Dylan swallows and doesn’t respond.
I toy with the soft leaves of the plant, a strange swirl of nerves twisting through my gut. I’m usually very comfortable with everyone I meet, but today feels different. I have no idea what to expect.
“Just don’t,” Dylan says, barely above a whisper, “be disappointed by him. I know you want to see the world in rainbows and sunshine and flying unicorns and all that.” He turns to me and smiles, sweet but worried.
“That’s not entirely true.” I bite my lip and stare down at the succulent. “I just want to help.” My voice is small and timid, a tone I’m not used to hearing come out of my mouth.
“I know, Melody.” Almost instinctively, he places a firm and steadying hand on my thigh, giving it a tender squeeze and sending new jitters down to my toes. “I know.”
His hand lingers on me, and as soon as he pulls it away, I ache for it back.
“Well.” I straighten my back and grin widely as we pull into a nice-looking condo building. “I believe that whatever you put out into the world will come back to you. So I put out love and positivity and light.” The car slows to a stop, and Dylan flips it into park. “And if you think that’s childish or naïve or stupid, then that’s your problem.”
The corners of his mouth draw down, and a certain heaviness settles in his dark eyes. It’s a heaviness I long to relieve—I just don’t know how. “I don’t think it’s stupid. I just don’t want you to get hurt. He’s very stubborn and grumpy and severely closed-minded.”
I click my seat belt off and give Dylan’s hair a friendly and playful ruffle, eager to lighten him up and ease the weight of the mood in this car. “Stubborn and grumpy don’t scare me. I deal with you, don’t I?”
He can’t help but smile, and my heart lifts.
We step out of the car, and I take a deep breath of the Florida air, which is somehow sunny and wintry at the same time.
“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this.” He shakes his head as we walk toward a staircase.
“It’s the least I can do! You’re housing my homeless little self!” I laugh and hold the tiny plant to my chest, slowing my speed as we head down the second-floor hallway. “Plus, I told you. I’m a healer.”
We reach unit 206, and Dylan grabs the door handle, giving me a stern look. “And I told you not to get your hopes up.”
“Hopes are down. Way down. I don’t even have hopes. What are hopes?”
He shakes his head and tries to hide his smile as he turns the handle and opens the door slightly, giving it a light knock on his way in. “Hey, Dad. It’s me.”
Another swell of nerves tingles in my belly, but I shake them off quickly.
“Dylan!” I hear his soft voice from inside. “I wasn’t expecting you, son! This is a surprise!”
There’s a pure and wholesome joy palpable in the man’s voice, and my heart tugs and squeezes as we walk through the front door.
“I hope it’s okay I brought my friend Melody.” Dylan gestures toward me.
“Hi! It’s so wonderful to meet you.” I smile brightly and walk over to the recliner, where his dad stands up quickly, his expression filled with a sort of surface-level happiness…but I can see the darkness in his eyes. I see the pain and the burden, and as I get closer to him, I opt for a hug. He’s tall, only a couple inches shorter than Dylan, and he has a distinguished, and lightly tired, look about his face. His hair is thick and mostly gray, but he doesn’t necessarily look “old.” Just…worn out.
“Oh, a hugger!” He chuckles gruffly as I embrace him.
“Everyone could use a hug now and then, right?” I grin.
Dylan smiles and rolls his eyes. “This is my dad, Robert.”
Robert raises his bushy black eyebrows and gives Dylan an enthusiastic look, glancing back at me quickly. “Are you the, uh, roommate?”
I push my hair behind my ears. “Yup, that’s me. The very, very temporary roommate.” I shoot a playful glare at Dylan. “I’m leaving in a few weeks for a new job.”
“How exciting!” Robert clasps his hands together and gestures toward the couch. “Please, Melody, sit. Make yourself comfortable. It’s not very often that I have guests these days. This is quite the treat.”
My heart swells with sympathy. How could Dylan think his father is a lost cause? He’s so sweet and obviously full of love.
