Beautiful Tragedy (A Standalone Romance Novel) (3 page)

I was grinning inwardly as I said, “Who?”

I casually poured my “bad smelling” drink into a glass
as Jake said, “Megan’s friend? The one from last night? Do you seriously not
remember her name?”

“I have memory problems from the cancer too,” I told
him. “You’re so insensitive sometimes.” I was grinning this time so he just
ignored me. Then I said, “Oh, the brunette. Yeah, she’s hot.”

“She’s a good-looking girl,” Jake said. “Hot” wasn’t a
word that he’d use in reference to any other woman than Megan, and I knew it. I
was still tugging at his chain. “But, did you like her? I mean, come on man.
Megan and I know that you attract the good-looking ones like flies. But you
never really like them. Megan said you also needed one with a brain. What did
you think of Molly?”

I gulped down the juice, sat the glass on the counter,
wiped my mouth and picked up the keys to my bike before I said, “She was
alright.”

“Just alright?” Jake said, sounding disappointed. I
knew that Megan’s disappointment was what he was worried about. For some reason
it was important to Megan that Molly and I like each other.

I shrugged, grabbed my book bag off the counter and
said, “Don’t give away my football ticket okay?”

Jake grinned as I went out the door. He knew how I
felt about football. I’m sure he took that as a good sign.

Our apartment building was only six blocks from the university.
I could walk, and sometimes I did, but sometimes I rode Suzie just because I
missed her. I found her waiting for me in our spot, chrome gleaming in the sun.
Suzie used to belong to my pop. She had been his since she rolled off the
Harley Davidson assembly line in 1964. She was an XL Sportster with an
overhead-valve engine and cast iron heads. Her body was red and white with lots
of shiny chrome. She could be a lot of work to keep clean and shiny, but I
loved her, and what woman wasn’t work?
 

My dad had loved her too. He gave her to me on my
eighteenth birthday. It’s funny, because of all the things my dad has done for
me in my life, that was the day I realized exactly how much he loved me. I put
my book bag in her leather saddle bag and straddled her. It was silly, but
since it was only in my head I tried not to be too embarrassed about it. As I
put on my helmet and Suzie roared to life, I was hoping that Molly would see me
driving into the lot at school. Something about riding Suzie made me feel
really sexy.

I made it to school in less than five minutes. Molly
was nowhere around as I backed Suzie into her space, but unfortunately for me,
Tammy was. I tried not to look in her direction as I got my books out of the
saddle bag. She was just climbing out of her red mustang, and I didn’t think
she saw me. I rarely ever get that lucky though, and I hadn’t today.

“Brock! Wait up, I’ll walk with you.”

I stopped, going against what every fiber in my body
wanted me to do, which was run. I wished sometimes that when I was growing up,
my parents hadn’t taught me to be so polite. No good ever came of it. It left
me walking across campus with my own stalker. When I have kids someday, I’ll
keep this in mind. She was breathless when she caught up, which was good
because for a full two minutes she couldn’t partake of the incessant babble
that was her usual norm. My bliss was shattered when the oxygen returned to her
lungs.

“So how have you been, Brock? I saw your concert
yesterday…you were amazing! Who was that girl you were with last evening? Were
you holding her hand? Is she your girlfriend?” I’m not kidding. Just like that
with nary a breath in between.

“She’s just a friend,” I told her…strangely wishing I
could say otherwise. “And thanks, about the concert.”

“You’re welcome. I loved it. You are such a good
singer. I can feel your words when you sing. I’m glad you don’t have a
girlfriend,” she said. “I’m still holding out hope for us.” What the heck was I
supposed to say to that? Instead of answering her I pulled my phone out of my
pocket and looked at it.

“Damn, Tammy. I’m late for my English class. I have to
run.” I didn’t give her the opportunity to object, I just jogged off in the
other direction.

