Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Betsy
“He’s a good guy.”
That’s what Deuce said to me as I climbed out of his car and ran into Nana’s house like my hair-sprayed curls were on fire.
It’s what’s been bouncing off the walls of my skull the whole night as I lay in my bed, angry, sad, and confused.
I didn’t even bother changing out of my yellow dress.
It’s now wrinkled so badly I bet the queen of proper outfits, Mary London herself, couldn’t get them out.
I watch the first hint of daylight hit my window.
Before I can talk myself into acting like an adult, I roll over, grab my phone, and text Silas.
Me: Sorry, not feeling well. I need to take the day off.
He doesn’t answer, probably because he now hates me.
I’d hate me. The man has done nothing wrong, per se.
It’s me. I’m the problem. Always have been.
All you have to do is look at my track record and see that I have a commitment problem.
A bad attitude. A negative outlook on life that has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I know it, and yet I can’t see how to stop it.
It’s like I’m on a freight train going full steam in the wrong direction, powerless to hit the brakes.
“I wonder if this is how Mom feels,” I whisper to myself, the weight of the question hanging in the still morning air.
“Betsy?” Nana calls from down the hallway.
I throw the covers back and adjust my dress. “Morning!” I call back, trying to sound normal when I feel the exact opposite.
But Nana always knows, because she’s one of those all-knowing nanas. She knocks softly on the door, then pokes her head in, hair already perfectly coiffed for the day. When she sees me still in my fancy dress, her salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrow behind her glasses.
“What happened, darlin’?” She comes fully into the room and sits on the bed next to me, her little arm wrapped around me like she’d infuse me with any and all strength she has in her body if that’s what I needed.
My nose burns and my head dips to land on her shoulder. I inhale the sugar-and-mothballs scent, wishing I was made of sterner stuff like her.
“Silas said he loves me.”
Her hand tightens on my waist. “Oh, darlin’, I coulda told you that!”
A tear leaks out of my eyes and across the bridge of my nose. “But I didn’t say it back. In fact, I ran out of the restaurant.”
“Oh.”
She’s careful not to lace that simple word with judgement, but I feel it anyway.
“Yeah.”
The sound of my pitiful sniffle is the only sound in the room for a few long moments.
“Want to tell me about it?” Nana asks gently, pulling a tissue out of her sweater and handing it to me.
I swipe at my leaking nose and try to put feelings into words. That’s never been my area of expertise. I’d rather raise my middle fingers and scowl through my emotions.
“I guess…” My voice catches and I have to bitch-slap my emotions onto the back burner before I can speak again. “I just have some concerns that I’m jumping into a relationship too quickly. That I’m following Mom’s pattern.”
The words feel like slimy oil on my tongue. The idea of being like my mother, with her revolving door of boyfriends, is repulsive to me. It’s partially why I tried to make it work so long with my ex when I knew we were past our expiration date.
“Oh, darlin’, you are nothing like Chantilly!” Nana titters like my fears are a bit ridiculous. “I’m her mother, I should know.”
I lift my head and stare at her, trying to see if she’s just telling me what I want to hear. Nana holds my stare, nonplussed.
“We were way too lenient with her. We didn’t push her to go to school or to find a career.
She was boy crazy, but we thought it was just a phase she’s grow out of.
She just flitted through life with zero responsibilities.
” Nana squeezes my waist. “You were the only thing she ever took seriously, and even then I have my suspicions she failed you simply because you outgrew her so early on. She loved you the best way she could, and yet sometimes that’s still not enough. ”
Two more tears escape my eyes, but I dash them away with the tissue.
“You, on the other hand, Betsy Mae, have always been determined. Two college degrees? A string of successful jobs with glowing reviews from your bosses. Sure, you’ve just been hunting for direction, direction your mother didn’t even bother to look for. Nothing wrong with that.”
I snort. “There’s definitely something wrong with that. I’m thirty-four, Nana.”
Nana swipes her hand through the air. “Just a baby still.” She shifts so she’s looking right at me. “Stop trying to right your mother’s wrongs. This is your life to live, not hers. Stop living it in her shadow. Go do what you want. Live wildly and boldly, Betsy Mae!”
Despite the vise pressing down on my chest, my mouth hooks up on one side. “Have you met me? I don’t live wildly.”
Nana’s eyes practically sparkle. “Have you seen your boyfriend? I’d say that’s living boldly. That man is infatuated with you. Did you see the award you and Silas just won? The kiss you shared in the middle of the park?” She waggles her eyebrows.
I think of the way Silas told me he loved me. His blue eyes glowing with a softness that proved what he said. His big hands shaking as he bared his heart. Everything about Silas feels so trustworthy. He feels like someone I could sink into, no defenses needed.
No, that’s dishonest, and if I can’t be honest with myself, what do I even have left? Silas is someone I’ve already fallen for. My defenses are already crumbled at the feet of my Doc Martens. I’m in love with the man.
And that scares the shit out of me.
“In that beautiful heart of yours, what do you want, Betsy Mae? Answer that first, then let Silas know.”
Nana pats my hand, rises from the bed, and shoots me an encouraging smile before she leaves the room.
I sit with her advice for a long while, then get sick of my own damn self and get dressed.
My stomach’s churning too much for food, so I skip that, grab my keys, and point my SUV toward Jasper Lake.
The sun is already creating a hellscape of harsh light and unbearable temperatures.