“Oh!” I hold out the little plant. “I almost forgot. I brought this for you. It’s a succulent plant, and it represents timeless and enduring love.”
Dylan steps next to me, brushing his solid arm against mine. “Melody is really into plants. Don’t worry, though, this kind doesn’t require a whole lot of attention—”
Robert clutches the tiny cactus, looking at it with a certain fascination and joy swirling in his eyes. “I love it.”
“You do?” Dylan asks quickly.
“Thank you, Melody.” He looks at me, his tired brown eyes sparking with genuine joy for the first time since we walked in.
“You’re so welcome!” I connect my gaze with his, hoping that plant will bring some life and growth into this otherwise sad and dark home. He could really use some natural light.
I resist the overwhelming urge to open all the blinds and decide to sit on the couch and not push brightness on the man who obviously needs tenderness and time before stepping back into the sun.
“Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a coffee, Melody?” He gets up from the chair and starts walking into the kitchen. “Perhaps an iced tea?”
“A coffee sounds wonderful, actually. But I can get it!” I jump up eagerly.
“I’ll grab it. You guys relax.” Dylan, quiet and reserved and clearly hesitant about this entire situation, stands up and offers me a warm smile.
“So what do you do, Melody? And where are you headed off to in a couple weeks?” Robert leans forward in the recliner.
“I’m a yoga teacher. I actually own and operate a studio downtown. But I’m leaving it to go find my destiny in another opportunity. On the ocean!”
“The ocean? What’s a yoga teacher gonna do on the ocean?”
I rub my palms along the soft leather sofa and try to ignore the unwanted hint of sadness that plays in my mind at the thought of leaving. “I just got hired to be the full-time yoga and meditation director on a luxury cruise line in the Caribbean. It’s a dream come true for me.”
“I know. It sounds pretty out there, right, Dad?” Dylan interjects from the kitchen, where he’s rummaging through a cabinet.
“I think it sounds wonderful.” Robert smiles.
I glance over the back of the sofa at Dylan, who furrows his brow in confusion, then shakes his head.
The feeling that he’s completely given up on his dad stabs my gut. The man is lost, but I can sense the tiniest bit of positivity peeking through the darkness in this condo.
“I think you’re out of coffee,” Dylan asserts, bending over to peer into a drawer.
“Damn, I forgot. I had the last cup this morning.” Robert shakes his head. “I’m sorry about that. Dylan, son, could you run to the store and grab some more? I’m gonna need it in the morning anyway, and—”
“God forbid you go and get it.” Dylan’s tone is flat and short.
The room fills with a strained tension so thick you could choke on it. The ease of our small talk is quickly outweighed by the obvious and heavy elephant in the room.
I glance at Robert, feeling the hurt and struggle wrestling in him.
Dylan swallows and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’ll go get it. Are you two good to chill here?” He raises his brows, clearly offering me some sort of out that I definitely don’t need.
Actually, I feel grateful for a chance to be alone with Robert. Hopefully, it will allow him to open up without feeling vulnerable in front of his son. “We’re totally fine.” I smile and give Dylan a little wink, hoping he’ll read it right and chill the heck out.
He hesitates for a second. “All r
ight. I’ll be back.” He flips his keys in his hand and walks out the door, leaving me in the sad, dark, cold condo with nothing but a man in need and my way-too-high hopes for helping him.
But small talk isn’t getting us anywhere.
“So…” I smile and shift forward on the couch. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” He nods gruffly. “I’m just fine.”
“No…” I stand up and walk to the recliner and take his hand in mine, hoping I can offer him some level of support and comfort, even though he doesn’t know me at all. “How are you? I mean, how are you really?”
In a completely unexpected moment, the troubled man’s eyes fill up, and sadness and pain cloud his face like a storm. “He hates me.” Robert clears his throat and swallows, gaining composure and looking past me at the door. “My boy hates me. And I can’t even blame him.”
“Well, that is most certainly not true. I haven’t even known Dylan for that long, but I know for a fact that he does not hate you. Why do you think that?”
