Chapter 30
Natalie
The drive back home takes years off my life. Megan stockpiled the car with energy drinks and sour candy, hoping I’d cave and spill more about Candace. It almost worked, except for the part where she questioned my sanity and joined forces with the parentals.
“Dude. All I’m saying is pump the brakes.” She swerves through traffic like she’s in a video game.
“Meg, you’re an angel baby sent from heaven, but I can’t keep repeating myself.
If you’re set on asking these mind-numbing questions, I’ll be forced to open this door and roll home.
Or, better yet, hitchhike with a trucker.
” My eyes glazed over hours ago, and I’m barely even conscious as she yammers on.
“Calm your tits, you're so freaking defensive all the time. Let's put this in terms you’ll understand. You’re moving at warp speed, while Candace is still on her first lap of the lazy river.” Her tone is much more mellow than at dinner, when she came at me guns blazing.
“You don’t know that, you’re not the third member in this relationship,” I snap, not meaning to get riled up in a confined space.
“I don’t have to be. I know you. You’re skipping so many crucial steps and disregarding the fact she’s been married and hasn’t ever experimented on the isle of ladies.
” She pauses for a moment, letting the cars passing by be our interlude.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m psyched that you’re happy and feel like you’ve found the one.
It’s seriously rad that you guys found each other, how and when you did.
You’ve got to be careful with this one. If you’re serious about waiting as long as it takes, then wait.
Don’t jump into the deep end until you know for a fact there’s not a shark waiting at the bottom. ”
“Now who sounds ridiculous?” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I’ve said my piece, but I just want to remind you we’ve been down this road before.
If Candace can’t see who she's got right in front of her, then that’s her loss.
You’re one in a million, and anyone with a vagina would be lucky to have you.
It’s not the end of the world if this one isn’t the one,” she says lovingly, which would feel good, except it’s Megan, she talks like this to the raccoon that hangs outside our building.
Taking a beat, I let her words sink. “I don’t know, man. It feels like it’d be the end of my world if she didn’t want me.”
“How about you control the radio from here on out, anything except The Used. I swear if I hear that album one more time, I’m swerving into oncoming traffic.” Megan’s retention for deep conversations isn’t long. She’s got a few good zingers in her before she can’t take it anymore.
“Underoath it is then, bitch. Let’s haul ass, I’ve got some lady loving to get back to.” Whipping out my CD case, I find the album and replace it with our road trip mix.
Four days away feels like an eternity when you’re in a new relationship with someone whose family is constantly impeding your happiness.
My phone was pretty silent on my way back, but I’m chalking it up to Candace being distracted now that the girls are back from their dads, and definitely not making up scenarios that her dad had her kidnapped and is brainwashing her into thinking I’m some kind of evil overlord.
“Why the fuck does our house smell ten times worse coming home from vacation? We weren’t even here. Is this just the natural odor? Cuz we need help if it is,” I shout, bursting through the door to unload all my shit at super speed.
“Smells like that raccoon barfed and died, then came back to life just to eat the shit he barfed and die all over again,” Megan yells, plugging her nose as she closes the door behind us.
“Beautifully said, you should write children’s books.” My room’s an absolute dumpster fire, and if Candace was serious about going away overnight, I’ve got some serious laundry to do. Thank goodness our dad sent us home with bags full of quarters because it’s going to be a long ass night.
Going away with a single mom is trickier than I imagined. Schedules have to be changed, babysitters have to be reserved and a whole host of other worst case scenario’s. Our Christmas date is earlier than expected, but I’d celebrate this holiday in June if that’s when she was available.
When she mentioned an overnighter, I didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this.
The view from the penthouse is nothing short of amazing.
I mean, holy shit, I can see the entire city from up here.
Floor-to-ceiling windows cover the main room, giving a full vantage point of the booming city below us.
The living area has a plush black sectional creating a cozy space, perfect for making out in front of the white brick fireplace.
Once when we were younger, our parents splurged at Disneyland and got us a suite overlooking the park. This is infinitely better than that.
“What do you think? Is it okay?” Candace asks as she heads into the bedroom.
“Okay? This is a little too swanky for me. I feel like I should’ve won a few Grammys to even be holding a key card.
