One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1)

by Sydney Bristow

  Esther Rollins, the library’s administrative assistant, strolled past Lance’s door holding an armful of supplies: a box of pens, files, paperclips, and a stack of printer paper. With her orange hair done up like a bee hive and wearing a loose-fitting cream-colored sweater and black slacks that camouflaged her pear-shaped body, she stopped beside Marisa and beamed at her. “I’m so happy for you two.”

  Marisa never respected those who gossiped, mostly because she’d always felt the sharp end of false rumors throughout middle school. And when she saw Esther, she always reverted to her younger self: skinny legs, undeveloped chest, and braces that produced an awkward smile, and encouraged boys to ignore her and girls like Esther to pick on her.

  “We’ve all wanted this for soooooo long,” Esther said, grinning.

  Baffled, Alexander glanced from Esther to Lance and back again before settling his gaze on Marisa. A second later, comprehension replaced his confusion and he let loose with a smile. “Well, we didn’t want to say anything, did we?”

  Between the episode at the restaurant and discovering that she lost the promotion only seconds ago, Marisa started piecing together the unspoken assumptions. “I don’t—I think you’re all mistaken.” She stared at Alexander. “You see—”

  Alexander stepped next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder so that her head rested on his shoulder. “Come on, we don’t have to pretend anymore. Isn’t this great?”

  Marisa expected to see anger or resentment raging in his eyes. But she found only amusement. Whenever he felt uncomfortable, Alexander resorted to humor as a defense mechanism. Now, however, she didn’t detect anything beyond joy.

  How could he do this? Didn’t he realize how this would affect the workplace environment? All the expectant looks, all the knowing smiles? The incessant questions, the unavoidable awkwardness? Couldn’t he foresee all the innuendos, all the…

  He shook his head at Esther and rolled his eyes. “She’s always so concerned about what others would say.” He squeezed Marisa’s shoulder and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Honey, it’s official now. We’re a couple! The hot topic of the day.”

  “The day?” Esther asked. “Try the week.” She glanced at Lance, matching his exuberant grin. “The month even. Heck, we’ve been waiting two years for this.” She poked Marisa in the arm. “Alexander finally made an honest woman out of you.”

  Marisa, growing dizzy, couldn’t catch her breath. “What’s happening?” She put her hands to her temples and massaged them. “I came down here to interview. That’s it. All of this—”

  “Everyone will know when they get my email,” said Esther, trying to persuade Marisa to smile by elevating the cheerfulness in her voice. “I just sent it out a minute ago, so I’d guess within an hour everyone will want to congratulate both of you. They’ll be ecstatic.”

  Marisa gawked at her.

  “She’s just shy,” Alexander said. “She likes to separate her career from her private life. I kept telling her: we’re all adults. Why let something so ridiculous stop you from experiencing one of life’s greatest pleasures?”

  If Marisa denied what everyone would soon regard as fact, the misconception would hurt Alexander’s reputation as Assistant Library Director; staff would consider him untrustworthy. And no matter how she felt about the lie (or losing out on the position she really wanted), she had no intention of letting others tear apart Alexander’s respectability.

  “Darlin’, you’ve got quite a catch here,” Esther said, giving Alexander a sweet smile. “He’ll treat you like a queen.”

  Forcing herself to regain her composure, Marisa looked at her shoes, trying to work a smile into her expression. When she found the desired effect, she met Esther’s gaze. “I just don’t want anyone to act differently around us. Is that bad?” She turned to Alexander with a grin that she hoped looked sincere.

  Surprised, he scratched his head, staring into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. “No. Not bad. Just unexpected.”

  Watching him shift from one foot to the other, analyzing the look of discomfort in what she now recognized as a fake smile, she discovered the truth: Alexander hadn’t instigated the rumor.

  A surge of relief flowed through her. Phew! He didn’t hate her. He didn’t want to make her suffer for rejecting him. Despite a broken heart, he couldn’t overshadow all of the good times they had shared over the years, and he still considered her his best friend.

