Eighteen—Ivy
I
wolfed down the snack Mia called my breakfast and jumped in the shower so I could be ready if my phone rang. I was waiting for word on two jobs: cashier at Wallpaper World and sales associate at the art store. Of course the call came while I was in there soaked to the gills and all lathered up, and I missed it. So, I was dripping and anxious when I listened to the message from the wallpaper store: Thank you so much, Miss Talbot, for your interest. We have filled the position but will keep your application on file. Feel free to check back with us in the next few weeks. It was a pleasure to meet you.
I slumped onto the toilet in a sodden heap and pulled the towel around me. I really wanted to be able to tell Mama and Geneva that I was gainfully employed so they could stop nagging me about going home with them. I sighed, fighting discouragement. Oh, well, there was still the Monterey Arteria, which was my first choice anyway. I wrapped my hair in the towel and checked my skin in the fogged-up mirror, where of course the rest of my nakedness was on full display. But shockingly, there seemed to be a bit less of me. I thought it was the steam, some kind of optical illusion through the condensation, so I rubbed a wide swath in the glass with vigor. Nope, that wasn’t it. Evidently, I had actually shed some of my midnight stuffed-crust pizza indulgence. Damn. Early morning swims and Bo’s terribly stingy good-for-you cuisine looked kinda good on me, in a creeping-back-to-normal sorta way. But then I made the mistake of turning around to check out my naked backyard, where there was still ample evidence of my deadly nocturnal meat-lover’s noshing, and just like that, I was back to my short, round, big-bummed girl reality. Sigh.
There was a sudden pounding on the door, and I kinda screamed for being so startled—and naked. Just a sec!” I yelped, grabbing underwear and jeans. “Be right there!” But my words were drowned out by more loud knocking.
When I swung open the door a minute later, I expected Mia, so I was a little surprised to find Bo standing there, hand poised, ready to thump again. He, like me, was freshly showered, although he was the only one of the two of us who smelled medicinal. “Hey, Bo,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
He eyed me with curiosity. “Yes. Why?”
“Well, the way you were beating on my door, I thought the house was on fire and you were attempting to save my life.”
It took him a moment to process this, but then he smiled. “Oh, sorry. No. I…I just wanted to talk to you. You look nice, by the way.”
“I do? Well, thank you, Bo. I think we can blame your organic… everything. Nobody has ever cared what I ate before. Including me,” I laughed. “So, if I’m shrinking, it’s your fault.”
Again, he seemed the slightest bit lost. But then he took me in in my entirety, landing once more on my face. “I actually meant your hair—pulled back like that, it makes your eyes look really… blue .”
“Oh…right.” I cleared my throat. “What did you want to talk to me about, Bo?”
He stepped farther into the room. “Well, I’ve been thinking.”
“Okay.”
“Your family is coming this weekend.”
“Sunday,” I said.
He swallowed. “Right. I…I knew that. And, well…Mia had this idea and…I think it’s a good one…and…”
“What is it?” I said, growing tense.
“Well…” he breathed, looked anxious .
I gulped, slapped my chest. “Oh, my goodness...you guys want me to leave. You want them to take me back with them.”
“What? No. No, that’s not it! We want to invite your family to dinner.”
I stared at him. “I’m sorry— What ?”
“Would that be okay with you?”
I kept staring, not sure I’d heard him right.
“Ivy, it’s just dinner…”
“Really?” I breathed. “Are you kidding?”
“My parents will be there, too. It’s Sunday, so…”
“Really, Bo?” I said again. “You’d do that for me?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
I was so relieved that he wasn’t there to help me pack that I wanted to cry. I brought my hands to my face and felt the sting of tears. But then what he was offering hit me. Since I’d been here, I’d watched this prisoner of perfection carefully navigate his world, knowing how crucial routine and non-deviations were to his sanity. I could only imagine what this kindness was costing him, probably tantamount to donating a kidney if I’m honest. But all that was buried just under the surface of this nice guy dressed like any other nice guy, albeit a bit more crisply in pressed jeans, starched blue oxford—tucked in, of course—his wavy hair still damp from his shower, the whole kit ’n kaboodle smelling slightly antiseptic. He was as beautiful as his gesture. “Bo Sutton, I could kiss you.”
His eyes widened in probable terror, and he tried to laugh. I put my hands up to show him I was totally kidding. But then I lowered them. “I know it’s hard for you to have people in your personal space, but…could I hug you?”
Another laugh, but a less nervous one.
“Just a little one?” I moved closer, slowly like I was approaching a wary animal. And then I was there, my hands resting gently on his shoulders, his softly on my hips, which I found utterly amazing. And that was it. It was a lovely, awkward, delicate, almost hug that involved no trace of actual embracing whatsoever. But it was perfect.
“Thank you, Bo,” I said looking right in his eyes. “I think that is the nicest thing anyone not related to me has ever done.”
“Really?” he said shakily.
“Yes, really.”
“You’re welcome, Ivy,” he said kind of whispery.
It made me smile...and almost cry, if I’m being honest.