There’s gold everywhere. Like literally everywhere.
By the looks of that eighteen-person dining table, I’d say it’s made entirely of gold.
Is an alarm gonna go off if I touch something?
” I chase after her, hoping for some direction.
My free-with-purchase Victoria's Secret tote feels grungy making me wish I had real luggage. I know for a fact the duffel Candace brought is designer, the symbols are a dead giveaway, and I’ve seen like ten more displayed in her closet.
She’s finally at ease, in her element. “You can touch whatever you want. I thought this would be a fun getaway.” Her eyes sparkle as she takes in the main bedroom.
The bed is twice as big as hers and has a black and gold duvet that probably costs more than a new car.
Thankfully, there are no windows, ensuring the vibe is dark and moody.
The dresser is expertly carved with gold handles and an oversized mirror.
We haven’t even made it to the bathroom, but I’m sure the water is from the finest mountains and purified to enhance my collagen production or some shit.
“You don’t like it?” she asks, her smile faltering.
“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that I feel like I'm a kid covered in jam at a museum. This is just not my style. I would’ve been okay staying anywhere, but this is just a little out of my league.” I bite my lower lip, taking it all in, trying not to guess how much it’s costing her.
When I finally set my bag on the ground, hoping my makeup doesn’t explode all over the pristine white carpet, I make my way to the bathroom, the place I’ve been dreading. What if the toilet talks to me or worse, power washes my ass?
“Holy hell. Where am I? Mariah Carey's house?” There’s a silvery-grey marble shower big enough to hold an entire sports team.
The jet black claw-footed tub, stolen straight from a design magazine, is positioned in front of another massive window.
Great. I can shave my legs and spy on people shopping– how luxurious.
“I didn’t mean for you to feel uncomfortable. All I wanted was to do something nice and make you feel special. Sorry if I went overboard.” Her frown is like a punch to the gut.
“You went overboard, but it’ll be okay. Next weekend we can find a pay-by-the hour motel in an abandoned part of town, and we’ll be even.” I wink.
“Deal.” She smiles and leaves two kisses on my back.
Walking back over to the bed, I pick up the black velvet package.
Already I’m spiraling again, because why is even her wrapping paper expensive?
“What is this? Seriously, Candace. This is too much. This fancy ass hotel is enough of a Christmas present. Your gift is going to cost the same as a kid's meal, so I hope you like chicken nuggets and fries,” I mumble, not wanting to get into an argument about money while I’m standing on a million-dollar carpet.
“It’s nothing crazy. Just a little something I saw while shopping downtown and knew immediately you needed it.” She’s bouncing out of her skin with excitement, watching me tear through this paper like I’m a kid.
Opening presents with a crowd easily tops my list of embarrassing moments.
The gift-givers light up from across the room, eager to see your reaction.
Candace and I don’t quite have the same taste, and I can’t see her setting foot into a Hot Topic.
If I unintentionally give off bad energy or say the wrong thing, the entire night is ruined, and Candace will spend the next twenty-four hours apologizing for buying the wrong thing.
“Holy shit,” I say, shocked, once I have fully unwrapped the present.
“Did I do okay?” She bites her lower lip and picks at a loose string on her dress.
She did more than okay. She got the right thing.
More than the right thing, she got the thing.
“This is a signed first edition, to me. How does that even happen?
This author's been dead longer than I’ve been alive?
I ask skeptically, wondering what kind of Oujie board situation she got herself into getting me this signature.
“So, I was walking through this antique bookstore, trying to get inspired. I’d find a book that looked like something you’d read, or flip through one by an author you’ve mentioned.
After a couple of hours, I stumbled on this one, lodged behind some really beat-up encyclopedias.
When I opened it and saw the inscription, I knew I had to have it.
” Her cheeks are pulled tight as she smiles from ear to ear, beaming with pride.
“The store owner said Natalie was the love of his life who died in a fatal accident two nights before they were set to marry. He vowed never to pick up a pencil again, but years went by, and he felt her presence push him to write one last book.”
Tucking the book under my arm, I kiss the top of her nose. “Thank you.” It’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. To have someone truly see you is uncommon in a world so busy. No further words will express how much this means to me.