As for me, I hardly recognize myself, to be honest. The stylist gathered my auburn hair in an up do that cascades down over one shoulder. My makeup is soft. And when I put on the cream, lace dress I picked out for the occasion, I’m struck with how much I look like a bride.
There’s no time for tears, and Brandon paid a fortune for this makeup job, so I have to hold it together. But it’s not easy. Kyle would have loved this look. He would have loved to have seen me walking down the aisle toward him, just like this.
Tears brim just beneath my eyelids, but I blink them back. Tonight is a celebration. A celebration of Kyle, really. And he always hated it when I cried.
I look up toward the sky and choke down the lump in my throat. “No tears, my love. I promise.”
After a deep breath, I grab my clutch and pull on my heels. These things are gonna kill me, but they’re so worth it. They’re the same cream as the dress, but with black patent trim and these sexy patent bows that lay flat against the outside of the shoe. They were a little more than I wanted to spend, but with my new job, I figured I could afford the splurge.
As I descend the stairs, I hear voices in the living room. It’s Brandon and Caroline—they’re talking with Mom and Dad. I smile to myself. This feels so perfect, so right. I thought nothing would ever feel like this again, but here I am with that warm and fuzzy feeling inside, like most people get on Christmas with their families all gathered around.
I walk into the family room and everyone goes quiet as they turn to look at me. It’s only then that I realize I missed a couple of voices. And when my eyes land on the two extra people in the room, I can’t hold back any longer. I don’t just eek a small tear or two out, I dissolve into gasping and sobbing, unable to control myself in any small way.
It’s Brandon who keeps me from crumbling to the ground. His arms go around me, strong and reassuring, even though I’m crying for another man. In the next moment, he’s dabbing at my eyes and cheeks with a tissue. And after another moment, he says, “Surprise?”
This makes me snort with laughter through my tears. “Yes,” I manage. “Quite the surprise. I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t expect to see you both here.”
Truly, it was one of the most surprising moments of my life to see Kyle’s parents standing in my living room. I had sent them a letter when all this began, letting them know what we were doing and when the big gala would take place, but I didn’t hear back from them. Not a word. Now I know they must have been in cahoots with Brandon.
“We wanted to write back,” Mrs. Clarke says, as if she’s read my mind. “But Brandon had said he wanted it to be a surprise.” She smiles kindly, and I can finally see—now that my eyes are drying—that she looks well. Surprisingly well compared to the last time I saw her. Her face is rounder and her cheeks are flushed. And though there are tears in her eyes, they are more happy than sad. “We hope you don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “Of course I don’t,” I say. “I’m just thrilled you’re here. He was your son, after all.”
“It is…” Mr. Clarke tries to speak but his words catch in his throat. He blinks back a tear, which makes me want to cry all over again. “It is a great honor for our son. He would be so proud.”
There’s not a dry eye in the room. Even Brandon is blinking rather furiously. I grab his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back. It ought to feel awkward, what with Kyle’s parents standing right in front of us, but it doesn’t. No one seems to judge me for having moved on—not even Mr. and Mrs. Clarke.
“I hate to break into this moment,” Dad says quietly, “but we need to get to the hotel.”
“Oh, yes!” I say, coming to my senses. “I need to approve the positioning of the floral arrangements and make sure the caterers have everything they need. Oh, and the slide show!”
Brandon grabs me by the shoulders to face him. He’s laughing. “Will you calm down, please?” he says. “It’s all taken care of.”
“It is?”
“Carly’s been there all afternoon. Everything will be perfect. I promise.”
Everything is perfect. It looks like spring puked all over the ballroom—in a good way, of course. Flowers are everywhere, the lights are all dim and giving off a pinkish-purple glow, the swing band is warming up and I can barely sit still as I listen to them play an old ballad from the 30s. Or 40s. I’m not too up on my vintage music, but either way, it’s romantic and I want to dance. But there will be plenty of time for that later. Besides, Brandon is too busy right now anyway, making sure the slideshow is ready to go.
Before long, the benefactors of our new venture start filtering into the ballroom. The band is playing in earnest now, and Brandon takes me on a journey to all the tables so we can meet our patrons. They’re all filled with a mix of condolences and congratulations, which I do my best to navigate. It’s definitely hitting me how bittersweet tonight is, and I so wish Kyle were here to see it.
It’s obvious when Caroline’s friends arrive on the scene. They’re all dressed nicely, but they’re young, and have tattoos and piercings and colored hair. I smile at the way they stand out in this crowd of middle-aged yuppies. They’re the reason we’re doing all of this.
It isn’t much longer until Carly comes over the PA to announce that dinner will be served shortly, and for everyone to please take their seats. Brandon retrieves me from the clutches of an eccentric elderly couple and leads me to the long table on the platform at the front of the room. We’ll be speaking during the dinner, and my palms are already sweating profusely. I’m sure Brandon can feel it as we walk hand-in-hand, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes the seat next to the podium and I take the one next to him. Mrs. Clarke is on my other side, with her husband beside her, and on the opposite side of the podium is Carly, along with some of our local celebrities—a political candidate, the weather and traffic guy from a local news station, and the reigning Ms. Atlanta. Caroline is at the first round table out front, along with some of her rainbow-haired friends and my parents. And there are at least three hundred more people seated out there.