  Maybe he’d realized that they worked better as friends than lovers. Perhaps they could get past this obstacle. In spite of the rumor, and the consequences brought along with it, she felt an outpouring of affection for him that flooded her senses as sentimentality got the better of her. And Marisa reacted in a manner that she couldn’t have predicted: tears glistened in her eyes.

  “Oh, look at that,” Esther said, clasping both hands and bringing them up to her smiling lips. “Such a cute couple.”

  “Agreed,” Lance said, his grin turning sour. “But it’s a shame finding out like this.”

  “What do you mean?” Esther asked.

  “Alexander’s leaving us. In two weeks, he’ll become the new director of the Vista Heights Public Library.”

  Jolted by this discovery, Marisa turned to her best friend and felt…completely confused. Hadn’t he just accepted the Assistant Director position at this very library? What vital piece of information had she missed? She studied his eyes, but this time, she couldn’t read his thoughts. She stood beside the one person who knew her better than anyone, the one person who sometimes knew how she felt before even she did, and yet Marisa had never before felt so alone.

  While one part of her was elated that he’d reached a position few others obtained, she couldn’t help but wonder what persuaded him to keep that knowledge to himself. Didn’t best friends share feelings like that?

  “Ready for the interview?” Lance asked her, still smiling.

  At a time when she needed to call upon all of her enthusiasm to get the job and help the library remain a viable place for the community for years to come, Marisa couldn’t look past the void in her mind—or in her heart. After all, Alexander would soon be leaving. She’d never considered that possibility. It seemed he had a lot more confidence in his abilities than she thought. And while that thought allowed a streak of pride to run through her, now that the focus rested on her, Marisa couldn’t summon the least bit of confidence into her own disposition.

  She nodded and followed Lance into his office. Turning, she closed the door, refusing to meet Alexander’s gaze. Doing so would feel like an unsaid goodbye. And she wasn’t prepared for the most important relationship in her life to end.

  CHAPTER THREE

  At the Pizza Haven, a restaurant his family had gathered at the first Friday night of each month, Alexander took a seat across from Kelsey and on either side of his parents. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “You look different,” Kelsey said.

  “Yeah, I decided to take a shower today.” To evade further questioning, Alexander acknowledged her more casual, but no less attention-getting attire compared with the outfit she wore at work: she now sported a red T-shirt with two dogs standing upright, holding syringes and approaching a man and woman with their heads poking out of cages while a bubble above one dog proclaimed: “Don’t worry. They don’t feel pain like we do.”

  Alexander cherished his close relationship with his sister, but she questioned everything, which obviously ranged from animal testing to matters of the heart. Then again, he doubted he’d love her so much if she didn’t care so much. With just a few encouraging words and an open demeanor, she could convince him to divulge every thought and emotion that now swirled through him.

  Their mother had that same ability to a lesser degree, which also dissuaded him from looking in her direction. But since she always supported him, just one look would end with him explaining everything that had happened this afternoon. Regardless, from the corner of his eye, Alexander noticed her bestowing h
im with a genuine smile that rivaled the intensity of a 120–watt light bulb.

  “Any news you’d care to share?” Loretta Lawford’s wavy, chestnut-colored hair indicated a woman who remained current with stylish trends, practically daring others to question that she had celebrated her 58th birthday earlier this year.

  Alexander nodded but didn’t glance at her. Instead, he chose to glance at his father. “Marisa gave us tickets to see the Bears in a couple months.”

  A few years older than his wife, but without her ability to age as gracefully, Glenn Lawford released a big grin. “Hey, that sounds fantastic! That Marisa sure is something special.”

  Alexander couldn’t disagree with that last statement.

  “Anything else?” said his mother. “Anything—new?” She eyed him with a peculiar expression.

  He shook his head.

  His father exchanged a look with his son, neither reassuring nor discouraging him from launching into whatever occupied his mind. He cut into a roll and lathered some butter across one side.

