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“No, no way…where’d you hear that?” I laughed, sitting down on one of the barstools. My skin felt too tight at even the implication of being engaged to Henna. I didn’t like not having control over what people said about me, not that their opinions mattered, but some small space inside me felt as though someone was in control other than me.
My dad piped up from his spot at the table. “That trash TV channel your mother can’t seem to get enough of.”
“Oh stop, Gary. You know I only watch that show because there’s nothing else on,” my mother replied, but I caught the hint of red flushing her cheeks.
“Well, what’d they say?” I laughed, hoping to make her feel better.
“That you and Henna are here visiting your family to announce your engagement and that Henna was seen wearing an engagement ring today at the resort.” Pie landed in front of me, my mother’s smile waning a bit.
I already knew how she’d respond if I ever told her I was getting serious with a girl; she knew how badly my heart had broken after Bexley.
“I’m not engaged, not getting engaged. If anything, Henna and I…we’re breaking up after this little trip,” I explained, digging into the rhubarb pie my mother had plated for me.
“Oh good.” My mother let out a sigh of relief.
Laughing again, I lowered my head as I brought up why I’d come so soon.
“However,tonight…I did come with ulterior motives.”
My mother wiped a few crumbs off the counter as she inched closer to me, and my dad lowered his tablet and straightened his glasses.
“Guess who I saw today.”
“Who?” My mother’s light eyes lit up with curiosity.
I watched her move easily around the kitchen, feeling foolish for even caring enough to bring this up…but I had to tell someone and sort through my thoughts.
“Bexley Black.”
Saying the words out loud made me feel like I was back in college, twenty years old and losing control of my future…sitting at my parents’ table, explaining to them why I needed to take a break for a year, why I couldn’t focus on my studies or football.
“Well,” my mother started, taking a seat at the table across from my father, “I thought I saw her a year or so ago…but I assumed my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
I watched, waiting for more of an explanation as my mother drew in a breath.
“I thought I saw her walking down the sidewalk…she had a little boy holding one of her hands and a little girl holding the other. I was more shocked at how much they looked like her than believing it was actually her. I was driving, so I didn’t think much of it after I passed them,” she finished, sounding somber.
A little boyanda little girl? Suddenly the room felt too small. It felt like those places I’d buried and hidden away were coming back to slap me in the face. I’d never healed from Bexley; I’d just found my own way of burying the hurt…now she was right there, in person, at a job where she couldn’t hide from me.
“What’s your plan, son? I can already tell your wheels are turning, but I just want to remind you that your past with that girl isn’t a good one. I think whatever it is that’s in your mind to do—don’t.” My dad leaned forward, delivering his warning.
“I don’t plan on doing anything,” I lied, finishing off the pie.
My parents shared a look, but I refused to acknowledge it. I pulled out my cell phone and started digging around for as much intel as I could find regarding Bexley Black.
