* * *
Well, I came tonight for one reason: to not push Bryson away. But as it's turning out, I think I'm doing just that by being here. Now I'm kind of wishing we had just hung out at his house tonight instead, like he'd suggested.
Despite my extreme efforts to not be a total downer all night, that's exactly what I've been the entire two hours we've been here so far. I cracked a smile when we first showed up, when Brad/Edward came running up to me and gave me a hug. Other than his face being a little rounder--and the fact that he's sloppy drunk--he really does look like Edward. It definitely deserved a grin.
And remember how Summer, Alison, and Alex were going to be crayons? Well, these are the sexiest crayons I've ever seen. The three of them have on these teeny-tiny tube dresses, each a different color with matching four-inch heels--Summer is dark green, Alex is red, and Alison is blue--with the word CRAYOLA written down the front, and with all the exact detailed markings of an actual crayon. And when I say these dresses are tight- they could pass for body paint. And much like my blue jean hoochie mama shorts, the three of them are straight-up hanging out the bottoms.
So that's the story with the crayons. That's what I would be wearing tonight, had Holly and I agreed to dress up with them when Summer asked us earlier last week. But I declined, and as a result, so did Holly, who didn't dress up tonight either. Luckily, though, despite all the vampires and werewolves and slutty French maids and Playboy bunnies and sexy kittens and all that good stuff, there are quite a few people who didn't dress up at all. So that was a relief.
After saying hey to Holly, Summer, Alison, Alex, and some other people from Stargate, I parked myself on the circular sofa by the sliding glass doors and basically haven't moved since. I have strongly encouraged Bryson to get up and go talk to people and play beer pong and have a good time?and strangely, he has.
Don't get me wrong, I do want him to enjoy himself, but it's a double-edged sword. On one hand, I surely don't want him sitting here and being depressed with me. On the other hand, however, I kind of thought he would. In fact, I was pretty sure he would. Things are slowly changing, and I'm starting to get really worried.
But once again, Becca is my main concern by far. She's all that really matters when it comes down to it. And she's all I've been able to think about tonight?and for the past couple weeks. I've been sitting here with my phone in my hand, trembling uncontrollably as this strong, uneasy feeling in my stomach has kept me paralyzed. This all just feels so wrong, and I feel like I shouldn't even be here. I haven't seen Becca since Tuesday--which is officially the longest I've ever gone without seeing her--and she looked extremely thin and weak. So I hate to think about her current condition. And knowing I'm the reason she's been locked away in her room for over a week now, completely isolated, alone, and unhealthy, makes me feel completely ill. Before I know it, my eyes are filled with tears.
I look down at my phone--causing tears to stream down my face--with an overwhelming urge to text Becca. As I'm typing in my passcode, the beer pong crowd in the kitchen explodes abruptly.
I quickly look up, wiping my face and trying to see what's going on. Although the crowd is thick and it takes a minute, I'm eventually able to see it's Bryson and Summer at the table playing against one another.
I set my phone on my lap and wipe my face again with both hands. Then I notice Holly walking up to me from the living room. All I can do is hope the lighting is too dim for her to notice my now-saturated eyes, because I'm in no mood to discuss my problems.
"Is that Bryson and Summer?" she shouts over the music as she sits next to me.
I lean toward her, gazing at the crowd. "Yeah, looks like it."
We both just nod and look that way as the crowd wails again. Then Holly leans to my ear.
"Has Summer been acting weird tonight?" She pulls back and looks at me.
I cock my head and frown in confusion, then turn my eyes back to the kitchen. When I start thinking about it, I realize her behavior has been somewhat different. I guess I've just had too much on my mind to really notice until now. But when I think about it, Summer has walked right by me multiple times throughout the night without saying a word. In fact, I can only remember her even looking at me once. Which is surely strange considering how nice she's been to me lately, and considering the fact that Becca's not here?but then again, in Summer's defense, I haven't exactly displayed my enthusiasm for conversation tonight. Just my enthusiasm for everyone to leave me the hell alone. So I'm thinking that's probably what the deal is. I guess.
I look back at Holly and shake my head, still frowning. "I don't think so," I say, unsure.
She nods and looks back to the kitchen. And just as I'm about to ask her why she asked that, the crowd erupts again, and this time they start to disperse.
"Looks like Bryson won!" Holly shouts, craning her neck for a better view.
"Looks like it."
"I'm gonna go get a drink, you want something?" Holly asks.
"I'm okay for now!" I yell over the music as she stands up.
I look down and check my phone, and when I look back up I see Bryson and Summer joking around about the game along with Brad, Trent, Alison, and Alex, and a couple of other people I don't recognize. Then I watch as they all walk around the bar toward the keg as Holly walks up.