The rest of the week passed slowly. I went to my
classes and wrote some music and played a few video games with Jake, but time
just seemed to be standing still. I didn’t run into Molly, not even once. I
often enjoyed the fact that the University Campus was like a little city in
itself, but not this week. I wanted it to be small enough that I didn’t just
know she was there, but that I actually ran into her. This doesn’t sound like
me, not even to myself. I’m starting to believe that there really is that one person
out there that you are just waiting for your entire life, and maybe I’ve found
her. Jeez, I’m ridiculous, I’ve seen her once. I was sitting in class, my
Romanticism in Music class, and having these thoughts. I know, it’s probably
more about the professor playing a remix of the themes to almost every romantic
movie ever made than it is that I’ve really fallen for this girl, but I really
want to see her again and explore it.

I realized as I was leaving class that I had hardly
heard anything that was said. I really didn’t like most of my classes. I just
wanted to play my music, but my dad really wanted me to go to college, and I
like my dad…so here I am. At least he wasn’t picky about what I chose to major
in. That’s the coolest thing about my dad. He has told me since I was about
twelve that life was too short to put on a suit and tie that you hated, and go
into an office building you despised, and spend all day working with people who
you felt sorry for because they are all as miserable as you. The fact that my
father went against the norm and chose a career that most people furrowed their
brows about when I told them speaks volumes.

My dad is a hair designer. Don’t call him a stylist or
a barber, that’ll just tick him off. He went to school for four years to learn
how to “design” hair. He works with models and actors and actresses and the
fact that he makes good money wasn’t the best part. The best part was that he
was happy, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought about that. He
just always had this amazing outlook and enthusiasm for life.

I only remember twice in our lives when my dad was
truly unhappy. When I was six, my mom decided she wanted a divorce. I couldn’t
imagine why anyone would not want to live with my dad. There was a lot a six-year-old
didn’t understand about the world and relationships though. To this day, I
don’t know what came between them. She and I went to live with her mom, but
every time I went to visit him, Dad just looked so sad. One day I asked him, “Are
you sad because Mom’s not here?” He ruffled my hair and said, “A little bit,
but I’m sadder because you’re not here.” We didn’t live far from him, so on the
days when he wasn’t at work I would walk to his house after school and visit
him. That seemed to make him less sad. I had tried more than once to tell my
mom that I wanted to live with him, but I didn’t want to make her sad either. I
don’t think parents really realize what they’re doing to a kid when they get a
divorce. I knew it wasn’t my fault, or about me, but I still always felt like
it was my job somehow to make sure everyone was happy.

When I was eight, my mom got remarried. To this day, I
don’t know where she met this guy. She rarely left the house. She used her
computer a lot though, so maybe it was an online thing? I asked her once and
she had changed the subject. Anyway, she said she had finally met her soulmate,
but he lived in London. London, as in London, England. Okay, I’m sure she met
him online but again, what do I know about grown-up relationships? What I knew
then, was that London was really far away…from my dad.

I did something that I had stopped doing at the age of
three then; I had a fit. I kicked and screamed and bawled my head off. I said
terrible things to my mother that I knew would make her feel bad, but I was
eight and I didn’t want to leave my Dad. Ultimately, I got my way. Mom still
got married and moved to London, but I got to stay with my dad. I also got to
spend a lot of vacations and summers in London which was cool, until I got
sick.

That was the second thing that made my dad really sad.
It was also when the true character of my parents came shining through. My dad
called my mom, who left her husband, her job, and her new kid to come be at my
side. My dad took a sabbatical from work and he literally never left me. I had
been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and the initial report by the surgeons and
oncologists was that they could take it out. Once they got in there though,
they found that it had wound its way around my brainstem. They put in a shunt
to drain the fluid that was building up and causing me headaches, and they
closed me up. Then the real fun started with five rounds of chemo and thirty
radiation treatments. My mom had to go back home. I understood…kind of. She had
a five-year-old kid, my little brother, and she had a job…I guess at the time I
resented her a little because of it, but I’m totally over it now…mostly.

