Becca's Book, Page 3
Jeffrey Anderson
The Rose
Becca led Zach down the hall and into the kitchen where Sarah was making a peanut-butter sandwich for a late-afternoon snack. “Hey, Sis,” Becca said across the island’s countertop.
“Hi, Kiddo,” Sarah said softly. “Keep it down. Katie’s asleep.” Katie was Sarah’s year-and-a-half-old daughter.
“That’s too bad,” Becca said in a low voice.
“Not for me. She’s got me worn out today.”
“No, for me. I was hoping to see her and introduce her to Zach.”
“She may be up before you leave. But how about starting out by introducing me to Zach?” She stuck the knife in the open jar of peanut butter and extended her hand across the counter toward the tall stranger in their house.
“Sorry,” Becca said. “Sarah, this is Zach Sandstrom. Zach, this is my older sister Sarah.”
Zach reached across the counter and shook Sarah’s hand lightly. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she said then looked at her hand. “Sorry about the peanut butter. There are paper towels by the sink.” She nodded toward the sink under the window looking out onto the drippy and cool fall day.
Zach smiled. “No problem,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Good for the skin.”
Sarah laughed. “I’ve always thought so, but what do you do about all the birds and mice following you around?”
“There’s worse company to keep.”
“Becca said you loved nature. She wasn’t kidding.”
Becca waved her hand between the two. “Hello. Becca’s here guys. You can include her in your conversation if you want.”
Sarah smiled at her sister, “Sorry, Bec.” She touched Becca’s hand resting on the counter. “There—you can have some peanut butter too.”
“Sarah!” Becca exclaimed. “It’s not my idea of a skin cream!” She went to the sink to wash her hands.
“How about for food—y’all want a snack?”
“It’s almost dinner time, Sarah. We’re going to go to Tony’s before the movie.”
“Little snack before dinner never hurt anyone. How about you, Zach?”
Zach had walked over to the double French doors leading out onto the deck backed by autumn woods. “No thanks. I’ll save my appetite.”
Sarah snickered as she finished putting her sandwich together. “Probably just saying that for Becca.”
Becca turned from the sink. “Sarah, mind your manners.”
“What manners?”
Zach gazed out at the woods silent and sleepy in the fall drizzle. Though Becca’s family’s house was on a cul-de-sac in a highly developed part of Greensboro, the view from these glass doors revealed only nature—a mix of deciduous trees, some with their foliage gone, some clinging to brown and gold leaves, and lofty dark pines. The setting recalled for Zach similar days in similar woods from his childhood on the farm. Though he was delighted to be here—with Becca proudly showing him her home and introducing him to her family (Sarah anyway, Katie if she awoke, her parents if they got home from work and errands before they left)—he felt a sudden yearning for the long ago damp fall woods of his childhood, could even smell in the nostrils of his memory the brassy odor of decaying leaves and approaching winter. The view and the memory lulled him toward a dreamy daze.
“Zach!” Becca touched him on the shoulder.
He turned and looked at her. “Sorry. Something about your backyard reminded me of home.”
Becca smiled and gazed at him with those ever kind eyes. “You miss your family.”
“I didn’t think so, but something about the day and the woods—.” He shrugged. “Just a passing feeling.”
“It’s O.K. to miss your family, Zach. You don’t always have to be the brave loner.”
“I’m not; I’m with you.”
“Good. Let me show you the rest of the house, and introduce you to Prince Albert.”
Behind them, Sarah said, “Don’t wake Katie,” mumbling the words between bites of her sticky sandwich.
Becca had brought Zach by her family’s house before taking him out to dinner at a favorite local restaurant then on to the just released movie The Rose, showing in a theater in the same shopping center as the restaurant. This was only their third official date; and the fact that Becca had suggested coming to her hometown for the movie (when it was playing at several venues in Shefford) then added this impromptu visit to her home, was a development of not so subtle significance. Zach was already deeply in love with this beautiful girl, had said as much in a prose poem he’d recently given her and hinted it in words and actions. But he was simultaneously pulling hard on the reins of his surging emotions, trying his best not to overwhelm Becca or get too far ahead of her in this still nascent attraction. So this visit carried sizable meaning for them both.
Becca led him down the center hallway and gestured toward the formal living room near the entry and the dining room opposite, then pointed up the open and spacious stairs. “The bedrooms,” she whispered. “Where Katie’s sleeping.”
Zach nodded.
