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I close my eyes and try to meditate, something I started when I returned from service as a way to calm my body and mind. The stress one bears when serving is something that can never be eliminated from the mind, but I’ve found ways to cope thanks to my therapist. The meditation doesn’t last long as he has to swerve to the side to miss hitting a car door that abruptly opens to the street.
To avoid traffic, Patrick has taken us through some residential neighborhoods, which has been a nice distraction from my busy mind. I see many families leaving for the morning, kids with their backpacks, and parents balancing their coffee plus a million other necessities to get through the day. The thought of that life comes at me for a moment and my heart constricts; there’s no use of thinking whatcould havebeen. There is nothing to gain from going down that mental road trip.
The moment I start to close my eyes again, my phone rings. I look down to see it’s my assistant, Janice, probably wondering where I am to start my day. I don’t live in New York year-round. I started my business with my buddy, Dustin Greer, shortly after leaving the Navy. He and I served together, and we conjured this idea late at night when we were bunking together. It’s flourished from the ground up and I couldn't be happier. But with great achievement comes great responsibility.
We’ve worked hard to get our company to be the success it is, but now I have started to pull back, as has Dustin, and we’ve brought on new personnel to ensure the business can run smoothly while we have more upper management roles. Dustin is from Boston, and although my life started in Nebraska, I was mostly in California after joining the Navy.
So now I have a place back in Boston and one in California where I alternate my time. I come to New York when meetings and business need me here. I stay at a friend’s house while in Manhattan because I can’t bear to add one more responsibility to my ever-evolving lifestyle. Janice is my wonder-woman of an assistant and has the ability to put me in my place with her no-nonsense Boston personality. The fact she hasn’t been fired yet is simply because we both know I would be helpless without her.
“Where are you? Your nine o’clock meeting is fast approaching, and you should be closer to the office by now.”
“How do you know where I am? Are you having me followed?” I run my hand down my face.
What does that say about me running a security firm and I don’t notice someone following me?
“No asshat, I have a locator on your phone and can see where you are,” Janice says as if I’m the dumbest human to walk this earth. You’d think the way she talks to me would make me angry, but this is how we are, constantly throwing jabs where we deem fit.
“You track me? Is that even ethical?” I know I’m just messing with her at this point, but I love to ruffle her feathers.
“I’m not starting this conversation because I haven’t fueled myself with enough coffee yet. Just make it by nine so I don’t have an aneurysm. It took me two months to get Mr. Henderson to schedule this meeting with you, to begin with. Make my hard work worth it, boss.”
She hangs up abruptly. Janice has never been one for small talk and I appreciate it. I look down and note the time. I pocket my phone and decide I need to move around a bit as we aren’t that far from the meeting location. I ask Patrick to pull over and let me walk. We decide he’ll grab a coffee at a little spot he knows nearby, and I’ll meet him there.
Once out of the car, I take in the neighborhood I’m standing in. The brownstones are just like they are in the movies. This part of New York never disappoints. I smile to myself seeing these homes lined up down this street. Someone from my past had dreams of living here once. My mind goes there, and I feel that heartache I’ve learned will stay with me until my last breath. I push it aside and begin walking down the street.
I’m looking at the trees swaying with the morning breeze, but my attention is pulled when I hear a voice. Not just any voice, buthervoice. I stop in my tracks and look ahead at the source of it, and that’s when I see two kids walking into a decked-out, black Model X Tesla with who appears to be a father figure, while a woman stands at a brownstone door, waving. She quickly scurries inside and slams the door.
My steps take over, I’m not even thinking about my actions as I move closer to her home, the Tesla speeding off and forgotten about in my mind. I’m taking steps two at a time, my heart racing as I near the one thing that’s separating me from my past. I knock, thinking very little about what may come next.
The door swings open and she’s there, my Becs. She’s older, obviously, with laugh lines only adding to her charm, but still the most beautiful human I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Her eyes go wide, and if she were a cartoon character, I bet they’d be bugging out like those Looney Tunes cartoons we grew up with. Instead, I hear it before I see it, her coffee hitting the ground and the mug in pieces. She doesn't even acknowledge it, simply stares at me.
While she stands, probably not breathing and as still as a statue, I feel like I’ve taken my first real breath in over twenty-five years.
ChapterThree
REBECCA
Fall 1994
My mom’s still sitting in her car, waiting for me to walk in. I’m in front of my new school in Nebraska, after moving from California over the summer. This school is so much smaller than my last one. I hear my baby brother fussing in the car seat, upset that the car is idle, and he isn't being stimulated by the passing objects outside the window.
“Becca, you’re going to do great. It’s a new school, but you’re going to make friends in no time,” my mother says from her driver’s seat, while I stand outside the car, the passenger window rolled down.
I look back at my mom. She tries to reach for Grant’s binky that he threw while protesting his current displeasure. I can see the worry on her face more than she realizes. She’s my best friend and I see when she’s hurting. This isn’t the life we saw us living a year ago. A year ago when my dad was still alive and we were complete. My dad was absolutely incredible and losing him feels like a piece of my heart will never be mended.
About six months ago, Mom and I made the decision together to leave Southern California. The pain of his loss was unbearable, and we needed to find new surroundings because my dad’s memory was imprinted all over the state for us. The number of road trips we took as a family felt like they were in the hundreds. Even when I was starting to be a bratty teen, I loved sitting in the backseat and watching my parents interact. They had this bond, this love, that had me looking at the stars at night and pleading for me to feel that one day in my future.
Unfortunately, in an instant, everything ended when my dad was driving home from his job as a professor at Pepperdine University, and a drunk driver hit his car, causing him to lose control and careen down the mountain. Our worlds were shattered, and we were still trying to find our bearings in this new normal we were navigating. So here I am, staring at my new school, trying to be brave because this is still hard on my mom. My brother, Grant, was an infant when our father passed, and he needs to feel stability in whichever form we can provide.
My mom finds the binky and hands it to Grant. Now he thinks it’s a game and throws it back on the ground. This woman has the patience of a saint. My mom sighs and I can’t help but chuckle. She cracks a smile, even though it doesn’t reach her eyes, says she loves me, and blows a kiss toward me. I pretend to catch it and watch her drive away.
I walk into the school, my new school, and head to the front office. Kids are moving around the hallway, passing notes and giggling. I see people looking at me because, again, this is a small fucking town and I stick out like a sore thumb. I walk into the office and it feels like everyone stills, and all eyes are on me. Yes, I’m the new girl. I will take autographs later. Until then, just lead me to my first class. Thank you very much.
I suppress the eye roll, which my mother has said I have perfected, and see this older woman approach me. “You must be Rebecca Stanley. Welcome to Saddle Ridge High. We are so excited to have you join us.” She smiles and it’s warm, like a grandmother would smile welcoming her grandkids in for Christmas dinner. I can’t help the small smile that stretches across my face, and I can feel the blush on my cheeks.
I’m so focused on this kind woman that I don’t realize there’s a presence by my side. I look over to find someone that looks to be my age. What is this girl, a Ninja? I didn’t even hear her walk up to me. Now she’s looking at me like I’m her new favorite project.
