Chapter 16: Bethany
Kyle had lunch with me and then, reluctantly, he kissed my hair. “I should go,” he said.
I looked into his eyes. We were in the kitchen together, tidying up. I nodded.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess you should, Kyle.”
He smiled at me. “Okay.”
We leaned toward each other. He kissed me. I closed my eyes and shivered as he held me close.
“Well,” he said, walking to the kitchen door, “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
I grinned. “Well, I could try and keep you here,” I said with a grin. “But I think you could easily overpower me.”
He laughed. “If I wanted to.”
My smile spread across my face. “I hope you wouldn’t.”
He pulled a face.
We both laughed. I tried to keep my manner light and cheerful, even though I was sad. I didn’t want him to go. If he went, I might never see him again.
We only have four more days in the same town.
“Well, I will have to go past the doctor,” he said with a tired exhalation as he reached Mom’s front door. “I need to get a note so I can prove I was ill.”
I smiled. “You were badly ill,” I said with a laugh. “So bad I had to resuscitate you.”
“Mm. Mouth to mouth.”
“Quite.”
He leaned in and we kissed. I felt my body tingling and I pressed myself against him, my arms clasping hold of him firmly.
He stepped away and I wished again that he didn’t have to go. He paused in the doorway, looking at me with those gray eyes soft and smiling. I could almost see a question in them, if I chose to. I didn’t want to ask what it was.
“Well,” I said brightly. “You better go. At least it’s cleared up—I thought it might rain today. But it’s sunny now.”
“Great,” he nodded, turning to look through the window. “Well, see you.”
“See you,” I said. My voice was tight in my throat.
We looked at each other for a long while, neither of us saying anything. I drank in the sight of him—his broad shoulders, that narrow waist, muscly legs—wanting to write it in my thoughts and never forget. He smiled at me.
“See you,” he said again.
“Bye.”
He went through the door and closed it. I stood there. Listened to the footfall on the path, to the sound of the gate. His car in the street, starting up and going off. Then silence. The empty street outside. The sound of birds.
Whew.
My heart ached. I made myself turn around.
“Come on, Bethany Hayworth,” I said tightly. “Make some coffee. You need some.”
I marched back into the kitchen and sat at the table. It made me remember having breakfast with him—the way he’d sat at my left-hand side, that slow uncertain smile on his face, watching me.
Dammit.
I hated the feeling of his silent presence, smiling at me, out of reach. It made the emptiness worse. I needed to do something. I stood and walked through the hallway and into the living room. I sat down and drank my coffee and tried to forget about the morning.
Images flowed into my mind. That lean body. Those gray eyes. That hesitant smile.
I leaned back on the couch and let the sweet tingle of how wonderful he had made me feel, flow through my body. I closed my eyes, recalling the way his touch had brought me to the brink and then, as he plunged into me, almost immediately, I had come. I let the memory of that flood me.
I didn’t know I could feel like that.
I smiled. At least now I knew how amazing it could be, to sleep with someone. I would probably wish I didn’t know soon enough, I thought wryly. If I had any more lovers they would seem disappointing, after him.
I drained my coffee. I sighed.
“Well, that’s that,” I told myself. I made myself walk back through to the kitchen of memories and put my cup under the tap, rinsing it out. The I went upstairs. I should work.
I opened my sketch pad and started drawing. I looked at the other pictures I’d made previously, hopeful, uplifting shapes and colors, lines that reached up and out and inspired joy and lightheartedness. I sighed.
“I can’t work on this now,” I told myself tightly. If this brand was about cheerful optimism—and I couldn’t imagine a clearer interpretation of the word “daisy” than those words—then I was going to be out of the game for quite a while.
I closed the sketch pad and reached for my laptop instead. I was busy checking my mail when someone called.
“Hey? Oh! Hi!”
It was Carla. I felt a sudden lift in my mood. I hadn’t heard from her for ages.
“Carla!” I said cheerfully. “How’s work?”
She laughed. “Well, it’s going okay, actually. Just got back from lunch. Exciting new projects. Wish you were here.”
I smiled. “Well, I’ve brought work with me. The collection’s starting to develop well.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
I described some of my work to her. When I was finished, she laughed.
“Well, you sound like you’re very productive,” she said. “It’s great. You sound so happy.”
“I am happy,” I said. At least, Kyle had made me happy. The thought of leaving him wasn’t happy, though.
“Well, good,” she said, sounding content. “Are there nice guys in San Diego?”
I chuckled. “You can’t spit without hitting one,” I relayed.
She giggled. “Oh! Well! Remind me to head down there for my summer break too!”
“I will,” I told her.
“Well,” she paused. “I hope you meet someone. It’d be great to see you give Luke a well-deserved slap in the face.”
“Luke?” I frowned, feeling tense. He was my ex-boyfriend, and a particularly difficult sort. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh! Well, I heard from Skyler that he’s in town?” she paused. “Sorry. I just thought you might have seen him around. Thought I’d warn you.”
“Oh?” My heart started to thump. Luke and I had met when I was visiting Rodney, shortly after he started his new job with Kyle’s dad. I knew he lived somewhere close. I had no idea he was in town, however. The thought left me with a discomforting feeling.
“Well,” my friend said, “I guess I’m being silly. It’s a big city. No reason why you might see him—I just hoped he could get a smack from you. He sure does deserve one.”
I laughed. “I think so,” I agreed nervously. I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding forced.
