The Final Piece (20 page)

For a long time I wouldn’t let anyone close enough to touch me, let alone have sex with me. When I finally di
d have sex, it was out of curio
sity. I didn’t take much stock in what Dave said back then because it was offensive, he clearly didn’t know me at all. Little did I know that one day, I would finally understand all his concern. If he could see me now, curled up in the lap of a man I haven’t spent a day with in a decade, he’d have a stroke. I’m not thinking about the position I am in or how easily it could get out of hand. I hurt too much to think. Maybe it is naïve, but Ryan’s arms feel like a sanctuary for my pain. A place where I can give into it and not have to answer for it. I still trust Ryan. I need to.

“He loved you more than anything else in this world. I hope you know that, Beth.” Ryan’s voice is gravel.

I turn my face into his chest and find more tears as I think of Tommy. No one could possibly deny me this comfort. I don’t care what Dave would say.

Ryan’s sudden shift tears me from my thoughts, lifting my head. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a vibrating phone. “Hi Melissa,” he answers, giving me an apologetic look. “We stopped at Legion to catch our breath before we headed to the house.” He cringes as I hear Aunt Melissa’s raised voice through the earpiece, “I’m sorry I didn’t call. We’ll head your way in a few.” He pauses to let her reply, “I love you, too. I understand and I’m really sorry I didn’t call ... ok, bye.” Running his hand through his hair, he looks frazzled.

“She was worried, huh?” I move out of Ryan’s lap, my movements are as disjointed as I feel. Ryan looks like he wants to say something but hesitates. With our moment broken, I feel foolish for my emotional display. “We should probably get going,” I suggest as I stand.

“Beth,” Ryan grabs my hand. This is where I should probably employ one of those boundaries and take back some of the dignity I just gave away. “Thank you,” he squeezes my hand, “I needed this.”

As we walk back to the truck, I try to regain a little balance by getting my hand back but every time I relax my grip, Ryan strengthens his. He looks at me suspiciously, like he can sense I am trying to distance myself. I find it both irritating and comforting that Ryan can still read me like an emotional barometer.

We ride in silence back to Gran and Pops’ house, giving me time to try and figure out how close is too close. I don’t want to push Ryan away but I don’t want to make a fool out of myself again. Damn boundaries, damn Dave. He was right after all.

As Ryan parks, I prepare for the onslaught we are about to enter. My fear is that I will let Ryan fall into the role of my emotional crutch. He needs his own room to process—he doesn’t need me to distract him.

As we walk up the steps, I keep my hands busy fiddling with my purse. I can see Ryan studying me in my peripheral, probably using his Spidey sense to read my mind. If I thought making my hand unavailable was a solution, I was mistaken. When we walk through the front door, Ryan’s arm finds its way around my waist. Frustration courses through me when my body relaxes into his side. I have no self-control. There are people covering every inch of space in the house, and they all turn to see who’s walked through the front door.

Through the sea of bodies, Gran’s slight frame appears, “Blossom!” She grabs my face in her hands and kisses my forehead. “Thank God you’re here,” she gives me a watery smile and wraps me tightly in her arms. When she lets me go, Pops is there to hug me against him and escort me through the crowd. Tension coils around me as we brush past the mourners gathered here for Tommy.

“Beth,” Uncle Rob’s voice is vacant. His face is pale. The dark circles under his eyes announce his exhaustion. He pulls me into a hug and my heart breaks all over again. Tommy and Uncle Rob were more than friends—they were an extension of one another. Losing Tommy means that he has irrevocably lost a part of himself. Aunt Melissa appears at his side, looking every bit as haggard as her husband. Her curly blond hair is pulled into a limp ponytail, and her eyes are red and swollen. She wraps herself around both Uncle Rob and me, sobbing quietly against my shoulder.

“Tommy loved you so much, baby girl,” Uncle Rob cries, “you were his from the moment you were born. He thought of you as his own.”

Anxiety crackles along my spine; I feel like a fraud. Tommy loved me like a daughter and I cut him out of my life. I didn’t deserve his love. Uncle Rob’s torment and my anxiety swirl around each other, generating a funnel cloud that threatened to suck me in and spit me out. My eyes dart around searching for an escape. I kiss Uncle Rob on the cheek and then Aunt Melissa before ducking under Pops’ arm to head for the kitchen. Without slowing down, I rush down the kitchen steps and out the side door. The stucco digs at my back as I lean against the house trying to calm down.

