Then Summer Came (12 page)

“Yes, Lissa.  I remember.”  Yeah, he knew exactly what I was asking. 

I cleared my throat.  “It was a mistake…I-I was drunk.  That can’t happen—”

“I know,” he stopped me.  He looked like he might’ve been a bit ashamed, but at a closer glance, he didn’t look bothered at all.

I nodded, not wanting to talk about it either.  “I just wanted to clear it up.”

“No need,” he smiled.  “It was already as clear as glass.”

“Good.”

“You enjoyed it though, right?”

“What?”  I felt my face heat up.  “Beck!”

“What?  I can’t at least get some feedback?”

“Beck!”

“Just some constructive criticism?”

I tried a more serious look and it enticed a smile from him. 

“I’m just kidding.  I thought it would lighten the…well, I just don’t want things to be weird between us.” 

I was glad to hear him say that; I didn’t want that either.  “No, me neither,” I agreed. 

Chapter Eleven

The next night, I was sitting on my sofa discussing some new ideas with Gina.  She usually came over once or twice a month when we knew we had lots to catch up on at the office.

Someone knocked on my door, and I tossed my pen down.  I opened the door, and Beck waved awkwardly at me.

“Hey,” I smiled. 

“You doing anything tonight?”  He cut to the chase. 

I shook my head.  “Not really.”

“Pulp Fiction is playing at Hollywood Forever Cemetery after dark.  You wanna come?”

I smiled.  He really was trying to keep things from being weird.  “I love Pulp Fiction.”

I wrapped things up with Gina, and Beck met me at his car that evening.  I liked riding in the passenger’s seat.  I usually always had to drive, so it was a nice and welcome change.  Beck was a pro at weaving in and out of slow traffic.  I sat quietly, my arm out the window, the cool night air whipping in the window, through my hair. 

He turned in to Hollywood Forever Cemetery and drove around until he was satisfied with a parking spot.  He settled on one toward the back, and he shut the engine off. 

“Do you want some candy or something?”

I shook my head.  “No, thanks.  I’m not a candy person.” 

He stared at me stiffly without blinking.  “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

I cackled.  “I just don’t care for the fake flavors or the way it makes my teeth feel.”

“Oh, come on!  Isn’t there some kind of candy you’ll eat?”

I thought for a second.  “Gummy worms,” I shrugged.

“Sour?”

“No.”  I made an awful face, shaking my head. 

“Really?  Those are the best ones.”

“Yeah, if you like disgusting candy.”

He shook his head, looking into his lap.  “I’m ashamed to have you sitting in my car.”

The huge projection screen blinked on and a preview started to play loudly. 

My phone buzzed beside my leg.  “I’m gonna answer this, it’s my mom.”

I got out and answered the call as I walked around to the back of the car.  “Hey, Mom.”

I couldn’t make out what she was saying.  It sounded like she might have pocket dialed me. 

“Mom, you there?”

It just sounded like mumbling. 

“Mom?  Can you hear me?”

Her voice came in clearer, and I froze trying to take in what she was telling me.  Through her sobs, I could just make out “Your grandmother is gone…she’s gone!” 

I searched for the words to say to her, but I was so shocked.  My grandmother wasn’t sick or unhealthy.  There was no way she was just
gone,
out of nowhere.  There was just no way!  She’d never had a disease or an illness.  She was perfectly healthy. 

I clutched my phone and fell back against Beck’s trunk.  I couldn’t even say anything else to my mom.  I just fell apart.  I didn’t want to cry in the middle of Hollywood Forever Cemetery, but I couldn’t hold it in.  I collapsed into the grass and the tears poured.  I buried my face into my hands, blocking out everything around me.  I just wanted to be at home in my bed.

“Lissa?”  I heard the car door slam.  Beck fell beside me and his arms were around me, trying to pull me up.  “Lissa, what’s wrong?”  He pulled me onto his lap, twisting my hair off my neck.  I buried my face into his lap, and Beck did his best to comfort me until I wasn’t as hysterical.  I thought the sobs would never stop.  

I cried so much I had given myself a migraine.  The tears finally stopped coming.  I just cried as much as I could cry, I guess. 

