Chapter Seventeen #2
The shower turns off, indicating Brian is way ahead of me in the getting ready to leave department, and I know that’s probably my cue to put some hustle into doing the same. If there’s one thing Brian is known for, it’s getting out the door on time. Especially when it comes to meeting his family.
A loud knock echoes through the apartment, and I stare at the door in a mild sense of panic, wondering if maybe I misunderstood, and Brian’s parents are coming here first and not meeting us at the restaurant.
“Hey, babe, do you mind getting that?” Brian calls from down the hall. If it really is somehow his parents and he’s making me answer the door in sweats and my old beat-up cardigan, I’ll kill him.
I peek through the peephole and am relieved to see that it’s not the Prescotts but a delivery person holding a bouquet of flowers. “Delivery for a Julia Marrow?” he says once I open the door.
“Oh, that’s me.” He hands me the bouquet nestled in a large crystal vase.
It’s filled to the brim with white hydrangeas, spiral and seeded eucalyptus, and an abundance of both pale pink and dark pink peonies.
While he fumbles for his tablet so I can sign for the delivery, I press my nose into one of the peonies and smile.
I’m instantly taken back to a warm spring day in my mother’s backyard. The chill from the hallway seems to fade while I imagine the swing set and cool breeze and birds chirping overhead.
“If you could just sign right here,” he says, snapping me out of my daydream. He takes the tablet back once I’m finished and replaces it with a large, fluffy, white bear. My stomach flips because all this is familiar.
Once I get the vase and plushie inside, I place them both carefully on the table next to my laptop. A small card sticks out from the middle of the arrangement, and I gently open the envelope to read the note within.
Happy Birthday! Do whatever makes your heart happy. Including singing Debbie Gibson at the top of your lungs.
A song begins to play in my mind. One with a matching music video about falling in love with a childhood friend.
“Did you get flowers?” The question makes me jump. Brian walks down the hallway and adjusts his navy sweater, smoothing it out over top of his white button-down dress shirt.
“Yeah,” I say, my throat dry.
He takes the card from my hand and reads it while I lean down for another sniff of spring. “It doesn’t say who sent them.”
“They’re from Alex,” I say, the smile still present.
Memories of spring shift into ones where we’re thirteen, singing along to Debbie Gibson’s first album in my bedroom after my parents showed us how to use their old record player.
The lightly used vinyl spins, and the cover stays propped against the wall, a young Debbie on the cover and the same white bear lying by her feet.
“Who’s Debbie Gibson?”
Only the teenager I wanted to be about three decades too late.
“And a teddy bear?” he asks, picking it up by its arm and letting it dangle in front of him. “Aren’t you a little old for stuffed animals?”
Okay, not knowing Debbie Gibson is one thing, most people our age don’t—sorry, Debbie—but telling a girl she’s too old for a plushie? I snatch the bear and hold it close to my chest. “You’re never too old for stuffed animals, Brian.”
He laughs and holds up his hands. “If you say so.” He carefully puts the card back into the envelope and props it against the vase. “Not to interrupt your cuddle session, but if you don’t get dressed soon, we’re going to be late.”
Oh yeah. Dinner.
“Just give me a minute to call and thank Alex.”
He kisses my cheek. “Okay, but remember what happened the last time we didn’t arrive on time.”
I shudder. It was an evening filled with snide quips and a not-so-subtle speech about the importance of promptness. All directed at me.
With the bear tucked safely under one arm, I start a video call with Alex. Three rings in and her face appears on screen. She’s wearing her favorite Reds ball cap, her breath coming out in white bursts as she breathes. “There’s the birthday girl.”
“Debbie Gibson, huh?” I say through a grin.
“Ten years ago to the day she became your yearlong obsession. I thought, what better way to celebrate?”
The infatuation wasn’t just me. “Like you didn’t have a great time watching old videos of her.”
Alex laughs. “Of course I did. She was my gay awakening.”
“Your gay awakening was Kate Winslet when you were nine, don’t even start.”
“That’s right,” she says as if just remembering, “Debbie was your gay awakening without you even knowing it.”
“You might have a point,” I mutter. She was the first girl I plastered all over my bedroom walls. Hindsight is a funny thing.
She pushes through a door, and I realize then that she’s on her way into work. “You got the flowers, then?”
“I did. They’re beautiful.”
A satisfied look crosses her face, and I wonder how long it took her to find them. She reaches the bar where she works part-time and holds the phone close as she presses through the scattering of people and toward the back. “Any plans this evening?”
