“I also know it’s not you who did it,” Rob said curtly, opening his hand in a gesture to ask for the milk.
I passed it to him.
He drank straight from the carton, too.
“Well, my parents and sister don’t.”
“They’ve always been…hard on you.”
“Oh? What makes you say that?” I nibbled on the popcorn.
“Well, remember when you told them about us, and your mother said no daughter of hers would be underage and pregnant under her roof? Your dad had to convince her not to kick you out.”
Huh.
I’d forgotten about that. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I’d been wronged very deeply and very continuously by my family throughout the years.
“Right,” I said. “I remember.”
“But that’s not why you’re down.” Rob tilted his head. “You’re used to your family, and you’re used to this town treating you as a punching bag. So why don’t you tell me what it is?”
“Cruz and I broke up,” I admitted, dropping the rest of the popcorn back into its bowl.
I couldn’t taste a thing, anyway, I was so depressed.
“You did.” Rob sat back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Why?”
“He wanted me to move in with him.”
“The bastard,” Rob drawled.
“It’s not like that. He knew my parents and sister would lose it.”
“And that’d be their problem, not yours,” Rob surprised me by saying.
“It’s still very early. And I don’t know if he is that serious about me.”
“Oh, he is serious about you.” Rob chuckled. “Too damn serious. He still holds a grudge from that time we rock-paper-scissored it for who was going to ask you out, and he won, and I still asked you out.”
“That happened?” My mouth became instantly dry, and I snapped into attention.
Rob nodded slowly. “Yeah. I was a dickbag in my youth.”
“No kidding.”
“Point is, whatever he has for you is not fleeting. When I came back and found out he was still single, not one part of me was surprised to hear it. I always figured he’d take over from where I left things. Things had turned sour between him and me after you and I started dating.”
“He spotted for us the first—and last time we had sex,” I reminded him.
“Yeah.” Rob rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “I think that was the final nail in the coffin. After that, we’d just pretended to still be cool with each other. He never recovered from that.”
I felt so overwhelmed with emotions, with nostalgia, with sweet memories and painful love for Cruz, I could hardly breathe.
Rob leaned forward across the table, grabbing my hand in his and squeezing. He kept his eyes on mine the entire time.
“I’m so sorry I left you the way I did. But I’m back now, and you can count on me for anything. If you need money for rent, someone to take over when you’re overwhelmed…anything. I know we won’t be together anymore, but I can still be Bear’s dad. Now, why don’t you go over to Lover Boy and tell him how you feel? I have a video game to buy for my son.”
I pressed the pad of my finger to the table to catch grains of popcorn, flicking them back into the bucket. “I think I need to give him a second to cool down.”
“That, or you’re afraid he is not going to take you back.”
I felt myself blushing. “I’m not good with rejection.”
“Can’t blame you. It sucks. Whenever you’re ready, though, just say the word and I’ll drop in to entertain Bear while you’re trying to win Cruz over.”
Tears prickled my eyes.
“Sheet, Rob, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you’re back.”
“Glad to be back, baby.”
The next day, I dropped Bear off at school after kissing him goodbye and drove to Cruz’s clinic.
It was still early, so I managed to catch a sight of my sister, who hadn’t spoken to me since Peanut Gate, making her way into the clinic and opening up. I didn’t even think of talking to her.
I was too scared.
Cruz joined her shortly thereafter. I thought about getting out of the car and trying to talk to him, but then a stream of patients flooded in, and I figured he didn’t have time to deal with our mess.
Having no shift to go to today, I decided to drive into the big city and look for some job opportunities. Jerry was right. I wouldn’t be able to get a new job in Fairhope, but no one knew me in Winston-Salem.
I made a stop at the local library, tweaked my very short resume, printed out a couple dozen copies, and breathed a silent prayer to the employment gods.
At first, I drove around looking for help-wanted signs and open vacancies outside stores and boutiques. Working at Jerry & Sons was convenient because it was so close to home, but it was also a pain, because I knew every single one of my customers, and they all talked.
Now that Rob was home, I had more freedom to get a job a little farther out from Fairhope. He worked locally, his father’s office was down the street from Fairhope High.
If something happened, I could count on him to be there.
I dropped off a few resumes, and was about to drive to another buzzing part of town when something caught my eye: a billboard atop an ancient-looking building.
Do you love makeup?
Do you like dressing up?
How about becoming a STYLIST?
My answers were: yes, yes, and heck yes!
The idea of dressing people up, doing their makeup, telling them what they should do and wear was almost too good to be true. After all, I’d always used my appearance to convey something, even if it was often the wrong message.
I punched the telephone number into my phone and called. The nice lady on the other line said she’d send me a packet full of all the details. It was a six-month course, after which the company promised to help the top ten graduates find placements in the industry.
When I drove back home, my mood had improved significantly. Just for once, I allowed myself to dream about becoming something.
A personal stylist. A lady who talks fashion and garments with others. Who helps women find the best version of themselves to feel confident.
On my way back, I got a call from Rob. I picked it up, and for the first time since he came back to town, there wasn’t annoyance and trepidation in me as I answered.
“What’s up, Rob?”
“Nothing much. I finished work early and thought I’d take Bear out for dinner and maybe a few arcade games. Wanna join?”
“I have to go home and work on a little somethin’.” Namely, a financial plan for how I was going to pay for the stylist course. I knew Rob wanted to be there for me financially, but there was no way I was going to ask him for a loan for something that didn’t have anything to do with Bear. “But I think that’s a great idea.”
“Thank God, because that was me asking you in a roundabout way if I could spend time with our son for the evening.”
“And that’s me telling you in a direct fashion that you certainly can. Just make sure he is not exposed to alcohol, tobacco, or politics. I’ve done such a good job with him in your absence.”