Searching for Beautiful (5 page)

“Right? I’m so not ready to be back in school,” Ellie replies.

I listen as they talk and laugh, probably while putting on their makeup. We used to do it all the time. I started telling the boys it was our time to rejuvenate, and soon Ellie and Diana began calling it that, too.

A smile pulls at my lips with the memory.

Decide to be friends with me again! Decide I’ve suffered enough. Decide to talk to me. To believe me when I tell you the truth. Or, at least, say you miss me. Please, just miss me…

More laughing and talking and then another creak of the door and I’m alone again. Anger rushes through me. I’m not even sure where it comes from, but it’s there, building higher and higher.

I miss them. Miss them so much it hurts. I know I told Dad I could do it, but I can’t. Not today.

The second I stumble out of the room, I run into a cloth-covered wall. A pair of hands grabs my elbows as I fall.

“Whoa, speed racer. I’m pretty sure you just ran a red light there.”

I freeze, ridiculously wishing I could stay in this moment because it’s the first time someone has spoken to me normally in months. No accusation. No questions. No pity. No anger.

And it’s beautiful.

With no mirror, no roadblock, his eyes meet mine, crisp and clean, the bluest blue in the whole wide world. A cloudless sky. The ocean in Corpus Christi where we went on vacation one year. Like a fresh coat of blue paint on a newly fired piece of pottery. And familiar…somehow familiar, though I can’t place him.

Burnt-brown hair, a couple shades darker than his creamed-coffee brown skin. It’s kind of long. Long enough that it curls behind his ears so it doesn’t get in his face. For some reason, I want his hair to fall forward. For those too-blue eyes to look at me through the silky strands instead of dead-on. I’m not sure I’m good enough to be looked at with nothing between us. Maybe everyone else has it right and this boy who doesn’t put a buffer between us has it wrong.

“You good? If I let you go, you’re not going to bulldoze through me, are you?”

Normal. He’s talking to me so normally. His voice rattles me a little, squeezing inside me and passing barriers, like it’s a road traveled before.

I smell something slightly sweet…sugary but twined with a light scent of Irish Spring soap. Jason used to smell good, too. I’m sure that was part of his plan, just another way to lure me in. Though I guess I can’t really blame him when I let him do it.

“Can you speak?”

I jerk away from the guy when the bell rings. As though the sound opens the dam, a flood of students automatically fills the hall around us. I can imagine what everyone is thinking:
Oh, now Brynn’s going to try to hook up with the new guy. Does he know she’s been pregnant? That she screwed an older guy?
I’m sure they’ll tell him soon enough.

I can’t handle it. Without a word, I turn and rush away. I don’t even have to push through the crowd because it parts for me, everyone sitting back to enjoy the show.

Chapter Eight

Now

For as long as I can remember, we’ve always eaten dinner as a family at the dinner table. We’re not one of those fancy families with a long table, decorative lighting hanging in the middle of it and forks on each side of the plate or anything. Our dining room is small. The table could fit six if we put the leaf in it, but we never do.

Four chairs, used to be three people, and we’d laugh and eat either whatever experiment Mom came up with that night, or once a week, on Sunday, Dad made sauce. The De Luca family recipe, he’d call it. And I’d be the next person to learn it. I loved being a De Luca. I always knew it, but Sunday’s sauce was a reminder. It used to be the only time we made it, but you could always count on it on Sundays.

He would get up early and start it, making meatballs and throwing in pork and Italian sausage, too. Mom loved Dad’s homemade meatballs. It was always her favorite part. Dad went for the pork, saying it mixed well with the tomatoes. I liked the Italian sausage. We’d each grab our favorite parts, except once in a while, Mom would tease Dad and try to steal his pork. When she did that, he’d follow suit and hijack my sausage, which left me to pretend I was taking Mom’s meatballs from her.

The pot was huge, so of course any one of us could get up and grab more off the stove, but we never did. It was always a game. Maybe a silly one, but it was ours.

