Coming into Focus, page 19
When we were in Florida, I did a photo shoot with a folky, acoustic band called County Fair. They were playing in a brewery with an event barn. It was Uncle Ken’s idea. At best, it’d be a small review article. Still, it wasn’t nothing, and I needed these opportunities to keep my foot in the door.
Jimmy attempted to stop me. “Willa, I know we agreed you could work on other things sometimes, but we couldn’t have foreseen you’d get a gig… on a night I… on a night I had a migraine coming on.”
“You’re not getting a migraine,” I said.
“He could be,” Eric said. “He’s quite accomplished at getting inconvenient disorders.”
“Giving them, too. I say that as someone he’s assigned dysentery to.”
From the back of the bus, Oliver made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
We were frozen with surprise for a moment. When I came back to myself, I said to Jimmy, “Remember we agreed? Sometimes you’re going to need to let me do things even when you don’t want to.”
“I’ll take some ibuprofen,” he said glumly. “Have a good time.”
“Drink some water, and call me if it gets worse.”
It wasn’t perfect, but he was doing his best. Like any other relationship worth having, we had to work at it.
The Oliver situation, on the other hand, wasn’t getting better. He completely shut me out. He didn’t even talk to me when I did his hair and makeup. He sat there like a big, pretty, angry statue. A warm, fragrant, super-hot, angry statue.
“Willa, I love Oliver,” Eric said, dropping on the couch next to me. “I do.”
We were in the green room, and I’d just gotten Oliver ready. He’d stalked out the second I was finished, and I sank into the couch, dejected.
I sighed. “Everybody does. Because he’s the most lovable of anyone.”
“I hate that he’s struggling,” Eric continued.
“So do I! I want to apologize, but he won’t even let me get started. I’m at a complete loss.”
“Jimmy, c’mere, help me out,” Eric said.
Jimmy stopped admiring himself in the mirror and sat at my other side. “Willa needs to force Oliver’s hand,” Eric said to him, talking over my head. “This is getting ridiculous. He’s being stubborn, and now he’s hurting both of them with it.”
Jimmy shrugged. “It is none of my business at all, Eric. I don’t even have an opinion on it. Boundaries. Right, Willa?”
“Yes!” I said. “Nicely done, Jimmy.”
He pointed at me and winked. “See? I’m learning.”
“Yes,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “Yes, you are, and I appreciate it.” I paused. “It’s only that in this particular circumstance, I’m at a loss, and—”
He dropped his head back on his shoulders and blew out a gusty sigh. “Oh my God, I thought you were never going to ask me. Who knows Oliver better than Eric and me? Nobody. Literally. Not even his own mother. We are uniquely qualified to give you advice, and I have been absolutely dying for you to ask. You could have already bagged that if you’d only asked sooner. Right, Eric? Because Oliver is gagging for it. Gagging. For. It. He needs the right shove so you guys can get past this and be together, and you’ll both be happy. So will I, and I know that’s not the point, but this is much worse than when you were both dancing around it. I woke up this morning, sure I was suffocating, and then I realized, no, I’m only choking on sexual tension. You could fix this if you would focus, Willa!”
I blinked. “Wow. Okay, one, we’re not talking about anyone gagging or bagging. I just want him to talk to me. Two, you are vastly overestimating his opinion of me. Three, we agreed you had enough coffee for the day.”
“I just finished what was in the pot, and there was hardly any in there. Focus, darling.” He patted my knee. “You’ve come to Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Eric for advice, and now we’re going to give it to you.”
I shook my head. “Well, now I’m reconsider—”
Jimmy covered my mouth with his hand. “No take-backs. Quickly, Eric. Go.”
“More short skirts, Will. He definitely noticed your black skirt the other day. We need him to look at you in spite of how determined he is not to. You need to get under his skin.”
Jimmy was impressed. With himself. “All your talk about choosing your own clothes, but who was it who chose the skirt? Was it you? No. It was not. Let’s keep going. Wear your leather pants. Oliver loves leather pants.”
