One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1)

by Sydney Bristow

  A smile parted his father’s lips. “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah. I still can’t believe it myself. I was always scared of getting killed on the road.”

  “Why now? What changed?”

  “Well, you know what happened with Marisa.”

  His father nodded, remaining silent.

  “That was the worst ever. I never felt so bad…And I realized something had to change. I had to change. I had to overcome my fears to feel better about myself. I had to stop disappointing myself.”

  “I could have helped you with riding. Why go to your friend?”

  Alex lowered his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. “All my life, I’ve let you down. I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to say…here, I did this. Maybe we’re not as different as we think.” He looked up. “I wanted you to be proud of me.”

  His father’s eyes were glassy with tears.

  Alex stared at him, shocked. In all his life, he’d never seen his father tear up, never seen him show any emotion that could be construed as less than manly. That his father revealed this side of himself touched Alex.

  For some innate, unexplained reason, it felt wrong to meet the eyes of another man who looked and felt so vulnerable. Alex glanced away from his dad.

  “I’ve always been proud of you,” his father said.

  Alex had waited nearly three decades to hear his father say those words. And tears entered his eyes. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  His father chuckled. “You’ve done a lot that I’ve never done. I never got a master’s degree. I never made as much from one job as you have. So what if you don’t feel comfortable working under the hood of a car? Who cares? You know how to read a book, right? That helped me learn. You have to start somewhere. Do you think I never made mistakes?

  “Hell, you remember hearing me cussing and getting frustrated in the garage or out in the yard, angry because I couldn’t wrap my head around something. But I stuck with it. And I figured it out. You were always impatient with that sort of thing. You have to put in the time. That’s the reason you never figured out how to fix a car or a dishwasher. It’s just like anything in life. Nothing worth doing comes without a lot of effort.”

  Alex had never thought of it that way. It seemed as if his dad always picked up knowledge as easily if he’d downloaded the information from his computer and that data went directly into his brain. Alex had always thought that he’d somehow let down his father by failing to become more like him, so that his dad could detect some resemblance of himself in his son. Isn’t that what every father wanted? He blinked to offset the tears in his eyes.

  “But that’s not the reason you stopped by. And I get the feeling that you didn’t come here in your Freddy Krueger costume to tell me about learning how to ride. Am I right?”

  Alex nodded. “I need your thoughts on something. Me and Marisa.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t. Getting out the topic alone was difficult enough. He couldn’t go on about how much he cared for her, how much he loved spending time with her, and how much he wished to kiss her until their dying day. Besides, his father had to know what he meant, didn’t he?

  “You know how I feel about her. She’s a great girl. But is she right for you?”

  Alex raised his head. “You don’t think so?”

  “I didn’t say that. She joins us for dinner every once and a while, but I don’t know her as well as you do. Besides, you know how she feels about you, don’t you?”

  “I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s my best friend.”

  His father nodded. “But that’s not what I asked.”

  “I’ve wanted to change things about myself for so long, and once she turned me down, I went on a mission, pushing myself to become the person I’ve always wanted to be which, strangely enough, is the same person she needed me to be.”

  “Did you succeed?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “So how does it feel?”

  Alex couldn’t explain how free he felt now that so many of his inhibitions had disintegrated, so he didn’t even try. Besides, the smile on his face communicated those thoughts.

  “Good for you. No matter what happens with Marisa, you’ll always have that. Living in fear isn’t really living, now, is it? So you really have only one more question to ask yourself.”

  He waited.

  “Have you done everything you could to win her love?”

  Alex considered that question. He’d shown Marisa how he’d grown as a person: by stating his opinions when they clashed with hers, by acting on his impulses and taking the lead, by calling her out on instances where she mistreated him, by flirting with her, by not acting like one of her girlfriends. She’d responded positively to each of those actions.

  But only one remained – one that might convince her to finally believe in him. He looked up at his father, filled with excitement and anticipation.

  “Good luck, son.”

  *

  “Your father’s not here,” said Jaclyn Moretti, standing in the doorway. “But he should be back soon.” She turned and walked away, leaving the door open to the noxious fumes of cigarettes and a hodgepodge of candle scents.

  “I came here to speak with you.” Alex’s statement that Marisa was not her mother reincarnated had encouraged her to speak with the one woman she liked least on this planet.

  Marisa had gone home and changed out of her costume and into a blouse and a pair of jeans. Had she still looked like Cleopatra, her mother would have picked out numerous flaws despite having no idea what Cleopatra looked like or how she dressed.

  Jaclyn turned toward her. “Oh?” She took a drag on her cigarette. “What about?”

  Marisa had so little experience talking with her mother instead of talking at her that she had no idea where to begin. “We’ve never had a real mother/daughter conversation.” She now wished she could take back that statement. It sounded too formal, too needy.

  “Sure we have. We’re having one right now.”

  “Small-talk? You talk this way to your neighbors, not to your daughter.”

  “Who says?”