I was out of it most of the time during my chemo
sessions. I would wake up and eat; they had me on steroids and man was I
hungry. I didn’t like to open my eyes because the light hurt them. I always
knew dad was there though…I could hear the football games on TV. My dad loves
football.

I wanted to tell him to turn it off. I had just made
the high school team before I got sick. In my mind, I was going to play
freshman football and I was going to date the head cheerleader, and then…before
I became a famous rock star, I was going to play some college ball. The thing
in my head had caused all of that to come to a screeching halt in one fell
swoop, and hearing the game every time I woke up made me want to scream. It
made Dad happy though, something he hadn’t been again since I’d gotten
diagnosed, so I didn’t tell him.

That explains my aversion to football though, and why
the only reason I am going to this game tomorrow night is in hopes of seeing
Molly.

CHAPTER
THREE

MOLLY

“I’m taking off now Cassie, okay?” Cassie was a barista
at the university coffee shop. The same where I was now working too, and where
she was training me. I had only just started a few days before. Today had been
my third day of training, and I was allowed to touch the blessed espresso machine.
I didn’t do too badly. I mixed up a mocha with a caramel macchiato once, and I
completely forgot to steam the milk for one drink, and I made the next one so
hot that the professor I made it for burned his tongue. Hopefully he won’t
decide to sue.

“Okay Molly. I’ll see you tomorrow. You did great
today.”

“Thanks!”

Cassie is a great teacher. She’s patient and she has a
knack for explaining things so even a coffee idiot can understand. She was a
lousy liar though. We both knew I hadn’t done great. But, tomorrow I intend to
do better. As I walked out the door and headed in the direction of the dorms, I
decided that the reason I hadn’t gotten those drinks exactly right was because
I was thinking about the football game. Not so much in a good way. It was more
along the lines of, “I can’t believe I agreed to go to this stupid football
game.” I mean I…really…can’t…believe it! I hate football, I always have. My
grandma and I never watched football, so when I got to high school and decided
to go to the games because, well, that’s what you did in high school, I
realized that I had no clue what they were doing out there. Also, football is
usually played during the coldest months of the year, and outside to boot…it
just makes no sense to me. I hate being cold, and I couldn’t figure out why
people would sit through something as miserable as a blizzard to watch a silly
game.

Now baseball…there’s a sport that makes sense. It’s
played outdoors as well, but during the spring and summer when normal people
want to be outdoors. It’s also a hell of a lot easier to understand. One could
even go so far as to say that it’s self-explanatory. But football sucks, and
although I won’t admit it to Megan or Jake, I only agreed to go because I
actually want to see Brock again. It’s crazy, I know. I don’t want a boyfriend;
I categorically do not. But there’s just something about this guy. Maybe I just
want to get to know him better to find out what it is he’s always amused about?
Or hey, maybe I just want to see him. I’m human, right? He’s hot, so there you
have it.

I got back to my dorm, and Megan had left a note. It
said, “Gone to pick up Jake and Brock.” I pulled things out of my closet,
trying to decide what to wear and glad that Megan wasn’t here to see me. If she
saw me going through my clothes acting like I was getting ready for the senior
prom, she would take that to mean she was right and I really did like this guy.
She would never believe that it was more curiosity than anything. I just don’t
know that much about guys my age. We could call it research.

It wasn’t that I was a dork in high school or anything
when I was supposed to be practicing for the real world. Actually…before I got
sick, I was pretty popular. Things just got weird after that. The summer before
my junior year, about the time Grandma thought I was old enough to date, I was
diagnosed with a tumor on one of my kidneys. They went in to take the tumor,
but found out that it had damaged the kidney too badly to save it, and they’d
had to take the entire kidney out. I was a little freaked out by that at first,
but the doctors assured me that it was fine, and anyone could live on only one
kidney.