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ChapterFourteen
SHANE
Present
I begin getting ready while Becca sits where I just put her down after getting up from the couch. I put my heart out there and I know she needs to process what I’m saying. I wasn’t kidding—she and I are meant to be together, and I need to find a way to right this wrong I caused, even if it doesn’t change what was done long ago.
I pull my pants up and leave them unbuttoned as I go to grab my shirt. Before I put it on, Becca is on her feet, making her way over to me. She stops me as I try to pull the shirt over my head and looks at my chest. I know what she’s staring at, and I know she’s trying to find words to react to the image staring back at her.
“What’s the meaning of that tattoo?” She eyes the ink on my chest and then shifts her eyes toward me. I know she can decipher what she’s seeing, but she needs to hear me explain it.
I clear my throat, the emotions taking over as I explain what I put on my body as a reminder of her.
“Remember those clusters of stars we used to stare at back home?” She nods but doesn’t speak.
“They’re called Pleiades, and after I left Nebraska, I felt sick knowing I didn’t have you by my side anymore. So while I was away, I started to look up the meaning behind the stars. Turns out Pleiades meansto sail, which is fitting since I’m a Navy man.
“One of the guys on the ship was an incredible artist, and I told him what I was envisioning. He took that and worked on it for weeks when we were in our bunks. The moment he revealed it to me, I knew I had to put it on my body permanently.”
I rub the area, remembering how much it hurt to get it tattooed, but knowing the pain I would have without Becca by my side would continue to be insurmountable, so the physical pain really wasn’t the pain that lingered afterward.
“I ended up with this sailboat with the waves hitting it, the stars shining down from the night sky. I guess deep down I was hoping my boat would always lead back to you, the biggest star to touch my life.”
I hear her inhale and before I know it, she’s hugging me. Her shoulders shake as she cries even more. I inhale her scent and close my eyes. My life brought me to this moment, and I cannot let this opportunity pass me.
I hope that these are happy tears because I’m well aware most of the cries I’ve seen from her lately were of sadness and pain, all of which I was the cause of.
She pulls away from me and I immediately wish we could go back to embracing. She looks up at me, a small smile pulling at her lips, “I think this calls for pancakes.”
I chuckle and nod. I guess after all these years, some things haven’t changed. Becca always loved a stack of pancakes after she had herself a good cry.
* * *
Sitting across from her, I watch this girl that I have never stopped loving, now a woman, devour a stack of pancakes. We came to a little hole-in-the-wall diner she frequents. It seems many of the employees here know her name, and she seems at peace being surrounded by those who have added to this life she now lives.
Becca told me this was a diner she frequented when she was in college, studying late nights for exams when it was simply too hard to concentrate at home. She told me about medical school, but glossed over a lot of that time, and jumped straight to how she met Hudson. Turns out she went to someone’s housewarming and he was there, and that they started off as friends before moving forward romantically.
As hard as it was to hear about the life she lived without me, I know that her years without me weren’t all bad. She smiled telling me about her twins, and how it was a struggle navigating life with their schedules that never seemed to sync up.
She briefly went on to talk about her divorce to Hudson, but admitted that although he is the adulterer, she feels their marriage was over far before he had his affair. She feels like they simply stopped envisioning what life would look like as a team and grew apart. She doesn’t seem to hold animosity toward him, and I find that a feat to admit about someone you once promised to honor and cherish for the rest of your days.
I told Becca about my time in the Navy. I told her how working with the crew onboard the ship, day in and day out, made me appreciate that time in my life, but that I don’t miss it. I now understood the brotherhood my grandfather and father always talked about. I realized how those years laid the foundation for my company, even before I opened my doors.
I feel myself opening up and letting her see inside my life from years past, allowing her to feel slightly connected, even if only through my words, about how much that time meant to me. I smile thinking back at how those guys and I became brothers and still stay connected with annual gatherings, in which the location jumps from one person’s state to the other.
I ask Becs about her mother, and I see the light in her eyes shine brighter. It seems the bond between the two Stanley ladies hasn’t wavered.
“My mom lives in upstate New York, right near Syracuse University. She remarried in 2008 to a man named Rick. He’s good to her. She never sought love after my dad’s passing, but Rick happened to be at the hospital one afternoon when visiting a friend who had hip surgery. My mom was having lunch with me, and they shared an elevator to the cafeteria on her way in, and the rest is history. They lived in the city for a few years but ended up moving to their current home in upstate New York when the kids got older.
“I was happy with the timing of their move as the pandemic hit the city hard, and I was worried for their health at that time. I see her as often as I can, either by going up to stay with her, or she comes into the city and spends a few nights at my place. She’s still one of my favorite people. Now she’s closer to Liv so that settles my nerves.”
I’m about to press for more information when my phone starts to vibrate on the table. I look down and see my mom’s face fill the screen.
“Speaking of mothers, mine must be feeling left out that I haven’t mentioned her yet. Let me grab this if that’s ok.” Becs makes a face but nods to indicate it’s not a problem.
“Hey, Mom, how are you?” She begins and rambles for far too long about how her roof needs to be replaced, and that the ocean air is contributing to some deterioration on the outside of her house. She lives in Palos Verdes, in California. When I joined the Navy, I was stationed out there to begin with. Although I’ve moved around since then, she couldn’t part with the ocean and stayed in the same city she had moved to since leaving Nebraska.
When I notice a lull in our conversation, truly her conversation with me, I interject, “Guess who I ran into, Mom.” She has no idea and I blurt it out, “Becca.” Her silence is deafening, so I clarify in case she doesn’t recall. “You remember, Rebecca Stanley?” She remains silent and I pull the phone away from my ear to see if the call dropped.
