Layla – Present
“Are you sure? I think the blue one might be better. Maybe I should call Amie.” I unzip the pink floral dress and toss it on the bed. “What about jeans instead?”
Jacob is lying on the bed, his legs crossed at the ankles. He smirks at me, then shakes his head.
I try the blue dress on, and change my mind again. Jacob stands up, passes me the pink dress, and gently grabs my arms.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous, I’m…” I pause, then exhale. “Okay.” I admit. “Maybe I’m a little nervous.”
He smiles at me. “You’re going to do great, Layla.”
“What if no one buys anything?”
“I will.” He hooks his finger under my chin. “But that’s not going to be a problem. Trust me.”
He’s about to kiss me when our doorbell chimes.
“I’ll get it,” I say.
I walk down the staircase into the living room.
After the fire, and after Jacob was given the all clear to leave hospital and recover at home, we moved in here, a few doors down from Amie and Parker, right on the beach. It was supposed to be temporary, but we’ve been here for three months and we both love it.
Jacob’s house needs completely rebuilt, and we’ve been told that’s going to take a while. The longer we stay here, the more we prefer it. And there’s the added benefit of my best friend being within walking distance.
I’ve even started to clutter the place up with photos, art, and random things I’ve found in the local shops. It was once used as a holiday rental, Keith bought it a few years back for family to use. Everything was oak and white, clean and crisp.
I’ve added some colorful cushions and throws, and if we do stay, I’ll buy some paint for the walls.
I open the door to see Dad walking back down the driveway toward his car, parked out on the street next to our mailbox. His hands are in his pockets; he keeps walking a few steps toward the car, then stopping.
I lean my weight against the door frame.
He turns, and the emotions he always keeps so closely guarded spill across his features for the briefest of moments.
“Lays,” he says, voice sharp.
I raise an eyebrow at his clipped tone.
“What are you doing here?” I fold my arms and wait for him to speak.
“Can I come in?”
I glance over my shoulder, checking the clock on the mantle above the wood burning stove.
“We have to g–”
“You can’t spare ten minutes for your old man?”
I scoff. “That depends. What do you want to talk about?”
My relationship with Dad has been strained, to put it kindly. The last time I saw him was at the hospital. I had left Jacob’s room to grab food from the canteen, and Dad was waiting in the hallway. I’d stupidly thought he’d come to make amends for how he acted the week before.
Instead, he told me Rhett was being charged with attempted manslaughter and arson, then said some hurtful things I’m still not over. He stormed out before I could say anything.
“I need a reason to visit my only daughter?”
I purse my lips.
“Who is it?” Jacob’s voice drifts down the stairs.
Dad’s jaw tightens. He rubs along the stubble he’s grown out into more of a beard.
“Jacob.” He nods once.
“What are you doing here, Mitch?”
“I just want to speak to my daughter.” He shifts his weight.
Jacob glances at me, waiting for my response.
I sigh.
Dad hasn’t exactly made an effort to repair anything. No apology. No polite check ins. No asking how Jacob and I are doing. Just radio silence for over two months. This is throwing me off. I’m not sure how to respond. I twist my engagement ring around my finger and take a breath.
“Five minutes,” I say. “Then you leave.”
I step to the side and hold the door open wide. He glances at Jacob as he crosses over the threshold, and I don’t like the glimmer of hate in his eyes when he does.
He walks slowly around our home.
Jacob looks at me; his hand touches mine, and he squeezes. I feel like I’ve just welcomed a bear into the house, and I’m about to regret it.
“I’ll be upstairs,” Jacob tells me, staring at Dad as he says it. He’s not hiding the threat behind those words. He kisses my cheek, then steps away.
Dad stays quiet, moving through the living room.
He stops when he reaches the sideboard set between the doors to the outside.
I have all our pictures in frames. Ones of us when we were younger, and ones of us more recently.
There are some of Mabel and Warren, Keith and Irena.
He’s looking at them all. Then he stills before picking one up. His thumb brushes across the frame.
I know which photo he has in his hands, it’s the one of me and Ben at the football game. The one that used to sit on my bedside table in his house.
“He lets you put this out?” he asks, tilting the frame.
“If you have to ask that, then you have no idea who Jacob is.”
“I guess I don’t.” He speaks so low I don’t think he wanted me to hear him. He sets the photo back down with the others and taps his fingers along the white wood before turning to face me.
