Learning to Live

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  The usual stab of guilt comes up, but I’m not going to let it ruin me this time. I’m going to ignore it. Ruthlessly shove it down. Kyle is gone. I can look at another guy, can’t I? It doesn’t mean I miss him less or love him less. Right?

  I sip my latte as Brandon starts picking things at random off the racks and shelves, handing them over immediately to a sales person who’s eager to start a dressing room for him. Dress pants, dress shirts, ties, jackets… We’re gonna be here a while.

  “Okay, I think I’m ready to start trying,” he says.

  I look up from the table where I’ve been staring absently at some colorful ties. They made me think of Kyle, not because he wore ties, but because he hated them so much. “Great!”

  “There’s a little bench in the dressing room if you want to come in.”

  My breath catches and my heart skips a beat at the thought of being in the dressing room with Brandon while he’s changing. He must have noticed the fire in my cheeks.

  “Not in the dressing room, silly,” he says, laughing. “Just, you know, right outside.”

  Relief rushes through me. “Oh, right. Of course.”

  He’s still chuckling as we enter the main part of the dressing rooms and I take my seat as he disappears behind a door. I can see his feet. He’s kicked off his shoes, and his pants, and now he’s just wearing black trouser socks. Damn it.

  I close my eyes, desperate to get the image of him in his boxer shorts out of my mind. I don’t even know if he wears boxers. He was a total nerd in school. It’s possible he’s still hiding his nerdiness under his clothes in the form of tidy whities.

  And now I’m picturing him in tidy whities, which should totally be a turn-off, but it’s not.

  “How’s it coming?” I ask, desperate to get my mind off of a half-naked Brandon.

  “Almost ready…” The latch clicks and he swings the door open to reveal a stunning ensemble. Charcoal slacks with a teal dress shirt under a black sweater. “What do you think?”

  What do I think? I think I’m ready to admit I have a full-blown crush on you. I think I feel guilty for feeling that way. I think you look really hot, and I hate myself for thinking that.

  “It’s…great,” I finally manage.

  He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “No, I am! I mean, it’s really nice. Honestly. What is all this for, anyway?”

  “Annual company meeting,” he says, turning toward the mirror at the end of the row of dressing rooms. “It’s coming up in a few weeks. I have to give all kinds of presentations and stuff. Totally boring, but comes with the territory.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll make it exciting.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  He whirls around to look at me. “Well, thank you very much,” he says smugly, and then offers a playful wink as he heads back into the dressing room.

  The next thirty minutes are much the same as the first five. Me trying to catch my breath every time he exits the dressing room in designer threads. Me trying to tamp down the guilt that’s building slowly and steadily with every improper thought I have of Brandon.

  It’s not cheating, you ninny. Kyle is gone. Gone. He’s not coming back. Move on. Take a chance. Live.

  The latch on the door clicks for the last time and Brandon appears, back in his long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. I like him this way too. I like him all ways. And it scares the Hell out of me.

  Once he’s paid for his purchases, he asks the sales girl to hold them so we can take a walk around the mall without being weighed down by his new clothes. We stroll out of Macy’s into the main part of the mall, and it occurs to me how much this feels like a date all of a sudden. But it’s not. He never said it was. We’re just friends, hanging out.

  “Where to?” he asks. “Anything special you need to pick up?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I’ve got all the sweatpants I need,” I joke.

  “Well, then, let’s see where the road leads us.”

  The “road” led us to William’s Sonoma to sample bread and dipping oils and hot cider, then to Yankee Candle Co. to sniff every candle they have, and finally to Pottery Barn to test out the plushness of their sofas.

  We’re both giggling as we ruminate on the fluffiness of the large cream-colored sofa at the back of the store, when a sales girl approaches.

  “Is there anything I can help you two with today?”

  I look up into a familiar face. “Nicole?” I say, recognizing my old friend from high school. We weren’t terribly close, but we were on the Yearbook committee together, and our circles of friends often overlapped.