They got to the end of the hall and entered the family room at the back of the house. “And this is Prince Albert,” Becca said and squatted down beside a loveseat covered with an old bedspread where a large English bulldog slowly raised his jowly broad head. She lowered her face and rubbed her nose against his flattened wrinkled snout. “How’s my old Bertie?” she cooed. The dog’s abundant flabby skin quivered at her touch and words, like a large vat of brown furred jelly.
Zach loved all animals; but with a farmer’s son’s practical bias, bulldogs were not high on his list of desired pets. They were useless as working dogs—prone to injuries and illness with chronic joint and respiratory problems due to overbreeding and misguided selection. But he sure loved this dog’s cooing owner, and would welcome the bestowal of similar loving attentions on him, when—or if—she ever felt so inclined. He knelt beside her on the carpeted floor and scratched behind the dog’s cropped ears. “Pleased to meet you, Prince Albert,” he said and shook the dog’s near paw.
Becca straightened up from Bertie, briefly lost her balance, and fell into Zach’s side. Zach steadied her with his arm around her waist. Though she’d quickly regained her balance, Becca remained leaning against Zach for several seconds, not looking up at him but staring blankly at the dog and the couch, her breath stuck in her lungs.
Prince Albert rose with much stiff-jointed, grunting effort and nuzzled his head against Becca’s shoulder. Becca laughed and stood. “Poor old Bertie,” she said as she picked the dog up and set him gently on the floor. They followed his waddle out into the hallway.
Becca looked at her watch. “We should probably head on to dinner. The movie starts at seven.”
Zach nodded. “Ready anytime you are.”
“Let me find Sarah and say good-bye,” she said and headed off toward the kitchen.
Zach waited by the front door, silently admiring the high ceilings and ornate moldings of the entry hall and central stairs.
Becca returned a few minutes later. She shrugged. “Don’t know where she went.”
They’d just turned toward the door when sound and movement from the head of the stairs caused them to look back.
Sarah slowly descended the stairs holding a sleepy child. She reached the bottom and walked over to Zach then turned her back to him so he could see the little girl’s face resting on her shoulder. “Zach, this is Katie.”
Zach leaned over and tried to catch the child’s attention. The little girl buried her face in her mother’s neck and hid under the feathery curls of her own light brown hair.
Sarah turned back around to face Zach. “Still half-asleep,” she said. “You won’t find any of that shyness when she’s awake—more like try to find a way to hold her down.”
Zach nodded. “I’ll look forward to seeing her sometime when she’s more awake.” He reached out and shook Katie’s bare foot protruding from beneath her frilly pink dress that Sarah had put on her just
for him. “Pleased to meet you, Katie,” he said to the back of her head.
Over Sarah’s shoulder, Katie said, “Bert-bert,” and extended her arms toward the bulldog waddling down the hall.
Sarah laughed. “Katie’s favorite toy.” Katie squealed as the dog disappeared into the kitchen. “Y’all have fun at the movie while poor Sarah sits bored at home.” She offered them a full pouty face.
Becca leaned over and kissed her sister’s cheek then the back of Katie’s head. “We’ll send you some cheese to go with that whine, Sis.”
“I could use it,” Sarah said before turning and heading down the hall.
Behind them as they headed out the door, Katie yelled, “Bye-bye.”
Zach was silent for the short drive to the restaurant as Becca concentrated on navigating the heavy rush-hour traffic and he tried to find his way through a sudden upwelling of melancholia. Something about this fading damp day in this fading calendar year mixed with Becca’s warm and welcoming home and family and his own unexpected recall of his childhood had pushed him to the edge of a dark precipice he hadn’t visited for months—at least since meeting Becca, the golden light in his recently revived life. He wondered at the apparent contradiction in his feelings—that as he got closer to this center of calling and purpose, he somehow felt further away. He’d have liked to share his feelings with Becca, and let her help him push the gloom aside (he had no doubt she could do as much, with a simple look or word). But he didn’t even understand the feelings himself, and knew he would tangle it all up if he tried to express them to Becca. So he kept quiet and watched the traffic pass and hoped the dark shadow across his heart would pass soon as well.
The high-school aged hostess seated them in a booth about halfway back in the long, narrow restaurant that was situated in the strip mall between a shoe store and a tailor. Becca held up her menu after the hostess headed back to the front of the restaurant. “The family’s Greek but the food’s Italian, and it’s all good and all made in-house.”
