moment. “I know,” he said finally. I could see his eyes were starting to get wet with tears.

  I leaned over and gave him a hug. He grabbed me with such force, the breath was pushed from my lungs. His grip was so tight, it felt as if he would never let me go, I would die right there on the spot.

  “I love you, Anna,” he whispered into my ear. “I just wish that was enough.”

  That completely broke my heart. I started sobbing. “It is enough,” I managed to get out between sobs. “It is enough.”

  Brett held my face in his hands then gently wiped away my tears. “I love you so much.”

  Then he kissed away the tears on my cheeks. “I don’t deserve you,” I confessed.

  “That’s not true.”

  “I’m a complete mess. And I’m flawed. And broken. Just like your mom.”

  Brett gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “Maybe I love your flaws.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Maybe they are some of my favorite things about you. Especially sixty-eight, rude, and seventy-two, crude.”

  “You remember all of my flaws?”

  He nodded. “All one hundred and twenty six of them.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re amazing?”

  He shook his head.

  “No one?”

  “Never.”

  I wanted to ask: not even Becca, but I restrained myself.

  “Well, you are amazing.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Well, I’m glad you think so.”

  ***

  We spent the afternoon in my bedroom engaging in lots of make-up sex. I had no idea how amazing make-up sex could be. Or maybe it was just sex with Brett in general that was so amazing. Anyway, I started to get extremely sad as the evening approached and I knew it was time for him to head back to Palo Alto.

  “Don’t worry,” Brett said as I stroked my cheek. “We’ll see each other in Las Vegas for Sarah and Sean’s wedding.”

  I nodded even though I felt sick at the thought of waiting another week to see him again.

  “Have you ever been to Las Vegas?” he asked.

  “Once, with my family. I was like ten, so I don’t think I got the full experience. I haven’t been there since I turned twenty-one.”

  “It’s fun. I already know a few places I want to take you.”

  I nodded. “One of them wouldn’t happen to be a garden, would it?”

  He grinned. “You know me too well.”

  ***

  Brett left early Sunday morning. He said he needed to get back because he was working on another big project and had fallen behind. I immediately felt guilty that I might have contributed to his falling behind at work.

  I sat in my room and did a lot of thinking. One phrase kept playing over and over in my head. There needs to be more consistency between who you are and what you do.

  What was I doing? Was I trying to be a better person? Was I trying to fix the broken parts of myself?

  None of the above. I was still a hot mess, who didn’t deserve someone like Brett. But I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be better for him. But I wanted to be better for myself even more.

  ***

  On Monday morning, I found myself walking into my brother’s office.

  “What’s up?” he said when he looked up from his stack of papers.

  I cleared my throat. “Um, I thought I remembered you saying something about us having access to an EPA counselor.”

  He grinned. “You mean EAP counselor, Employee Assistance Program? It’s part of your health insurance. You have six sessions. Why? Do you want to go to counseling?” He actually seemed a little excite
d to hear me mention counseling. Was it that obvious that I needed help?

  “I thought I’d check it out,” I half-mumbled trying to act casual but failing miserably.

  “I think you should.” My brother’s eyes were warm.

  I was surprised when a smart-ass comment didn’t pop out of my mouth. I just said, “Thanks” and headed back to my cubicle.

  ***

  The counselor made me take what she called an inventory about my drinking. When we talked about some of my responses to the questions, she asked me straight out if I thought I had a problem and if I thought about quitting.

  “I definitely have a problem,” I admitted. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to quit.”

  “Thanks for being honest. Admitting you have a problem is a big step but you’ll only be able to give up drinking when you’re ready.”

  “How will I know when I’m ready?”

  “When you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

  I sounded like a cutesy cliché but it made a lot of sense.

  ***

  I didn’t hear much from Brett through the week. As usual, he said he was busy with work, busy with another major project, busy with the things that didn’t include me.

  I spent my time reading self-help books that Winter brought home from the New Age bookstore. Some of them dealt specifically with overcoming addiction and some of them were about building self- esteem. Although I was never much of a reader, I devoured all of them.

  By Thursday night, when I hadn’t heard anything from Brett, I decided to phone him. We were supposed to be meeting late Friday afternoon in Las Vegas and I wanted to finalize our plans.

  “Hey,” Brett said when he picked up the phone. He sounded tired.

  “I’ll be in Vegas tomorrow at about four in the afternoon.”

  “Okay,” Brett responded. He sounded funny but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.