Page 58 of Beautiful Beginning

“You do?” He turned to look at me. But continued watching the road as I nodded.

My hand rested between my legs, but I moved it to his thigh. “Chaz, I got the job. The head of VP called me today.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a word. Not a sound of acknowledgment. Nothing. He was speechless like I was when I heard.

“I was the same. Speechless. But after I recovered…” I was hoping he would recover.

Still nothing. Then a short look my way before his eyes met the road again. I almost thought I said it to myself. My inner voice could be loud sometimes.

“Did you hear me?”

There was another long pause before he said, “Congratulations, I’m happy for you.” If happy was a flat tire on the side of the road. That’s the feeling I got from him. “I had no doubt in my mind you’d get it.” Except he looked more shocked than I was, and I thought I was confident about the interview.

“You don’t look happy.” I bit the inside of my lip. Trying to maintain the pink I painted on the outside. I’d imagine if he told me about a job he got, I’d be much more enthusiastic. Then again, I’m a cheerleader, my entire life is full of enthusiasm. Optimism dripped from my pores. For Chaz, it wasn’t like that.

“I…” he parked his car but didn’t look at me. “I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am. It’s a huge accomplishment, and a big relief I’m sure. You don’t have to worry about what’s next for you. Where you’ll be or what you’ll be doing. If you’ll be making money or drowning in student loan debt.” The last part made his lip quiver. “So, of course, I’m happy for you.”

“But…” There was a but somewhere in there and the more he said the more I expected it to be a devastating but. Because what else could follow I’m happy for you? Other than something that would knock the excitement from my lungs.

“There’s no but.” He shook his head. His words did nothing to convince me though. He couldn’t prove there wasn’t something else on his mind. Especially, not after we made it inside the restaurant. After we sat across from each other hardly saying more than a few words. Finding it hard to find a commonality in our worlds. It was like we were continents apart, but inches away. He shuffled in his seat, shifting from staring at the menu to looking at the wall.

People around us indulged in conversation, laughing, and smiling wide. Eating and sharing bites. Me and Chaz, we sat across from each other like two strangers and not two people wholoved each other.

When the server offered dessert, I couldn’t imagine suffering through more. Despite how delectable the options looked. “I’ll pass.”

Chaz’s eyes flicked toward mine. And it was like he realized the error in his ways, and he sobered. “You sure? The lava cake looks delicious.”

“I’m positive.” My lips were firm, and the server noticed.

“I’ll grab the check,” she said before hurrying away.

“This isn’t how I wanted the night to go.” Chaz rubbed his chin. “I did this.”

I couldn’t take any of the blame from him. I had to let him process what the fuck happened from one little announcement to where we were. Seated across from each other in total silence.

“It’d be easier if you would tell me what’s on your mind. Instead of trying to hide it.”

“Except all this time I’ve asked you to not think about what’s next. How could I be the one who asks?”

And there it was. Reality biting him in the ass. I wanted to feel relieved. Or justified. But I could feel neither. The thought, although I was trying not to acknowledge it, was deep in the back of my mind.What about us? What will happen?

“So now?”

“I still can’t ask, because I don’t have an answer to give in return.”

The emptied table felt like my chest. All the emotions I wanted to feel in that moment oozed out of me. Not even one felt adequate to describe what remained. “Wow,” I uttered.

Dwayne and Whitley had a script. The arguments had appropriate responses. The problems had a defined answer. No matter what scenario crept up between the two there was a conclusion. If only I had a script writer for my life. To tell me what to say or give me a preview of the end. To assure me that no matter what we’d make it there together.

ChapterTwenty-Six

Chaz

Valentine’s Day wasn’t how Journey described—romantic evening with dinner and crafts. For me it ended with making love to her on a bed of roses. Instead, I came home swiping petals from my bed so I could sit on the edge and figure out what the fuck happened. Where things went left, and how for the life of me I couldn’t get them to swing right again.

“Bruh, what are you doing?” Marcus stood in the doorway staring at the fallen roses on the ground. “Where’s your girl?” His voice was low like Journey would pop out of a corner and scare him.

“Not here.” I didn’t look at him. Kept my eyes on the ground, on the mess I had all over my floor. Scattered rose petals looked nice in the movies. In reality, it took forever to pull them from the stems. Then when it was time to get down to business, it was mess to clean up. “I fucked up,” I mumbled with my hand to my head. Then I glanced his way and said, “You alone tonight?” Marcus was hardly ever alone.

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