  Alexander held great admiration for his father. A retired cop of 35 years, his father always enjoyed getting his hands dirty, whether it meant arresting the bad elements of society, fixing cars, or working on anything around the house that required a set of tools. The strong, silent type who never started a fight but always ended it; he rode a Harley, loved to watch the Bears (the only similarity between father and son) and always dispensed great advice. Alexander couldn’t have strayed further from the son his father had always hoped to have: someone more like himself.

  For a moment, Alexander reflected on the time they spent together as he grew up: his father taking him to the movie theater; trying but failing to interest Alexander in building the deck he made in the backyard or how to change the oil in his car; shuttling him to and from baseball games on the back of his bike.

  Although Alexander loved the feeling of the air brushing against his skin and the sound of the Harley as his father kicked it into a higher gear, when his father encouraged him to get a bike after he turned 16, he couldn’t find the courage to follow suit. He envisioned riding down the street, rounding a corner, and losing control, sending him skidding across the pavement, scraping his face, stomach, arms, and legs across the concrete. Soon after, every time he imagined getting on a bike, an imaginary sizzling pain spread across his skin. He shivered even now just thinking about it.

  Since Alexander didn’t share his father’s interest in fixing cars, using his hands with projects, or feeling the need to arrest criminals, he felt like he could never quite measure up to the standards his father had set for him. In some ways, he wished he had taken after his dad, because he admired so much about him. But he just couldn’t quite summon the same adventurous spirit his dad seemed to call upon with ease. And Alexander couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment every time his father thought about the son he wished to have, instead of the one he did have.

  “All in good time,” his father said, more interested in eating the bun he buttered than hearing Alexander talk.

  This disinterest spurred Alexander to speak. “I’m the new Library Director of the Vista Heights Public Library.”

  His father met his gaze and lowered the roll. “Whatever amount you settled on, they’re getting one hell of a bargain.” He launched the roll into his mouth. “Really proud of you, son.”

  Most would have heard a muffled statement, but Alexander, who always paid close attention to whatever wisdom his father wished to dispense, made out every syllable and tried to crush the smile on his face. Why did men have such a hard time showing how they really felt? Whatever the reason, he didn’t receive that chromosome during birth; he had a heightened emotional awareness and response that, with the exception of holding back how long he’d loved Marisa, made it almost imperative that he almost over-share his feelings with those he trusted. He liked his affinity for expressing himself, but he also felt that it made him weak.

  “That’s wonderful news,” his mother said, beaming. “What did Marisa say?”

  It always came down to this: not only did Kelsey and Marisa share a deep friendship, but Marisa’s name always came up whenever anyone mentioned Alexander’s love life or lack of one. Over the last year or so, she had sort of become an unofficial sixth member of the family (his older sister, Ashley, was a television star, and for reasons he never understood, the family hadn’t seen her since the day she graduated from high school fifteen years ago).

  Like him, his parents had concluded that he and Marisa were destined to get married and deliver them a few grandchildren. And while Alexander liked that they pulled for him in this regard, he always felt tremendous pressure to make it happen.

  “I don’t know,” he said, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He picked at a crescent roll.

  Kelsey gasped. “Marisa knows?” She turned to him, eyes burrowing into the side of his head. “You told her how you feel, didn’t you?” She glanced at her mother. “This isn’t good. Not good at all.”

  “Are you okay?” his mother asked with an understanding tone.

  A lump appeared in Alexander’s throat. If he opened his mouth, each word that tumbled out would crack. He shook his head and took a bite from the roll so he wouldn’t have to talk.

  “Come on,” his father said. “Let’s give him some space.”

  The waitress arrived, plopping an extra-large cheese and sausage pizza into the center of the red and white checkered tablecloth.

  Awkward conversation would commence until Alexander decided to end it by spilling the details his family wanted to hear, so he decided to get it over with. “I told her.” He grabbed a slice of pizza. “It didn’t go well.” He took a bite.

