Chapter 20
___
Bev
I help the caterers pack the last box in their van. They try to give me some leftovers. And, okay, I immediately take them.
I glance up at the sky, the beautiful twinkling stars. I’m grateful for such a successful night.
“Bev! Hey!” A familiar voice calls my name. Jay. He’s wearing jeans, a gray collared shirt, and an empty-seeming bookbag hangs from his shoulder. His hair has grown longer, and there’s a wild look in his eye.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as he lumbers up.
“Trying to get into the party,” he says with no shame.
“It’s over.”
“So you can’t get me in?”
“Jay, did you hear me? The party is over. Look at the caterers.”
“Yeah, but there’s always an after-party.”
“Nope. Not tonight.”
“Come on. ”
“Nope.”
“Bev. Please. My frat boy summer has not gone as planned.”
“I wish I could say I feel sorry for you.”
He weaves a little on his feet, and then, I notice the glassiness of his eyes.
“Jay, are you drunk?” I ask.
He grabs my arm. “Come on.”
I look down in disbelief. I know he’d never hurt me. But still. “Jay?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t who you are.”
He squeezes my arm tighter like a vise. I can feel my pulse in his grip. “Maybe you never knew who I was,” he says.
Fear swirls my thoughts. I feel ridiculous for being afraid. But I guess it’s also ridiculous not to be afraid. Men aren’t always the safest thing for women. “Fine, but can you let go of my arm?”
An expression flickers across his face, but he doesn’t stop.
I look around for nearby caterers, and then, I hear footsteps on gravel behind me. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“What’s going on?” Nate growls. “The caterers texted about a belligerent drunk.”
I turn and shoot Nate a thankful smile. But there’s murder in his eyes.
Jay removes his hand, and I protectively wrap my arm across my belly. I absent-mindedly rub the skin he’d been touching as if trying to brush away something toxic.
“Nothing is going on,” Jay says. He doesn’t look at me now—probably ignoring me since more important things are around. It’s basically our relationship in a nutshell. He pulls a shirt from his bookbag. “I’m a big fan, man,” he says to Nate. “Can you sign my shirt? It’s merch from your last album.”
Nate ignores the request and slings an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.
The look on Jay’s face…well, it’s priceless. Life can be cruel. But life can also make you believe in karma.
“I want to get into the party is all,” Jay says. “And I’m a big fan, man.”
It’s like Jay is so black out drunk he can’t remember he said he was a fan already. Nate and I exchange expressions.
“Then as a big fan,” Nate says, “I want you to respect my girl, okay?”
Warmth spreads through me. His girl. I catch a glimpse of his heart tattoo in my periphery and fight the urge to kiss it.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Nate says to me and shoots Jay a “stay away” look.
“Will you be okay with him?” I ask under my breath.
“Yeah, I deal with drunk fans all the time.”
We reach my car, and Nate opens the door for me. “Can we talk tomorrow?” he asks, voice tight.
Unease twitches down the back of my neck, replacing any warmth I felt before. I nod, “Okay.”
As I drive down the quiet roads, my headlights shining on more bugs now as the nights grow warmer, I can’t help but think: What could he possibly want to talk about?
__ _
I arrive at work early, knowing Nate will be early too. Sure enough, he’s sitting on the picnic bench, just like always. Although today, he has circles under his eyes, and his skin looks wan.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying to sound cheerful.
He pats the seat next to him—just like our usual routine.
I plop down and give him a peck on the cheek. I’m surprised when he grimaces.
My stomach sinks, but I’m determined to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s probably some explanation. Maybe he has a headache and doesn’t want to be touched.
Still, a part of me worries that this is just a repeat of high school. He plays like he wants me, but then he gets me; and he’s bored.
I touch my wiener dog necklace, hoping to find some courage to get through what already feels like a difficult conversation. “Nate?” I ask, prompting him to tell me what’s up, so we can get this over with.
“We have to talk.” His voice sounds choked.
