“Mr. and Mrs. Beckett, hi. Wow, it’s good to see you.” My eyes flicked back to the table as both Abby and Carina watched me nervously interact with the older woman. I stood and gave her a brief hug. I assumed they still lived out of the area, so what were they doing here in Fairvale? I had no idea if she knew that I had spent two weeks with her son on vacation and I was not going to be the first to offer that information.
“Lennon, you look great and so grown up, I can’t believe it.” She had both of my hands still and gave them a little squeeze.
“Thank you, Mrs. Beckett.”
“Oh, enough of that. You’re not a teenager anymore. Please call me Melanie.” Her kindness radiated off of her in waves. The same kindness she instilled in Theo that I longed to be around.
“Melanie, you look great as well. What… What are you guys doing in town?” I didn’t know why I was nervous, but I felt like I was keeping a secret, like the time Theo and I snuck out. I only wanted to see the stars, but when you’re eighteen and get caught sneaking around by your parents, they’re not too inclined to believe you.
“Paul and I just moved back to the area. Oh, I can’t wait until Theo gets here. I’ll be sure to tell him we ran into each other. I’m sure he would love to see you.” Well, that answered one question and opened up a pandora’s box worth more.
“Theo? He’s coming here? To visit you guys?” Subtlety was never my strong suit, but I needed answers faster than she was giving them. My gaze bounced back over to Abby at the table, where she was watching us like a movie.
“Yes, and no. I’m not sure if you know, but he’s a photographer, and has been in Europe for years now. Well, now he’s doing some work here and is moving back. It will be so good to have him…” Her sentence trailed off as I lost focus, and blood rushed in my ears.
He was coming here.
He was coming here and hadn’t said anything to me.
I wasn’t his keeper, and he didn’t owe me anything, but I thought I would get at least a text that we would be in the same country, let alone the same city. Our city. My heart was in my stomach as I swallowed back the insecurity forming in my throat.
This was what I deserved. I knew it was too much to ask for someone to come into my life who might understand me. I was so stupid for thinking it was anything more than pity that drove him to invite me to spend the trip together. Even more stupid for the number of times I had texted first to see how his day was or would call to hear the sound of his voice. He was probably kicking himself for even allowing me easy access to him.
The tightness in my chest returned. I hated every part of this.
I came back to the conversation and cut her off. “I don’t want to keep you two. It was great to see you.” It was harsher than it needed to be, but I wanted out of this interaction. Luckily, she didn’t pickup on the urgency of my exit, and waved at my sister before she left.
Abby was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place as I sat back down. The silence was broken by Carina’s question. “Scotland man’s mom, I presume?” I sucked down the entire drink that I had in front of me and flopped backward into the back of the booth with a heavy exhale. There was a tingling sensation crawling up the back of my neck, making it hard for me to sit still.
“He hasn’t said anything to me about moving back here,” I said with such a small voice that I was surprised they heard me at all. They were both watching me with careful eyes as I twisted my hands around themselves in my lap. Abby scooted closer across the booth and placed her hand on top of mine, stopping my restlessness.
“I’m sure he was going to. Maybe he was busy with the move.” She offered a perfectly reasonable answer, but that didn’t mean it would help.
“Or maybe he’s just been a waste of my time.” We flagged down the waitress for the check, and I left them both outside the restaurant with promises that I was tired and needed to get home.
I paced my house, and allowed the hurt and my anxiety to spiral out of control. The emotions bubbling over only added to my spiraling. I had no idea how attached I became. Which was ridiculous. There was no expectation that I would see him again. So why did it feel like he betrayed me somehow by not telling me right away that he was coming back?
He was moving back home and didn’t tell me.
Or hadn’t told me. Either way, I felt as if I had been left out of something. It was like I was twelve all over again, when I would try to make plans with my friends only to find out they were already going to be busy doing something together and I wasn’t invited.
I felt unwanted by a man I wasn’t even in a relationship with. A man that didn’t even live on the same continent as me. Pitiful.
The next day consisted of me fighting the urge to call Theo. Every time I picked up the phone, though, I lost my nerve. And it was a little crazy, even for me. Abby, on the other hand, had been hounding me non-stop about if I had talked to him, and every time my answer remained the same—no, I hadn’t. It got to the point where I wondered why she cared so much; she had nothing vested in what would happen if he ended up here. Yet she remained adamant that moving took time, let alone moving his life to a different country—he was probably overwhelmed.
No one was too busy for a text nowadays.
There was a sense of defeat lodged in my chest that I couldn’t shake, and I was missing Camden more than ever now. If he was alive, this wouldn’t be an issue. If he was alive, I would’ve felt wanted and I wouldn’t have tied up my sense of worth in the first man who showed me an ounce of interest. I put myself out there. Maybe it wasn’t as far as I hoped I would get, but it was something, and it wasn’t worth it.
I sought solace in the one place that had always brought me comfort. On the days when my mother would scream at me to leave, when Camden died, and even when Theo left, I always ended up in the same place. Pushing the large door open, I stepped into Nevermore Used Books, and I was greeted with the comforting smell of aged paper. The sunlight beamed into the room through the large front window, casting bright rays onto the large leather chairs pushed into the corner. Time stopped every time I came here, picked up a book, and stepped into a new story.
My hand trailed along the bookcases as I wandered through the aisles, shelves with more stories than I could ever have time to read. Stacks of books were overflowing on tables that were strewn about the space, spilling onto the floor and littering the ground, and I loved every part of it. The store was run by an older couple who had seen me in more seasons of life than I cared to remember. The wife, who I only knew by Mrs. Andrews, waved at me from the back of the store, where she kept the boxes of donated books, as I meandered over to the romance section.
If I was destined to live the rest of my life in cold solitude, then I would live through the stories of others and find a way to be content.
Mrs. Andrews approached me while I attempted to balance more books than I needed in one hand. “How are you Lennon?” her soft voice asked me. Turning to look at her, I’m met with eyes that witnessed me grow up. She’s seen me walk through the doors with tears in my eyes on more than one occasion and never has she treated me with anything less than kindness.
“I’m okay Mrs. Andrews.” Our relationship doesn’t exist outside these walls, but that doesn’t stop her from knowing when something was bothering me. Her soft hand reached out to give mine a quick squeeze.