“Well, I…oh heck,” she said. “I just saw Bryanne. I should go.”
Bryanne was our boss. I nodded. “Sure. See you.”
“Bye.”
I sat there feeling odd. Luke?
I had broken up with him a few months ago. At the time, he had taken it badly. I had been glad when he had gotten a job in his hometown of San Diego and returned. Less chance of bumping into him on the street.
“Come on! Bethany!” I shook my head at myself, trying to persuade myself this was all ridiculous. “What do you think he’ll do to you? Hey?”
I sighed. Luke had always had some violent tendencies. He had tried to choke me once, though he’d said it was just pretending and he’d gotten too involved. I was never so sure. And when he lost his temper, he often clenched his fists at his sides, as if it was an effort not to use them in anger.
I had been relieved when we’d finally split, mainly because of that undertone of violence. I never felt safe with him, not ever, I realized slowly. I always had a feeling that if I disobeyed him, if I made him mad at me, he’d hurt me.
It was only now, when I had finally met someone like Kyle, I could see what it felt like not to feel like that.
I hope I never have to talk to him again.
I sighed. Stood and stretched. I realized I had been sitting in my office for about an hour. It was sunny outside, the sunshine falling in warm blocks of orange on the carpet. I sighed.
“I could do with a walk,” I told myself. I stretched, yawned and stood. I took my drawing equipment with me. Maybe I would feel inspired out in the fresh air.
I was tired, I realized as I walked down the sidewalk, heading toward the nearby park. I wasn’t surprised—I’d been up for a long time last night and woken fairly early.
I was still smiling fondly at the memories of that morning when I reached the park. It was quiet at this time of the afternoon. The trees reached up into a wind-still day. The paths were uncluttered, the only people in the place either quietly walking their dogs on the lawn or sitting in the sun on benches, reading.
I found a bench and settled down. I stretched and yawned expansively, enjoying the summer’s warmth. I took out my sketch pad and held my pencil poised, waiting to see if inspiration hit me.
I heard childish shrieks and watched a little boy, running alongside his dad. He was trying to get his kite up into the air, I realized. It trailed behind him. I watched, smiling, as the father helped to lift it and they ran together.
That’s what it means to be a dad.
I sighed. The little boy had dark hair and a pointed chin. He made me wonder if that was what the boyish Kyle had looked like. The way he looked up at his father tugged on my feelings.
Kyle had probably trusted his father like that, I thought. The betrayal of trust was cruel. I blinked, feeling my eyes damp as I thought about how confused and hurt the inner child of Kyle must be.
You really care for him, don’t you?
I snorted.
It was silly of me, I knew. My heart was just busy recovering and healing from a painful relationship of my own, and here I was letting myself get hurt again.
But this time, I thought, lifting my pencil and absently noting down a sketch of the kite as it launched up into the air, long tail sinuous in the gently moving wind, I wasn’t going to be hurt on purpose.
Kyle, I reckoned, wasn’t the sort to go ripping big holes in someone’s emotional defense. He might be defensive, aloof, hesitant. But he was kind. I had seen that in him from soon after we’d met.
“Well, I guess I should just be pleased I met him,” I said quietly. I finished drawing the kite. Watched the little boy laugh and point up, tugging on the string with his other hand. I wasn’t going to let myself think about the future. Like the kite, I wasn’t going to fetter my relationship with Kyle.
I would let it soar. And if that meant I lost it, well—it was free.
I sniffed, feeling my heart ache. I noted down some words in my sketch pad. Innocence. Freshness. Lightheartedness.
Then I stood and rolled my shoulders experimentally, feeling restless. I tucked the sketch pad into my handbag. Walked on.
I passed an ice cream stand on the corner. My mouth was dry and I had a few coins in my pocket. I scratched around, found the right amount, and headed over.
“Chocolate, please,” I requested. I thanked the guy, paid for my ice cream, and headed off.
It was good ice cream, stiff and flavorful. I licked it, savoring the sweet, rich flavor. I was walking along, eating and looking at the lawn, my mind still playing with ideas around my work. I was in another world.
I saw feet and the trace of jeans just before I walked into the guy. I looked up.
“Oh,” I said quickly. “So sorry! I wasn’t looking.”
I looked up. I stared.
I froze.
“Bethany?” the person said. He stared at me. I shivered.
I turned around.
It was Luke.
“Hey,” he called to me. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t look back: just walked the other direction.
When I reached the end of the road I stopped, eyes shut. I was sweating. “Dammit, Bethany,” I said to myself. “Stop shaking. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you.”
I stood there, letting out a long, shuddering breath, and then another. After a while, I felt ready to walk on. I finished my ice cream as I went around the corner to the house. While I walked, I considered my reaction. “Why am I so scared?”
I frowned, thinking about it. My reaction to Luke had been so instant, so overwhelming. I was still shivering, just a little—a slight tremor in my torso.
I reached home and let myself in, locking the door behind me. I leaned on it, letting out a long, steady exhale. I recalled what had happened when we broke up.
“I won’t ever stand for someone else having you,” he’d said to me. “I’ll kill you first.”
I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh.
What if it was true? Would he kill me if he saw me with somebody else? I shrugged.
He’s not likely to see me with somebody else, I decided. After all, I was only in town four more days. The risk of him seeing me at all was minimal. And who was he going to see me with? The few times I’d spent with Kyle, he hadn’t seen me—he couldn’t have done—and so he didn’t know about that. I was safe.