Next to You (Life) (9 page)

Chapter 16

Becca,

I doubt the Sanders will issue a restraining order, if you recall, during our Christmas Holiday with them they tried to shove the children our way as much as possible. Thanks to them, by the second day I graduated from diaper changing, baby feeding and story teller to a full blown babysitter. You being a professional at those tasks, only had a refresher course and became their personal Mary Poppins. Surely you’re set for their new addition.

I stop and look at the eight by five portrait that I moved from Boston to San Jose. A look around my office tells me I should box up all of our pictures in order to get some closure. Looking at her as I write about babies hits me with the reality that we won’t be having those together. That beautiful smart wife, the four children and two dogs are gone. Except for the dog, I now have one at home. The chocolate Labrador I reserved last winter was the beginning of our tale, and as of today the only piece left of that dream I built for Becca.

You know, it’s been a while since we visited Europe, you might want to go sightseeing along your favorite spots. Wish I could be there, but I think it is best if I stay on my side of the Atlantic. I’ll miss you though.

I’ve been thinking about us… too early, too late, I never got our relationship right. Either way, I hope we can find some of what we lost.

Stay safe,

D.

Dan,

I’ll miss you too, and if you ever visit, we should go out and do something fun like walk around the shore of Lake Geneva… or take a ferry. It all depends on how we want to ignore that silence, if it creeps upon us again—I will cross my fingers so it won’t happen. I’ve been thinking about us too. What do you think brought it on—the silence? Part of the moving on stage, let’s be friends someday campaign. I ask myself if this silence will be the new constant between us. It’s not like we’ll be able to ignore it. The thing looks a lot like a big neon orange elephant with hot pink polka dots. Should we just look the other way and wait until it’s gone forever… if ever? The silence might be new, but the issues… if we choose to shove them well… ignore the following lines. That means, continue at your own risk.

We used to talk things through, think of solutions—together—and not let the subject go until we both agreed on it. Now, well not now, but since Aspen, things changed. You took the one sided approach—what I say goes—and I took the defensive solution. A lethal combination, it’s like mixing a cocktail of painkillers with sleeping pills. Do you think we still carry around all that crap that happened for those five months? Though let me share a secret with you, I’ll repeat the crappy times, if it means repeating those amazing moments with you. That’s of course a personal choice. If anyone ever asks me, I can say I knew true love—of course I’ll omit the part where we both screwed up with it and lost it. Letting the resentment of what we didn’t say or did in the name of surviving might be the key to starting our friendship. But can we do it? You brought up that word—resentment—and as I searched deep inside myself, I found out I carry it too. Some.

My take, like yours is that if we did it once—come together, being friends—we can do it again. Only it flusters me not knowing how to start the process. Is it too soon for us to talk about this? Oh, Lord, I have more questions than answers. Cross that, I only have questions and a bunch of nonsense about us… we’re doomed!

Bex

P.S. Write soon!

Becca,

We’re doomed? Way to keep it positive. Glad you’re not a prophet or the entire universe would be damned. The big elephant looks ridiculous and hard to miss, though, I’m sure we can find a way to change his coloring. Don’t let it escape, maybe we can keep it and make it friendly. Or is the purpose to get rid of it and try to forgive each other?

Talk about it? Assuming this it you’re talking about is our relationship, well… my take is that we should have a heart to heart, but when we’re ready. From what I gather, out of all the gibberish crap you wrote—which is true—you’re no more ready than I am. Flustered describes really well what I feel too. I’m a guy, and between you and my counselor, I’m overthinking the way I do things—not what men are programed to do. With that said, I’ll share one conclusion I came up with about one of your biggest issues. The reason you talked and I listened is because I love to hear your voice. What you have to say always interests me, because it gives me a chance to get to know you better.

