Chapter 40

Being more open with Gretchen starts now, when I’m upset.

I’m a lot hurt and a little bit angry, but more at myself than at Levi. He left me alone on the porch when I was begging him for help, bleeding, suffocating—but I realize it was all in my head, that I never asked him to stay, never told him I needed him.

I want to kick myself. I had the chance, and he’s Levi: of course he would have helped me. Of course he would have listened. It would have helped him to understand, if I could have gotten the words out right. In fact, the more I look back, the more I understand: He was begging me to talk, and I turned him away.

That night, after a sullen dinner with Astrid and Millie, I grab my phone and pull up Messenger. The app says Gretchen is online, so I take a deep breath and send a message.

Bee

Can I tell you something?

Gretchen

Obviouslyyyyy

Bee

I fought with Levi and it was horrible.

Gretchen

What?!

Bee

We fought a few days ago, but then Mama called about…you know.

Levi and I never worked it out, so we fought again today. I remember thinking one thing and saying another, or not saying anything at all.

I don’t know how to fix it.

Gretchen

Bee, I’m so sorry. But…he knows what you’re going through right now. He might need a bit of space, but he’ll always come back to you.

Bee

He walked away.

I couldn’t talk to him. I didn’t want him there, so he left.

Gretchen

Has he ever given you reason to think he’d give up on you all together?

Bee

No.

Gretchen

Exactly. Even if he’s upset, he’ll come around. He’s probably feeling bad right now that he left you earlier.

Bee

Gretchen, he’s really mad at me.

I haven’t told him my name yet.

Gretchen

WHAT?! Phew. Okay.

Ummm…..

Shit.

I thought you were going to do that ages ago?

Nevermind. There’s no time like the present, right?

Bee

Right?

Gretchen

He needs to know you’re on his side. He needs to know that you’re all in. Telling him will do just that.

I breathe through my teeth; it sounds like a hiss. She’s right, for the most part. But what happens if he’s no longer all in, like I (and maybe he) once thought he was? I feel cracked, and it’s like he’s seen everything inside—that I’m barren and empty—and now he knows I have nothing to give him.

Bee

Okay.

Gretchen

You’re an idiot. Go talk to him already.

Bee

I can’t tonight. I’ll go to the shop tomorrow.

Gretchen

You do that. Tell me how it goes?

Bee

Yeah.

Gretchen

I LOVE YOU FOREVER, BERNICE AURORA WESCOTT.

See? It’s not that hard to say.

Bee

That’s because it’s not yours.

Gretchen

*sigh* I tried.

Well, practice in front of the mirror or something.

I manage a smile and our regular I think you’re crap before I lie down in bed and dream that the stars haven’t gone out over my life.

When I open my eyes again, it’s still black as pitch outside.

Someone’s knocking on my door.

“Yeah?” I ask, but it’s a whisper and I hope whoever’s there can hear me. (My throat feels weird, like there’s something stuck.)

My mom opens my door and whispers, “Bee, are you awake?”

I’m tempted to not answer, so I compromise: I nod.

“Okay. Do you want to talk?” she asks, a little louder.

I shudder. “No, thanks.” Same words I said to Levi. Haven’t I learned?

She sits on the edge of my bed and runs her hand down my arm. Her fingers are cold. “Bee, it’s okay to be scared.” I turn around, and instantly her arms encircle me. “We’re all scared,” she adds, with less confidence, so I can see the side of her that isn’t Mom. It’s the side that’s Wife, and suddenly my heart is full of secondhand sadness.

“I know,” I whisper. Someday I hope to be brave.

“I’m here, Baby Bee. You can always talk to me.”

But I still don’t want to talk, because that requires walking straight into the pain, willingly, with no guarantee that it will make anything better. I’m not ready to try, not yet, so I just let my mom curl up beside me and cry silently, her tears wetting my pillow.

After psyching myself up, it’s more than disappointing to get to Mike’s shop the next afternoon and see…no one. There are no cars parked out front, and the garages are closed. It’s at the last second before I turned back out of the lot that I see the little light in the office (it’s too bright out).

I pray Levi’s parked around back and pull my car into one of the many free spaces. It’s a little strange, being here, after what’s happened. I’ve been by a few times in the past month—usually just to sneak a kiss. But standing here in the empty lot, I’m reminded of that first time Levi spoke to me and I thought I was going to die because I was going to screw up the conversation or stare at him too hard or something awful.

And then I kept seeing him everywhere and he liked me and then—then he loved me.

I want to go back to that.

My skin practically burning from the sun and my fears, I walk up the steps to the little office, knock on the door, and crack it open. “Hello?”