We still eat at the table every night, only two of the four chairs filled now. Dad doesn’t make sauce on Sundays anymore. At first he was too depressed, then we talked about it and both decided it didn’t make sense to do it every week. What was the point of making that much food for two people? Maybe once a month would be better. But it’s been months and the only time we had sauce was when we went to Grandma De Luca’s for Christmas. Now we either have takeout, or Dad and I take turns cooking hamburgers or steak.

Never, ever sauce.

Tonight it’s Dad’s turn to cook, but I go ahead and make pork chops and mashed potatoes so it’s ready when he gets home. I have no doubt he knows I skipped the second half of my day today. Maybe the food will soften the blow.

My heart jumps when my cell rings. It hasn’t really done that in so long. I mean, Dad calls, but that’s about it. After letting it ring again, I pull it from my pocket. Not recognizing the number, I answer the call. “Hello?”

“I was right, Red. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to listen to me? We still could have been together, you know. And now you’re alone, aren’t you? That’s what you get for betraying me.”

Before I can dislodge the fist in my throat, Jason hangs up. Dropping the phone on the counter, I lean over it, my arms on the granite surface. Heat and cold somehow battle each other inside me, both trying to take hold.

The cold makes me shiver. The mocking sound of his voice, and the fact that he just called to be hateful. To be an ass because he knows he was right. He knows me enough to realize how much being alone makes me feel like I’m disappearing.

But then that heat starts extinguishing the cold. Jason feels invincible. Like he can call and torment me, and I won’t do anything about it. I let the anger wash through me, hold it in, because I’m where it belongs.

Because he’s right.

Chapter Nine

Before

“Let me grab the chair for you.” We’re in Sam’s dining room for dinner.

Jason told me to dress up, that he wanted to take me out, but we can’t because he doesn’t want it to get back to his dad. He pushes Jason so hard, and is so worried about a girl getting in the middle of the goals he has for Jason, that he’s a jerk about dating.

So, Jason decided we’d pretend to go out instead. I’m wearing his favorite red dress, happiness dancing around inside me as I wait for him to pull the chair out for me. When he does, I sit down.

“It smells good,” I tell him.

“I cooked.” Jason winks before disappearing into the kitchen. He comes back with a plate of steak, potatoes, and a salad. He sets it in front of me before putting his on the seat next to me and sitting down.

The steak is perfect. Everything he does is. We eat and laugh and he asks me about school. He touches my leg under the table but doesn’t try for any more than that.

We’re finished eating when he says, “I’m staying with Sam tonight, so he said it’s cool if I have some of his wine. Do you want some?”

He pours a glass and then hesitates with the second one. A knot forms in my belly. I want to drink with him. It feels…I don’t know,
adult
, like we’re married and this could be our house or something. But I still have to drive home.

“No, thanks.”

Jason’s forehead wrinkles. “I wanna have a drink with you. You trust me, don’t you, Red? I won’t let you get hurt. Half a glass and that’s all. You’ll be good by the time you drive home.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I shake my head.

“Sorry. I don’t want to push you. I just thought you’d like it, that tonight could be special.”

He sets the bottle down.

Guilt rumbles around inside me. He tried so hard. Jason wanted this night to be perfect for us. He’s made things better for me and disappointing him sucks. Especially when I know how tough things are with him and his dad. He’s trying so hard to be someone different. It’s one of the things I love about him the most.

“I got ya something.” He kisses me and then walks out of the room, coming back with a bouquet of flowers.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Eh, it’s nothing.”

“To me it is.”

He cups my cheek. “Then I’m glad I did it. Since we’re done eating, wanna go outside with me?”

“Sure.”

We go to the backyard, Jason bringing the bottle with him. I sit on his lap and when he asks me if I want a drink the next time, his forehead doesn’t wrinkle when I say no.

We talk and he makes jokes that I laugh at. I love these moments with Jason—just talking and enjoying each other.

About an hour later, his cell beeps and he frowns when he tells me he has to leave.

“I’m sorry, Red. I’ll make it up to you. I was hoping tonight would be the night.”

My heart speeds up a little, but I fight to calm it. I want to have sex with Jason. I told him we would soon.

“Soon,” I say.

He cups my cheek. “I love you so much. You’re so special, Brynn. I can’t wait to be with you.”

