Lesson That Taught Love, page 13
“Because the more I know about the people you care about, the more I know the motivation behind why you’re seeking help.
It felt silly as heck trying to describe my mama and Beck to a complete stranger. We didn’t talk about anything remotely related to my service or my PTS. If a therapist was anything, it just being plain nosy.
I was forced to admit I’d never had the best relationship with my mama growing up, but that it’d been mostly my fault. I was just a dumb kid, I guess. I didn't see all the things she did, just the things she didn’t, and having to admit that made me feel guilty about the past.
I mean, my mama wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. All that mattered now was that I loved her and that I’d take care of her for as long as she was living. Making up for all that time wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t do much but try.
What made me the most nervous was thinking about what’d she ask when it came to the nature of my relationship with Beck. Mainly because I was afraid it’d turn into a conversation on what I wanted it to be. I was relieved to know the hour was up before we had to delve into that subject with any substance.
Since I was employed, and couldn’t afford to take the long trip, or day off once a week, Dr. Clark suggested a schedule once a month, twelve in the afternoon every first Saturday. I could’ve done worse, but I wasn’t so sure her brand of therapy could help me. But for the people in my life, the will of me was going to try.
Dr. Clark instructed me to get an appointment card from her secretary so I wouldn’t forget our next session, but first Saturday of every month seemed straight forward enough for me. Just for kicks, I took it anyway, as I buried it into my jeans pocket on the way out.
Beck sat up and closed the distance between us, wearing a nervous grin as she stuffed her hands into her back pockets. “Well?” How did it go?”
I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to lie for her sack or not, but even if I did, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to hide my lack of enthusiasm. “I don’t feel any different.” We walked and talked, making our way to the building’s exit, so we could get that start on the ride back to Wheelwright.
“I’m sure it just takes time,” Beck said, offering a weak smile.
It seemed like a good enough time as any for that cigarette I’d been craving. I hadn’t brought any but was grateful Beck had left some in the car.
I edged into the passenger side seat, waiting for the car lighter to heat up. With no warning, Beck leaned in through my open door and wrapped her arms around the back of my neck. “I’m real proud of you,” she said, leaning out. “I ain’t never told you that, but it doesn't make it any less true.”
I thought about walking out of that room over and over, but I kept thinking at how disappointed Beck might be in me if I had. I wanted to show her I was trying, but a part of me was melting away at her sharing that with me. “Thank you, Beck. Coming from you, that means a lot.”
She walked over to the driver’s side and closed the door behind her. “Well, let’s get going. Long way ahead of us and all.”
Chapter 10
Beck
Tonight was one of those sluggish shifts. The ones where the only way to feel like you weren’t sitting around was to wipe down the entire diner before the employees ever made use of the tables. Joy’s wasn’t empty, but it might as well have been since the few regulars we could count on didn’t order much outside of beer.
Wednesdays were probably the least profitable day to be scheduled since it was in the middle of a period between spending most your check from the previous week or trying to hold onto it. Come Friday, we’d be up in our elbows in people depending on whether it was a holiday or not. For now, nothing saved either of us from all the free time on our hands.
One of the things I hated on slow days was working with Carrie-Ann. Maybe hated was a strong word. Annoyed was a much better comparison. With that girl, there was no such thing as awkward silence. She always found a way to talk about something or someone. Didn’t matter how silly or irritating the issue was, I could always count on hearing her voice over crickets.
It served a purpose when the topic had nothing to do with me, but if Carrie-Ann and her evil sister Minnie were good for anything outside of being my friends, it was poking, prodding and elbowing their way through my love life. As if it existed, that is.
It was different when you had only one best friend. But when you had two, who'd been born at the same time and shared most the same thoughts, you had trouble. The one thing I could always count on with twins? If you weren’t interested in three people knowing your business, it was best to tell neither of them. Even though a smart person could count between twins and assume that’s only two, Minnie couldn’t keep a damn secret if you paid her to when it came to her husband.
Since grade school, telling either of them meant you might as well be telling both, but ever since Minnie got hitched, if I wasn’t interested in the entire tribe knowing, it was best to keep things I wanted private to myself.
“So what’s the scoop on you and Kit Parrish? Y’all an item or what?” Carrie-Ann asked while gathering her 4A curls into a pineapple with the help of a scrunchie. Didn’t she have a table to wipe down for the fourth time?
I walked the mop bucket over into the supply closet, pouring the dirty water out into the drain on the floor. “We’re just friends.” It seemed a good time as any to change the cleaning solution, so that next time I used the mop, the water left a stronger pine smell.
“Child. Lucky Parrish, that man ain’t just friends with no woman. Y’all are either friends or friends.” She said, eyeing me suspiciously. She was probably trying to catch me in a lie by trying to provoke guilt, but whether I told the truth , she wouldn’t believe it.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of friends you’re talking about, but it’s not that you’re thinking. Kit has just been fixing some things around my house. If you must know.”
“If it’s the Kit we are all aware of, I’m sure he’s fixing other things.” She interrupted, with just a little snark.
“I mean, we’re friends. We talk like friends do. Like you and I are doing at this very moment.”