I try to fight back the rising panic, the blurring of my vision, the buzzing in my ears. “What’s going on?”
“My manager texted.”
“Okay?”
“And the label is forcing us back on tour.”
“You said you had time. You said the stage fright…” I trail off when I see his expression. I know this is serious. I know he’ll be leaving soon. I feel numb and then brokenhearted and then numb again, everything a crushing and disastrous whirlwind.
“We signed a contract. We’re legally obligated. ”
I force myself to think. Think. THINK! “Can’t you break it? I mean, what about the court appointed community service?”
“They pulled some strings.”
THINK, BEV, THINK! “Have you talked to a lawyer? Can they really do that?”
“Xavier is a lawyer.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Monday. I’m here for the next week.”
I can’t focus on logistics anymore. I have to ask the biggest question preying on my heart. “What about Moose?”
His gray eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything.
“You’re going to leave him?” I ask in disbelief.
“Would it actually be better if I brought him on tour?”
“It’d be better than leaving him.” I feel offended on Moose’s behalf. I mean, I get what Nate is saying, but still.
“Flying all over the world? Loud noises, city streets, lack of time zones, or routines? Plus, Xavier said I’d have to get him a passport. He’s not even sure it’s possible since Moose hasn’t cleared kennel cough quarantine.”
I sigh, feeling heavy. “Do you want to go?”
“I want to stay here with you.” He grabs my hand and strokes his thumb over my knuckle.
My belly flipflops. I pull my hand away. I can’t bear to feel pleasure when the circumstances are shit. “I’m sorry,” I say, looking down at the knuckle he’d just touched.
His face twists. “What if you were to come with me?”
“And leave my dad?” I can’t even imagine it. My dad would never forgive me, so he’d be alone on his deathbed—maybe even surrounded by our bucket list itinerary. Magazine cut out photos of places he never made it to. Maybe even our Melbourne itinerary we’ve been adding to for the past year. Seoul, Dublin, Sao Paulo. Bile rises up the back of my throat.
“Come visit then,” he says.
“How? I have a job. I can’t just fly around the world and stay a day and then fly back.”
He pauses, staring off in the distance. “Is it really that or something else?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, surely, you could come visit.”
“I can’t take a day trip to Tokyo.”
“There’s something else.” He narrows his gray eyes and scans my face.
It feels as if he sees through me. Like his eyes unlock a secret door to my soul, which swings open for him, revealing all my innermost secrets. “Nope,” I say, a bit high-pitched.
He shakes a knowing finger. “I think you think it’ll be like high school.”
“Nope.” I shake my head for added effect.
“That it starts with me distancing myself—in the slightest of ways. And then the gap between us will just grow wider and wider.”
Okay, so he has a point. “Maybe.”
He looks unsure whether to say the next thing. “And I think you’re terrified of being abandoned after your mom.” His voice wavers. “So I hate that I’m leaving too.”
His words are such a shock, I choke on my salvia as I swallow, and start coughing until my eyes water. After I’m done, he pulls me close. My head rests against his chest, and I listen to the sound of his beating heart.
So he does know me after all.
__ _
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Chandra butterflies from worker to worker, and while I’m in the break room—still smelling of pasta—she breezes in.
“Bev!” she exclaims.
“Hi,” I say, holding a hand over my mouth as I speak since I just took a bite.
“Are you excited for my reading?”
“You bet.”
“I’ve been recently inspired.” She gives me a look as if I know what this means.
But all I feel is sadness over Nate, so it’s hard for anything else to pierce through that.
“I swapped out the scene I’m reading,” she says excitedly.
She continues talking, animated gestures and all, but I can’t focus on what she says. My mind keeps catapulting back to Nate. Our talk. How much I’ll miss him. How empty my life will be without him. It’s almost more painful: stepping into the sun and feeling its warmth—only to be shoved back into the darkness.
“Okay,” I say because she looks as if she wants my approval about something.