Someone’s standing on a chair in the back, changing a light bulb, but it’s not Levi. “Be right with you,” Keagan says.

My spirits fall. “It’s just me,” I say.

“Bee?” Keagan looks over his shoulder at me, wobbles a bit, and laughs as he adjusts his weight. “Good to see you! How’ve you been?”

Typical, sweet Keagan, always jumping straight into things. Too bad I’m not in the mood. “Oh, um, I’m okay.”

“How’s your dad?” he asks, turning just enough so he can jump off the chair.

I cringe. “Actually, can we not talk about my dad today?”

His expression dims. “Not good, then? But okay, we don’t have to talk.” He runs a hand through his wavy hair (it’s long now, to his jaw) and gives me that sad smile everyone gives me when they feel bad about my life. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping…I thought…Levi would be working.” But now that the words are coming out of my mouth, I’m certain he’s not here, and maybe it was silly of me to show up in the first place. The window that looks down into the garage shows only dark and shadowy machinery.

Keagan gives me a look. “He’s at a meeting…for The Color Project?”

I try not to look surprised, or choke, or feel embarrassed.

Keagan sees all of this anyway. “Did he not tell you?”

I am wordless. I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out, so I just spread my hands.

“Shit. You guys are fighting, aren’t you? He came in for a makeup shift last night and he looked horrible.”

I think my knees want to crumble underneath me. “I’m sorry I bugged you, Keagan,” I say, and start to go.

“Bee,” he says, in a way that makes me stop even though I want to leave right now. I stop because I know he’s got something important to say. (Keagan only ever seems to say important things.) “I’m not busy until five.” He checks the clock on the wall. “Another hour, at least, so give it to me.”

With almost no hesitation, I cave. He doesn’t know me, I realize. Not personally, at least, which means he doesn’t know the mistakes I’ve made, the things I’m afraid of. I trust Levi too much to think he’d rat on me and all my issues, so Keagan becomes a clean slate for me to work out all my problems on.

I need this more than anything.

Folding my arms over my chest, I sit beside him on the edge of the desk (Dear Greg, sorry we made a mess sitting on your neatly organized paperwork. Love, Bee & Keagan) and give him he watered-down version of everything that happened. I don’t tell him about my name; I do tell him about feeling lost. I try to tell him that I’ve shut Levi out and shut myself in; instead, it comes out as I don’t know how to be this person. But despite how many times I jumble my words and have to repeat myself, he listens. It’s so very…Keagan.

When I’m done, he nods once, as if he expected all this. “You’re overthinking this,” he says with confidence, crossing his arms, hair tucked behind his ears. “I bet you anything that Levi looked so awful last night because he was thinking of all the ways he was wrong.”

“But he wasn’t wro—”

Keagan laughs, surprising me, cutting me off. “Levi’s a nice guy, really—I told you before that he’s the nicest, and I’ll always back that—but he hates rocking the boat. It’s just his thing, you know?”

I didn’t know that. And knowing it doesn’t exactly make me feel better.

“Don’t stress it too much, okay?” Keagan nudges my elbow.

I stand up. “I’m trying not to.”

“Hey.” Keagan stands with me, looking at me thoughtfully. “I assume you guys are hanging out tomorrow, anyway, right?”

I shiver, but I’m not sure why, because this heat is wretched. “Not…no…we didn’t have plans. Why?”

Keagan rolls his eyes. “Levi’s a dumb-ass drama queen. It’s his birthday tomorrow.”

I can feel my eyes bulging. “What?!”

“Yeah, I know, right? He has this thing about his birthday—he gets shy about celebrating. I found out from Suzie years ago and have been telling everyone since then, getting groups of people together to hang out, watch movies or go out for burgers in OB or something. One year he even tried to trick us and pretend he was out of town, but we soon found out from his mom that he was just trying to avoid the attention.”

“That’s stupid,” I say, drily, because it is.

“Yeah, well, we think so, too. I assumed he’d tell his girlfriend, of all people.”

I think, Maybe he was planning to, before, but I don’t say it. (I wonder if Keagan thought it, too.) I have more questions now than before, which makes my head ache. “No, he didn’t tell his girlfriend.”

“Okay. That settles it. You’re joining us tomorrow for dinner. Stop by the shop at five, and we’ll all drive to his house together.”

I nod, trying to imagine this scenario playing out. It could only be good, right? Maybe this will lighten his spirits, and mine, and we could talk in a civilized manner. This time, I promise myself I won’t run from him, and I pray he won’t leave me behind.

I pull my purse higher on my shoulder and smile, albeit shakily, and thank Keagan with a hug. “I’ll be there.”