My face is soaked with tears and I am breathing like I’ve just run a marathon. I haven’t had a panic attack in years, and the fact that I am having one now only serves to infuriate me further. The doorknob rattles, sending me running around the back of the house. If anyone finds me out here hyperventilating, I’ll die of humiliation.

The cherry tree is blooming with fall colors, its branches beckoning me like open arms. I put my hand against the rough bark of the trunk and hang my head, willing my heart rate to slow and my breathing to steady. Once the adrenaline is gone, my body sags and I drop to my knees. Exhaustion tempts me to curl up right here and let sleep take me far away from the agony.

A twig snaps behind me, sending me scrambling to my feet. Ryan stands a few feet away looking both guilty and concerned. “I didn’t want to startle you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I accuse. He doesn’t answer and I realize he’s been there the whole time. I am mortified.

“Beth,” Ryan begins, taking a step toward me.

“Don’t.” I hold my hand out and step back. I need to put my foot down and make my limits very clear. My outstretched hand shakes and I curse myself for the outward sign of weakness. I will be hard pressed to convince Ryan that I don’t need him to hold me up when he keeps witnessing my meltdowns. His eyes bore into mine with a mix of fear and irritation. All of the clever things I was going to say dry up in my throat.

“No, you don’t, Beth.” Ryan furrows his brow and closes the distance between us with two steps. “Don’t push me away because you think you shouldn’t lean on me. You need me, Beth, and I need you.” We are nose to nose and I hope he can feel the fury rolling off me.

“
I don’t know you anymore, Ryan
,” I yell. “What kind of fool would I be to just assume that we are the same stupid kids we were ten years ago? I shouldn’t trust you any more than you should trust me.”

His mouth pulls into a thin line and fire flashes in his green eyes. “You know me, Beth. In your heart, you know me and you still trust me or you wouldn’t have crawled into my lap and bared your soul.” His voice is soft but the pinch of his brow gives away his anger, “You’re just pissed off because you’re thinking of what everyone else might think.
Screw them and what they think
.” He grabs me by the arms, pinning them to my sides. “You want to know what I think? In the last forty-eight hours I have been tortured over Tommy’s death and the only time I have had any peace was getting to see you again.” His accuracy scares me.

“Please let me go,” I cry. Ryan releases my arms but makes no move to step away. Instead he sweeps the pad of his thumb across my cheek, catching my tears.

“Don’t be afraid of me, please,” he begs. “I won’t hurt you.” He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

A war of logic and emotion pulls me from both sides, one pulls me back and the other pushes me forward. Being tossed around the two makes my head spin. It’s insane to encourage this level of intimacy with someone who is practically a stranger, no matter how much I’ve longed for him over the years. While that makes perfect sense, my heart is begging me to fill it with the comfort Ryan is offering. If Tommy’s death has taught me anything, it’s that life is fragile and nothing is certain. I brush my hand against Ryan’s cheek and stretch up on my tiptoes to kiss it. He shudders at my touch and lets out a relieved sigh.

“I don’t want to be afraid of you, Ryan. Let’s be honest, it’s been a really long time.” I try to lighten the mood but neither of us is in the mindset to joke.

“It has been too long,” he starts, “but we’ve known each other our whole lives, Beth. I’m not a stranger, no matter what you are kicking around in that lovely head of yours.” He hits me with that irresistible lopsided smile.

Crap.

“That’s easy to say, Ry, but we should still exercise a little restraint. I mean you really have an issue with personal space.” I can’t help but snicker. This is far from humorous, but the absurdity of it is making me slaphappy. He arches an eyebrow that only makes me laugh harder.

He steps close enough that our bodies barely touch. His eyes study me with such intensity, I am sure that I will spontaneously combust. He rubs his scruff against my cheek, and I have to will my legs not to buckle when kissing it sends his breath skittering across my ear. Leave it to me to get turned on at Tommy’s wake. 