  “Oh, my god!” she squeals. “Jess?”

  I hop up and give her a hug. When we pull back, I take a good look at her. She looks pretty much the same as two years ago, with one exception. “You look amazing,” I say. “Did you color your hair?”

  She nods proudly. “That whole thing about blondes having more fun…I’ll just say I’ve had way more fun as a brunette. I had no idea what I was missing all those years.”

  “Well, it suits you,” I say.

  “What about you? I thought you were in New York! Whatever happened to that hottie boyfriend of yours…Kenny?”

  My stomach sinks and I feel the blood drain from my face. Nicole peers at me, concern in her bright blue eyes. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s…” The words are stuck in my throat. I don’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not when I was having such a good time with Brandon.

  “Hi, Nicole, is it?” Brandon is on his feet next to me, his hand outstretched to Nicole.

  She shakes his hand, narrowing her eyes, having completely forgotten about my former hottie boyfriend. “Do I know you?” she asks.

  Brandon shrugs. “We went to high school together, but it’s not likely you remember me.”

  “I feel like I would remember someone as cute as you.” She gives him a shameless wink, and I realize I’ve balled my hand into a fist at my side.

  “Well, you don’t. Oh, jeez, look at the time!” He makes a great show of looking at his watch. “We were having so much fun we forgot we have that thing.”

  I stifle a laugh. “Oh, right. That…thing.”

  “Nice meeting you, Nicole,” he calls over his shoulder as he ushers me out the back entrance of the store.

  We walk stiffly and briskly down the corridor until we’re out of sight of Pottery Barn and then we both start giggling uncontrollably. I’m taking gasping breaths between bouts of laughter. It feels too much for such a silly incident, but I can’t stop. I haven’t laughed in months—not like this—I’m laughing so hard, and it’s so cathartic that I know I’m only a hairsbreadth away from breaking down into a sobbing mess. So I gather myself and take some deep breaths. Brandon is coming down from the high, too, wiping the tears of laughter away from his eyes.

  “Were you really friends with her in high school?” he asks once he can speak again.

  “Clearly, I was hanging out with the wrong crowd,” I say, implying I should have been hanging out with him.

  “Clearly.”

  We’re both sighing and exhaling a lot as we walk along for the first minute or so, still trying to compose ourselves.

  “Should we grab some lunch?” Brandon asks once we’ve retrieved his clothes from Macy’s and are headed to the car.

  I want to say yes. But something is holding me back. Fear, guilt. Whatever it is, it’s telling me not to get too close. He’s coming for dinner later, anyway. I need a few hours to compose myself, sort my feelings out, that sort of thing.

  “I, um, promised Mom I’d be back for lunch,” I lie.

  He nods, but doesn’t press the issue. “Okay. I should swing by the office then, I guess.”

  We’re silent most of the way home, and by the time we pull into my driveway, I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach. It’s nerves. I know that. And I hate it. I wish he didn’t
unnerve me so much. But he does, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

  “Well, I’ll see you in a few hours,” I say, reaching for the door handle.

  He leans over and smiles at me as if there’s nothing uncomfortable going on at all. “Thanks again for helping me out.”

  “No problem.” And then I shut the door and walk as fast as I can to the house. I need to put as much distance between Brandon and I as I can. For now, at least.

  ELEVEN

  Dinner that night was nothing short of brilliant. Mom and Caroline definitely did justice to Kyle’s recipe, and all I could think about as I ate it was how proud he would be to see us all sitting there, enjoying his food. It was bittersweet, and a little jarring, since Brandon was sitting right next to me, but I made it through the meal. And the next one. And the one after that. And three weeks later, we had made it through fifteen of the nearly fifty recipes in the book. Caroline had finished typing them up at the end of the first week, and now I sit staring at them on my computer. Just staring, trying to figure out what I’m going to do with them, now they’re all neat and pretty and organized by type of dish.

