I take a deep breath. “I’ve reached another decision.”
“Hmm?”
“Yes,” I say. “The time has come. I think we should just fornicate and be done with it… Beck?”
Only he’s not listening.
Instead, he’s staring over my head into the nearby parking lot that the alley leads to. A shiny luxury SUV sits beneath the one lone crappy light. Many is the night I’ve run to my car terrified of stalkers. From the back of the car emerges a man with a silver head of hair wearing a three-piece suit. Someone else waits in the driver’s seat, barely visible behind the dark tinted glass.
Beck’s jaw firms, a muscle popping out on the side. He is not a happy camper.
The stranger just stands there, watching us. Until finally, he speaks. “I didn’t think you’d want me to come inside.”
A grunt from Beck.
“If you’d have answered your cell, I wouldn’t have had to come.”
“Got rid of it months ago,” says Beck. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it pretty clear I wanted to be left alone.”
“You did, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.” He sighs heavily before walking closer. An unimpressed gaze takes me in for all of a second before returning to the man at my side. Brows drawn in tight, he says, “Beck, your father…”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
Oh no.
“What?” Beck stiffens. “How? When?”
“Eight days ago of a heart attack,” the man reports, not unsympathetically. “It was quick; he didn’t suffer.”
Beck just shakes his head. I slip my hand into his and his fingers tighten on mine. Like he needs something or someone to hold on to.
“It took us a while to find you.” The man inhales, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “You need to come home. They’re delaying the funeral for you, but they can’t wait much longer.”
“People will talk,” says Beck in a mocking tone.
“People always talk. But the point is you should be with your family right now. They need you.”
Beck nods sharply. “Wait for me in the car.”
The man doesn’t hesitate, just about-faces and does as told. Suddenly I’m not so sure I know the person whose hand I’m holding.
Beck scowls at the luxury vehicle in silence.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. Not really knowing what the hell else to say. And even though all I want is to be there for him, there’s an awful, selfish part of me that’s whispering that this is where it all ends. That this fancy black SUV is about to whisk him away forever, before we were ever actually together.
He looks at me like he’s surprised to see me there. But his grip tightens. I don’t want to let him go either. “Alice.”
“Hey. Are you all right?”
“No, not really,” he says. “I want you to come with me.”
“What?”
Next he looks at the building, mouth skewed with distaste. “I have to go and you hate this place anyway. You said so. Come with me.”
“Where to?”
“Denver, Colorado. It’ll be an adventure.”
“Beck, you’re going home to bury your father. Do you really think now is the right time for—”
“We’re in the middle of something here,” he says, clutching my hand to his chest. There’s a manic energy to him now. An edge I haven’t seen before. If the cool and amusing persona is his mask, then this is a big part of what lies beneath. An iron will. I know because he’s currently trying to bend me to it. His grip on my hand and the look in his eye couldn’t be more intense. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes, but…”
“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back, is the thing. My family is complicated.” He swallows. “Come with me. Please.”
“What, and just leave everything behind?”
“Yeah. For a little while, at least,” he says, leaning in close. “Don’t you want to see where this goes?”
“Beck…”
“I don’t want to go back on my own.”
My mind is in chaos. Too many thoughts and feelings and questions. And all I can keep thinking is that I’ve got two loads of laundry to do tomorrow. That I’m due at my parents’ tomorrow night for dinner. That there’s a crushing student debt hanging over my head. So much everyday nonsense. But that nonsense is my life. The mystery that is Beck and the thrill of being with him…it shouldn’t replace the small amount of stability I have here. I know better than to throw caution to the wind and put my life on hold for a guy I just met. Even if I have feelings for him. “I can’t just up and leave for someone I’ve only known for four days, Beck. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. For losing your father. But I can’t.”
His face takes on that aloof expression I hate, and he gives my hand a final squeeze. The smile he gives me is all things false in this world. “Sure. I understand.”
I’ve let him down. Fuck it, I’ve let both of us down. Being an adult sucks. “You better go. They’re waiting.”
“Let me, um…I’ll walk you to your car first.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Something inside my chest hurts. And it only gets worse when he waits for me to lock myself in my vehicle before giving me another grim smile and tapping his knuckles once on the roof of my old sedan. For a long moment, we just stare at each other. We’re saying goodbye. That’s the truth and it’s fucking awful. I start the car engine and he stands there in the dirty little lot, watching me leave, while I watch him in my rearview mirror. Doing my best to block out the pain and remember every last detail. Everything about him and how being with him made me feel. Going, going, gone.
There’s something messed up about me watching the sun rise. Given how deeply I appreciate my sleep and that I have no particular spiritual leanings, it just shouldn’t happen. Especially once you factor in my crazy work hours. There is no excuse. Yet here we are.
I sit on my crappy little patio as the sky turns grey, violet, white, yellow, and orange over Los Angeles. The smog and urban buildup is a nice touch. I have my earbuds in, listening to the small playlist Beck made me. Greta Van Fleet, Billie Holiday, and Taylor Swift on repeat. An awful bottle of white wine sits almost empty at my feet. All in all, the scene is quite pathetic.
But I made the right choice. Or did I?
What I should do, is call a friend and talk it out. That’s what a normal person would do. Only, Natasha who used to work at the bar moved to New York, and with the time difference she’ll already be at work. And Hanae, my roommate from college who is now living in San Diego, has bad insomnia. So if she’s actually asleep there’s no way I’m going to risk waking her. Mrs. Flores next door is seventy-eight and also needs her sleep. Same goes for my sister-in-law with a small child. I am all alone with my wallowing in self-pity.
It’s too bad that I only have a handful of options. But, the thing is, I’m a bit of a shitty friend. I never set out to be, yet somehow I just let it happen. Over the last year or so I’ve become awful at keeping in touch with people and showing up to things. Friends from high school and college have all sort of drifted away. Reaching out now in my time of melodrama feels off. Maybe it’s what Beck and I had in common: we’re both a bit lost and alone when it comes to living our lives right now. I could call Mom. She wouldn’t mind. But what if she decides to be sensible and say that pining for someone you’ve only known for four days is stupid? No, thank you. I’m in need of empathy, not admonition.