21. Beck
Beck
“I didn’t know you were so flexible,” Austin says, giving me a slap on the back of my shoulder.
I let out a soft huff of a laugh and flash him an eye roll. “Wasn’t my first choice for an activity.”
“Well you’re a lot more chilled out, I think all your chakras are aligned,” he says, giving me a once over.
I take a swig of my beer, not wanting to outwardly admit that the bunny yoga actually did help release some of the stress and tension I’ve been carrying.
Something about those velvet soft ears tickling my face as I contorted myself into all sorts of weird inverted positions was kind of…
relaxing? It was at least a distraction from everything else that’s been on my mind.
It was not, however, a distraction from Lyla.
The feeling of her hands on my body as she guided me into the right posture was almost more than I could take.
It’s a good thing there were other people around, that Austin has been around.
Otherwise it would be all too easy for me to step over that line, to cross into territory I told myself I’d stay far away from.
“Lyla really went all out for this party, huh,” he points out, snapping me out of my train of thought.
Lyla is standing in the kitchen, surrounded by Sutton and Skye, and the way she throws her head back with untamed laughter makes my chest squeeze.
She’s felt almost restrained around me at times. I’ve had this urge like I want to shake her, like I want to demand she tell me what she did with the girl who didn’t care what anyone else thought about her.
Not today, though. Today she’s felt more like the girl I never stopped thinking about. She’s felt more like the woman I’ve always been in love with. The woman I can’t be in love with.
“Yeah, she did.” I study Austin’s face for any sign that he’s onto me. I find nothing, no hint whatsoever that he thinks it might be weird that his little sister threw a party for his best friend.
To be fair, even I’m not sure why Lyla threw me this party. I think she did it to annoy me. Or to prove a point, though I couldn’t say what that point is, exactly.
I’m saved from the conversation with Austin when Lyla announces it’s time for dessert. Everyone makes their way over to the kitchen, and Lyla pulls a homemade chocolate cake out of the fridge.
She must have spent hours baking and decorating. It’s triple layer, double chocolate, and decorated with piped green icing to look like grass, a red plastic barn and tiny cow figurines.
She carefully lights three sparklers and pokes them in the top. Sparklers. Not candles, like a normal birthday. She got me sparklers. Because Lyla doesn’t do anything halfway.
I lean in and inhale, getting ready to blow the sparklers out, when Lyla snatches the cake away from me.
“Uh, not yet,” she snaps. “We haven’t sung happy birthday yet.”
Fuck me.
There is one thing I’m convinced is universally hated, and that is standing in front of a crowd of people singing to you. Add to it the fact that I generally hate crowds of people, and it’s my waking nightmare.
And they fucking do it anyway.
It’s off-pitch, Nash does too much by trying and failing to harmonize, and someone isn’t even singing in the right tempo. It’s terrible, and yet, something strange happens.
I look around at the group of people singing.
I look at my dad, my siblings, my best friend, the woman who planned this for me, and a lump forms in my throat.
I’ve never had anyone go out of their way to do something like this just to celebrate me, let alone have everyone I love come together for it.
Lyla is smiling big and wide as she sings the last few notes, and it occurs to me why she did this.
It’s okay to let people in.
You’re a softie, and I’m going to prove it to you.
My eyes burn and I blink to stave off the sensation as I lean in to blow out the sparklers, and everyone claps. Lyla claps the hardest.
My walls come down around me a little more, and it hits me how valuable, how special it is to have all these people in my life, here, willing to go out of their way for me for something as trivial as a birthday party.
The ranch may be suffering, we may not have enough money to fix all the things that need fixing, but right now, I am rich beyond belief.
Fat, heavy drops pound on the roof covering the porch where Dad and I sit side by side, wordlessly watching the deluge while we each sip on a chilled beer.
The mountains are shrouded in misty grey clouds, completely obscured now. It’s amazing how fast the weather in the foothills can change. A few hours ago, we were all out in the yard doing bunny yoga in the sunshine, and now the lawn is turning into a boggy mess.
The change in the weather is at once a relief and a warning. As much as the crispy, brown grass needs it, too much rain on parched ground isn’t good either. It creates run-off, which in turn can lead to flooding.