Zach smiled. “A match made in Heaven—Greek method and Italian style. That combination managed to rule the world for about a thousand years, and define art for a lot longer than that. They ought to be able to turn out a good meal.”
Becca nodded. “They do.”
They got an antipasto platter to share, and Becca ordered manicotti and Zach got eggplant parmesan served over spaghetti (one of his favorite dishes).
As they waded through their generous portions of delicious food, Becca looked at Zach across the table and nibbled on a round of the warm and soft bread from the napkin-lined basket. “Sarah likes you.”
Zach laughed. “Sarah likes men.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Not in an inappropriate or desperate way. It’s just clear she lights up in the presence of males. I’d like to think it was something special about me, but I can tell it’s not.”
“Good,” Becca said. “Save the special part for me, not my sister.”
“A little sibling rivalry?”
“Not really. We’re best friends, always have been. But there’ve been times I feel in her shadow.”
“She needs you now.”
“You mean with Katie?”
“I mean with getting her life back on track.”
“I’ll help her where I can, but she’ll find her own way. She always has.”
Zach nodded. “I can see that. Still, you’re lucky to have each other.”
“I know.”
“And the special part is yours.”
Becca looked at him with questioning eyes and a tilt of her head.
“What you asked for—the special part of me. It’s all yours, if you want it.”
Becca wrapped him in her kind gaze. “I do want it, and thank you for the gift.”
“It’s been yours for quite some time.”
Becca nodded. “Part of me has known that for a while, and part of me just discovered it.”
Zach paused, then said, “I just discovered something myself—at your house and on the ride over here.”
“What’s that?”
“You have your home, and it’s a good home—warm and loving and comfortable. I haven’t had a real home for a long time, not like that. But I do now.” He paused and looked up at her. “It’s you.”
Becca stared at him across the booth. Her eyes never left his. She finally said, “Welcome home,” and released a smile that sustained Zach not only for that evening but for months to come.
But that steady gaze and radiant smile that was for Zach an answer to his hope beyond all hopes, his inner calm where there’d previously been only fear and chaos—that promise was not above being tested, as it was almost immediately as the two of them sat near the middle of the full theater and watched the powerful performance and story of a female singer steadily imploding under the weight of fame crossed with self-loathing, success mixed with substance abuse. The film accomplished its purpose, with Zach at least, as it drew him into the star’s frenetic downward spiral, with chances at salvation just missed or tragically ignored and the disastrous end finally unavoidable, however much one wished for some better outcome—for the star, for the neurosis she exhibited.
Caught in the riptide of this drama, Zach found himself longing for the reassurance and hope he knew in Becca—wanted to see it in her eyes, feel it through her skin. But her eyes were hidden to him in the dark theater, and her skin was still apparently off limits, as he waited for some clear sign from her of openness to touch, a sign that was not forthcoming—at least not in this dark but still highly public domain. So he consoled himself best he could—against the emotional turbulence played out on the screen and within his heart—by feeling the press of her shoulder against his above the seat arm, and by stealing the occasional glance of her perfect profile in moments of bright reflection from the action on the screen.
She smiled at him after they’d sat all the way through the credits and the house lights came up. There were no more than a handful of patrons still in the large theater, giving them finally a modest degree of privacy. Zach was both consoled and troubled by Becca’s glowing smile—it was what he needed and longed for, yet it seemed so inconsistent with the drama they’d just watched, the believable self-destruction they’d just witnessed. Where was the blank howl? Where were the tears?
“You really related to her,” Becca said.
“You could tell?”
“I felt it in your tense muscles. I see it in your eyes.”
Zach nodded slowly then looked toward the large empty screen, that motionless void almost more frightening than the tragic drama that had so recently been played out across it. “I’ve danced along the edge of a similar chasm, and not so long ago—not with the fame part of course, but the self-loathing and the self-destructiveness were all too familiar. I don’t know if I feel more gratitude for my escape or shock at my close miss.” He faced Becca again. She was still there, still smiling, still the grace-filled center to an unfolding better life. He could’ve easily knelt before her and unburdened his heart of a lifetime of confusion and loss and pain, so vulnerable did he feel. But of course he didn’t, knew it wasn’t the time or the place—hoped there’d never be the time or place, if her heart of light could evaporate that ocean of tears before it ever rose to the surface.
But Becca with her unfailing instinct for kindness and care, found a substitute almost as good, almost as efficacious as his soul’s long delayed catharsis—she offered him her hand and used that touch to lead him forth into the still damp fall night.