“They’re kind of uncomfortable—”
“Oh, sorry,” he interrupted. “I thought we were discussing how to help you help Oliver stop being miserable! Are we talking comfort? Get your granny nightgown back on then, darling. By all means. Wait. Only you can’t because I threw it away when you were gone! It was the first thing out the motherfucking window, Willa, and I regret nothing!” He paused. “All right. That was a bit much. Why didn’t you dump the rest of the coffee? I’m always going to drink it if you leave it there. This is on you.”
Eric said, “Maybe walk with a bit more wiggle. Or, like, flip your hair around? Drop something and spend a long time leaning over to pick it up? I don’t know what tricks girls—I mean women—get up to. Just do whatever you can do to catch his eye. He stares at you when you’re not paying attention. Maximize that.”
“Right! Channel your inner Marilyn, Willa.” Jimmy said. “He’s as good at being stubborn as he is at everything else. The only thing that can override him is himself. You need to rouse his animal nature. You know how to do it.”
I was struggling to keep up. “Yes? I do?”
“Why are you saying it like you’re asking?” Jimmy frowned at me. “It’s not a question. Yes, you do.”
“Okay?”
“Definitely!” he insisted.
I fiddled with my shirt some more. “All right.”
“Why are you acting like you have no idea what to do? Do what you did to Benny Walker.”
“I didn’t do anything! Benny wanted you. I was the equivalent of slop on the pool table.”
“Other way round, darling,” Jimmy said. “I was the slop. And believe me, it was a first.”
“False. You were the target.”
He smiled at me. “You’re adorable, because you’re clueless. It’s good you have Eric and me, yeah?”
“Is it? I’m not sure any of this is helpful, actually.”
He gave me a disapproving frown. “You need to loosen up. For a cowgirl, you’re incredibly uptight. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I doubt very much it’s all you’re saying,” I said. “It never, ever is.”
“How can you expect—”
“See?”
“—things to change if you’re not going to do anything differently? You must understand that.”
Oliver came in then, and when he noticed I was in the room, his face went blank. When he thought it was just the boys, his expression was neutral. When he saw me, he turned to stone.
Something snapped in me. It was the moment the guilt evaporated, and I decided to force his hand.
I didn’t need advice from those two well-meaning, misguided boys.
I knew what Oliver liked, and it wasn’t leather pants or wiggly walks.
It was Just Willa.
Chapter Twenty-One
Once I remembered what Oliver liked about me, I set a new strategy.
The next night when he came in, I was in the back lounge with a blanket, a glass of wine, and a book. I had washed my face clean; my hair was in a sloppy bun, and I wore a T-shirt and leggings.
He stopped in his tracks and stared at me for a moment. His face softened before he caught himself. He doubled down on his mean face, but he’d already tipped his hand. I was on the right track.
He stayed in his bunk with the curtains closed tightly, but it was fine. I could handle baby steps as long as they were in the right direction. On Wednesday, he did a double-take before Mean Face slammed down.
On Thursday, he actually sat on the couch next to me while I stared unseeingly at a book. His laptop was open, and he wasn’t speaking to me, but he was there. He was skittish, but since I didn’t make any sudden movements, he stayed there until I went to bed.
A few hours later, I was startled awake when the bus stopped. I peeked out the window, and I was confronted with a gorgeous, empty beach. Waves were crashing on the sand. It could have been a movie set.
“Where are we?” I whispered to Tucker.
“Rest stop,” she muttered before climbing into her bunk. She was a woman of few words. I could respect that.
It certainly didn’t look like any rest stop I’d ever seen, but if there was time, there was something I wanted to do. I dressed quickly and rushed outside.
I ran down the sand until I was close to the water, then sat to watch the way the moonlight’s reflection swelled and scattered with every breaking wave. It was mesmerizing.
