Zelda
January 25th
I texted my mother to tell her where I was, then decided to go back to the hotel with Beckett. I wanted to be with them, but I felt if we didn’t get Beckett back in New York quickly, our luck was going to run out. But he insisted I wait for my family.
“They need you too, baby.”
The cab was still idling in the parking lot, Beckett’s crutches inside. It wasn’t until Beckett was gingerly limping on his booted foot that I realized he’d lifted me off the ground and carried me twenty feet away.
“God, your ankle,” I asked as we drove away from the prison.
He shrugged. “I’ll live.”
I elbowed his side. “I’d roll my eyes at your excessive man-pride but they’re too fat from crying.”
“You look beautiful,” he said fiercely, and bent to kiss me.
“So do you,” I whispered against his lips. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’m pissed at you and even more mad at Nigel, but I’m happy you’re here.”
Happy wasn’t a strong enough word. I held his hand, palm to palm, our fingers twined. That is how I feel, I said, looking at our clasped hands. There needs to be a word for this.
I rested my head against his shoulder, drained. Exhausted, but calm. Partly from him being there and partly for what I had done. Or what I hadn’t done.
“You were right,” I said again, as the cab pulled into the Holiday Inn lot. “If I’d watched James die, I wouldn’t be okay. But I hope my mom and dad and everyone else can find some relief.”
My family returned an hour later, my mother’s eyes were red-rimmed and my father’s face slightly confused, as if he were trying to work out some great problem. Uncle Mike was subdued, and Auntie Lucille’s hands fidgeted and her eyes darted behind her thick glasses until they met mine. Then she smiled wide, as if she’d been searching for something and now it was found. She took a chair by the window, humming softly to herself.
I went straight into Mom’s arms and hugged her tight. “Are you all right?”
She held me away, her smile uncertain, tears rimming her eyes. “I keep waiting for the sigh of relief. It’s not coming. I’ve been waiting ten years.”
I hugged her again, trying to infuse her with my newly-found peace. “When you go home tonight, pull Auntie Lucille aside, alone, and ask her to tell you about the movie theater…and the balloons. Okay?”
Her smile was confused as she glanced at Lucille humming and smiling to herself at the window, but she nodded, and wiped her eyes. She held my face in her hands. “My beautiful girl.”
Behind me, Beckett rose to his feet, holding the chair for balance. I moved to stand beside him, for him to lean on me. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Beckett Copeland.”
I felt such a swell of pride watching him and my father shake hands. My mother kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said. She took in his ankle and his crutches. “You came all this way for our girl?”
He spoke to my mother, but his words were for me. “I’d go to the end of the earth for her, Mrs. Rossi.”
I drove the rental car, taking Beckett and me back to Philly. My eyes darted to the rearview every other second, expecting to see a squad car roll up behind us, to take Beckett away, and I struggled to keep to the speed limit.
“How in hell did you ditch Nigel?”
“Easy,” Beckett said. “I pretended I was a wreck from being stuck in New York, and that my ankle was hurting like a bastard. The only solution was to get drunk. I sent him to the liquor store and slipped out while he was gone.”
“Poor Nigel,” I said. “He’s probably worried sick.”
“Nah, I texted him,” Beckett said, chuckling. “Judging by the long, ranting voice mail on my phone, he drank all the booze himself. He cursed me to hell and back, so we’re good.”
We returned the rental and took a cab to 30th Street Station. Beckett sank down heavily on a bench, yawning. I sat beside him, thinking of our future, and what Theo had said about knowing in my heart what was right.
“I love you,” I said.
Beckett looked up at me, a small smile of surprise—saying the words out loud was still so new between us. “I love you too, baby. So much.”
“I love you, I love saying it….” I cupped his cheek, the bristles of his stubble rough under my palm. “I love you so much that I’m going to turn down BlackStar.”
His brows came together. “Zelda…”
“It’s our story now, yours and mine. When I think about publishing it without you, the regret is bigger than the thrill. But when I think of us doing it together, my heart tells me it’s right. I know we need the money, but we’ll figure it out somehow. We’ll survive. It’s what we do, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We do, baby.”
He leaned in to kiss me, then stopped, his eyes widening at something over my shoulder. I turned and followed his stare to a middle-aged woman with perfectly-coiffed silvery blonde hair, crisp suit, and a briefcase in her hand. Frozen. Like a statue, while the bustling crowd moved around her. She stared at Beckett, eyes wide and her lips parted in shock.
“Holy fuck…” he whispered.
“Who is that?” I asked.
Beckett swallowed hard. His eyes followed the woman as she ducked her head and quickly walked away.
“Mrs. J.”