Into the light, p.8
Into the Light, page 8
“Is your mom here?” I don’t want to be rude and not introduce myself.
“She’s on break.”
“Oh.” I’m sure that timing was intentional but I try not to dwell on it. “Are we driving?” I ask as I hurry after him.
“Nope. It’s a nice night so I figured we’d eat outside. It’s walking distance from here.” He leads me to a park. There’s a retaining wall that runs along the edge. “This OK?”
I nod as I hop up.
He hands me my salad and peels the paper off his wrap. I open the package of plastic utensils and place the napkin on my lap.
“Next time I recommend the buffalo chicken wrap.”
“Oh, is there going to be a next time?” The moment the words are out of mouth I realize he didn’t necessarily mean we’d come back together. I feel my face heat at my assumption.
He bumps his leg against mine. “That depends on how you feel about the pie.”
I’m glad he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I suck at this dating thing, if that’s what we’re doing. “I’m so excited to taste it,” I tell him. “It’s rare I eat dessert.”
“You don’t eat dessert?”
“Not usually. I’m a ballerina, remember? Comes with the territory.”
“Ahh. I didn’t realize that was a requirement.”
“It’s not a requirement. But maintaining a certain weight is strongly encouraged.”
“Is that hard for you?”
“It’s all I know. Makes it easier that way, I guess. You’re corrupting me, first with the soft drinks and now with the pie.”
“So I’m a bad influence?” His tone is teasing but his eyes hold a hint of uncertainty.
“No. Far from it.” My voice comes out soft. I look at him to let him know I mean it, but he’s staring at his food. We sit for a few minutes in silence and I can sense him retreating back into himself. I need to bring him back to me.
“Know what I would choose if I were going to indulge?”
He shakes his head.
I think for a minute. “A Twinkie.”
“Seriously.” He scrunches his nose and manages to look adorable. “That’s what you’d pick?”
“Hey, don’t judge. I was once at a birthday party and that’s what they gave out for dessert. I guess it was the kid’s favorite and he insisted on it instead of having cake. I thought I was eating a slice of heaven.”
“If you thought that was heaven, try this.” He takes the lid off the pie container and hands me a fork. He watches me with interest. I take a small slice off the edge and bring it to my lips. I close my eyes as a burst of flavor hits my tongue. I think I let out a small sigh.
“Good, huh?”
I nod as I scoop up more and take a dollop of the whipped cream this time.
“It’s soo good. Tart and sweet.”
“Told ya.”
About halfway through I realize he hasn’t taken a bite. Embarrassed, I put my fork down. “Aren’t you going to have some?”
“Nope. Seeing this is your first Lulu’s pie, I think you should get it all to yourself.”
“Well I’m stuffed. Are you sure you don’t want the rest?” He shakes his head. “I’ll take the rest home,” I say as I close the lid. “Maybe I’ll give the leftovers to my father.” Peaches are his favorite fruit. I only know that because my mom leaves a bowl out for him each week.
“Are you two close?”
“We used to be.” I shrug. “It’s probably stupid that I keep trying to find small ways to win his affection.”
He places his hand on my arm. Just when I was slipping into a dark place, it grounds me. “He’s your dad. It’s not stupid at all. I’m just sorry you have to try.”
His green eyes hold mine and all I see is understanding. My eyes fill with tears, which I hastily blink away. His hand that was on my arm slides down and he weaves his fingers through mine. We walk back toward my car, holding hands. I know it’s such a simple gesture, but I love being connected to him even in a small way.
The ten minutes to the Green Oaks parking lot isn’t long enough. He tells me to pull up to the entrance and he’ll grab his bike, which is out back.
“Thanks for dinner,” I tell him.
“I guess we’ll have to go back, seeing as though you liked the pie.”
“I guess we will.” This time I can’t contain my smile.
“Goodbye, Shay.”
“Bye.”
On the drive home I ponder if he thinks of me as a friend. Even though he asked me out again it doesn’t mean it’s a date. He didn’t try to kiss me. But then I think of his hand in mine, and I’d like to think most friends don’t hold hands on their first date.
I walk in, humming, and set the Lulu’s bag on the kitchen counter. My father is seated at the table, reading the newspaper.
“I brought you leftovers.” He doesn’t even lift his eyes or nod in acknowledgement. “It’s a slice of homemade peach pie, your favorite.” Still no response so I babble on. “I went to this diner across town that has the most delicious desserts.”
This seems to have caught his attention. I take out the container and leave the bag on the counter. It’s not one of those generic plastic bags you get at every restaurant that just says “thank you” on it. It’s a bright yellow card stock with a cutout handle and the cursive logo imprinted at the top. There’s something cheerful about it and I plan to reuse it rather than throw it away.
My back is to him but the sudden scrape of his chair against our hardwood floors startles me. I’m about to put the container in the fridge when he yanks my arm and the box drops at my feet. In a dramatic gesture he picks it up, then hurls the box across the room. It strikes my mom’s kitchen chair, splitting the box open, and bits of crust and filling drip from the pale fabric. His hand still circles my wrist in a vicelike grip. I look up at his face, red with anger, and his eyes are narrowed on mine.