I felt more than heard the footsteps behind me: Oliver. Being on a moonlit beach with him would have been the most romantic thing in the world if things weren’t painful and awkward between us.
He sat in the sand next to me.
“Did you ask Tucker to stop for me?” He was the only one who would have.
I’d told him about how it was when Toby was first diagnosed. We had a dream family vacation planned… Disney World and a week in an oceanfront condo. My parents started saving for it before Toby was born, but then he got sick, mom left, and everything in my family changed forever.
“Yes.”
“Even though you’re angry?”
His voice was chilly. “I’m not angry. Things have changed, that’s all.”
If it was true, it would have been even worse, but I didn’t believe him.
He gave an exaggerated gesture toward the waves. “Don’t you want to go in the water?”
I shook my head. “I’ll just enjoy the view.”
His voice had a new edge to it when he spoke again. “You’ve never been in the ocean, Willa. Don’t you want to?”
I shrugged.
“You said you wanted to do it. Here you are. Now—what? Nothing? You’re going to change your mind for no reason? Turn your back on what you said you wanted?”
“It’s not for no reason,” I said, stung. “I’m scared, but I’m here. I’m just not going all the way in.”
“Being scared is a stupid excuse. Everybody’s scared.”
We weren’t talking about the water anymore. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I know I hurt you by leaving, and I should have called or messaged you while I was gone.” I crossed my legs and scooped small handfuls of sand, letting it run between my fingers as I talked. “I told myself that by making a clean break, I was respecting the relationship you have with Jimmy. Like, refusing to put you in the middle or make it awkward for you. Or that I was ripping the bandage off instead of letting things go on to be more painful later. I was just letting myself off the hook. The truth is I didn’t call because I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of how I feel about you. Felt. Feel. Whatever.” I paused. “I hate it when you look at me like you have been since I came back.”
“Fine. I lied. I’m angry.” His jaw clenched, and he stared at the water, giving me nothing, not even his mean face. “Why are you scared?”
I wrapped my arms around my knees and hugged my legs to my chest. “You don’t know me in my real life. This thing I’m doing with you? This isn’t how I am.”
“Keep going,” he said, his impatience obvious. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not like Jimmy. I don’t bond with people like he does. I’m close to Toby. Somewhat close to my uncle. Hope Harper is my friend. That’s it. I worked at the same coffee shop for years. I haven’t thought about my coworkers once since I left there. It never even occurred to me to keep in touch with any of them.”
“Nobody is like Jimmy. It’s a ridiculous comparison.”
“Fair. Okay, I’m a look-before-you-leap kind of girl. No, not even. I’m a don’t-leap-at-all kind of girl.”
“It sounds like there’s a ‘but.’ If we’re gonna have this conversation, keep going. Don’t keep making me prompt you. I don’t have the patience for it.”
Uh, obviously. “I’m trying! I met Jimmy, and I loved him right away. I met Eric, and he was funny and sweet, and I liked him right away. With you it was… there wasn’t time to process it. My emotions got too big too fast, and I haven’t ever experienced anything like that. It didn’t make sense. The more time I spent with you, the more overwhelmed I was. It was scary.”
He turned my face toward him. He was intense and frustrated with me, but I wanted to lean into his hand. I wanted to crawl into his lap and show him how much I wanted to stop talking.
“I need you to tell me, Willa,” he said.
“This is hard!”
“You know what else was hard? To let it sink in that you weren’t coming back. It was hard to believe feeling the way we did—or I felt the way I did, at least—you could leave like you did when the situation was totally salvageable. You could have come back. He wanted you to come back. You took your sweet time, and you never called me, or texted, or emailed, or did anything to suggest I’d ever meant anything to you. So keep fucking talking. Why are you scared?”
I got to my feet. “Because this isn’t a crush anymore! I’m not just attracted to the way you sound and your appearance and the way you are. I don’t just want you. It’s so much more. I’m calmer when you’re with me. When you’re not with me, I wish you were. When I wake up, you’re in my head. That’s what it’s like when I’m here, and how it was when I was at home. Me and my mom—a thing happened, and it hurt, and I wanted you. That’s more than an attraction. It feels a lot like falling in love, and I’m not brave enough to do that.”