I know Dylan’s take on this story, and it’s time to hear the other side.
He waves his hand dismissively. “I can’t bother you with this. You’re just a young girl with an interesting hair color. You seem so happy. I don’t need to bring you down with my old sob story.”
I search for something between persistence and annoyance. “You don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to. But I’ve been told I’m a good listener. I can read energies, and I can help you change yours.”
He looks at me sternly. “Why do you want to help me, Melody?”
I shrug and bite my lip. “I like helping, I guess.”
Suddenly, an intrigued smile creeps across the man’s tired face. “Well, shit.” He chuckles and leans back in the chair. “I get it now.”
I frown. “Get what?”
“You like Dylan.” He clasps his hands together, almost giddy with his realization. “You’re the girl. The one he’s been waiting for, aren’t you? You’re the—”
“Whoa,” I jump in. “You’ve got it wrong. Dylan and I are just friends and short-term roommates. Nothing more.”
“Well.” Robert crosses his legs, looking way too proud of himself. “You’re not the only one who can ‘read energies,’ sister. You’ve got a big ol’ crush written all over your pretty face.”
I laugh heartily and draw back, holding my hand to my chest. “You are totally wrong.”
“Nope.” He shuts his eyes and shakes his head knowingly. “I’m never wrong. And you know what?” He points a finger at me, more life and energy sparking in him than I imagined was possible when I first walked in.
I sit down on the floor in front of him, curling my legs up underneath me and marveling at the laughter we’re sharing. “What?”
“I like you,” he asserts. “You’re spunky. Full of life. He needs that. He can be such a cranky ass. You seem right for him.”
“You just met me,” I say through a giggle.
He shrugs. “I told you. I’m never wrong.” He lifts a brow teasingly, and suddenly I can see with blinding clarity where Dylan comes from. It makes me smile.
“Well…” I pick a thread on the carpet.
“Tell you what. I’ll whine to you about my problems and listen to all your hippie-dippie advice.”
Joy sparks through my chest, and I perk up. “You will?”
“Sure. Because I think it’s you.”
“What’s me?”
“The one. The one that Dylan’s been musing about since he was a teenager. The soul mate. Now, I’m looking at you, Melody…” He gestures for me to complete my name.
“Hayes,” I say slowly, stifling a smile at the insanity of all this.
“Melody Hayes. I’m looking at you, and I think you’re the girl for him.”
I try to push away the wash of excitement and butterflies that race through me at the sound of those words being spoken out loud. “That’s totally crazy. Dylan and I are opposites!”
This makes him smile. “You know what they say about opposites.”
I wave off the comment and try to push away the nagging voice in the back of my head that’s screaming about how Dylan and I most certainly do attract, and yes, I have a monumental crush on him.
“I didn’t know Dylan believed in the fated mate,” I say, barely above a whisper, this bit of insight making me soften.
“Oh, yes, yes. It’s because of me and my wife, Sherry, you know.” His face shadows once again, and the glimmers of joy fade quickly. “We had the greatest love of all time.”
I jump to my feet and pick up the small succulent from the end table, handing it to him. “Maybe it’s not over.”
He examines the plant, emotion and struggle pulling at his face. “I don’t know.”
I smile and take the plant back, setting it down. “We’ll get there. Now, wanna meditate with me? It’s the simplest and most effective way of restoring peace in the mind and soul.”
He chuckles softly, his eyes filled with that exact same amusement that I see in Dylan’s when he listens to me go on and on about something he thinks is silly. “All right, Melody. Let’s meditate.”
Twelve
Dylan
I whip my BMW back into the parking lot at my dad’s, trying to figure out how Melody, a grown woman who runs a business and has some surprisingly impressive college degree, could be so innocent and pure and…naïve.
My dad gave up a long-ass time ago, and no amount of weird breathing techniques or scented candles, or whatever the fuck, is gonna help him. And yet, here she is. Trying. Just because.
