CHAPTER TWELVE
The blue flowers were still in the middle of the kitchen table the next afternoon.
Bee looked at them every time she glanced up from her laptop.
Each look brought back another part of the date.
The memory of Wes laughing when she stole his fries stayed with her the longest. She finally reached for her phone and opened the camera.
Bee leaned the phone against the sugar canister and adjusted it until the flowers appeared over one shoulder. Grandma stood at the counter making coffee, close enough to hear everything. Bee tapped the red button and watched the timer begin counting.
“Okay, I went on a date last night,” Bee said. “Yes, it was with Wes.”
Grandma looked over her shoulder. “They already know that.”
Bee glanced toward her without stopping the recording. “I know they know. I’m telling them how it went.”
“You’ve been smiling since you woke up,” Grandma replied. “They can figure it out.”
Bee looked back into the camera. “This is why I can never tell a story in this house.”
Grandma measured coffee into the machine. “You’re still telling it.”
“I’m trying,” Bee said.
She reached for the vase and moved it closer to the phone. The blue petals filled one side of the screen while Bee smiled behind them. She tilted the vase until the camera caught the full bouquet.
“First, he showed up with these,” Bee said. “Before anyone asks, no, he did not bring flour this time. He remembered the whole Blue Bird thing and bought me blue flowers.”
Grandma glanced at the vase. “They need more water.”
Bee lowered the flowers enough to look at her. “I’ll give them more water when I’m finished.”
“Don’t forget,” Grandma said.
Bee faced the camera again. “She has more concern for these flowers than she has for me.”
Grandma closed the lid on the coffee maker. “The flowers listen.”
Bee pressed her lips together until she could speak without laughing. The timer kept moving while Grandma returned to her coffee as if she had not said anything. Bee took a breath and continued.
“Wes took me to get fast food,” Bee continued. “Then he drove to the grocery store and parked at the far end of the parking lot.”
Grandma stopped with her mug halfway to the counter. “He took you to the grocery store?”
Bee turned toward her. “We sat in the back of his truck. It was better than it sounds.”
“It would have to be,” Grandma replied.
Bee laughed before looking at the phone again. “We ate in the truck bed and watched people coming out of the store. We made up stories about what they bought, what they forgot, and why they kept going back inside.”
She leaned closer to the camera. “The first man we noticed came out carrying grocery bags. He stopped beside his truck and stared at them like something was missing. I told Wes the man forgot something. Wes thought he couldn’t remember where he parked.”
Bee copied the man’s troubled expression before pointing over her shoulder. “He stood there arguing with himself for a while. Then he turned around and went back inside. I was right.”
Grandma carried her coffee to the table. “Of course you were.”
Bee narrowed her eyes. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I wasn’t there,” Grandma replied.
“Exactly. You have to trust me,” Bee said.
Grandma sat across from her. “That is why I’m not convinced.”
Bee shook her head and looked into the camera again. “Then a woman came out pushing one of those carts with a bad wheel. The whole thing kept dragging sideways while she tried to reach her car. That cart was winning.”
The memory made Bee laugh so hard that she had to stop and take a breath. She wiped beneath one eye and faced the phone again. “The carts at that store have been bad my entire life. Somehow, they keep getting worse.”
Grandma lifted her mug. “You used to ride in them.”
“That explains why they’re all broken,” Bee replied.
Grandma gave her a long look. “You said it.”
Bee covered her mouth as she laughed again. The camera caught all of it, including Grandma drinking her coffee with no sign of regret. Bee’s cheeks hurt by the time she lowered her hand.
“Wes almost spilled his drink because we were laughing so hard,” Bee said once she recovered. “Then I took one of his fries.”
Grandma raised an eyebrow. “One?”
Bee looked toward the ceiling. “A few.”
“How many?” Grandma asked.
“That isn’t important,” Bee replied.
Grandma looked into the camera. “She took more than one.”
Bee pointed toward her. “You weren’t there either.”
“I know you,” Grandma said.
Bee smiled and looked back at the phone. “The point is that I had fun. It wasn’t fancy. It didn’t need to be. We ate fast food and watched people. We laughed until my stomach hurt.”
Her smile softened as she thought about the quiet parts she was leaving out. The things Wes had told her in the truck bed still belonged to the two of them. Bee let the silence sit for a moment before she finished.
“It was a really good date,” Bee said.
Grandma took another drink of coffee. “We know.”
Bee laughed and reached for the phone. She tapped the red button. The timer froze a little past four minutes. One recording held the entire story, including every comment Grandma had added from across the kitchen.
Bee moved the video to her laptop and opened the editing program. She cut the few seconds where she had reached for the vase and trimmed the silence at the end. Grandma’s comments stayed exactly where they were because removing them made the video feel empty.
Near the end, Bee paused on the frame where she admitted the date had been really good. Her happiness showed before she even spoke. She considered trimming the moment. After watching it once more, she left it alone.
Bee posted the video and set her phone beside the laptop. Notifications began appearing before she had closed the editing program. She opened the first comments and smiled.
@rezgirlxo: THE BLUE FLOWERS ??
@maddie.makes.content: Okay but a grocery store parking lot date is actually adorable.
@nattie22: I need to know who picked the food.
@blaire54: Grandma caring more about the flowers took me out ??
Bee liked the comments and continued scrolling. Each one made the date feel funny all over again. Her smile remained until another username appeared beneath the video.
@sarahlee: Why does she make everything into content?
Bee read the comment twice. A small knot formed beneath her ribs as her thumb moved to the next one. The second comment made the feeling worse.
@saralee: Girl, you don’t have to post every man you talk to.