  As I’m waiting for divine inspiration to strike, the doorbell rings and I hear Mom rush to answer it. Familiar voices flood the downstairs. What are Brandon and Caroline doing here?

  A slight bit of panic wells in my chest. I look like death. I should know better by now that they could stop by at any time and that it would be in my best interest to at least be showered. Maybe they just stopped by to drop something off for Mom. Or to say hi to her.

  Please don’t tell them I’m here.

  “Jess?”

  Shit.

  “What’s up?” I call back, knowing full well what’s up.

  “Come down here a minute.”

  I look up at the ceiling with a groan, wondering if there’s any way to get out of this.

  “Are you coming?”

  There’s no way to get out of this. She’ll pester me until I come down. I dash to the bathroom and opt to throw a baseball cap over my greasy hair. It goes nicely with my ugly sweatpants and torn t-shirt.

  As I pad down the stairs, Brandon and Caroline come into view. The first thing I notice is Caroline’s hair. Light brown hair is coming in at the roots, and she hasn’t bothered to dye it to match the rest of the raven locks. And when she tilts her face up to look at me, it’s strangely devoid of mounds of makeup. She’s still wearing makeup, just not nearly as much as before. I’m about to comment, but then I think better of it. I don’t want to send her running for the black dye and eyeliner again.

  “Hey, guys,” I say as I reach the foyer. “What are you doing here?”

  Brandon and Caroline exchange a look before turning back to me.

  “They have something they want to show you,” Mom says, grabbing onto my arm gently.

  “Would you mind coming with us?” Brandon asks, and he’s wearing an especially wry smile.

  “Um…” I look down at my clothes. “I’m not really dressed for going out.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Caroline speaks up. “No one will see you. Just us. It won’t take long. Come on.”

  She’s smiling from ear to ear. How can I say no to that? “Okay,” I reply slowly. “Do I need a jacket?”

  “I don’t think you’ll need a jacket now until the fall. Spring has officially sprung here.”

  It was only the end of March, and in the northeast, that meant there was still a chance of snow, or at the very least, chilly temps. I’m starting to feel really good about my decision to move back here. And not just for the weather.

  “Go on, honey. It won’t take long. You’ll be back to brooding in your bedroom before you know it.”

  A couple months ago, that comment probably would have sent me into a tailspin. Maybe triggered a tongue-lashing for my mom and a twenty-four-hour lock down in my room. Maybe it’s spring. Maybe it’s something else. But I’ve been in much better humor lately, so I just roll my eyes at Mom and laugh it off.

  Brandon and Caroline are already at the door, waiting for me to walk through it. Once I do, they follow me out and we walk to the car together.

  “Don’t get in yet,” Brandon says, rushing around to the driver’s side.

  “Okay,” I say, dragging the word out so they know just how weirded out I am by this whole thing.

  Caroline is bouncing up and down on her toes, a goofy smile on her face. Brandon retrieves something from the driver’s side door and comes back around until he’s standing in front of me.

  “Turn around, please,” he orders, matter-of-factly.

  I take a deep breath and eye him skeptically before doing as he asked. In the next moment, a piece of cloth covers my eyes.

  “You’re blindfolding me?” I can hardly believe this. What the Hell is going on?

  A giggle comes from Caroline, but Brandon says nothing as he ties the blindfold at the back of my head.

  “Okay,” he says, and I hear the click of the door being opened. “You can get in now.”

  “This better be good,” I warn.

  It feels a little weird to be in a car and not be able to see where we’re going. It’s making me realize that I might be a bit of a backseat driver. I don’t always say anything, but I feel my eyes are valuable as a second opinion. My body is all tense, like I’m anticipating a wreck. But after about ten minutes, we pull into what I assume is a parking space and come to a stop.

  “Wait there,” Brandon says. “I’ll come get you.”

  Together, he and Caroline guide me out of the car and then lead me through a door into some kind of building. It’s quiet and cool. And it smells clean.