The subject didn’t matter; it could have been your job at the diner, or your senior chemistry project and how unfair they graded you—a C+. How this weird glistening vampire is the best thing to hit the young adult market. You gave me the summary of all four books—and made me watch the movies. Through the years I’ve listened to every book you read, what you loved and didn’t. Including the countries you yearn to visit because of them. Those times when I was out of town, I needed to hear everything you had done during your day. From the moment you snoozed the alarm clock three times; instead of setting it at six in the morning and only listening to it once. To when you answered the phone, picked up your iPad or did whatever it took so we could connect because we were too far from each other and that was the only way to close the distance.

Perhaps I should have told you before, or better yet, accepted it when it happened. I fell in love with you years ago. In the future, or maybe starting today; we should communicate to one another what we perceive, experience or have going on before jumping to conclusions or making unilateral decisions. How the days, weeks and years ahead look, is unpredictable. From what I gather, we both fucked up royally and can’t seem to forgive the other. About those five months we spent together from dawn to dusk, the sentiment is mutual. Taking the risk to repeat myself and you:

Let’s give each other time. One day we’ll be able to share a conversation over a meal and tell each other how we’re doing and be happy for the other. Someday will someone come across and make me feel what you did? I hope so. And I hope you find a guy who’ll know how to treat a princess, do ridiculous things to indulge your fairy tale fantasies and love you like you deserve.

It was nice to know your side of the story, I’m here for you, Bex, always.

Dan

Danny,

About the chemistry project, it was a C – a grade totally uncalled for since Lisa copied my project. I’m surprised she didn’t steal it and leave me hanging high and dry as usual. Miraculously the teacher gave us a passing grade because we delivered something. Glistening vampires… I was more into the hot werewolf. Who am I kidding? I never took a side. They were both hot. One was well built and dreamy, the other… let’s say that at seventeen, having a peeping Tom inside your bedroom while sleeping seemed to be the most romantic gesture—though if they aren’t vampires, people consider them stalkers.

Indeed, you became my personal book club. It appeared strange at times that you would listen without interruption about the latest paranormal series, novel or biography I picked up. Adorable that’s one way to describe you. The prefect guy. Any woman will be lucky to have you
and surely you’ll find the one, I have a freaky feeling it isn’t me.
Sharing a meal someday will be great. Let’s hope we don’t end up being strangers that pretend to be acquaintances. That kind, that one day after not seeing the other one for about ten years or more, bump into each other and won’t have anything to say. Well, of course there’s the typical: ‘you look great’, ‘glad to see you’; and the never boring, ‘let’s do this again’. When in truth, both parts—surely one of them—are aware that it will never happen and that next time they get a glimpse of the other, they’ll turn around and take the long way before bumping into that person.

Keep yourself out of trouble, Brightmore. Hope to talk to you again someday, I’ll miss you.

Becca

Chapter 17

“
A
n
ything else?” I
ask Betsy, as she delivers the correspondence, messages and some contracts that I need to revise before we send them to the client. It’s been a long day and it’s only two o’clock. Thankfully things slowed down right after the conference call I endured for the past four hours. It’d be nice to receive a letter or package from Becca as a perk for having a shitty day. Like in the past when she’d be there for me after a long day at work or a fucked up trip and we’d stay at home forgetting the outside world. Betsy lifts her gaze and narrows her eyes. “From Becca, did we receive anything?”

“No sir,” she states the obvious. It’s been four months, my birthday, Christmas and New Year’s Day happened in Geneva—I think. No one mentions her in front of me. I had been right, that letter where she said something about meeting in ten years and not having anything to say was the last one we exchanged. The translation of her words were
‘you’re right, we’re done’
. I wish I hadn’t pulled Tony out of Geneva. Nick requested his presence, so he could start training at our facilities in South America. Our company was in need of more bodyguards and there was no longer a reason to keep him around. It’s essential that I learn to stay away from Becca, let her be responsible for herself and forget that once she was mine. “Though yesterday they forwarded a package from the Boston offices. It’s from the center, addressed to her, along with the final bill—I already had it paid. I just don’t know where to find Becca so I can send it to her.”

That got my attention. She just left the center. I’m no longer privy of her whereabouts, it was bound to happen. Move on, Brightmore, you two were perfectly wrong for each other. We were too similar, yet opposite in so many ways, ambiguous in every turn and the worst match in the history of love. It was Friday and there weren’t many things I needed to do after the meeting. Shutting down my computer I did something I should’ve done long ago.