“Dinner with Brian and his parents.”
Her nose scrunches. And, yeah, I get it. It’s not my ideal way to celebrate, either. “I hope he has something else planned for you this weekend. Maybe an evening out with the guys so you can stay in and read?”
I sigh because that sounds perfect. “A winery, I think.”
If I thought she looked disgusted before… “In the fucking winter?”
The bathroom is still warm from when Brian showered, and I turn on the water to get it going while snagging a towel from the linen closet. “Wine is wine, no matter the month. Besides, there’s such a thing as indoor seating.”
She shakes her head and shrugs off her jacket, revealing a low-cut, long-sleeved shirt. It makes me wonder if she’s wearing it for tips or for phone numbers. I hope it’s the former.
“I have to go get ready. I just wanted to thank you for the bear and for the flowers. They remind me of spring. And Debbie. And you.”
She smiles. “I’m glad.”
“Longer video call this weekend?” I ask hopefully. Every time we talk, it never feels like enough. “You can catch me up on what’s been going on with you. Perhaps tell me about the mystery girl I’ve been seeing pop up in your social media?”
“Anything you want,” she says with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Jules.”
By the time I get out of the shower and I’ve wrapped myself in the fluffiest of towels, I have an Instagram notification.
Alex posted a story. The chorus to “Out of the Blue” begins to play, overlaying a picture of us singing into hairbrushes, dressed in jean shorts and baggy T-shirts and our hair pulled back into high ponytails.
The overlaid message reads “Happy 23rd,” followed by a single blue heart.
Things settle down once my first year of grad school comes to an end.
Well, sort of. I managed to snag a part-time paid internship at an amazing company in the city.
I’ve been putting in extra hours, hoping that once I complete school, they’ll be impressed enough to hire me on the spot.
Great for my career, bad for my all-but-dead social life.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say breathlessly. Brian, sad to say, has had to deal with my erratic schedule more than anyone. He hates tardiness, and even though he rarely mentions it, I’m always able to see the tiniest bit of annoyance on his face.
He shakes his head and chuckles like it was to be expected. “It’s fine.”
I drape my purse on the back of my chair and wipe at my brow, the July evening causing me to sweat as I dashed across town to make it to dinner on time.
A romantic dinner. That we planned about three weeks ago at an exclusive restaurant that he’s been dying to try.
“My boss needed this report, and traffic was horrible and—”
He places his hand over top of mine. “I promise, it’s fine.”
I stare for a beat, trying to catch that bit of annoyance I always see when I make excuses, only to find his expression sincere and unbothered.
He reaches for his glass of wine and takes a long sip.
That’s when I see a few different appetizers laid out across the table.
“You already ordered?” I glance at my watch because I didn’t think I was that late.
“Is that okay?”
“Of course it is.” I grab my own glass and follow his lead, taking a long sip. The day’s been absolutely crazy, and I swear, if it wasn’t Friday evening, I would cry. As the cabernet slides down my throat, I start to relax. A nice dinner and an entire weekend work free is just what I need.
When I place my glass down and sit back in my chair, I notice that Brian is staring at me with a strange expression. “You look beautiful.”
I glance at my clothes. They’re nothing special, just regular office attire. In fact, I’m fairly certain I’m underdressed for this place, but I take the compliment nonetheless because he doesn’t say it very often. “Thank you. And you look quite handsome.”
I’m not just saying that, either. His face is clean-shaven, his hair combed neatly to the side, and he’s wearing a suit, minus the tie. He looks older than twenty-three and way more sophisticated than most people our age.
He looks pleased and pushes one of the menus closer. “Order whatever you want. Tonight we’re celebrating being together. My treat.”
Normally, we split the check at my insistence, but it’s been a while since we went out to dinner just the two of us, and he’s been so excited about this date that this time, I don’t argue. Tonight, I’m going to drink wine, eat expensive food, and catch up with my boyfriend.
Once we’ve finished our extremely overpriced and small portioned dinner, the server clears our plates and places a single dessert menu between us. “Do you want dessert?” I ask, checking over the menu. I’m full, but not “skip the raspberry cheesecake” kind of full.
Brian clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “Actually, Julia, there was something I wanted to ask you.” The tone of his voice and the serious way he says my name makes me freeze.
As if in slow motion, he slips out of his chair and onto one knee, producing a black velvet box from his jacket pocket. He holds it in front of me and opens it to reveal an excessively large diamond ring.
“Julia Marie Marrow, will you marry me?”