Page 37 of Beautiful Beginning

As I pulled up to her apartment, I took a breath though. I didn’t rush out the car, to her front door, to ask her where she wanted to go. I sat in the car, looked up to her floor, at the window that overlooked the parking lot. My fist clenched before I stepped out. I walked to the stairs, then jogged up them. Raised my clenched fist to the door and knocked. Held my breath till the door opened, and when I saw her face, exhaled.

Her smile relieved every nervous thought I had on the drive over. Her open arms and warm embrace made me forget she didn’t want to come over to my apartment. Her whispered, “I missed you,” rejected my worries about what she had to say to me.

“Me too.” I pulled her at arm’s length. Looked at her like my grandma did me back at home. With observant eyes. Checking to see if I noticed anything out of place. “You okay?”

She wagged her head before tugging on her purse strap. “Can we go to the lake?”

The lake. In the middle of the city where most people went out to exercise. It had parking spots, and a walking path circling it. “If that’s where you want to go.”

Her subtle head nod confirmed, and I took her hand as we walked to the car. Our fingers interlocked, and other than the silence between us we felt normal. I opened her door, she climbed in, and waited for me to do the same. Nothing was out of the ordinary there either. We chatted about all the food we ate back home. Small jokes about our childhood favorites that didn’t seem all that good anymore. Debated the purpose both a ham and turkey, and whether it was necessary. Ham was always the star of the show.

“And the mac and cheese.” I said, “It was on point this year.” Although I regretted not eating more.

But when we made it to the lake. Parked in front, and I killed the ignition our conversation changed. I had to ask about the elephant sitting between us. “How are your parents?”

There was a long exhale like she’d been holding her breath since she returned to Hill Mount. I anticipated more tears, and when they fell, I grabbed her hand. Rubbed a thumb against the back of it.

When she was ready she said, “It was tough being home.” Her words drew out. Each sentence punctuated with a long pause. “I thought we’d have one last Thanksgiving together as a family.” She pulled her hand from mine. “But my dad moved out.” Her fingers brushed under her eyes, wiping away the tears. “My mom did her best to maintain our traditions. Huge brunch that morning, and dinner that afternoon. Dessert that night while watching Christmas movies.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t the same though. Not without him there.”

“Did you see him? Your dad?” I wished we would have talked about all this while we were apart. Caught up on the hard part so together we could discuss something that wasn’t as painful. But when she was away she didn’t reveal much.

“I did. A few times. We had lunch with him the day after, and breakfast before we left.” Her shoulders went up to her ears before they tumbled down. “Guess it’s our new norm.”

I leaned forward and tilted my head toward her. “Journey, I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is, I guess.” She wasn’t sure about much. Not like she used to be. “It did make me think about us though.” Her lips upturned but only slightly. The pause between that sentence and her next made me more nervous than when she spoke of her time away. “What I want for my future. Getting married, building a family, a successful career. Those were all things I wanted before.” She glanced at me then to the lake. “I still want those things. Despite my parents situation and my hurt over them.”

I waited to hear more, and when it didn’t come I said, “I never thought much about relationships. And where things go in the future. Kids, marriage, a white picket fence. Seems like something little girls dream, and women make a reality. But left to my own imagination, it isn’t anything I could visualize.”

Her breath hitched but she didn’t speak.

I watched a couple holding hands on the path in front of us. “I only want to be happy. I never defined in detail what that would look like.” Happiness seemed simple. Like it could come without too many expectations. That if defined it could be hard to achieve. “Should happiness have boundaries? Rules? A checklist?”

“Until recently, I thought so.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “A few weeks ago, I’d say absolutely. All the above. Boundaries, rules, checklist, goals. Otherwise, how would we know we accomplished it?”

“Wake up happy.” I thought about how I felt that morning knowing I’d see her. “This morning, I woke up happier than I have all week. But before I fell asleep last night, it wasn’t like I set an expectation for what had to happen for me to gain happiness.” It felt like more than needed to be explained, but I said it anyway, “The rest of the week, I was still happy. Today, a lot more.”

“And do you imagine in the future, you’d want to continue thatmore?” Our eyes connected. “With me? Or, after we graduate do you plan to go your own way. Find happiness in something else? Someone else?”

I snickered. “I mean. I could see you being there.” I held my hands in front of me. “If I tried to imagine the future.” I made a little circle with my finger. “I could see you beside me. But I don’t know if I can make any promises. Do either of us know what will happen six months from now? Feels like a lot is undefined.”

“Undefined. Hmph. In the mess we can’t define, there’s one thing we have more control over, but sounds like you aren’t willing to control it.”

“If your parents weren’t divorcing, would you have the same thoughts? Feeling you need to control us? Our future? Or would you be open to see where things went naturally?” I offered, “I get it. Their divorce has stirred up a lot of emotion, but I don’t know if we should direct it at our relationship.”

“And by we, do you mean me? I shouldn’t direct it at our relationship? I should chill?” There was a little spice in her voice. Not something I heard before from her. “If you don’t want to define the future, do you want to be together now?”

“Whoa.” I held my hands up between us. “I’m not implying that at all.” I didn’t know what to say next. Fighting felt foreign, and uncomfortable. All I wanted to do was escape the confusion, the resistance between us, and get back to what was comfortable. I stepped out of the car, walked to the passenger side and opened her door.

She hesitated when I tried to help her out of the car. “Chaz…”

“Come on,” I urged. I stood in front of her until she stepped out. And when she did, I wrapped her in my arms. I pulled on her chin until we were staring at each other, then I bent down and kissed her lips. Let our tongues reacquaint themselves. Found familiarity in the warmth of her mouth. Felt my shoulders, ease, and my mind relax. I pecked her lips right before placing my hands on the car and caging her in place. “Listen, this year is nothing I expected.”

In my junior year, there’s no way I could have predicted anything that was happening. There were no signs, no indicators, not a single data point that would have suggested the shift. A girlfriend. SGA president. A change to my career aspirations. Everything I thought would be my life senior year, wasn’t. And not in a bad way. Although it was change, I adjusted. I didn’t suspect anything would be different after graduation. If there was something I didn’t expect, I’d adjust.

“I’m glad we met, Journey. I’m glad I’m stepping out of my comfort zone. Bear with me though, I’m adjusting. Willing to change to fit this, whatever my life represents right now. But I’m not ready to define what it’ll be later. Because what it is now is more than I could have imagined in the first place.”

“I understand.” Her eyes closed and I feared where her thoughts were. Worried we weren’t on the same page. If she wasn’t willing to sit in the unknown with me, was she willing to sit with me at all? “With my parents’ situation I need time to figure life out. Let things settle, and not let my emotions get the best of me. Not race to force this to be, or not.”

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