Layla – Present
“I’m taking my break, Harry!” Amie shouts into the kitchen.
She leads me out onto the deck, perched on stilts above the sea, and takes a seat at a table pushed against the wooden railing. She sets out a few soft drinks and leans forward, sliding the salt and pepper shakers and a tea light aside.
“How’d you know I work here?”
She glances to her right and waves over a coworker before I can answer.
“Brody, can you grab us some fries?”
Brody shakes his head and grins. “You sure you don’t want crisscrosses this time?”
She looks at me, and I clear my throat. “French fries are good.”
Brody nods and heads back inside.
Amie rests her chin on her hand, studying me. “So, how’d you know?”
I sip my soda before answering. “Jacob told me.”
“Jacob?” Her brow arches. “Guess you two patched things up, huh?”
“Something like that.” I glance toward the kitchen.
She exhales, her smile tinged with something bittersweet. “You two were kind of perfect together.”
I look down, twisting the ring Ben gave me on our wedding day around my finger.
“Sorry,” she says, softer now. “I keep forgetting you’re married.” She picks up her glass, takes a sip, and smiles. “Tell me more about Ben. When did you meet him?”
Her eyes sparkle, and I can see how genuinely happy she is for me. That only makes it worse. She was right. We should already know all these things about each other. She deserves to know the truth.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
The fries arrive, and she lifts a bottle of ranch from the holder, twisting off the top and shaking it out onto the side of the plate. She dips a fry into the sauce, closes her eyes, and chews.
“Okay, shoot.”
I give her a weak smile and try pushing away the part of me that doesn’t want to be honest, the part that’s whispering this isn’t the right time, or place, or day. And then the truth creeps in, and I realize there never will be a right time, or place, or day.
“Ben. He—” My voice starts breaking, and I stop. Taking in a shaky breath, I force the rest of the words out before I change my mind. “Ben died.”
She stops chewing and stares at me. Her eyes narrow as they focus in on mine, as if to decide if what I told her was real. And then she scoots her chair out and wraps her arms around me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispers into my hair.
“I… I don’t know.”
She lets go and sits down on the seat beside me, her hand squeezing mine.
“Have you told anyone?”
“Just Jacob.”
She nods, then pushes her hair back over her shoulder.
“How long has it been?”
“Ten months.”
The emotion comes back all at once. It’s burning in my chest, it’s crawling under my skin, it’s making my heart beat faster and my stomach drop.
“He left for training and never came home.” I wipe away the tears. “They said it was some sort of dormant heart condition he never knew about.”
“I’m so sorry, Layla. I would have been there if I had known.”
“I know you would.”
Her eyes fill with her own tears.
I don’t tell her that even if she had been there, I wouldn’t have wanted her to be.
I don’t think she would understand. I didn’t want anyone who wasn’t Ben.
I didn’t want anyone reminding me that he was gone, because their grief, either for me or themselves, would have done that, no matter the good intentions behind it. It would have made it worse for me.
“You’re home for good, then?” She rests her head against mine.
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I have no idea what to do. I had this plan; it was all set out. I was going to graduate, open my own small business, and Ben and I would eventually buy a house, we’d have a kid or two and a dog or some sort of pet, and we’d be happy.
Now that’s all gone. I’m not sure how to move forward.
I can’t stay with Dad forever, and he’s going to stop accepting my vague explanations soon.
I need my own place. I need a job.” My credit card is getting close to the limit, and I have no way to pay the thing off.
She bites her bottom lip, then waves Brody over again.
“You waved?”
“Can you grab me my pen and notepad, please?”
“Are you going to actually work today, or just order me around?”
She shrugs. “I might do both. We’ll see.”
He picks up her discarded notepad and gives her his pen. “Who’s your friend?” He winks at me.
She narrows her eyes at him. “I think that man over there is trying to get your attention.” She points to an elderly man with a lobster napkin tucked into his shirt.
Brody’s shoulders deflate. “You owe me.”
“Mmm hmm,” she coos.
Once we’re alone, she starts scribbling in her notepad as if she’s on some sort of invisible timer to beat the world record.
“I’m guessing graduating college is out of the question?” She raises her head.
I nod. “I’d have to repeat my final year.”
“And you don’t want to do that?” She waits for me to answer.
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” She goes back to her notepad. “Okay, I’ve got a plan.”
I rest my head in my hands, my elbows pressed into the table as I wait to hear what she has to say.
“I’m starting my new job next week, and when I do, I’m leaving this place. Harry will need someone to cover my shifts, and you’re perfect. The menu hasn’t changed much, so it shouldn’t take you long to memorize. That’s the job part sorted.” She crosses it off her list.
“As for your business, you can start by doing Parker’s birthday cake.” She winks at me. “Once you have enough money saved, you should be able to afford a small rental. I’m sure Jacob could help you find somewhere. He and Keith own like half the properties on the island now.”
“What if Harry doesn’t want to hire me?.”