“I came to apologize.”
“I don’t want your apology.”
“I know. But it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?”
My chest tightens. “That’s not a reason to apologize to anyone.” I bite my bottom lip. “This isn’t normal, Dad. This isn’t what our relationship is meant to be like.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
“Then why? Why has it taken you this long to come here?”
“Because I was ashamed!” he screams, losing all control, then reaches for the arm of the chair and steadies himself.
I take a deep breath and watch him sit, teetering as much on the edge of the chair as he is on the edge of his emotions.
He runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair and rubs down his beard.
“I’m ashamed that I let it get this bad.
Rhett… what he did,” he shakes his head, “he could have killed you, Layla.” His voice is breaking, and I don’t know how to react.
I’ve never seen him like this before. A part of me whispers good, let him cry.
And then the other part, the more compassionate one, tells me to hug him.
I don’t feel comfortable doing that, so I sit on the arm of the couch instead, keeping my distance.
“He could have killed Jacob. That’s who he wanted to hurt.” I chew on the corner of my lip. “You asked me to lie to the police.”
“I don’t know what got into him.” He looks at me. “I didn’t ask you to lie, Lays. I asked you to protect him.”
“By lying.”
He tenses his jaw.
The sympathy I felt for him earlier is replaced by the bitter tang of anger. Anger at his insistence on defending Rhett. Even after he’s been arrested and charged.
“If you’re really going to sit here and pretend like you don’t know why he did it, then you can leave.”
He leans back in the chair. “Rhett was wrong to do what he did, Layla. But he’s still your brother. And my son. And I will never turn my back on either of you. He made a mistake. You of all people, should know what that’s like.”
“You can go now.” I stand, stalk toward the door, and twist it open. I grip the handle and squeeze it. I don’t know what I was expecting.
“Don’t be so childish, Lays.”
“Stop calling me that. I hate it.”
“You used to love it. Don’t you remember?”
No.
“You used to cling onto me like a little koala and make me carry you everywhere. Don’t you remember that?”
No.
He sighs. “I want to be a part of your life. I’m sorry if I’m not going about this the right way.
I never wanted to hurt you, and I know I have, because you won’t even look at me.
You got engaged, and you didn’t tell me.
” He glances to my ring. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but pushing you away will be one that follows me until my last breath. ”
“I needed you.” I exhale. “I needed you and you weren’t there.
I needed you to listen to me and you wouldn’t.
I needed you to trust me and you didn’t.
And then you come here and try to say pretty words that don’t actually mean anything, do they?
So what if I was stupid enough to believe you cared for me when I was a child?
Rhett didn’t just make a mistake, Dad, he shot Jacob.
I don’t know if that can be fixed. I don’t know if I want it to be. ”
He looks at me, pained. “You know I’m here if you need me. I promise I won’t let you down again, Layla.”
I don’t believe you.
***
“You ready?”Jacob goes to walk toward the door of the bakery.
“What if no one comes? What if I’ve just spent an insane amount of money on something that will never work? What if–”
“Layla.” Jacob grabs my hand. “Stop. Look at this.” He points to the shop, Layla’s Bakery & Coffee shop is written in large white lettering along the top of the storefront.
“You did all of this. Don’t worry about turnovers and profit margins today. Just take this in. You did it. Allow yourself to enjoy it and be proud of it.”
I look at the outside of the building, at the glass window at the front, with fresh daisies in vases lined along the windowsill. The lilac paint is broken apart by the white lettering, with little hand painted flowers book ending it.
“You’re right.” I smile. “You’re always right.”
He raises his eyebrow. “I’m getting you to write that down, and I’m showing it to you the next time you tell me I’m an idiot.”
I laugh. “I’d never be so stupid to write something like that down.” I go to walk toward the bakery door, and stop when I see it for the first time.
White ribbon.
I look back toward Jacob. He reaches into his jacket, then holds out a pair of scissors.
“You remembered?”
He steps toward me, his head dipping down to my ear. “Go on, Layla. Cut it,” he whispers.
I smile, taking the satin fabric between my fingers, then press the blades against it.
I’ve wanted this moment for as long as I can remember. I dreamt about all the different places it might be, how it would look inside, how it would feel when I finally did it. The many pieces of the puzzle I would have to fit together to turn it into a reality.
I take a deep breath, and cut the ribbon.
“You did it.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me.
“I did it.”