A pleasant ache forms low in my belly. Suddenly, I can’t wait, either. “I love you, too. I want— I want to be with you, too.”

Jason smiles and then he kisses me. After walking me out front, he thanks me for spending the evening with him before I get into my car. Jason stands in the driveway and watches me until I drive away, hopefully wishing we were still together, like I am.

Chapter Ten

Now

My eyes squeeze closed. I can’t believe it was all a lie. How could someone fake that? There were times Jason got angry or times I didn’t get him, but we had those perfect, wonderful moments, too. Those were the ones I loved.

“Smells good.” I jump at Dad’s words. He steps into the kitchen in a T-shirt and jeans, having already taken off his suit. I didn’t even hear him come in the house.

Just like the kids today stared at me, I can’t stop looking at him, trying to figure him out. Is he going to be pissed about school? Will he finally be able to look at me? Will he call me
dolcezza
again and hug me, tell me that he wants to kill Jason for hurting me? That he believes me, because even though he’s been by my side, he’s never spoken those words.

“Thanks.” I dish us both plates, words teasing my tongue.
Jason called.
They should be so easy to speak, but if I do, everything will start again. Dad will freak out and we’ll never be able to get over it. I want to forget.

Once we’re both at the table, he cuts into his meat, takes a bite. Then another, flickering his gaze to me every few seconds but never holding it there long. It’s so strange, seeing my dad so adrift like this. At a loss for words. There’s a difference between someone who doesn’t speak often and someone who doesn’t have a lot to say. He’s always been sort of quiet, but he always knew what to say when it counted. His words always meant something. It’s another thing I feel like I’ve stolen away from him.

“So…I’m assuming you know I didn’t go to my afternoon classes.” I toss a life raft out to him, the way no one did to me.

“Yes, I spoke with the school before you went back. We decided it best if we keep in contact, at least in the beginning. We—”

“You what?” The fork tumbles out of my shaky fingers, clanking against my plate. So he had talked to someone about my doing independent study. Maybe I should feel thankful but somehow, I feel betrayed—like he didn’t even trust me enough to come to me about it before he talked to the school.

“No one knows we’re in contact, Brynn. We just want to make this transition as smooth as possible. Keeping in touch is the best way to do that.”

Transitions. I’m tired of transitions, learning to live without Mom, dealing with betrayal, knowing I had a baby inside me and now it’s gone. “No, you wanted to check on me. What? To make sure I don’t have sex with other boys like I did Jason?”

Dad’s face pales, making me wish I could snatch the words back. Shove them down my throat, like they never came out. Fear singes me. If I push him too far, maybe he really will regret adopting me.

“I…” No other words come out. He’s struck mute again, but he’s looking at me. Really looking at me, except it doesn’t feel good. It makes my gut clench because I see what he’s looking for. Guilt. Trying to look inside me and decide if it’s true. If I did play Jason. If I’m the liar Jason said I was. Or even if I didn’t lie, if I knew. If I thought it cool to be the sixteen-year-old girl sleeping with a twenty-three-year-old.

I hold my breath, hoping that will wrangle in my cry.

“That’s not fair, Brynn.” He rubs a hand over his face, tired…weary. I am, too. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’m trying as best I can. I just told the counselors you had a traumatic summer and I want to make sure you transition okay. That’s all.”

And I believe him, because I’m doing the same. We’re both getting pulled under. Both swimming for the surface, only to get caught in a whirlpool and sucked under again. All because I loved Jason. And because even though he doesn’t know if he believes me, I know Dad is trying to support me.

Dad’s eyes pull away from mine, studying his mashed potatoes like they’re one of the crossword puzzles he likes to do.

“I know it’s hard, but no skipping again. If you make the choice to be there, you have to do it all the way.”

I nod my reply and the rest of the meal is eaten in silence. Dad cleans his plate. I push the food around mine until he’s done.

“I’ll wash the dishes.” Dad tries to smile at me when he says it, but he doesn’t quite manage.

“I’m going out to get some work done.”

“Have fun,” he says.

If he’d taken the time to ask, he’d know I haven’t finished a piece since Mom died.

…