“Great!” She touches my arm in thanks and then waltzes from the room, her olive linen pants, swaying with her strides.
Before I know it, it’s time to go home for the day. I want to find Nate to say goodbye .
I head over to the cat room, and sure enough, I spot him through the big window. He opens and closes the fake door in the corner for Alberto. Out of nowhere, Louise hops down from her perch, runs to Nate, and swipes a paw against his jeans. It’s more playful than aggressive.
Nate looks surprised. “Louise! You’ve got to stop scaring me.”
You can almost hear Louise purr at his words as she saunters back to her perch and sharpens her claws against the carpet scratch mat. It’s somehow both adorable and terrifying.
I’m obviously delighted with how far Nate has come with the shelter animals. Moose adores him; Louise seeks him out in her crazy way; and Alberto is over the moon.
I can’t help but wonder: Will Moose ever get over Nate leaving? And who will entertain Louise’s murderous fantasies? Or open the door for Alberto hours at a time?
I try to swallow around the lump growing in my throat.
I knock on the window.
Nate turns to look at me.
My heart nearly falls from my chest when we make eye contact. It gets me every time. “Bye,” I say loudly through the glass.
He holds up a finger for me to wait. He then exits through the two doors leading out of the cat room. “Did Chandra talk to you?” he asks.
“About her reading?”
He nods.
“Yeah, she talked to me,” I say.
“Would you…” he sounds nervous. “Would you want to go together? It’s this Friday, and I don’t leave until Monday…so we could go together. ”
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I want to go with him, but how can I risk falling any harder? It’ll only hurt more when he leaves. And I KNOW there’s no way to hang out with him without growing more attached. It’s just who he is. And who I am.
“Never mind,” he says without waiting for my answer. “I can see it on your face.”
“I wish I could,” I say heavily.
“I know.”
We stand for a moment in silence. I don’t want to leave his presence, but I also know I should.
“Look,” he says. “I texted my behavioralist to see if he could watch Moose again, and he can’t leave the city to get here that day. And every other animal lover on this island is going to Chandra’s reading. Everyone who works here. Yeah, just everyone. Could your dad watch him?”
I think on it for a minute. I know how my dad feels about Nate. But I also think Moose and my dad would get along really well. They’d be good for each other. I just have to figure out how to broach the topic with my dad. It might even help if I tell my dad that Nate leaves for good on Monday. “Okay,” I finally agree.
Nate grins, and I can’t help but smile back—even if unease creeps up my spine.
And then it hits me. “Hey!” I exclaim.
He holds up his hands like, “Whoa.”
“All the animal lovers will be at Chandra’s reading?” I ask. “That’s what you just said, right? All the animal lovers will be there?”
“Yeah.”
“And when you first started working here, Chandra said you could get every animal adopted if you wanted to.” I add, “Even Jerry. ”
“Okay?” he says, sounding uncertain.
“What if we asked Chandra if we could combine events? After her reading, we could do an adoption event?”
“I thought we already did the fundraiser.”
“This is different. It’s an adoption event. Yes, now, we have more money for the shelter to help with food and supplies and vet bills. But the adoption event could be about getting the animals adopted. Think of Alberto and Louise. They haven’t seen the sky in who knows how long. Look, there’s no outdoor windows behind you—only the big window for potential adopters to look in at them.”
His gray eyes twinkle. “That’s a great idea.”
“But we need you,” I say. It comes out more forcefully than intended. And maybe I mean it on a deeper level too. “I know you probably have to pack and stuff. But we need you.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“We need you to show up at the event,” I say. “For maximum turnout. And to post on social media. Look at what happened with Sir Carrots. It could really help.” I begin to feel hopeful. I’ve been feeling sick since the Nate-is-leaving-thing began, but at least, if we can help the animals get something good out of it, then it’ll be worth it. I imagine Louise staring out a window that looks outdoors—or maybe if she’s adopted by someone with a big property, she could be an outdoor cat. She’d love that. I imagine a similar fate for each animal. Alberto could play games with a real door. Sir Carrots wouldn’t have to worry about being eaten ever again. Warmth washes over me like sinking into the best bath ever. “Let’s go talk to Chandra,” I say.