“I’m going home, Betsy.” She nodded. “If you don’t mind, box all the frames in my office, send them to the new warehouse. Have them put it where we stored the rest of Rebecca’s belongings.”

I put on my jacket, loosen my tie and pick up my portfolio. As I see Betsy take the first frame, I flinch. Those are years of memories, great memories with my former best friend.

“Leave them,” I order her and I jet out of my office toward the stairs.

Six stories should simmer the anger that begins to reignite. A note informing me she had come back home, a mere courtesy to the person who had her back for the past almost ten years isn’t too much to ask.

Last October, I transferred my key personnel from Boston to San Jose. I moved the key personnel from San Francisco to this city too. There are two, almost three buildings on the lot where the West Coast headquarters of Brightmore’s stands—the third being under construction. The security company, which is at the end of the lot in a warehouse like structure, where they have a training facility resides here too. Building number one has the PR and Advertising Company that Tyler heads. My mind and my feet have different ideas on where I should head, as I think my townhome is the best place to be; my feet are making a straight line toward Sanders & Bright—the agency.

The glass door slides as the sensor detects me, the receptionist smiles and doesn’t stop me, the elevator doors open as I push the button to go upstairs. Number four is his floor, right as the bell chimes to announce I arrive; his secretary is looking up.

“Mr. Brightmore,” she says with a wide smile. “I don’t have you on my schedule today.”

“Is he in?” She nods. “Is he in a meeting?”

“No, but he asked not to be—“

“Thank you, Rita,” I say as I read her name plate. Damn, I hate that his other assistant quit because we moved. I offered her a better salary, an extra bonus and—she said no. Her family lives in San Francisco and she wouldn’t commute fifty minutes plus for a job that she could get anywhere else. “I’ll find my way.”

“No means no,” Ty says not lifting his gaze from his drawing table. At this moment, he reminds me of Mattie when he’s coloring at the dining table and ignores his surroundings; like father like son. He loves that part of the advertising business, creating whatever campaign he’s working on. “I saw you through the CCTV. What do you want, Dan?”

“Becca.”

That grabs his attention, since he drops the electronic pen he holds and finally makes eye contact.

“Yesterday we received a package for her,” I tell him. “Betsy would like to know where to send it. Do you have any idea where the fuck she is and has been for the past months?”

“Glad to know you’re not harboring any resentment toward her.” The sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, but I disregard it. He stands from his table and heads toward his desk. “She toured through Europe on and off—one week of therapy, another discovering some European city. She said it had been your idea.” I shrug because it had been a thought, some suggestion to keep the conversation going through our letters. Tyler rakes his hair with one hand and continues. “Becca’s staying with us for a couple of weeks, while she finds a job, a place to live and more importantly; a counselor. She called it something like being her daily medicine until she’s ready to function by herself
in the real world
.” The rolling of his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed but I let him continue talking. “Which between you and I, I think she’s more than capable. But it’s like a cane where she can support herself when life’s wobbly and she fears she’ll collapse.”

I want to ask him so many things, like why is she looking for another job, or when will she come back to work for the Foundation? Is she looking for a house near Ty in San Francisco, or will she be living in San Jose? Does she know we moved the Foundation? How can I help? But, I quiet my mind. She’s not mine. We’re not friends nor would we be in contact until she’s ready. That was something Becca told me when I visited her in Geneva. As she predicted, I’m upset because she didn’t tell me about her arrival. No, I’m pissed because her last letter had been a ‘Hasta la Vista, have a nice life, Daniel Brightmore; I’m moving on while you’re stuck in limbo’.

“Is Rose still living in the pool house?” I ask, an indirect question to learn how he’s planning to handle so many relatives in one place.