She rolls her eyes. “He hired me. He’ll hire you, Layla.” She laughs. “My list making skills have yet to go to waste.” She grins. “Now, let’s go get that job secured.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.
“Harry!” she calls out, shoving the list into my hand.
I take a quick look at it and frown. There’s a lot more written on here than a job. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to tick off the list as easily as she did, but I can start with a job, and I can at least try.
***
Harry hired me on the spot. I helped shadow Amie for the rest of her shift.
It’s similar enough to the bakery back in Louisiana, and by the end of the afternoon, I started getting into a good rhythm.
I forgot how much I enjoy working. There’s no time to sit with my thoughts.
And I’m sure once things become more of a muscle memory, it’ll be even more enjoyable.
I can’t help the slight tinge of excitement I feel to be making my own money again.
Maybe Amie’s list won’t be so hard to tick off after all.
When the taxi drops me off home, I notice Dad’s car back beside Rhett’s in the drive.
Dad is sprawled across the sofa, a beer in his hand and football on the TV.
I walk upstairs into my room. The door to the bathroom I share with Rhett is open on my side. As I walk by, I see him with his head bent over the vanity, sniffing at something. He catches me staring and stands up, wiping at the bottom of his nose.
“I saw you today. With Jacob.”
“Did you?” I pull out clothes from my dresser so I can take a shower. After seeing what Rhett’s using our bathroom for, I already made up my mind, I’m using the guest bathroom.
He grabs hold of my arm. “What would your husband think?” His voice is purposefully lowered so Dad won’t hear him.
“Get your hands off me.”
“Did he tell you he fired me?” His eyes are red. He keeps sniffing every few minutes. He still hasn’t dropped my arm, so I grab his hand and push it off me.
“Yeah, he did actually. After Mabel told me what you were trying to do. That’s stealing, Rhett. You’re lucky Jacob didn’t press charges.”
He rubs the bottom of his jaw and laughs. “I’d like to see him try. He might have caught a break with Keith, but he will always be trash in this town.”
“He didn’t catch a break. He worked hard. That’s not something you’d understand though, is it?”
I go to walk by him, and he steps in front of me.
“Get out of my way, Rhett.”
“No.”
I shake my head. “You really need to grow up.”
“Says the girl who’s cheating on her husband with her high school boyfriend.”
I push against his chest to get him to move, and he snaps.
He throws me back against the wall, his hand holding my throat.
“I’m your brother, Layla. I’m looking out for you.” His eyes are wide, his face reddening.
“I don’t need you to look out for me. I need you to let go of me.”
He digs his fingers into my skin.
“Stay away from him.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I laugh. “If you think I’d ever listen to you, you’re insane.”
I try to push against him, but he has me pinned.
“How about this, Rhett? I’ll listen to you when you stop doing drugs in our bathroom.”
“Shut up!”
“Maybe I should tell Dad the reason you lost your job was stealing money from elderly clients so you can afford to keep buying it.”
“I said shut up!”
He pulls his arm back, and I close my eyes. I hear the connection, with the wall beside my head.
I blink.
Rhett steps back, letting go of me.
“You keep your damn mouth shut, or the next time it won’t be the wall.”
He slams the bathroom door behind him.
I stay there frozen for a few minutes before I step back toward the bed. The backs of my legs knock into the mattress, and I sit down.
I touch the ache in my throat.
A part of me wants to go and grab Dad and force him to look at how unstable Rhett is. Force him to see the truth.
And then I think, what’s the point?
He always has an excuse for him. He always has a reasoning for why he is the way he is. It’s a never ending list of fictitious explanations.
I don’t think even showing him a hole in the wall would wake him up to who his son is.
He idolizes him too much for that.
He prefers the fantasy version of Rhett, and I’ve learned the hard way nothing will ever change that opinion.
The sad part is, Rhett wasn’t always like this.
There was a time where I would have even considered us close.
And then the pressure of football grew, as did Dad’s expectations with every win.
His last year of high school is when he stopped being my brother.
That’s when the Rhett I grew up with became someone else.
And when the pressure of turning football into his career was thrown onto his shoulders, missed opportunities and dreams of Dad’s that he all too happily pushed onto Rhett, he became something else entirely.
When I came home, I hoped that he would have grown, learnt from his mistakes, and healed.
Instead, he’s stuck in the same place he was when I left, almost as if that’s his punishment.
The hole he left in my bedroom wall is a tangible representation of how much of a hold it still has on him, and Dad won’t accept even an ounce of responsibility for it.
I feel my phone vibrating next to me.
Mabel: Hello Dear, it’s Mabel. I’m making lasagna tomorrow, come for 7.
I smile at the lack of a question.
Layla: Sounds great! See you then.
I set my phone down on my nightstand and look at the photo of Ben.
Dad only seems concerned about what others will think of me spending this much time here.
When I was younger, his lack of interest in my personal life used to upset me, for now, I’m thankful he doesn’t care enough to push me on it.
I’m grateful I haven’t had to explain the most painful thing I’ve ever lived through to a man that feels like a stranger to me.