Nate touches my lower back as if to say, “Lead the way. ”
I wish I could say it had no effect on me; I wish I could say I’ve grown immune to him. But even Louise—in all of her aloofness—could see I’d be lying.
___
Nate and I sit opposite Chandra in her office. Not only did Chandra agree with our post-reading adoption event, but we’ve spent the last forty-five minutes planning it out.
Yet every few minutes, even in my excitement, the thought Chandra probably witnessed us kissing, hurls itself through my brain. And now here we are. Work polos. Proper posture. Professional and not sucking face. It’s a lot to take in.
“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Chandra says. Her eyes move between us, as if trying to reconcile us now with how we’d been at the fundraiser.
“Great.” I hop up, afraid that if I sit there any longer, my feelings for Nate will become more apparent. And I don’t want to kiss goodbye to my potential promotion after I’ve come this far.
I can feel Nate’s gaze on my back as he follows me out.
“Walk you to your bike?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say before I can think any better of it.
We walk down the cinderblock hallway in silence. There’s a sense of finality, and I’m not sure why. Yes, Nate is leaving, but it’s not like he’s leaving tomorrow—we’ve still got a week. Although, it doesn’t feel long enough. A mere seven days. Only ten thousand and eighty minutes. It makes me feel nauseous.
Nate pushes open the door, leading outside, and the bright sun nearly blinds me. I instinctively place a hand over my eyes, shielding them from the glare. It’s 5:30, but with the days thankfully getting longer, it’s still very bright.
I spot my bike, and my heart pounds, trying to think of something to say—maybe even something that might make him stay in Melody Bay. If I came up with the perfect words to express myself, would it work? Would he think twice about leaving?
“So you’ll talk with your dad and see if he can watch Moose?” he asks, our strides matching.
My stomach churns. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think he’s ready for an event like that,” he says by means of explanation.
I wonder if a part of Nate doesn’t want Moose adopted quite yet. And I know they belong together. I’ve just got to figure out how to make it happen. Even if I can’t get Nate, I want Moose to have him. One of us can be happy at least. “I completely agree.”
His brows crease. He stops walking. “Bev.”
“Yeah?”
“You know how you asked me why I hit the exec?”
I’m surprised by this. His question came out of nowhere. And the shock of it heightens the jittery feelings I already have.
I swallow hard. I wonder if I’ll forever be nervous around him. “Yeah.”
“I want you to know I’m not an asshole. I mean, I am. I guess. Well, I…what I’m trying to say is I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person…I want you to think I’m good. Great even. ”
“Nate.” I touch his arm. I fight the urge to trace my finger along his heart tattoo, but it feels far too intimate.
“The exec, Scooter, he grabbed my sister’s ass.” Nate’s voice is sharp.
I drop my hand in surprise. “I’m sorry.”
“It was his word versus hers, and since his family owns the label, then you know how that worked out.”
My stomach somersaults in sympathy.
“I wish I could have done more,” he says. “I wanted to come out against him, but my sister was afraid. She loves music, and he was in a position of power. She was afraid for her career.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat again. I wish I could think of something else to say. Something that would make the world better than it is.
“Punching him felt like the only thing I could do. Even after it all, the judge—a woman—said she didn’t think I should have to do volunteer work. It seemed like she was on my side. But Scooter’s family had sway and would appeal and try for even worse if there wasn’t some kind of punishment, so she gave me something that she thought, ‘I’d like,’ as she put it.” He haggardly runs a hand through his hair. “The reason I’m telling you all this now…I just want you to think I’m a better person than I’m afraid you do—especially since I’m leaving. Maybe it’s more than what I deserve. But it’s what I want.”
I don’t say anything. I take his arm, and I finally trace my finger along his heart tattoo.
His eyelids flutter in relief.