“How’d you like the party?” My dad asks, setting his beer down on the arm rest of his patio chair with a clink.
I let out a short huff of breath. “I’m relieved it’s over.”
Dad shakes his head and lifts his bottle to his lips. I listen to the rain drumming on the overhang.
The place is peaceful now, just the way I like it. I don’t do parties. I’ll occasionally go out to Lucky’s with Austin, mostly to make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble. But inviting people over to my own house to disrupt my routine, mess up my shit? Not for me.
Although, not one person who came today was someone I wouldn’t have chosen to be here.
Considering I hate parties, and having people in my home, Lyla didn’t do anything that crossed a line.
She didn’t do anything that felt like it was meant to embarrass me.
Get under my skin, maybe, sure. But it never made me uncomfortable.
The truth is, I had fun today. It felt good to celebrate my birthday with the people I care about rather than alone or doing something that wasn’t authentic.
Last year, Tessa tried to plan a birthday celebration for me. She wanted to do something special. But “special” involved going into the city–an activity I loathe with every fibre of my being–and spending an exorbitant amount of money on a steak dinner I could have made better at home.
This was different. This party was on my turf, in the place I feel most at home, with the people I feel the most at home with. Now, when I think about who the person at the top of that list would be, my mind immediately jumps to Lyla.
She’s only been back in Sage Valley for a month, and already I’m back in the same old pattern of wanting to be near her, of yearning for her attention, of hoping for some small sign that Lyla wants me the same way.
“You were in on the whole thing, weren’t you?” I ask the man sitting innocently beside me. I should have realized it earlier, but I was distracted by a very pretty brunette in leggings and a sports bra surrounded by very adorable bunnies. “You never had a prescription mishap at all.”
He swallows and stares out toward the dark grey horizon, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Nope.”
“No wonder that poor pharmacist was so confused,” I say.
My dad laughs, deep and rumbling, and it draws a similar one from my own throat. I can’t remember a time when I enjoyed his company like this.
“I hate my fucking birthday,” I say, once our laughter subsides, though my tone remains jovial. I am capable of having a sense of humour about the whole thing. “You know that, too. You enabled her.”
“Lyla is a difficult woman to say no to,” he argues. “You more than anyone should know that much.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, turning to look at him, but his expression doesn’t reveal anything.
For a second it seems like he’s about to answer my question, but he doesn’t.
He tips his beer bottle toward me. “You don’t hate your birthday, Beck.”
“I do. It’s a pointless day, reminding me that I’m getting older”
“Do you think today was pointless?”
I swish a mouthful of beer side to side in my mouth, considering, thinking. Thinking about bunny yoga, about how much lighter I feel now, about how my body responded to the stretch and pull on my tight muscles. Lyla’s soft hands.
The movement slowly and gently pried my chest open without me even realizing, allowing me to process feelings I had internalized for so long I didn’t even realize they were there, festering.
The responsibilities of the ranch, the crushing weight of the financial situation I’ve found myself in, and older things, too.
The way I’ve always put pressure on myself to hold our family together.
The way my mom abandoned us, and left behind a cavernous hole that seemed to only fill with loneliness.
It allowed all of those feelings to move through me, flowing up and out with every exhale.
“No, I don’t think today was pointless,” I admit, truthfully. It helped me work through some shit in a way that felt safe, comfortable. Like I do when I take Willow out for long rides.
It occurs to me that Lyla does it every day without fail, her yoga practice. I know she’s been working through some shit, the recent events that have left her feeling rejected, hurt, and angry. Probably embarrassed, too.
Lyla can be loud about her feelings, whether she’s happy, sad, angry, you name it, she’ll let you know.
She externalizes, processes everything by releasing it.
I can see how she thinks people might be put off by that, but maybe it’s healthier that way.
It has to be better than whatever I’ve been doing. Stuffing it down. Repressing.
“I think you’ve always hated your birthday because you’ve never had one like this.
I didn’t know how to do this.” He gestures around him like a general this, although I know he’s talking about the party.
This, as in happiness and fun and everything that we should have had in our childhood.
“I was never good at any of it, and I regret that I hadn’t at least tried to be better. ”