Bess
Following Shirley’s instructions, I filled my massive claw-footed tub with bubbles and sank in, leaning my head back against the small rolled-up towel on the ledge. Outside the bathroom window, dusk was painting the sky with hints of orange and purple that filtered through the glass, the bubbles picking up the color in their iridescence.
With my eyes tightly closed, snapshots like Polaroid photos flitted through my mind one after the other, highlighting snippets of my life.
There was an image of my mom leaving, her beat-up brown suitcase rolling behind her as her long dark hair blew in the wind, her black boots carrying her far away from our apartment and me. I’d always imagined her with a big smile on her face as she left me and the responsibility that came with being a mom, but now I understood it. In my own way, I’d fled from any responsibility in my life too, first with alcohol and sex, and then drugs. I still did it today, creating a life for myself devoid of any true responsibility other than showing up to serve food to strangers.
When I released that image, another took its place. It was me, a very drunk me, dancing on a table in college as I shook my hair all around me, my jeans riding low, boots up to my knees, and a guy standing below with his face at the level of my crotch. I was reckless, without a care other than feeling good. Later I lay underneath the same guy on a damp and musty futon, his small, almost-limp dick sliding in and out of me, his pelvis slapping against mine with little to no regard for making me feel good. The scene was blurry, but it was there burned in my memory. The alcohol and whatever else—weed, maybe—was enough to dim any responsibility on his part or mine. If I had demanded any sexual pleasure, it would mean I’d have had to care about his, and I had never done caring. Not since my mother abandoned me.
Using my foot, I turned on some more warm water. The tub had chilled, and I wasn’t done yet with the photos in my mind. They might be awful and painful, but I needed to stop escaping.
As if a video was playing in slow motion, I watched AJ driving away from me time and time again. Not because he was abandoning me, but because I was emotionally unavailable. I might have been sober and standing in front of him, but I was as shut off and unavailable as anyone could be.
Then I saw Lane running away from me, truly escaping with the fear of God instilled somewhere deep, and I saw a lifetime of myself in his own actions.
Running.
I caught a glimpse in my mind of a blown-up picture of my friend Camper and me that I’d pinned to a bulletin board in my old apartment. We were standing in front of a long row of tequila shots, her wearing skinny jeans and a bright red tank top, and me in a navy minidress. We looked a mess, our pupils like pinpoints, our faces shiny from sweat and our makeup smeared all around our eyes.
I was a fucking disaster those days, but didn’t know if Camper was; I’d never asked. I might have wondered, but didn’t want to care. She’d been with me the night I ended up in the hospital after the disastrous yoga class, and it was the last time I saw her. I had no idea if she’d tried to see me in rehab, and had never wanted to know.
I could still see the nurse on the first day I was in rehab, standing in the doorway to my room as I’d yelled, “I don’t want any calls or visitors. Nothing! You hear me? Now leave me the fuck alone.” Starting that very day, I’d asked to be alone, planned to be by myself, asked for this life of loneliness.
Me. I’d done it to myself—this was all on me.
At that realization, I opened my eyes and took in the blue dimness of dusk wrapping its way around my bathroom now that the sun had set. The color made me think of Lane’s eyes, like a beautiful blue sky, but with a storm lingering in the distance, a furious, angry storm. I’d never asked what was behind those clouds in his eyes. I had gone on and on about my past, my demons, but I’d never asked about his.
An empty glass on the floor came to mind. The sparkling cider. He heard me when I told him about my addictions, and he didn’t run. Instead he’d accommodated me. And what the hell did I do?
I now knew Lane was constantly racing, trying to stay ahead of his own dark clouds. I hadn’t made the effort to care last month or the month before, but I should have. He hadn’t really mentioned his family, which now made me wonder since my problems stemmed from my family, and I’d left it at that. But I should have asked.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I had it in me to care about another person. To take care of someone else. To want to become concerned about their well-being. To be attached. To be their family.
The pictures stopped flashing through my mind, having done their job, so I stepped out of the tub and nearly slipped on the cold tile. I knew now that I couldn’t abandon Lane. I would open myself up and learn to be caring. For him.
While I was toweling off, a knocking started on my door. It echoed through my small house, punctuated by Brooks’s frantic barking.