“Fishing for information, Dan?” He rakes his hair with both hands. “Look, I’m sure she’ll contact you when she’s…” He lifts his gaze to the ceiling and shakes his head. “Why lie, I have no fucking idea when she’ll call you, if she ever will. The girl asked you for time when she left. For whatever reason, you decided to go on a rampage to push all the buttons that might hurt her—and yourself. That ended up in a disastrous break up. From my perspective, that loving prince charming act you held for years disappeared when she needed it the most. A low move.”

“It wasn’t an act.” I loved her, I still have some feelings for her. She was my… everything at some point or another. “Ty just for a second think what would happen to you if Ash ever left you. Or how you felt when the two of you broke up—twice.”

His chin plummets to his chest. I lived their love affair; all those moments when he had no idea if they would ever be together. There were times Ash had to choose between her family and Ty and a couple of them he lost the coin flip. Several times, I had to drag his sorry ass out of the bar. I had to stop him from drunk calling her and even went as far as making him breakfast to cure his hangovers. That’s what best friends, roommates and business partners do. Not hide the sister so I can’t see her.

“I don’t recall being an asshole to Ashley, only to you, sweetheart.” He grins, since several times his father and his sister insinuated we were living partners. “Look, Bex is doing well. Give her time to figure out what’s next. One day, when her world isn’t as shaky, you can casually appear in front of her and see what happens. For now… call my wife, she has no trouble giving you a thorough report of—“

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, Ace.” I look over my shoulder to find Ashley standing up. “Hi, Dan, I didn’t expect you to be with my husband at this time.” She looks at her watch. “You leaving soon?”

“Are you kicking me out, gorgeous?” I walk toward her and kiss her cheek. “Why the rush?”

“I have some important business with that man.” She points at Ty and gives him a coy smile. “Urgent business.” She then whispers. “I need his swimmers.”
What swimmers?
She straightens her shoulders and continues with a normal voice. “I left the babysitter with my monsters and my niece since eight in the morning.”

I check the time, it’s after two. That’s an entire day with rugrats.

“Where’s Becca?” Ty asks.

“That’s the sitter,” Ashly mumbles between clenched teeth. “You’re terrible at playing along, baby.” Then she changed her tone, “You know, I want to keep Becca forever. At this pace, she’ll have my children ready for college by the time they turn ten.” She turns and looks at me since I snorted. That comment is ridiculous. “I’m not joking, Dan. Last week I had a parent teacher meeting and they complained about Mattie’s inability to read a simple one syllable word. When I arrived home, I explained everything to Becca. Last night, he was reading a beginners level book with his aunt B. That’s what they call her.”

Ashley is using an overqualified babysitter. With her early education degree, her teaching certifications and the babysitting experience, Becca is an expert with children.

“I’m going to be sad after she moves out of the house,” Ashley says, then her eyes close for a second. “Monday to be exact.”

“They called?” Ty asks, and it sounds as if he knows something about this move. Ashley nods. “It’s a great place, and only a ten minute walk from home.”

“Yeah, but I doubt she’ll be willing to come to our house at seven in the morning to prepare animal shape pancakes.” Ashely sighs. “I love you, Dan, you know that, right?” I nod and wait for the punch line where she tells me that Becca found a boyfriend who lives next to wherever she’s moving. “Good, then you won’t take this the wrong way. Get the hell out of here. I’m trying to make a baby and with you in this room it’s not going to happen. We are no longer in college and I don’t’ have to pretend you’re not in the other room.”

I look up at Ty who is smirking and shaking his head. If we hadn’t roomed together for four years back in college, this would have been a bizarre conversation. But Ashley practically lived in our apartment during our senior year and they weren’t famous for being discreet about their sex life or quiet while they were getting down to it. One time they gifted me a pair of ear plugs when I told them I had a midterm exam to study for.

“My assistant tried to tell you I wouldn’t see anyone,” he chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s that time of the month and we don’t want to lose the moment.”

“Stop making tiny versions of Sanders.” I head to the door, because after knowing what they plan to do when I leave I don’t want to see them or touch them. “Two is plenty.”

“Four is our lucky number,” Ash retorts. “Don’t let the door hit your behind on your way out. Maybe you can put your tie on the door handle after you close it. And you’re welcome for the unsolicited info about my sister in-law.”