Becca led Zach down the hall and into the kitchen where Sarah was making a peanut-butter sandwich for a late-afternoon snack. “Hey, Sis,” Becca said across the island’s countertop.
“Hi, Kiddo,” Sarah said softly. “Keep it down. Katie’s asleep.” Katie was Sarah’s year-and-a-half-old daughter.
“That’s too bad,” Becca said in a low voice.
“Not for me. She’s got me worn out today.”
“No, for me. I was hoping to see her and introduce her to Zach.”
“She may be up before you leave. But how about starting out by introducing me to Zach?” She stuck the knife in the open jar of peanut butter and extended her hand across the counter toward the tall stranger in their house.
“Sorry,” Becca said. “Sarah, this is Zach Sandstrom. Zach, this is my older sister Sarah.”
Zach reached across the counter and shook Sarah’s hand lightly. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she said then looked at her hand. “Sorry about the peanut butter. There are paper towels by the sink.” She nodded toward the sink under the window looking out onto the drippy and cool fall day.
Zach smiled. “No problem,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Good for the skin.”
Sarah laughed. “I’ve always thought so, but what do you do about all the birds and mice following you around?”
“There’s worse company to keep.”
“Becca said you loved nature. She wasn’t kidding.”
Becca waved her hand between the two. “Hello. Becca’s here guys. You can include her in your conversation if you want.”
Sarah smiled at her sister, “Sorry, Bec.” She touched Becca’s hand resting on the counter. “There—you can have some peanut butter too.”
“Sarah!” Becca exclaimed. “It’s not my idea of a skin cream!” She went to the sink to wash her hands.
“How about for food—y’all want a snack?”
“It’s almost dinner time, Sarah. We’re going to go to Tony’s before the movie.”
“Little snack before dinner never hurt anyone. How about you, Zach?”
Zach had walked over to the double French doors leading out onto the deck backed by autumn woods. “No thanks. I’ll save my appetite.”
Sarah snickered as she finished putting her sandwich together. “Probably just saying that for Becca.”
Becca turned from the sink. “Sarah, mind your manners.”
“What manners?”
Zach gazed out at the woods silent and sleepy in the fall drizzle. Though Becca’s family’s house was on a cul-de-sac in a highly developed part of Greensboro, the view from these glass doors revealed only nature—a mix of deciduous trees, some with their foliage gone, some clinging to brown and gold leaves, and lofty dark pines. The setting recalled for Zach similar days in similar woods from his childhood on the farm. Though he was delighted to be here—with Becca proudly showing him her home and introducing him to her family (Sarah anyway, Katie if she awoke, her parents if they got home from work and errands before they left)—he felt a sudden yearning for the long ago damp fall woods of his childhood, could even smell in the nostrils of his memory the brassy odor of decaying leaves and approaching winter. The view and the memory lulled him toward a dreamy daze.
“Zach!” Becca touched him on the shoulder.
He turned and looked at her. “Sorry. Something about your backyard reminded me of home.”
Becca smiled and gazed at him with those ever kind eyes. “You miss your family.”
“I didn’t think so, but something about the day and the woods—.” He shrugged. “Just a passing feeling.”
“It’s O.K. to miss your family, Zach. You don’t always have to be the brave loner.”
“I’m not; I’m with you.”
“Good. Let me show you the rest of the house, and introduce you to Prince Albert.”
Behind them, Sarah said, “Don’t wake Katie,” mumbling the words between bites of her sticky sandwich.
Becca had brought Zach by her family’s house before taking him out to dinner at a favorite local restaurant then on to the just released movie The Rose, showing in a theater in the same shopping center as the restaurant. This was only their third official date; and the fact that Becca had suggested coming to her hometown for the movie (when it was playing at several venues in Shefford) then added this impromptu visit to her home, was a development of not so subtle significance. Zach was already deeply in love with this beautiful girl, had said as much in a prose poem he’d recently given her and hinted it in words and actions. But he was simultaneously pulling hard on the reins of his surging emotions, trying his best not to overwhelm Becca or get too far ahead of her in this still nascent attraction. So this visit carried sizable meaning for them both.
Becca led him down the center hallway and gestured toward the formal living room near the entry and the dining room opposite, then pointed up the open and spacious stairs. “The bedrooms,” she whispered. “Where Katie’s sleeping.”
Zach nodded.