More comments appeared while Bee stared at the screen. Her thumb stopped moving. The newest accusations sat directly beneath the others.
@ashleynicole: She’s using Wes for views now.
@haleyb14: He took you for fast food. You’re making this sound way more romantic than it was.
Bee scrolled past another accusation that she was trying too hard to keep Wes interested. The comments kept reducing the evening to something embarrassing. A night that had made her happy now sat beneath a list of reasons she should feel ashamed of it.
Bee had shown the flowers, the parking lot, and the jokes they had shared. She had kept everything personal out of the video. None of that stopped strangers from deciding she had shared too much.
Grandma watched her from across the table. Bee had stopped smiling. Her hand rested beside the phone without moving. Grandma set her mug down.
“You’re making that face again,” Grandma said.
Bee lifted her attention from the phone. “What face?”
“The one you make when somebody on there gets on your nerves,” Grandma explained.
Bee turned the phone face down. “People are being weird.”
Grandma picked up her mug. “People are always weird.”
“I didn’t even say anything bad,” Bee replied. “I told them where we went and what we did.”
Grandma looked toward the phone. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” Bee said. “Apparently, that makes me desperate for attention.”
Grandma studied her over the rim of the mug. “Are you?”
“No,” Bee replied.
“Then don’t let strangers tell you what you meant,” Grandma said.
Bee nodded and turned the phone over again. The comments were still there. Grandma’s words gave them less room to settle. Bee closed the app and reached for the laundry basket near the hallway.
A couple of hours later, Bee stood beside her bed folding the last of her shirts. Her phone buzzed against the dresser. Wes’s face appeared in the notification. He had posted a new video.
Bee dropped the shirt onto the bed and opened it. Wes sat in his truck with one arm resting near the window. He looked at the camera before rubbing one hand over the back of his neck.
“People keep asking if the date was good,” Wes said. “Yeah. It was.”
Bee sat on the edge of the bed with the unfolded laundry beside her. The shirt she had dropped stayed crumpled near her knee. Wes glanced through the windshield before looking into the camera again.
“We got food and sat in the back of my truck,” Wes continued. “We watched people outside the grocery store and made up stories about them. Bee decided she knew what everybody was thinking.”
Bee laughed at the screen. “I did know.”
“She also stole my fries and denied it while she was eating one,” Wes said.
Bee looked toward the pile of laundry as if Wes could see her. “It was two fries.”
Wes smiled in the video. The small change in his expression made Bee smile back. She pulled the crumpled shirt into her lap without looking away.
“I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time,” Wes admitted. “I had a really good time.”
He looked away for a second before finishing. When Wes faced the camera again, the embarrassment in his smile made the words feel even more honest. Bee held the phone a little closer.
“I can't wait to take her out again,” Wes said.
Bee watched the video a second time before opening the comments. Her stomach still fluttered when Wes said he wanted another date. The first messages made her laugh.
@jakefromhome: MY BOY
@cowboykev: THAT’S WHAT WE LIKE TO HEAR
@kaylaxo: Okay Wes, we see you ??
@maddie.makes.content: This is actually adorable.
Bee read through the praise with a smile. The comments treated the date like something worth celebrating. Her smile faded when a familiar username appeared.
@sarahlee: Aww, I’m glad you had a good time.
She tapped the username to make sure she had read it correctly. Then she returned to her own video and found the comment the same account had left for her. The words sat beneath the exact same story.
@sarahlee: Why does she make everything into content?
Bee stared at the two comments before returning to Wes’s video. She continued down the screen with slower movements. Another familiar username waited a few comments lower.
@saralee: This is so cute.
She opened her own comment section again. The earlier message from the same account was still there. Bee read both comments once more before locking her attention on the usernames.
@saralee: Girl, you don’t have to post every man you talk to.
Bee moved between the two videos with her thumb. Wes talked about the parking lot, the people they watched, and the food they ate. She had talked about those same things.
His comment section praised him for being interested in her. Her comment section accused her of trying too hard to keep his attention. Nobody told Wes to keep the date private or asked why he needed to turn it into content.
Bee looked at the frozen image of Wes on her screen. He had done nothing wrong. She was glad he had enjoyed the date. Hearing him say he wanted to take her out again still made her smile.
The way people treated them was what hurt. Her version of the night made her desperate. His version made him sweet.
Bee set the phone on the bed and picked up the shirt she had dropped. She folded it once, unfolded it, and tried again. The uneven sleeves told her she was still thinking about the comments.
Her phone buzzed before she reached for the next shirt. Wes had liked her video. Bee opened their messages and stared at his name. She did not type anything.
She had already told Wes how complicated his sudden popularity felt to her. Bringing him another comment section would make it sound as though she blamed him for something he had not done. Bee closed the messages and placed the phone facedown on the dresser.
Darkness filled the windows by the time Bee walked past the kitchen again. The blue flowers rested in the center of the table with fresh water in the vase. She stopped beside them and touched one of the petals.
Wes had given her the flowers before either of them talked about the date online. The memory of him standing on the porch belonged to her without anyone else explaining what it meant. Bee smiled and continued toward her room.
She changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. Her phone lit the dark room when she opened Wes’s video one more time. This time, Bee left the comments closed.
Bee pressed play and listened to his voice fill the room. She smiled when he accused her of stealing his fries. When Wes said, “I’d take her out again,” Bee let his words matter more than everything written beneath them.
The video ended with Wes’s embarrassed smile frozen on the screen. Before Bee could close it, her phone buzzed in her hand. A message from Wes appeared at the top.
Wes: You awake?