Brandon keeps trying to talk to me—I’m pretty sure he’s trying to distract me from my nerves—but I don’t hear a word he says. I’ve never spoken publicly, and I’ve barely spoken about Kyle since his death. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. My heart is racing. There’s a coldness spreading to my limbs, causing everything to tingle with numbness.
“Are you okay?” Brandon asks.
I nod.
“You sure?” he presses. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”
I nod again. “I might,” I manage.
“Okay, deep breaths,” he whispers as Carly gets up to announce the first speaker. “Just focus on the other speakers and you’ll be fine.”
“Please welcome Mr. Brandon Todd!”
I snap sideways to look at him. Shit. I didn’t realize he was up first. He smiles at me as if he knows that I feel badly for being so lost in my own world that I didn’t even realize he had to get up there too.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he turns to glance at both sides of the head table, “distinguished guests. It is very exciting to stand before you this evening, and to tell you a little bit about this incredible venture that we are all embarking on together. This evening—this charity—would not be possible if it wasn’t for all of you, so let me start by saying thank you.”
He goes on to talk about the plans for Kyle’s Kitchen, laying out the mission statement and objectives for the project, and telling everyone how they can get involved. He’s so poised, so confident. I knew he was good at running his company. I know he’s smart and well spoken. But as he’s standing there in his tux, speaking to over three hundred strangers about Kyle’s Kitchen, I realize, with absolute clarity, that I’m falling for this guy. Hard. I know I probably shouldn’t be thinking about that when I’m about to get up and talk about Kyle, but I can’t help it. I’m in awe of it. And I’m humbled by it.
“Thank you all
again for joining us, not just this evening, but on this incredible journey we’re about to take.”
As the ballroom erupts into applause, Ms. Atlanta gets up and makes her way to the podium. She sings a shaky version of Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All,” which is followed by short speeches from the politician and the traffic guy, and then Carly gets up to the podium once more.
“Before we enjoy our desserts this evening, we have one more speaker,” she says. “And I’m going to ask that the servers please hold off on serving during this time. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming Miss Jessica Brooks.”
Applause accompanies my short walk to the podium. My hands are shaking as I open up the piece of paper that contains my speech. I adjust the microphone, even though it’s already at the perfect height. I can’t get a deep enough breath. How will I ever get through this?
“Seven months ago,” I begin, “I experienced the absolute best day of my entire life. My boyfriend at the time treated me to a very special day out and about in New York City—the place I had called home for two years. And that day ended atop the World Trade Centers, looking out over Manhattan as my boyfriend slipped a ring onto my finger, asking me to be his wife. That was September tenth, and that restaurant where he proposed was where he worked. And it was where he was working the next morning, when the towers were attacked.” I take a deep breath, the weight of my words falling heavily in the room. “The days that followed were excruciating. Waiting to hear word that, deep down, I knew would never come. But still, I waited, and I watched. I watched from my windows as the smoke rose into the air for weeks on end, wondering about Kyle. Wondering what his last thoughts were. Wondering where he was amidst all the rubble, as morbid as that may seem.
I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell him that I loved him one last time. But I prayed that he died knowing how much he meant to me.”
I take a moment, willing the tears to stay at bay. I have to finish this. I need to.
“This is a big, scary world we live in,” I continue, once I’m certain I can hold it together. “And stopping the evil seems like a daunting task. But it’s not. Putting a stop to the evils in this world starts with one word…love. I’ll be honest—my love for Kyle threatened to kill me. When he was gone, I didn’t think I could carry on without him. He was my everything. But thanks to the persistent love of my friends and family—” I look pointedly from Caroline to my parents and then to Brandon— “I found a different way to love Kyle, to honor him. You see, he left me a gift, though he may not have known it at the time.” I retrieve the composition notebook with the original recipes inside and hold it up for the crowd to see. “My friend found this as I was packing up Kyle’s things. It’s a hand-scrawled recipe book of his original recipes, some of which you’ve enjoyed tonight. This was his legacy. These recipes were his heart. And I hope you’ll all agree, they are meant for more than just this beat-up old notebook.
“A young lady by the name of Caroline, who is sitting right down front here, was the first to realize the potential of these recipes, and together with her brother, sitting here beside me, they presented the idea for Kyle’s Kitchen to me. I’ll admit…I knew nothing about how to run a not-for-profit a few weeks ago. I still know nothing about cooking.” The crowd laughs at this. “But I knew, when they presented this idea to me, that it was what Kyle would have wanted. To put his recipes to good use. To help young people suffering with loss or bullying or identity to find their purpose, or at least have a place to go. A place to meet like-minded kids. A haven from the chaos of their normal lives.