  His mother tipped her head to the side. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand across his forearm in empathy. “What happened?”

  “What you’d expect after telling a girl that you love her: disinterest,” she said sarcastically. “She was kind of upset.”

  After sliding a few slices of pizza onto his plate, his father said, “Good.”

  Alexander looked up at his father, thinking that he’d misheard him. He waited for clarification.

  “If she felt strongly enough to get upset, she’s not indifferent. She feels something.”

  Alexander hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “Yeah,” Kelsey said. “Hatred.”

  Alexander glanced at her, disheartened. “Thanks.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t let that one pass,” she said, looking apologetic. “But she’s upset and conflicted. She knew you liked her way back when you met but figured you outgrew it. Now that you brought it up, what does she do now? What does she say? You changed your relationship, and you can’t take something like that back.”

  “What should he do?” her mother asked.

  “I wish I knew,” said Kelsey with sincerity.

  “Did she say anything?” asked Alexander, both curious and frightened to hear the truth. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yeah, because the one person she wants to confide in is your sister…so I can tell you what she said.” Kelsey looked around the table. “Or you guys, which she knows I’d do, since that’s what we do: overshare. But I do have one piece of advice that will help you.”

  Alexander waited. “Well, what is it?”

  “Man-up, bitch!”

  As his mother chastised Kelsey, the comment echoed through Alexander’s brain, and a part of him agreed with her recommendation. But what should he do? Where should he start? Normally, at this point, he’d call Marisa, but he obviously couldn’t do that now.

  His phone chirped. A text message from his buddy, Damon, popped up on the screen: “You tell her?” Alexander replied: “Yep. Shot down in flames.” Damon responded: “Sorry, man. Hate to say that I told you so, but you needed to hear it from the source. We’ll come up with a plan. Let’s meet at 10 p.m. tonight at Apocalyptica,” he decided, referring to the trendy bar they had frequented over the years. Alex
ander dropped the phone into his pocket.

  Although his father paid more attention to his pizza, Alexander’s mother granted her son a sympathetic look that also conveyed tenderness and commiseration – almost as if she feared but expected this outcome. Alexander looked away, dispirited. Since first meeting Marisa, his family had offered long-standing invitations for meals, welcoming her to their spontaneous board game nights, and encouraging her to visit during the holidays.

  Alexander’s despondency soon intensified into a boiling anger. Never before had his mother failed to offer words of encouragement and support. She insisted that whatever he put his mind to, he could accomplish. But seeing that she considered winning Marisa’s affections beyond the realm of possibility, he said, “I’ve got to go.” He got to his feet, almost knocking the chair behind him to the floor, and left his family behind, determined to meet Damon to try to come up with a plan to put an end to the emptiness inside his heart.

  *

  Marisa stood beside the dinner table inside the townhome she had grown up in and left ten years ago for college. Framed photographs of trips she had taken with her parents adorned the walls: the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, Mammoth Cave, the French Quarter, Yellowstone Park. Each picture represented memories she wished she could erase: Jaclyn chastising her husband for failing to purchase enough film for the camera; consistently complaining that her husband drove too slow to and from every destination; scolding him for selecting a restaurant that resulted in her suffering from food poisoning; screaming at him numerous times each day because he forgot one of her suitcases (even though she got by without even needing the extra clothes); and yelling at him because a nail wedged into the tire of their Ford Taurus, sidetracking them for a few hours while he applied the spare before stopping at Walmart to purchase a replacement.

  Likewise, Jaclyn’s style dominated every room of the small townhome. She had placed a dozen lit candles of various colors, styles, and sizes across her home: above the kitchen cupboards; on the top of the tube (because she refused to upgrade to a flat screen when this one worked just fine); above a clear fish tank where six different types of fish swam; and various other strategic spots, culminating in a hodgepodge of aromas that made Marisa nauseous. How had she grown up without spilling her guts every day?