“Ow. You’re hurting me.”
His grip only tightens. “You are never to go to that place again! Do you hear me?”
His voice is dangerously low, but I catch every word. I nod, wide-eyed, and he releases me. Just then, my mother walks in.
“What’s going on in here?”
I wait for my father to respond, rubbing my sore wrist, but he says nothing. My mother surveys the room, the Lulu’s bag on the counter, the crushed container lying on the floor, and the pie that I thought would be a kind gesture, something to win my father over, now smeared on the fabric of her microfiber chair. Without acknowledging her question, he stomps out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. “Richard!” she calls after him in a harsh tone she usually reserves for me and Kat. I gather some paper towels but my mother stops me. When I meet her gaze, I expect her to be angry with me too, but instead she looks regretful. “Leave it. I’ve got this.”
I nod even though I don’t understand any of this and flee for the safety of my room. I lie down on my bed, wondering why my father got so worked up over a piece of pie. Tears prick my eyelids and I swallow past the lump in my throat. I know I did nothing wrong, but he’s never reacted so violently before. That version of my father scared me.
My mother knocks on the door a short time later. “Victoria, can I come in?”
“Yes.”
She closes the door behind her and perches on the edge of my bed. “I’ve never thought to tell you, because I never thought I’d need to. Please don’t ever visit Lulu’s again.”
“Father made that point clear. I was just trying to do something nice for him.”
“I know.”
“He grabbed me and it was kind of scary. I’ve never seen him so angry.”
She passes me a small ice pack. “For your wrist.”
“Thanks.” I wince as the cold makes contact with my skin. “Why can’t I go back there?”
She sighs and presses her hands against her forehead. “When your father and I were first married, he went in there to talk to the owner about buying the property. It’s on a valuable corner, and your father wanted to buy up the whole block to build condos. The owner didn’t want to sell.”
“So dad’s angry because he couldn’t buy one store? He owns everything else in this town,” I mutter.
“It goes beyond that. It’s a family run business dating back years. Frank, that’s the owner, never had any intention of selling. But your father wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kept going back and sweetening the deal. On one of those visits, he met Sylvia.”
I perk up, not expecting this turn of events.
“Sylvia was Frank’s youngest daughter. And dad took a liking to her. I’m not sure if it’s because she was forbidden, but they entered into a relationship.”
“He cheated on you?”
She nods, her face a mask of pain. I’ve never seen my mother express such raw emotion before. “I don’t think he ever told Sylvia he was married. But her father knew. Your dad got her pregnant. And Frank was livid. A very strict Catholic man. He and your father had it out. After that there was a fire at the diner. Sylvia was presumed to be inside at the time. I never learned of the details, and they couldn’t say if it was arson. Your father changed after that. He became hardened—a stranger to me and to you girls.” She swipes at her eyes. “I tried to reach him, but he was already gone.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry.” It’s the first time I’ve called her mom. Something in her face softens at the words.
“He never told me any of this, but I knew. People talk, especially when it comes to the wealthiest man in town.”
That explains it. His change in demeanor toward us. We were the family he no longer wanted.
“Anyway, I just thought you deserved to know. Let’s keep this between us, shall we?”
“Of course. But why didn’t you confront him?
“Some things are better left unsaid.” She arranges her features back into the mask she usually wears, and my mom is gone, replaced by Eleanor. She pats my hand and leaves the room.
As I process this information, I realize I just got a glimpse of my real mother. The woman she was before my dad hardened her too. I resent him all the more for lamenting over something that could never be, when he already had it in his grasp. He hates Frank for keeping him and Sylvia apart, someone who wasn’t really his. When all this time he’s been keeping us apart from something we could have been: a family.
Chapter 17
Jeremy – Severing Ties
I stare at myself in the mirror as I dab the stain from my shirt. That was an unexpected turn of events. I followed Shay simply to give her a hard time. There’s an earnestness and a naïveté in her wanting to establish a rapport between us. She acts as if we’re old friends who recently became reacquainted. Not former lovers who crashed and burned. Well, I can’t forget the past. Nor do I want to. Even if I did, unlike Shay, I couldn’t escape it.
My challenge was in jest. I didn’t expect Shay to rise to the occasion. But she did, in spades. I wanted to reject her. I wanted nothing more than her to feel its sting. But when she got close to me, I caved. I hate myself for it. I hate that I was weak and my body betrayed me. Her touch, so familiar, brought me back to a time when I wanted nothing more than to feel her hands on me. In my head I can rationalize all the reasons why I should’ve pushed her away. But chemistry is an intangible thing. And we’ve always had it. Frustrated, I dry my hands and make my way back to the table. Shay is already gone. I should’ve expected it. She’s a master at leaving things unfinished. I say my goodbyes and head outside. Shay is waiting by the valet stand.
“Shay.”
She turns to me, her arms crossed, already in defensive mode. “Look, we’re going to be together in this wedding. I know we have history. But for Rob and Veronica’s sake, can’t we put the past behind us and start fresh? It’s been a long time.”