Softer sobs were shaking me in his lap.  It was quieter now.  I could hear John Travolta’s character, Vincent Vega, telling Mr. Wolf “a please would be nice.”  When Mr. Wolf replied, “Pretty please with sugar on top, clean the fuckin’ car,” I didn’t even chuckle.  It was my favorite part of the whole movie, and on any other circumstance it would’ve had me laughing until I cried…but instead, there was a somber, emptiness in the pit of my stomach.  No amusement at all.   

“Lissa,” Beck whispered.  “Are you okay?”  I could feel his fingers softly tracing circles across the back of my neck; it was soothing. 

I shook my head against his lap.  I wasn’t okay, but I couldn’t talk about it either. 

He didn’t even ask, he just slid his arms under me and started to pick me up.  “Come on, let me take you home.”  I put my feet down so he didn’t have to carry me, and he walked me to the passenger’s side.

I curled into the fetal position in his front seat and lay against the window. 

“Lissa, are you gonna be okay?” he asked after he’d gotten back onto the highway. 

I choked on my sobs.  Sniffling, I nodded.  “My grandmother passed away.”

There was a few seconds of silence, and then he said, “I’m so sorry.”

We were quiet the rest of the way to Wilshire, and he offered to walk me up to my apartment, but I rejected.  “I’ll be fine,” I’d told him. 

I went straight in and straight to bed.  I didn’t even call to let Derek know until the next morning.  I just didn’t want to talk about it. 

Mom was out of town for a fashion meet, but as soon as her plane landed the next morning, I was there to meet her.  She was a mess, and I stayed with her for the next two days, so we could get everything settled. 



LA traffic was a real bitch, but sometimes it was nice to just sit in one place, trapped in, unable to get to anything or anyone.  No appointments or meetings and, for a moment, no responsibilities. 

The buzzing in my ears from my car and the others packed in next to me served as a distraction from my insistent grief.  Truly, it had seeped into more of a blank, distorted daze by then.  I missed my grandmother so much, but I think I honestly just felt worse because I hadn’t made more time for her before she’d slipped away from me.  But, then again, don’t we all feel like that when we lose someone?  Like we should’ve made a stronger effort to see them?  Honestly, I don’t think all of the time in the world would’ve made me feel any better about losing her, but it just sucked knowing that I canceled plans with her to be with my fiancé, who ended up standing me up anyway. 

The dreaded funeral was over, and I could at least be confident that it was just as my grandmother would’ve wanted it.  My mom held together really well, but I knew she was settling into a dark place.  She and my grandmother were close; a close that I could never quite explain out loud.  I knew my mother would be strong and push through all of the plans and arrangements, but I didn’t think she should have to.  I wanted to be there for her.  So, I did it all.  If there was a person to call, a decision to make, or a tear to wipe, I was right there to fill the job. 

It was all over now, though.  She was in the ground, resting into her eternity, and my heart was having trouble deciding if it was going to allow me to smile for her or sob for her.  On one hand, the funeral went very well and everyone was amazingly helpful and kind, but on the other hand, I had lost one of the most special people in my life, and Derek hadn’t even bothered to bring his far-too-busy ass to the burial for even five seconds to support or console me.  I had been so strong for Mom, but it would’ve been nice to have had him beside me for support, if nothing else. 

Derek’s apartment was dark—Beck must’ve been out for the night.  I drug my feet over to the sofa and peeled off my fitted, solid-black dress and flats.  Yep, a funeral definitely called for flats, in my book. 

The kitchen tile was cold and felt therapeutic against the numb pads of my bare feet as I walked sluggishly to the refrigerator.  A blur of color captured my attention, and I turned to the counter.  A simple, square vase was filled with twenty-four roses, tinted a light, velvety pink.  They were gorgeous, and their scent was sweet and brought a tear to my eye, in my fragile state. 

I leaned in to smell them deeper, and I saw the card tucked neatly into the leafy greenery.  It was nice to know Derek hadn’t just forgotten.  At least he’d been thoughtful enough to send flowers.  Still, it didn’t excuse his absence.  I plucked the card from the lush bundle of nature and slid my finger under the seal. 