“This evening is indeed bittersweet. My heart aches for Kyle—I suspect it always will. My heart aches for his parents who are here tonight—for the loss of their only child. But with your help, Kyle’s death will not be in vain. His legacy will live on, helping young people…perpetuating love. Thank you.”
There’s a moment of silence that follows. It’s long and awkward, but I assume it’s just not the appropriate time for applause. And then the room erupts, and everyone jumps to their feet, the sound of their clapping almost deafening. I can’t hold it in anymore. The nerves, the adrenaline, the ache I feel for Kyle in this bittersweet moment, floods me and the tears start to flow.
Brandon is there in a second, his arms around me, speaking softly into my ear about how proud he is of me and all that we’re going to accomplish through Kyle’s Kitchen. That day with Kyle might have been the best day of my life, but this particular moment is a very close second.
FIFTEEN
If I had known what a good dancer Brandon was, I probably would have taken lessons in secrecy before tonight’s event. I feel like a ragdoll, as he pushes, pulls, and whirls me around the floor. I must look ridiculous, flailing about with a perpetually stunned expression on my face, but I don’t really care right now. I’m having the time of my life. Especially now that they’re finally playing a ballad that I can just sway in his arms to.
“You were amazing up there tonight,” he purrs into my ear as he nuzzles his face close to mine.
“I almost threw up beforehand.”
“I know.” He laughs, and I can feel it in every inch of my body. “You were looking a little green.”
“I had a lot to live up to.”
“Who? Me?” He pulls back to look at me, and I nod. “Nah. I just talked business—that’s easy. What you did…that was from the heart.”
I shrug. I’m not certain I want to delve into a conversation about Kyle right now. “Somehow,” I continue, “I forgot about my nerves as soon as I opened my mouth to speak. It was wild.”
“It was wonderful.”
We go quiet for a few minutes, letting the music guide us lazily around the dance floor, which is packed, by the way. Everyone seems to be having such a good time. Clearly, this was a huge success.
“So, what’s our next step?” Brandon asks, breaking into the silence.
“Well, we’ve got the Car Wash Carnival coming up, and in the meantime, I’ve got a few phone meetings with some publishers about—”
Brandon removes one of his hands from around my waist and uses it to tip my chin up to look at him. God, he’s hot. His hazel eyes are sparkling in the dim light, and his dark hair is slicked to perfection. I can’t help but imagine myself ripping his tux off like a starved lion looking for meat.
“I’m not asking about our next step in the business, Jess.”
“Oh? Oh!” I swallow down the lump of idiocy in my throat. “I thought you meant…I mean…Um.” I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I finally admit. “I have…mixed feelings on the subject.”
That sly smile I love so much graces his lips. “Then we maintain the status quo.”
He pulls me back to him and we continue to sway in time with the music. But I can barely hear the music over the rush in my ears. My desire for Brandon—my need for him—is getting stronger by the second. I won’t be able to hold out much longer. But this probably isn’t the time or place to tell him I’m ready to go to the next level. Not on a night when we’re honoring Kyle.
I press myself against him, and he holds me tighter. “Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, and then, “What am I being thanked for?”
I giggle. “For being you.”
“Well then,” he grabs my hand and twirls me out, then pulls me back in again before dropping me into a dip that scares the living daylights out of me, and says, “You’re very welcome.”
“I am so sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I might cut in?”
I’m still upside down in Brandon’s arms, but I can recognize the face of the person standing right in front of me…or behind me…wherever she is, she’s still my best friend in the whole world, and I have no idea what she’s doing here.
“Melissa?” I say, my voice giving away my shock.
Brandon whips me up. He’s wearing a huge smile. “So this is the famous Melissa!” He abandons me and wraps her in a hug. �
�I’m so glad you made it.”
“You must be Brandon. Thanks so much for arranging all of this.”
I’m toggling back and forth like I’m at the US Open. “Can someone explain what’s going on?” Brandon opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Wait. You can tell me in a second.” Then I turn to Melissa and squeal, “I can’t believe you’re here!”
We throw our arms around each other and start jumping up and down. I can’t express my glee at seeing her here, even if she is several hours late.
“Okay, now you can explain,” I say to Brandon.
He lets out an adorable chuckle. “Well, I knew you wouldn’t want to celebrate this evening without your best friend, so I made arrangements to have her fly down.”
“Unfortunately,” Melissa picks up the story, “my flight was cancelled and it took me forever to find another one. Sorry, babe.”
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Will you stay in town for a few days?”
“Just till Monday morning,” she says apologetically. “But I’m all yours tomorrow.”
“We’ll make the most of it.” I give her hand a squeeze just as the bandleader announces it’s the last dance of the night.
There’s a grumble through the crowd. I feel like these people would stay all night if they could. I feel a sense of pride at having pulled off such an elaborate evening, but I know I couldn’t have done it without Brandon. None of this would even be possible without him.
“Mind if I keep her for just one more dance?” he asks Melissa.
Learning to Live Page 11