As the warm wind ruffles my hair through the open windows, I realize I’ve come to love the humidity though.
It coats my skin and feels good on my bones.
I laugh out loud as I pull the car into the parking lot at the lake. I’ve been spending too much time with Nana if I’m talking about my bones and the weather.
The lake is busy, thanks to it being a warm weekend.
Families and couples pack every spot on the sand.
I slide on a pair of sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat and head north.
The terrain gets a little more rocky over here, which keeps most of the swimmers away.
I pick my way over the rocks, flip-flops slipping and sliding.
I don’t stop until I’m the only person in sight.
A large rock barely in the water’s edge calls to me.
I head that way and plop down, letting the water lap all the way up my calves.
I’ll probably burn my shoulders before I figure out what I want to do with my life, but at least I’ll get some of that precious vitamin D.
With the echoes of kids playing in the water not far away, I remember what that one customer at the coffee shop in California used to say to me.
He was a psychologist, always harping on about closure, quoting this study or that.
I used to roll my eyes and focus on brewing his coffee, but now I’m wondering if he’s right.
Maybe I need to close out my old life before I can move on with this one. Say goodbye to the past to know what I want for my future.
With an unsteady breath and more sweat on my palms than is advisable with a phone this close to a body of water, I pull out my cell phone and text my ex-boyfriend.
Me: Hey. Sorry to pop in like this but I was hoping to find out, from your perspective, what went wrong with our relationship. Feel free to delete and block. We both know I would.
I hit send before I can chicken out and shove the phone back in my pocket. I kick at the water, watching the way the individual droplets fall, immediately absorbed into the whole. My hand flutters to my chest, a constant rubbing motion necessary to ease the ache that’s taken up residence there.
Silas.
I already miss him like a phantom limb. He’s way too hot and too nice to be referred to as a limb that’s been chopped off, but it’s true just the same. I’m a scaredy-cat though and can’t seem to fully wrap my brain around loving the man yet. It’s too soon, isn’t it?
What do you want, Betsy Mae?
Nana’s words repeat in my brain. Why am I judging my feelings based on some imaginary timeline?
Why can’t I fall head over high heels for a man in less than a month?
Why can’t a connection built in the workplace equate to a healthy relationship?
Why can’t I let myself be happy without comparing myself to my mother?
“Ugh!” I kick the water extra hard, then nearly tumble right off the rock when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I snatch it out and nearly vomit when I see my ex has texted me back. I forgot I changed his name in my phone. It gives me a sick, little thrill to see his new nickname.
Asshole: Honestly, B, it felt like we were just going through the motions. You were always stressed about your career or lack thereof. No real female friendships to speak of. I just felt like you relied solely on me for your happiness and it was too much pressure.
Asshole: I’m sorry for cheating though. I shouldn’t have ended things that way.
I read his texts three times, then stare out over the glassy surface of the lake, trying to absorb it all.
I know it takes two to make a relationship work or, conversely, fall apart.
There’s two sides to every story, and it brings me a measure of relief to know that his cheating wasn’t because I wasn’t enough.
Pretty enough, fun enough, feminine enough.
Why do we women immediately think we’re not enough?
He’s not wrong. I was constantly stressed about my student debt and career. I had no real friends. He was my only outlet and even I know that’s not healthy.
Me: Thanks for sharing and thank you for the apology. I wish you the best.
As I shove the phone back in my pocket, I feel that heavy weight on my chest lift just the tiniest bit. I actually meant what I texted him, and that feels good.
“Guess you were right, you old fucker,” I say out loud, referring of course, to the old psychologist waxing on about closure.
“I frequently am,” a female voice trills back.
I spin on the rock to see Birdie standing further up the embankment, a powder-blue caftan covering every square inch of her skin. A floppy straw hat creates a circle of shade where she stands. She beams at me, like it’s perfectly couth for me to call her an old fucker.
“Birdie, hi!” I wave and stand up, carefully making my way over the rocks until I’m standing on the brown grass in front of her. “I didn’t think anyone was out here.”
Birdie pats my cheek with her heavily ringed hand. “Your conversation is safe with me, darlin’.” She tilts her head behind her. “The cemetery is over there a space. I try to come by once a week and see my Bernie.”
My brain flits through all the people I know and come up empty. Bernie must be Birdie’s late husband. Wow. Bernie and Birdie. That’s adorable. And confusing.
“You must miss him. When did he pass?” I ask, hoping that’s not too forward.
Birdie spins, hooks her arm through mine, and pulls me away from the lake.
She’s surprisingly strong for being an old person.
“Going on twenty years now, but it feels like yesterday. That’s the way of it when you love someone.
” She pulls me into her side tighter. “Having a partner in life will never be a mistake, you know? You’re smart to have waited, but I’ve found that if you wait too long, life will pass you by and you’ll be my age, wondering where the heaven your dentures are. ”
I open my mouth to set her straight, but end up snapping it shut. I’m not sure what she’s heard about me and Silas, but given this is Birdie, she probably knows everything. Hell, she probably knows more about my business than I know. Wouldn’t put it past her.
“Now, if that young man does you wrong though, you tell Miss Birdie and I’ll help you make his life hell.” She winks and lets me go as we get to the cemetery parking lot.
I wait until she’s in her car before I make my way over to the lake parking lot. My shoulders are definitely burned, but I think it was worth it. With a bit more of this magic shit called closure, perhaps I can be a fully emotionally functioning adult, capable of loving a good man like he deserves.