They got to the end of the hall and entered the family room at the back of the house. “And this is Prince Albert,” Becca said and squatted down beside a loveseat covered with an old bedspread where a large English bulldog slowly raised his jowly broad head. She lowered her face and rubbed her nose against his flattened wrinkled snout. “How’s my old Bertie?” she cooed. The dog’s abundant flabby skin quivered at her touch and words, like a large vat of brown furred jelly.
Zach loved all animals; but with a farmer’s son’s practical bias, bulldogs were not high on his list of desired pets. They were useless as working dogs—prone to injuries and illness with chronic joint and respiratory problems due to overbreeding and misguided selection. But he sure loved this dog’s cooing owner, and would welcome the bestowal of similar loving attentions on him, when—or if—she ever felt so inclined. He knelt beside her on the carpeted floor and scratched behind the dog’s cropped ears. “Pleased to meet you, Prince Albert,” he said and shook the dog’s near paw.
Becca straightened up from Bertie, briefly lost her balance, and fell into Zach’s side. Zach steadied her with his arm around her waist. Though she’d quickly regained her balance, Becca remained leaning against Zach for several seconds, not looking up at him but staring blankly at the dog and the couch, her breath stuck in her lungs.
Prince Albert rose with much stiff-jointed, grunting effort and nuzzled his head against Becca’s shoulder. Becca laughed and stood. “Poor old Bertie,” she said as she picked the dog up and set him gently on the floor. They followed his waddle out into the hallway.
Becca looked at her watch. “We should probably head on to dinner. The movie starts at seven.”
Zach nodded. “Ready anytime you are.”
“Let me find Sarah and say good-bye,” she said and headed off toward the kitchen.
Zach waited by the front door, silently admiring the high ceilings and ornate moldings of the entry hall and central stairs.
Becca returned a few minutes later. She shrugged. “Don’t know where she went.”
They’d just turned toward the door when sound and movement from the head of the stairs caused them to look back.
Sarah slowly descended the stairs holding a sleepy child. She reached the bottom and walked over to Zach then turned her back to him so he could see the little girl’s face resting on her shoulder. “Zach, this is Katie.”
Zach leaned over and tried to catch the child’s attention. The little girl buried her face in her mother’s neck and hid under the feathery curls of her own light brown hair.
Sarah turned back around to face Zach. “Still half-asleep,” she said. “You won’t find any of that shyness when she’s awake—more like try to find a way to hold her down.”
Zach nodded. “I’ll look forward to seeing her sometime when she’s more awake.” He reached out and shook Katie’s bare foot protruding from beneath her frilly pink dress that Sarah had put on her just
for him. “Pleased to meet you, Katie,” he said to the back of her head.
Over Sarah’s shoulder, Katie said, “Bert-bert,” and extended her arms toward the bulldog waddling down the hall.
Sarah laughed. “Katie’s favorite toy.” Katie squealed as the dog disappeared into the kitchen. “Y’all have fun at the movie while poor Sarah sits bored at home.” She offered them a full pouty face.
Becca leaned over and kissed her sister’s cheek then the back of Katie’s head. “We’ll send you some cheese to go with that whine, Sis.”
“I could use it,” Sarah said before turning and heading down the hall.
Behind them as they headed out the door, Katie yelled, “Bye-bye.”
Zach was silent for the short drive to the restaurant as Becca concentrated on navigating the heavy rush-hour traffic and he tried to find his way through a sudden upwelling of melancholia. Something about this fading damp day in this fading calendar year mixed with Becca’s warm and welcoming home and family and his own unexpected recall of his childhood had pushed him to the edge of a dark precipice he hadn’t visited for months—at least since meeting Becca, the golden light in his recently revived life. He wondered at the apparent contradiction in his feelings—that as he got closer to this center of calling and purpose, he somehow felt further away. He’d have liked to share his feelings with Becca, and let her help him push the gloom aside (he had no doubt she could do as much, with a simple look or word). But he didn’t even understand the feelings himself, and knew he would tangle it all up if he tried to express them to Becca. So he kept quiet and watched the traffic pass and hoped the dark shadow across his heart would pass soon as well.
The high-school aged hostess seated them in a booth about halfway back in the long, narrow restaurant that was situated in the strip mall between a shoe store and a tailor. Becca held up her menu after the hostess headed back to the front of the restaurant. “The family’s Greek but the food’s Italian, and it’s all good and all made in-house.”