She guffawed under her breath, not the least bit convinced, as she took a new rag to wipe down the prep counter. Pretty soon, we’d be seeing our reflections on the floors, the counters, the tables. We needed more customers or more to do.
“Rebecca Alice Dobson, I’ve been your best friend nearly nineteen years—”
“One of my best friends.” I corrected. “Though I will admit, you two throw me for a loop sometimes. Difficult to know which is which until you start running your mouth.”
Carrie-Ann threw up her hands, squinting through her eyes like she was tired of me interrupting her. “Yeah but Minnie don’t count since we’re almost like the same person. Now, back to the subject before you rudely tried to change it without me noticing. I’ve been your friend for a long time, and I can tell when you’re lying to me.” She must not have been that good at it because today was one of the few times I wasn’t lying.
“Come on, you can tell me. You got a thing for that man, don’t you?” She said, wearing a smile so confident, it was a shame she was wrong.
“No!”
“See, that’s how I know you’re lying. Everybody at one point done had a thing for that man, even me, and I don’t even like white boys.” Her reason for that was hilarious; said they reminded her too much of her father. I couldn’t help thinking they couldn’t all remind her of him, but then again, I couldn’t blame her. Who wants to date their dad?
“Are you going anywhere with this?” I asked, hopefully as visibly annoyed as I felt. With her hands rested behind her, she hoisted herself onto an empty counter, crossing her feet at the ankle.
“I just want you to be careful, is all. Men like that rarely ever change. Leaving behind a trail of broken hearts on the way to getting what they want.”
She had a point, but that was assuming we’d ever go there. The thought of it was a gray area; I had no idea if I ever wanted to pursue something more than friendship with Kit. But Carrie-Ann was still working when I’d talked him down during his episode, so her opinion of him hadn’t changed, unlike her sister’s.
“Plus, he doesn’t go anywhere. Ain’t seen him for more than a minute since the barbecue. I don’t get how you go from everyone’s favorite person in town to some cooped up ole Boo Radley.”
Usually, I’d just let Carrie-Ann talk, even when she didn’t know what she was referring to. But this was more personal than I’d ever admit to myself. Kit wasn’t a bad guy. “He gets claustrophobic sometimes, Carrie. Didn’t your sister tell you what happened that time I left from my shift? Being around a lot of people tends to make him anxious. You know he served, and things get crazy out there. Don’t be so quick to judge him.”
Carrie-Ann hopped off the counter at the sound of the bell ringing up front. Before opening the kitchen door, she turned, placing a hand on her protruding hip. I should’ve known something was coming just from her expression, all smug-like and evil. With a look like that, I could always count on her and that sister of hers teaming up on me. Trust me, it was just as powerful when they were alone. “Well, you must not have a thing for Lucky, but I can tell you like him. And not just regular like him. More like, defend-his-character-to-the-ends-the-earth like him. Either he’s already in your pants, or he's in your mind. My biggest challenge is guessing which.” Carrie-Ann didn't waste another second and twirled on the ball of her foot and walked into the employees only door. I always knew she was the evil one. The quiet twin always was.
Before I knew it, there were two more tables to clean. Carrie-Ann knew she could’ve taken care of both with her eyes closed, but she'd been more interested in having me on the work floor with her so she could pester me for more information.
A small family of four looked like they’d order a decent amount, even better if the tip matched the order. When I saw Carrie-Ann pass me, I asked if she could bring me out another ketchup since she was heading toward the kitchen.
“Since you’re already heading back there, could you fill my ketchup bottle?”
“Look who needs me now. And you won’t even tell me whether you like Kit or not.”
I rolled my eyes, irritated that she wouldn’t give up. “You’re going to make me lie on a bottle of ketchup?”
“You ain’t got to lie if you tell the truth. Guess it doesn't matter either way since I’ll just get you the whole way home.” A devilish grin spread across the bottom of her face, as she backed into the kitchen. That’s where she was mistaken; Kit was picking me up. A part of me couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she saw she’d wasted all that time for nothing.
The minute Kit’s truck pulled in lot’s driveway I was a few seconds short of making a clean getaway, but with me trying to rush and all, I nearly forgot about how he preferred I drive so I wouldn't have to speak so loud and had to move to switch seats. Before I could adjust the position, Carrie-Ann was already at my window arms crossed with pursed lips. While I couldn't see her feet, I know she was tapping one in irritation. I had no choice but to roll down the window and address her. Had Kit not been sitting next to me I would've taken off faster than a hot knife through a stick of butter.
For a second, she just stood there taking her time to look me up and down, or as much as she could see me from Kit’s truck window. “Mmmhmm,” She finally said.
“Will you say what you got to say so I can be done with my workday?” I came close to yelling. Instead of being nosy like she always was, Carrie-Ann directed her words to Kit, flirtatious and mesmerizing-like. “Bye Lucky. You take care of my girl now.”
He flashed her a knowing smile, leaning in like I wasn't even there. “Always. Bye Carrie-Ann,” he said waving as she finally backed away from the car, allowing me to back out. The sight of her standing there gawking was out the rearview for good when I pulled out the driveway. But it was only replaced with Kit's invasive questions.