My heart raced as the thought hit me that it was Lane. Would he follow behind his generous gift, the gorgeous heart I didn’t deserve but wanted to more than anything?
I put on my robe and padded out to the living room, where the knocking grew in intensity, becoming loud bangs.
“Bess! Are you in there? Open the door!”
Shit, it was AJ. Was he drunk? For the first time since moving to the mountain, I felt unsafe. I hesitated, leaning against the door as Brooks came to my side and pressed against my leg, letting out a low warning rumble.
“AJ, what do you want?” I called out. “Are you okay?” I raised my voice, hoping it would travel through the wood door to the other side.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Open up.”
“Are you sober?” I foolishly asked.
“Yes! I want to talk with you, Bess,” he roared.
“Okay,” I said weakly before unlocking and opening the door slowly. Darkness had started to settle on the mountain like it had on my heart.
AJ’s boots ate up my wooden floor as he stomped in, stopping by the mantel before laying into me. “Bess, you’re driving me crazy. I fucking fell in love with you the day I picked you up at rehab. What the fuck? You give me a chance and then change your mind?”
I stayed where I was, my back to the cool door, my dog at my feet on high alert.
“AJ, it’s not like that. We had this talk, and I apologized. I confused my feelings for you with something more than they were.”
He swung his hands out, his movements exaggerated, large and clumsy. “Damn right you did, and you fucked with me while doing that shit. And I’m a sad fucking sack because of it.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say, other than I’m sorry.” I reached behind me, gripping the door, looking for purchase as though I might fall.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” He spat out the words, his eyes narrowed. “Quit the diner. I go there. Quit Shirley. She’s fucking bad. Didn’t you ever hear her story? She’s bad fucking news. In fact,” he said with a sneer, “why don’t you go back to your new man, Mr. High-and-Mighty in Florida, and get the hell out of here altogether. This is my small town.”
My head was spinning. Shirley? Why Shirley? I needed her. Although, it now occurred to me that I’d also kept a distance between her and me, only sharing about myself. I needed to change that too. Needed to connect with her story and care for her, not just let her care for me.
The sound of glass shattering dragged me out of my head. I jumped and yelled, “What the hell?” not knowing what just happened. And then I saw it. The jar that I’d kept on the mantel with the sand and shells from Lane was spread out all over the floor, shattered and broken like my heart.
Brooks leaped toward AJ, barking, warning him to keep his distance, but AJ didn’t pay any mind. He kept walking right toward me. With my eyes on my only memento of my time with Lane, I whispered no to myself. I treasured that votive. It was all I had left of that weekend, and now it was gone.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it because AJ leaned into my face. “Is that what you do now? Make pretty little pieces of shit to remind you of that guy?” he yelled, his mouth tight, his hands flexing at his side.
There was no time to answer because my cell phone, plugged in on the kitchen counter, started to buzz. AJ spun me around and said, “Get it! It’s probably Shirley. Tell her you’re busy!”
With a trembling hand, I picked up the phone. When I saw who was calling, my heart cracked.
“Hello,” I said, trying to control the shakiness in my voice. I turned away from AJ, pressing my hip into the counter, leaning all my weight into it until it pinched my side.
Lane’s voice swept over me. “Bess, I know I said you should call me only if you wanted, but I couldn’t wait. I know I messed up, and I need your forgiveness. Please?”
From the other side of the room, AJ shouted, “What the hell is this expensive piece of shit? You on the job, Bess? I didn’t make enough money for you? I said, what the hell is this? Tell me now!”
Frozen, I couldn’t make myself turn around; the countertop would have to hold me. I was all limbs and no spine.
“What was that? Who is that? Are you okay? Bess!” I heard coming from the phone, but I couldn’t answer.
I jerked as something sharp hit my head and fell to the floor. It was the Tiffany’s box. Stunned and disbelieving, I rubbed the spot where it nicked me, unable to move other than lifting my hand to comfort myself.
“Bess, hang up the damn phone and turn around and answer me!” AJ demanded.
I closed my eyes as Brooks went crazy, barking louder than I’d ever heard him as AJ’s footsteps pounded toward me. My world spun all around me; the voice on the phone sounded so far away.
I felt it slipping from my hand, and then everything went black.