Zach smiled. “A match made in Heaven—Greek method and Italian style. That combination managed to rule the world for about a thousand years, and define art for a lot longer than that. They ought to be able to turn out a good meal.”
Becca nodded. “They do.”
They got an antipasto platter to share, and Becca ordered manicotti and Zach got eggplant parmesan served over spaghetti (one of his favorite dishes).
As they waded through their generous portions of delicious food, Becca looked at Zach across the table and nibbled on a round of the warm and soft bread from the napkin-lined basket. “Sarah likes you.”
Zach laughed. “Sarah likes men.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Not in an inappropriate or desperate way. It’s just clear she lights up in the presence of males. I’d like to think it was something special about me, but I can tell it’s not.”
“Good,” Becca said. “Save the special part for me, not my sister.”
“A little sibling rivalry?”
“Not really. We’re best friends, always have been. But there’ve been times I feel in her shadow.”
“She needs you now.”
“You mean with Katie?”
“I mean with getting her life back on track.”
“I’ll help her where I can, but she’ll find her own way. She always has.”
Zach nodded. “I can see that. Still, you’re lucky to have each other.”
“I know.”
“And the special part is yours.”
Becca looked at him with questioning eyes and a tilt of her head.
“What you asked for—the special part of me. It’s all yours, if you want it.”
Becca wrapped him in her kind gaze. “I do want it, and thank you for the gift.”
“It’s been yours for quite some time.”
Becca nodded. “Part of me has known that for a while, and part of me just discovered it.”
Zach paused, then said, “I just discovered something myself—at your house and on the ride over here.”
“What’s that?”
“You have your home, and it’s a good home—warm and loving and comfortable. I haven’t had a real home for a long time, not like that. But I do now.” He paused and looked up at her. “It’s you.”
Becca stared at him across the booth. Her eyes never left his. She finally said, “Welcome home,” and released a smile that sustained Zach not only for that evening but for months to come.
But that steady gaze and radiant smile that was for Zach an answer to his hope beyond all hopes, his inner calm where there’d previously been only fear and chaos—that promise was not above being tested, as it was almost immediately as the two of them sat near the middle of the full theater and watched the powerful performance and story of a female singer steadily imploding under the weight of fame crossed with self-loathing, success mixed with substance abuse. The film accomplished its purpose, with Zach at least, as it drew him into the star’s frenetic downward spiral, with chances at salvation just missed or tragically ignored and the disastrous end finally unavoidable, however much one wished for some better outcome—for the star, for the neurosis she exhibited.
Caught in the riptide of this drama, Zach found himself longing for the reassurance and hope he knew in Becca—wanted to see it in her eyes, feel it through her skin. But her eyes were hidden to him in the dark theater, and her skin was still apparently off limits, as he waited for some clear sign from her of openness to touch, a sign that was not forthcoming—at least not in this dark but still highly public domain. So he consoled himself best he could—against the emotional turbulence played out on the screen and within his heart—by feeling the press of her shoulder against his above the seat arm, and by stealing the occasional glance of her perfect profile in moments of bright reflection from the action on the screen.
She smiled at him after they’d sat all the way through the credits and the house lights came up. There were no more than a handful of patrons still in the large theater, giving them finally a modest degree of privacy. Zach was both consoled and troubled by Becca’s glowing smile—it was what he needed and longed for, yet it seemed so inconsistent with the drama they’d just watched, the believable self-destruction they’d just witnessed. Where was the blank howl? Where were the tears?
“You really related to her,” Becca said.
“You could tell?”
“I felt it in your tense muscles. I see it in your eyes.”
Zach nodded slowly then looked toward the large empty screen, that motionless void almost more frightening than the tragic drama that had so recently been played out across it. “I’ve danced along the edge of a similar chasm, and not so long ago—not with the fame part of course, but the self-loathing and the self-destructiveness were all too familiar. I don’t know if I feel more gratitude for my escape or shock at my close miss.” He faced Becca again. She was still there, still smiling, still the grace-filled center to an unfolding better life. He could’ve easily knelt before her and unburdened his heart of a lifetime of confusion and loss and pain, so vulnerable did he feel. But of course he didn’t, knew it wasn’t the time or the place—hoped there’d never be the time or place, if her heart of light could evaporate that ocean of tears before it ever rose to the surface.
But Becca with her unfailing instinct for kindness and care, found a substitute almost as good, almost as efficacious as his soul’s long delayed catharsis—she offered him her hand and used that touch to lead him forth into the still damp fall night.