“I’m almost afraid to ask what that was all about." Offering me a handful of soft, chewy caramel pieces, before he stuffed two in his mouth.
“When you've got a set of twins as friends, you can't be sure what's going on in their heads. All that freaky twin communication. Relaying messages to one another. It freaks me out is what it does. They think it works on me, too.”
“Well, I think it's cute how much your friends dote on you like they want to protect you. You have that effect on people. I know you have an effect on me." As much as I hated to admit it, I fought the urge to smile at the thought of that being true. A bag set between us took a dive off the car seat to the area where Kit's feet were. I’d taken a sharp turn, barely breaking to stop, as I quickly apologized when he reached down to pick it up. To my surprise, it was a small stack of books.
“Someone’s been shopping.” I teased.
“They were supposed to be a surprise before you decided to take the fast and furious route.” He said, gathering the books on his lap.
“They’re for me?" I couldn't think of a single reason Kit would spend his time buying me books, especially when he didn't read much.
“Yes they are, but I must confess something. I sort of just let the store clerk talk me into anything. I'm not sure you'll even like any of them."
"Well, let me be the judge of that. Show me the covers."
He hesitated. “Don't tell me you're one of those covers snobs."
“No,” I lied. “But I'll be able to tell which ones I'd be likely to take a chance on from their covers alone.”
Kit sighed louder than he’d meant to, met with a shrug. “Fine.” He held up the first one, as I took a short break from the road to glance at the cover and cringe.
“Ugh. That's mystery. I've only read a few of those that I liked, but I'm impatient. I tend to flip to the back of the book to see how the story unfolds if I get bored. What's the next one that you have?”
He held out another for me to assess but this time it had shiny letters, a play between different colors, in a dystopian background. Definitely a thriller. “I sort of like thrillers,” I said trying not to hurt his ego. He went through all this trouble after all. Even if they weren't my usual reads, I’d give them a chance.
“You can tell all that by the cover alone?" He said through furrowed brows.
“Certain themes convey different genres."
“They all look like books to me." He said laughing. “I know for sure you'll like this one.” He said holding up the next book, waiting for me to come to a stop sign so I could glance at the cover. It was one of those duchess-style romances, historical I think.
“Yeah, I don't read too many romance novels."
“See, that's where I miscalculated.” He said, sure of himself.
I scrunched my nose in Kit's direction, curious to examine that last comment. “Just curious, why did you think I liked romance?"
Kit pursed his lips, which transferred into his posture with a casual shrug. “I don't know. You just kinda seemed romantic. Figure it transcended in your reading material."
I tried to hold in a laugh but instead kept it friendly so he wouldn’t assume I was making fun of him. “Thank you by the way," I flirted rolling my neck towards him. “I’m always looking for new things to read, and it's real considerate despite you not being an active leader yourself."
“Well, I live to please.” Kit joked back, in a light manner.
It was too soon to tell, but in the time Kit agreed to seek therapy he seemed more outgoing. He didn't talk about his sessions, but he didn't have to for me to notice he was a lot less closed off. I'd never seen it first since he was helping me with so many things around the house, but he’d only enjoyed the company of three people, and only had a steady rotation of his house, my house, work in on occasion, Joy's.
I was thinking after his episode, that he was just looking for fewer situations to cause triggers. But I knew if anything could help ground him, it was the desire not to scare his mother again. That was a good enough excuse as any.
It was nice to see him in better spirits, even if it came at the cost of just being friends. Which let me tell you, isn’t easy with someone as persistent as Kit. I’d used just about every excuse I could think of to turn down Kit gently, so it wasn't the best time to think about dating. His health should come first, and I didn't want his commitment going to somewhere other than himself. Even if he was sweet and just as sexy as he could be, doing absolutely nothing.
He swears I'm just making excuses for everything because I always had one. But it's because I'm thinking of him and not just myself.
“So I guess you haven't put that first date into any consideration."
“You do not quit!" I teased.
I had to put consideration in it, but couldn't help but be reluctant. What girl wouldn't? “You got enough on your plate to be thinking about a silly date." As I smiled, reaching over. I rubbed my fingers against his three-week-old beard and scratched my nails against it. “Plus, look at this," I reached back over on my side of the car.
“I already made it clear I'm not going anywhere until ‘that’ is taken care of." Kit admittedly worked facial hair quite nicely, but the look versus the feel were two different things. It was one thing to think it was sexy, but all that hair scratching against your face, neck or anywhere else a person kissed you wasn't as appealing in comparison. He knew I liked clean-cut men, so if he wanted that date, he was technically sabotaging himself.
“Again with your excuses," Kit laughed, making the moment lighter than it was. Small talk and flirting distracted me from the surprise waiting for me as I was pulling up to my house.
My driveway had a car sitting there waiting for me, my Chrysler sedan to be exact. Mr. Wilson must've finally gotten around to towing my car to my house.
“Well, surprise surprise. I guess promises are good for something," I said, referencing the car. “Even if it does take two months." I joked. My car had been on the fritz since the last time I saw it, so I couldn't help but let it escape my mind until being a few feet away from it again.