My chest tightens with an emotion I can’t identify, and I shake it off and get out of the car. Stupid coffee.
I walk back up to his unit, realizing I have absolutely no idea what to expect when I open that door.
“Shh!” Melody rushes over to me as soon as I walk in, her expression bursting with classic Melody enthusiasm. “We’re practicing Savasana.”
I frown and slowly move my gaze to the living room, where I see my father—my old-ass father who never leaves the house and barely leaves his chair—lying on the ground. No pillow or mattress or anything. Just flat on his back. His arms are out by his sides.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, unable to keep myself from smiling at the ridiculousness of the sight.
“Corpse pose,” Melody whispers, shutting the front door behind me as slowly and gently as possible.
I wrinkle my nose and walk into the kitchen. “That’s so morbid.”
“It’s ultimate relaxation. And it requires ultimate silence.” She glares at me playfully.
I hold my hands up defensively and laugh.
Melody walks back over to the living room, her steps so soft and quiet it’s like she’s literally floating around.
“Now…” she says, barely above a whisper. Her voice is low and steady and calming, like a lullaby. “Flip your hands so your palms face the sky.”
I narrow my eyes and step closer, watching in shock as my dad follows her instructions.
“I want you to fill your hands with everything that troubles you. Every demon, every fear, every regret. The things you wish to change, the things you know you cannot change.” She watches him, her eyes filled with focus and selflessness and colorful love.
I stand frozen behind the couch, wondering what’s going through my dad’s mind. He’s never taken a yoga class in his life. He must be thinking this is all hokey bullshit, right?
“Now we’re gonna take a deep inhale. As deep as you can.”
Without thinking, I follow Melody’s soft and sweet and weirdly hypnotizing commands and take a deep breath of my own.
“Hold it…” She draws out the words. “And when you exhale, you’re going to exhale everything you just thought about. Everything you filled your hands with. And it’s going to blow away with your breath. Out of your heart and your hands.”
I shut my eyes, flashes of pain and angst and frustration about my dad ripping
through my mind. I keep holding my breath, thinking about the months I’ve spent being pissed at him, the games he hasn’t come to, the fights we’ve had, and the way I’ve kept it all inside.
“Now…let it out,” Melody says.
In unison, my dad and I breathe out a long sigh, and a weird warm feeling washes over me. My clenched jaw relaxes, and the tension in my abs eases.
I open my eyes and look at Melody. Her entire being just seems to radiate. She can be insanely annoying and out there and strange, of course. But right now…she’s the brightest light this condo has seen in a long, long time. Suddenly, I want to thank her. And hold her. And kiss her.
She turns and meets my gaze, and a zap of electricity jolts through me at the sight of her blue eyes. What is happening?
I quickly shake it off, giving her a teasing eye roll, to which she responds by sticking her tongue out.
As my dad slowly opens his eyes, I walk over to the living room and cross my arms, laughing softly and raising my brows at him. “Whatcha doing, Pops?”
“Meditating,” he says matter-of-factly.
“We’re finding inner peace,” Melody says, her blue eyes filled with love. “Slowly.”
I glance toward the corner of the room, where the thick navy curtains are drawn above the window for the first time in months, and a small beam of sunlight is coming in.
I gasp softly and turn to Melody. “The blinds are open.”
“Carl needs light to survive,” she says with a shrug.
“Carl?”
“My new plant.” My dad grunts as he stands up slowly from his dead-guy pose, or whatever Melody called it.
“You named the plant?” I lean against the couch.
Melody twists her pink waves into a ponytail and looks toward the tiny cactus. “Of course we named him. It’s important for fostering a nurturing relationship.”
“Him?” I choke on a laugh.
“Oh shoot!” Melody glances at the clock on the oven. “Don’t you have a workout today?”
“Yeah.” I clap my hands together and walk around the couch to say goodbye to my dad. “We better get going.”
Melody walks—no, floats—across the room and bows. “Namaste, Robert. It was lovely meeting you.”
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