Lissa, I didn’t feel comfortable showing up to such an emotional occasion, when I don’t even really know you, but I wanted you to know that I was thinking about you, and I’m sorry that you lost your grandmother.  I have no idea if you even like flowers, but I know you like ice cream—Moose Tracks, to be more specific—so I opted for both.  Check the freezer before you head to watch one of your sappy movies in your pajamas.  Oh, and, you’re allowed to eat the
entire tub
!

Don’t hold back,

Beck

They weren’t even from Derek, they were from Beck.  I smiled, sat the card on the counter, and strolled to the freezer to look inside.  It was the biggest tub of Moose Tracks I’d ever seen.  It was my favorite ice cream.  I truly just liked to pull the entire fudge ripple out and eat it, and leave the vanilla ice cream.  Derek always said I demolished and wasted the whole tub of ice cream.

One “sappy movie” later, I dropped my spoon into the half-empty, fudge-ripple-free carton and sat it on the coffee table.  I slumped back into the cushions of the sofa and watched the credits roll as some daunting, dramatic piano piece played. 

“I see you found the ice cream.”  Beck’s voice was soft; playful, as usual, but more sympathetic.  I hadn’t even heard him come in.  I tilted my head back and smiled at him, upside down.  Even upside down I couldn’t escape how much he looked like Derek.  He walked around the sofa.  “You weren’t supposed to hold back,” he scolded, looking down into the carton of ice cream, a shadow of disappointment in his playful frown. 

I shrugged, staring up at him.  He looked like he’d just woken up.  His hair only fingered through, his clothes slightly worn and wrinkled, and his eyes were still kind of sleepy—from what I could tell in the dark.  Okay, maybe he looked more like he was heading to bed than coming from it.

“I’d say you put a damn good sized dent in it, though.”

“I just like the fudge ribbon.”  My voice was hollow. 

“Well,” he fell back onto the sofa next to me, “that is the best part.  It’s salty and melty.  Actually, you got any of it left?”  He bolted up and pulled the carton from the table, scraping the spoon around the melted vanilla remains.  “Wow, you wiped that out,” he chuckled, replaced the carton, and sat back. 

There was a long silence as we both stared off at the TV.  I could just barely hear our breaths taking turns.

“Thanks for the flowers,” I said lifelessly. 

He rolled his head to the side to look at me, and he smiled.  “Welcome,” he whispered. Both of our heads were resting on the back of the sofa.  His face was so close to mine that I could smell the minty scent of his breath as he spoke. 

The yellowish light from the kitchen shone across and into the dark pools of his eyes—just enough light to bring out the maple coloring in the darkness.  They were soft and easy, and it made me smile.  His beauty was hard to ignore in that moment, so I just stared at him—something I usually avoided. 

“Do you wanna talk about her?”

I blinked at his question, realizing I’d slipped away into some kind of warm peacefulness in his gaze.  “What?”  I narrowed my tired eyes at him. 

“When my aunt died, all I seemed to wanna do was talk about her,” he clarified, his eyes still holding mine.  “She was crazy, and she could be a real bitch at times, but all I wanted to do was talk about all of the good things I remembered her doing, or the funny things I remembered her saying.  It was like I thought I could somehow preserve the memory of her longer if…I just talked about her.” 

As I gazed at him, his words sinking in, a grin pulled at the corners of my mouth.  He was in such a sweet state, and it was pleasant.  I needed pleasant after the day I’d had. 

“Thanks, but I’m a mess.  Derek didn’t make it to the funeral, and I just don’t think I can…” was all I could get out before the lump rose in my throat.  I swallowed it and looked down at his shoulder. 

He sat quietly beside me without even moving. 

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and I closed my eyes. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.  His thumb grazed my cheek, wiping away the falling droplet.  “I really didn’t mean for you to cry.  I just thought it might help.  I…”  He trailed off. 

I shook my head, squinting to hold back the rest of the tears.  “It’s okay.  I just don’t think I can talk about her.”  I got the words out, and they were fairly steady.  I pressed my fingers to the back of his hand, where it lingered warmly against my cheek, and when I opened my eyes, his were liquefied, burrowing into mine. 

My fingertips idly traced the hills of the veins that were strewn across his hand.  The few inches of space that separated our faces was on fire, and I tried not to notice, but it was impossible to ignore the sparking tingle that flared between my fingers and his skin.