Is she kidding me? She wants me to forget just like that? “No.”
Her eyes go wide and she says in a quiet voice, “What happened to you?”
“You, Shay. You happened to me.” I bite out every word, my resentment too strong to hide.
The color drains from her face and she bites her lip. Then she turns her back to me. I can tell by the heave of her shoulders she’s crying. I never could stand to see her cry. But this is the first time I’m the cause of her tears. That fact shouldn’t bother me after all that’s happened, but something twists in my gut.
The air outside is still. It’s as if someone pressed the pause button. That’s exactly how I feel—in limbo, caught between the past and the present. No more words are spoken between us even though there’s so much left to say. So much unfinished business. We never got to rehash what happened. But I can’t bring myself to have that conversation. Nor can I bring myself to walk away.
The valet arrives with her car, a Jetta, and she promptly hands him cash before sliding into the driver’s seat. Her movements are hurried, and she puts the car into drive before she’s even finished buckling her seatbelt. I remain standing on the sidewalk, watching her taillights grow smaller as she puts more distance between us. She pulls over and parks about a block ahead. On their own accord, my feet move in her direction. I shake my head and my lips curl in amusement. She finally got her Jetta. My mind drifts back in time, Shay pulling into my driveway.
“Nice car.”
She shrugged, embarrassed.
“This is my parents’ doing. All I wanted was a Jetta for my sixteenth birthday. My parents insisted on a Mercedes.”
“Totally normal for most sweet sixteen presents.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s all to make a statement. But it’s the wrong kind if you ask me. Someday when I save up enough money, I’m going to buy myself one.”
“You’re going to save up for a Jetta?”
“Yep.”
“Why not splurge on something fancy if you can afford it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care about fancy things. I’m nothing like my parents.”
I wanted to believe her. But she turned out to be exactly like them.
When I’m a few feet away from her parked car, I stop. Careful to maintain a distance, I peer through the passenger window. Her head is slumped over the steering wheel, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. I walk away before she sees me. Fuck! I catch a cab a few blocks ahead. My foot taps the floorboard, impatient. I’m on edge and need an outlet for my aggression.
“Where to?”
I give the driver the address for The Vault. As I stare out the window Shay’s face fills my mind, those cornflower blue eyes full of hurt. I pull out my phone and Google her address. It’s weird typing her name in the search bar. I’ve made sure never to look into her whereabouts. I stare at the results. Against my better judgment, I remove the word “address” and filter by image. My screen transforms and her presence fills the car. The driver slows at a red light. Before I lose my nerve, I tell him there’s been a change in plans. What the hell am I doing? This is a very bad idea. The cab stops in front of her building. I know I shouldn’t be here. But when it comes to Shay, I find myself doing things I wouldn’t normally do. As much as I try to fight it, she’ll always have a hold over me. It’s time to sever the ties.
Chapter 18
Then, Jeremy
I wasn’t expecting to ask Shay out. It just kind of happened. But I’m glad that I did. She’s sweet, down to earth, and surprisingly fiery at times. When I get home, I tell gramps about my night. He’s snoring in his recliner, but I had to tell someone. A while later my mom comes home from work. I’m watching TV with gramps, who’s still snoring.
“Rumor has it you brought a girl into the diner tonight.”
“Word travels fast.”
“Why didn’t you introduce me?” she asks, hands on her hips.
“I haven’t even taken her on a date yet. I thought it was a bit early to have her meet you.”
“You took her there for dinner. Sounds like a date to me.”
I shrug. “She was hungry. I was going anyway.”
“And you just happened to stop by when I was on break, huh?”
“What can I say? It was a coincidence.”
She pulls out a seat at the kitchen table and indicates I should do the same.
“What’s really going on here? I sense you like this girl but you have reservations.”
I should’ve known better than to try to get anything past my mom.
“She comes from money and has a complicated relationship with her parents. I’m not sure she’s the kind of girl that’s right for me.”
“You just described her family. Not her.”
“But her family is part of her.”
“Yes. But they’re not the only thing that defines her.”
My mom was always smart. I know she’s right. Any hang ups I have are because of my own insecurities.
“You’ll meet her, I promise.”
“So you plan to see her again?
I smile. “Yeah, I plan to see her again.”
“That’s my boy!” gramps yells from the other room.
I look at my mom and we both laugh. It’s only been a few hours since she dropped me at my car. But I’m not one to play games. Now that the idea of asking her out is on my mind, I’m impatient to do it. I shoot her a text.
Me: I had a nice time. Let’s make it official next time. Friday night?
She responds right away.
Shay: Sounds great. Good luck finding something that tops Lulu’s.
Me: Challenge accepted
The next afternoon I’m working the Clubhouse. Where do you take a girl on a first date when her family owns half this town? I ponder this as I ring up receipts from the day.
“Go old school,” Pete says. “An arcade, that sort of thing.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“I still can’t believe you finally asked her out. It’s about time, dude.”
“You wanna give me shit? Go ahead. I don’t hear about you going on any dates.”
“Oh, I date. Just no one worth mentioning, yet. Hey, maybe Shay has a friend–”