  “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I reply, just before Brandon pulls off the blindfold.

  I take a moment and look around, drinking in my surroundings, trying to understand what’s happening. I’m standing at a counter, complete with oven and stove, and facing two rows of shiny, metal tables. Cabinets and two industrial sized refrigerators line the walls. I look at Caroline, who looks as if she’s about to burst out of her skin. Then to Brandon, who’s wearing a charming smile that makes my stomach do a little flip.

  “What is all this?” I ask, and then wait, rather impatiently, I might add, for one of them to say something.

  “It’s yours,” Brandon replies, and then quickly adds, “If you want it.”

  I furrow my brow. “I don’t cook.”

  “No, but your mom and I do,” Caroline says.

  “Okay, can we stop being cryptic,” I plead. “I think I’m gonna need you guys to spell this out for me.”

  Brandon looks at Caroline and gives her a nod.

  She takes a slight pause, and then says, “Kyle’s Kitchen. That’s what we’d call it, if you like that name. We were thinking you could run it, and your mom and I could teach the classes.”

  “Classes?”

  “To troubled kids…like me,” Caroline finishes, and suddenly it’s all coming together.

  Brandon steps forward. “We’ll form a not-for-profit, and put Kyle’s recipes to good use.”

  “And give you something to do.”

  “Ah,” I say. “Is that what this is about?”

  Brandon shoots his little sister a scowl. Clearly that was the part of the plan they weren’t supposed to tell me about.

  “Sorry,” Caroline says. “It just slipped out.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay. Really. I probably do need to start thinking about my future.”

  “We don’t want to pressure you into anything,” Brandon continues. “It’s just that those recipes are amazing—”

  “And they’ve helped me so much!”

  “Caro really wants to help other kids who are struggling, like her.”

  “And like me?” I suggest.

  Brandon’s eyes are so intent on me, I almost forget Caroline is in the room with us.

  “We all need a little help sometimes. No one knows that like the three of us in t
his room do.”

  I swallow over the lump in my throat, the gravity of what they’ve done for me hitting me like a ton of bricks. I don’t want to cry, but I don’t know if I can stop it. I’m overwhelmed, and by more than just this grand gesture. Kyle was my everything, my Romeo, my soul mate. I was certain there was no one else in the world that could fill the void he left.

  I look at Brandon, in all his perfection, and wonder how he could be so good and wonderful and everything I don’t want him to be, because if I admit he’s all those things—if I admit that I feel for him something more than friendship—well, I don’t know what will happen. The world will implode. The ceiling will come crashing in on me. Up will be down and down will be up. And I just won’t know what to do with myself.

  So, I do the only thing I can do in this situation. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my tears as I make my escape.

  I don’t get far. Just outside the door, really, before I realize that I didn’t drive myself here. Furthermore, I don’t really know where we are. It’s an office park not far from our neighborhood, but it’s not like I can walk it. It’s at least five miles, based on the time it took to get here, so even if I did know where I was…

  “So, should I take this as a no?”

  Brandon is right behind me. So close I can feel his warmth at my back. But I don’t flinch. I’m not startled. I expected this, I guess. He’s definitely the type who runs after crying girls to make sure they’re all right. Or at least sends someone to check on them if they’re in a women’s restroom.

  God, I’m so pathetic. One of these days, he’s just going to give up on me if I can’t pull myself together. I wouldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be around someone who broke down crying all the time either. But the thought of losing his friendship makes my stomach hurt. I don’t want to push him away.

  “I-I don’t know what to say,” I stutter, truly at a loss for words.

  “Thank you sometimes works in these situations.”

  I know he’s teasing, trying to lighten the moment, and I appreciate it. I really do. I want things to be light and funny more than anything.

  My back is still to him, and I swipe my hands across my cheeks before turning around to face him. He’s wearing a gentle expression—soft smile, tender hazel eyes—one that reeks of patience that most humans don’t have.