“Ryan,” I whisper, gathering all my courage, ”this doesn’t feel friendly. We are teetering on a line here that we haven’t crossed since we were kids. I don’t want to hurt anymore than I already do.” Ryan’s body tenses and I wait for him to start laughing at me for being presumptuous. I don’t think I am. Being this close to him muddles my brain, making me want dangerous things. Pulling his head back to look at me, his expression stops my heart.

“Don’t you think I remember? How could I ever forget how it felt to kiss you?” His eyes drift to my mouth and linger. “It’s all I have dreamt about for years. But I also remember how good it felt to have your trust, and to have someone I could trust. We were kids, but it was special, Beth. You were always special.” I am drunk with his confession and so confused. The back of Ryan’s hand brushes across my cheek, wiping tears I didn’t even know I was still shedding. “Don’t push me away,” he pleads as he replaces his hand with his lips.

“Please,” I whimper. My body shakes with a fusion of desire, fear and sadness; it’s overwhelming. I close my eyes to block out some of the sensory overload short-circuiting my nerves. “I can’t think straight, Ryan. I can’t do this.” My libido is screaming profanities at me but the last burst of logic wins out. I force myself to let Ryan go and walk back to the house.

Chapter 34

Once the last of the mourners have left and the food is packed away, I escape to the security of my childhood bedroom. The delicate lace curtains have yellowed over the years but everything looks the same. The four-poster bed is tucked into the corner where the ceiling slopes, and my dresser sits against the opposite wall. The turntable is still perched on the hope chest that holds my records. This day calls for some music therapy. I choose my favorite Nina Simone EP and strip off my clothes in favor of PJ bottoms and my favorite chicken t-shirt. If only stripping off layers of clothing could also strip off the layers of the day. Tommy permeates every thought, consciously or not. Nina Simone was a favorite of his, too.

***

“Nina? How old are you, baby girl? 30?” Tommy laughs.

“Thirteen. Ha ha.” I roll my eyes.

“Who got you hooked on this?” he asks.

“Pops gave me this album,” I answer proudly. “Nobody else sounds like she does. Her voice casts a spell on me.”

“You’ve got the oldest soul of any thirteen year old I know. You’re right, though, Nina’s voice is hypnotic.” He smiles.

We sift through the rest of the jazz albums Pops gave me: Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis, Sarah Vaughn and Dizzy Gillespie. Tommy teaches me the melodic and harmonic structures of Jazz Theory compared to Classic Music Theory. His passion is intoxicating and my heart leaps when he goes downstairs to grab his guitar. I love the way Tommy really gets into it when he talks about music. It feels like he understands how music makes me feel.

“Check this out, Beth,” he bursts back into the room with his guitar case and promptly joins me on the floor, tuning the strings. Soon he’s showing me examples of common jazz chords like the minor seventh and how it’s built from the major C scale. I listen closely to his lesson in music theory, and he gives me all his attention when I go over my latest lyrical analysis. The afternoon passes with the two of us discussing music, in between singing duets. Pops sticks his head in my door when Tommy and I are in the middle of “Cheek to Cheek” by way of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald.

“You hanyaks need to take your act on the road,” Pops smiles.” Why don’t you come downstairs and sing for your Gran and I?”

We follow Pops to the living room where Tommy and I take song requests. We harmonize our way through song after song while Tommy accompanies us on the guitar. It fills me with a kind of joy that only music brings me.

“I think I have found my musical kindred, Pops, ”Tommy laughs, “and just when I was sure I couldn’t love this baby girl more.”

His praise makes my cheeks hot but I am not embarrassed, I am thrilled that he feels that way. Acceptance isn’t something I have when I am home in Miami. Having Tommy’s fills me to bursting with happiness.

“You get me.” I giggle. 

***

Tommy’s v
oice is still ringing in my ears
when I open my eyes. Confused, I sit up on my bed to find myself on top of the covers with an afghan over me. Gran never stops taking care of me. I don’t think I will ever outgrow being her “Blossom.” The clock on the dresser has to be wrong because it’s insisting on 6:00 A.M.—there is no way that I have been asleep for the last ten hours. I grab my phone from the nightstand and am shocked that it’s in agreement. Wrapping the afghan around my shoulders, I pad downstairs to start coffee.