  Marisa had hoped to get the conversation off on better footing, but with so little practice, she had no idea how to proceed. And the way her mother just stared at her, expecting something Marisa couldn’t identify, made it even more difficult.

  Despite her confusion with where things stood with Alex, and perhaps because of her attraction to Brad, a two-timing fraud, only one thought clutched her mind: she needed to speak with her mother, to find out if there was any truth to Alex’s assertion.

  But now that she was here, Marisa didn’t know where to start. And in typical fashion, her mother wouldn’t make it easy for her by offering her a drink or to have a seat on the couch to talk.

  “Well, like I said, your father will be home any time now.” Jaclyn spun around, heading towards her bedroom.

  “Don’t walk away from me.”

  Her mother stopped. And turned toward her again. A disgusted expression stretched her skin across her cheekbones. “What did you say?” She started toward her daughter. “What did you just say to me?”

  The anger with which her mother spoke served only to increase Marisa’s animosity. “You heard me. That’s all you’ve done my entire life: turn your back on me.”

  Jaclyn laughed. “And look how well you’ve turned out: you’ve got the career you wanted. I gave you exactly what you needed to succeed. And did you ever thank me?”

  “For what? What did you ever do for me?”

  “I taught you how cold this world is. How you can’t rely on anyone but yourself.”

  She stared at her mother, and it dawned on her that, just as Jaclyn had hoped, Marisa had turned out occasionally frigid and reluctant to trust others.

  “Women are discriminated against every day,” her mother said. “I refused to let anyone treat you that way. I decided to treat you as an adult. That way, you’d be strong enough to speak up for
yourself. To get what you deserve out of this miserable existence.”

  The more Marisa heard, the less she wanted to hear. Yet, in a perverse sort of way, she needed to hear it, to grasp all of the damage her mother had done. “That doesn’t explain why you treated Dad so horribly.”

  Jaclyn took a final pull from her cigarette and blew it at the overhead fan, which pushed the smoke around the room. She stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray on the coffee table. “Any man who doesn’t stand up to a woman doesn’t deserve her.”

  Marisa wasn’t sure if she should scream at her mother…or laugh at her. “Dad retired before he turned 50. He had a franchise with eight different locations. He made more money in two decades than I’ll make in 60 years. He treated you like a queen. If you ever ended up in trouble, he’d be at your side no matter the time or the day. You were best friends. And you’re saying he doesn’t deserve you?”

  “That’s right.” Breaking eye contact, Jaclyn scooped up a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, slipped one out, and lit it with a lighter. She let it dangle between her lips, inhaling deeply. Then she met her daughter’s eyes. “I’m too good for him. And he knows it. That’s why he never talked back to me. He knew he’d never get anyone better.”

  Marisa had never seen or heard anyone so pathetic in her life. She marched toward the door.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble about Daddy-Dearest.”

  Marisa grasped hold of the doorknob but turned back. “All my life I made excuses for you: telling friends in middle-school and high-school that you were too busy to meet their parents; that you wouldn’t allow me to have sleepovers because you woke up early for work when you never even had a job. I can’t believe all the times I’ve spent trying to make you proud of me.”

  Marisa paused, the bulge in her throat making it almost impossible to continue speaking. “I can’t believe all of the energy I’ve wasted trying to make you…love me.”

  Her mother’s aloof mask finally cracked, providing an opening that allowed Marisa to understand the real reason that Jaclyn constantly badgered her husband. It hit her with the force of a blow to the head. The clarity felt like someone had opened every window in this house, clearing out all of the smoke; it allowed her to breathe easier. And think more clearly than ever before.

  “Here’s the truth, Mom: you’re wrong about Dad. It’s the other way around. You’re the one who doesn’t deserve him. And he’s spent the past thirty years trying to prove it to you. You have only yourself to blame for your unhappiness.”

  Marisa began to feel that perhaps Alex was right: she didn’t have to turn out like her mother. Doing so was a choice, a path she could avoid. Until now, she’d thought that all of her baggage would warp Alex’s world, that he’d become jaded just like her.

  But this time, Marisa decided not to lie to herself: true, if they dated and things didn’t work out, she was afraid of losing Alex forever. But even more important, Marisa feared that she would turn out just like her mother.

  She feared that she couldn’t give Alex what he needed, that she would mistreat him, and that he would regret getting mixed up with her. In short, they’d both end up broken-hearted.

  But that hadn’t happened, had it? Each time she pushed him away, Alex hadn’t done as she’d requested. If anything, after each incident, he came back even more determined to win her over. He pushed back. As much as she loved her father, Alex wouldn’t cave in like him.

  He fought back. He’d proven that he loved her, despite her flaws.

  That was the one thing about her father that bothered her; he hadn’t fought back against her mother. He simply took the abuse day after day.

  But Alex had fought for her (and with her) again and again. He’d proven over and over, regardless of the obstacles that she’d placed in front of him that she could count on him.

  And what about Brad? Every time she pushed him away, he gave her space. He didn’t call her. Didn’t come see her. He just ignored her. Until she called him. He didn’t love her. He never had.