He stood, too, and stepped toward me. “This isn’t how I am either, for the record. This angry, grudge-holding guy? This isn’t me. The lads had no idea what to do with me. I couldn’t believe you were gone. I would never have left you without a word. I assumed what we had mattered to you because it mattered to me, but you bailed.”
I stomped a foot in the sand. “It doesn’t mean it wasn’t real, or it didn’t matter to me! It means you’re braver than I am. That’s all.”
“No, it isn’t all,” he insisted. “Because brave implies a choice. I can’t get you out of my head no matter what I do.” He ran a hand through his hair, turned away from me, and then turned back. “When you were gone, I tried to force you from my mind. Even now you’re back, I almost wish I could. Because this is terrible.”
He walked away from me. The breaking waves echoed in the silence between us.
He cursed quietly to himself, and he came back to me. “This isn’t done. I can’t stop. I am constantly fighting to keep my mind off you. The whole day, I’m aware of exactly where you are and what you’re doing. All night, you’re right there. If you roll over in your bunk, I can feel it. If you sigh in your sleep, I can hear you, and I can’t stop wondering what you’re dreaming and if you’re warm enough or want another pillow. I worry that your fucking feet are cold because Jimmy won’t let you sleep with your socks on and you’ve stopped sleeping with him because you guys convinced yourselves I care. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter but hoarse. “When you left the bus tonight, I promised myself I wasn’t going to follow you, but I couldn’t help it. Most of me doesn’t want to let you back in, but I’m not sure I’m going to win the battle with myself. You’re not the only one who’s scared, Willa. I’m scared of what it means if I can’t get you out of my head. I’m scared to take a chance on you when I’m not sure you’re tough enough for it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I put a hand on his arm. “I came back. Does that make a difference?”
He didn’t shrug off my touch, which was a good sign. I let my hand run up his arm and back down. I captured his hand. He allowed it, but he didn’t come closer, and he didn’t touch me. All I got was the barest curling of his fingers around mine.
“You came back for Jimmy.”
I shook my head. “I came back for me. It’s what I wanted. I haven’t ever had this kind of… I fit with you guys, differently and better than I fit anywhere else. I wanted that back, and I’m glad I have it. Even when you’re twenty feet away, glaring at me ferociously, at least we’re in the same room.”
He dropped my hand and went to the surf and let the waves wash over his feet. Eventually, he came back to me and sat back in the sand again. “I didn’t handle it well when you left. Drank a lot. Was a real prick to everyone. Eric said I should get laid. He said it the whole time you were gone.”
My stomach churned. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Yes,” he snapped. Then he sighed. He looked at the sky. “No. But it would be nice to stop thinking for a while.”
“I hate Eric.” The two-timing bastard.
The ghost of a smile. “You do not. He stopped saying it once I told him I’d talked to you anyway.”
He was silent, watching the waves. “Even if you needed to go, you shouldn’t have done it the way you did,” he said. “You kissed me, in broad daylight, not a sneaky, stolen thing. You let me believe we were building something real, and then you disappeared. Why should I trust you now? If I even can.”
Fair. I understood the need to close the door on someone who’d left you, but I wasn’t ready to give up. “I’m going to stay for now, but this isn’t my real life. My future isn’t with you guys. I want to be a photographer, and I can’t be if I’m tied to Corporate. The way I feel about you, whether it goes somewhere or not, it can’t be permanent. Our worlds aren’t the same. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea. But I… I like you. A lot.”
He was turned away from me again, staring at the water.
I touched his arm. “Oliver.”
“I wasn’t asking you for forever, Willa. I wanted a right-then.”
That brought us to the only important question. “Do you want a right-now?”
He didn’t answer me. He stood and pulled off his shirt. “Come on.”