  She’d only distorted the truth because she wanted to believe that he truly cared. She wanted to believe that he loved her, supported her, and would always be there for her.

  And only one man had met each of those standards. He’d been patient and thoughtful and understanding. He’d never given up on her, even though he’d had many opportunities over the past two years.

  But Alex had always believed in her, which in turn, made her believe in him. In all, he’d waited for her. He’d waited until she was ready to not only see the truth and believe it, but to feel it.

  She now realized that she hadn’t trusted Alex because, if she gave in to the temptation and considered him as a romantic partner and if it didn’t work out, she would not only lose her best friend but also the man that she loved.

  And while she’d lost boyfriends before, she’d never had a more intimate relationship than the one she shared with Alex. If she lost his friendship, it would leave an emptier hole inside her than losing a lover. But now, after examining the evidence, she realized that Alex had proven his trustworthiness beyond all doubt.

  It now occurred to her why she’d occasionally called upon Alex when breaking up with other men: she wanted him by her side because he fought for her, even when she couldn’t fight for herself.

  But despite that knowledge, she realized an even more surprising fact: she wanted him there because, buried deep down, she wanted Alex to replace the men that he’d banished. She’d secretly wanted him to herself.

  But she hadn’t acted upon those feelings because, in the two years that they’d known each other, he hadn’t made a move. And while that seemed like a trivial matter, she needed Alex to feel that he deserved her, that they were equals.

  Otherwise, Marisa feared that she might fall into the same vicious cycle her parents carried out. And if that happened, she would end their relationship, and they would never speak again.

  These insights only appeared after Marisa believed Alex enough to consider the possibility that she was not a replica of her mother. Visiting Jaclyn had fortified that idea.

  Marisa admitted that she might occasionally have an outburst that reminded her of something her mother might do or say, but now that she knew the difference between them, she felt certain that she could get a handle on those darker impulses and change herself for the better.

  With this new understanding came an unexpected side-effect: she knew exactly how to handle her predicament with Brad and Alex. With a new outlook on life and a firmer grasp on her identity, she turned around without looking back at her mother and walked out of her life forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next morning, Marisa called Brad and asked him to meet her for coffee at Forever and Always. She knew that Kelsey worked in her office on Saturday mornings and into the afternoon, but she didn’t want to disturb her friend. Instead, she was focused on her mission to end her relationship with Brad.

  She didn’t want to sit around and chat with anyone before or after that happened. She just wanted to get it over with and move on with her life.

  Brad stepped through the door and nodded at her with a cocky smile. “Morning, babe,” he said, walking up to her before sliding into the booth opposite her. He drummed his fingers on the table, snapped up a menu, and scanned it. “What happened last night?”

  “What happened was that you stuck your tongue down Cassandra’s throat.”

  Brad froze. He lowered the menu and looked at her. “You saw that, huh?”

  She decided to hear what excuse he planned to offer.

  “Okay, look. She whispered in my ear then kissed me. I was like, who is this chick? What was I supposed to do?”

  Nearly as amused by his version of the facts as she was repulsed by his deception, she said, “I saw her whisper in your ear. But kissing you? No. You kissed her.” Seeing him about to object, she said, “You kissed her, Brad. That’s all there is.”

  “You don’t want to hear
my side of things?”

  “You just told me your side. Then I told you the truth. They shouldn’t be different. It means you’re a liar.”

  He waved his hands as though this was all just a simple misunderstanding. “I was the one who got kissed. I was there, okay? I should know. So, I’m not a liar.”

  She glared at him, revolted by how easily he lied to her. How many times had she fallen for similar excuses, disregarding her suspicions and believing his dishonest statements? “What about the poem?”

  “The what?” he asked, as though he’d never heard of the word “poem” much less written one. “Oh, yeah, right. That tells you how I feel better than I ever could with words.” He smiled again, revealing that he thought he’d surpassed the difficult portion of this question and answer session. “That’s how strongly I care for you.”

  The ease with which he muttered the fabrications astounded her. “The words touched my heart more than you’ll ever know. But I’d like to hear you recite some of it for me. It’s one thing to read it, but to hear you say it while looking into my eyes is…more intense.”

  A blond waitress who looked a couple birthdays shy of the legal drinking age stopped by their booth, extracting a small notepad, but she dropped her pen. She bent over to retrieve it.

  Brad’s gaze followed her.

  Marisa sighed, shaking her head. “Really, Brad? My eyes are over here, not down that woman’s dress.” Had she been blind before? Or just too unobservant (or fearful) to notice his behavior? How pathetic!

  The waitress rose with flushed cheeks. She turned to Marisa, putting the pen to her notepad.

  “Would you please give us a few more minutes?”

  The waitress grinned. “With pleasure.” She left them.

  Marisa, astounded by Brad’s self-restraint in not watching the waitress walk away, clapped her hands. “One for two. 50 percent: not bad. For a dog.”

  “Damn, I’m getting all this anger coming off you.”

  She put a few knuckles under her chin, feigning deep concentration. “Hmm, I can’t imagine why.”