I wipe my eyes again, take a few deep breaths, then hop up--for the first time tonight--and start making my way to the kitchen. I check my phone a few times as I'm walking, even though I know there's no chance of Becca texting or calling--just can't help it. As I approach, they're all still in deep conversation about the game.
"Hey," Bryson says, suddenly noticing me.
I smile as I set my phone on the bar. "Hey."
"I just kicked Summer's butt all over the place in beer pong," he informs me, looking back at Summer as everyone laughs.
Summer looks at me for a split second, then her eyes shoot right back to Bryson.
"Yeah, but I almost beat you a few times," she retorts. Then everyone starts chiming in, giving their own personal views and opinions on exactly what went down and why and how and all that, while I just stand here and watch, completely removed from the conversation. No one even looks at me, including Bryson, Summer, and Holly. I guess that's due to my inattentiveness all night.
But truthfully, I couldn't care less. Other than always wanting Bryson to talk to me, I have no desire to be part of the conversation. I don't give a damn who won beer pong or how close it was or whatever; it's completely unimportant to me at the moment.
When we all hear a sudden commotion over at the table and turn to see a few people laughing and picking up some knocked-over beer cups, I immediately think of Becca spilling beer all over Summer last time we were here. And my eyes start pooling with tears all over again.
I instantly turn and head for the stairs. No clue why I thought that would be okay, but I needed to get away. Not just away from them, but away from everyone. And I'm a little surprised no one calls after me as I disappear behind the wall and head upstairs.
I take a left down the hall once I'm up here and burst into the first room I come across. Then I turn on a lamp, collapse on the edge of the king-sized bed, and lean my elbows on my knees and my forehead in my hands. Surprisingly though, I don't start crying. I just start thinking about Becca?and Summer.
I try hard to convince myself that Becca's right: Summer's up to something. But when that doesn't work, I think back again to how Summer used to treat me. I remember the horrible person she once was, and I think about it for a while, desperately trying to pump myself up for this rude, aggressive break-away from her that's now just around the corner.
But like before, when I finish reflecting, I can't help but realize that that's who she once was, not who she is now. Only this time, unlike before, I don't care. I'm feeling so done with this entire situation.
Then, out of nowhere, it hits me?I need to do this in front of a crowd. At this point, I feel like getting Becca back is a long
-shot altogether, so I need to go big. I need witnesses, and I need people talking and gossiping around school about how I told Summer off. That way Becca will know it really happened, which can only increase my chances of fixing things with her. No matter the ultimate outcome, I have to know I did everything I could.
So now might actually be the right time. I feel my hands start to shake, and soon after, my entire body. I'm flushed with anxiety. I surely didn't plan on doing this tonight, but I'll definitely attract more immediate attention here than at school. Not to mention, I've simply had enough. I'm more than ready to end this then get Bryson to take me home so I can go see Becca.
I sit up straight, suck in a deep breath and blow it out, wipe my eyes, then put on my game face. No one will be expecting this, not even Bryson or Holly, and especially not Summer. But I have to believe it's all for the best.
After another few seconds of psyching myself up, I spring to my feet and head for the door, completely unaware of what I'm even going to say to Summer. I guess I'll just wing it, and more importantly, I'll be angry.
My stomach tightens into crippling knots as I start trotting down the stairs. About halfway down, I seriously consider backing out, but then I think about Becca, and that enables me to push forward. And now, with my heart violently pounding the inside of my chest, I hop off the bottom step and storm around the wall into the kitchen, ready to attack?but instead I come to a dead-stop.
I see Bryson and Summer talking in the same spot by the keg, only now they're alone. And I'm not quite sure what it is, but something seems really wrong. This dark, gloomy feeling quickly replaces the anxiety in my stomach as I stand here, frozen. Then Summer finally peeks over Bryson's shoulder at me, and grins.
But this is a very different grin. And the familiarity of it sparks a shudder of fear through my body. This is not the kind, compassionate, caring grin I've come to know so well from the new Summer. No. This is a grin from the old Summer. The Summer who used to harass me and torture me on a daily basis. The Summer who wanted nothing more than to crush me like a bug and watch me squirm on the ground. The Summer who used to look down her nose at everyone who wasn't in her little tightknit circle of friends. The Summer I could've sworn was long gone.
But as I stand here looking at her, carefully examining her new expression, I'm realizing for the first time that maybe that Summer never left; she was only hiding. As she stares me down, her eyes now vengeful and maniacal like in the past, I spin my head around to see if perhaps she's glaring at someone else. But when I turn back, it quickly becomes apparent I'm her target. She gently puts her hand over Bryson's shoulder, then leans over and puts her lips right up to his ear as she talks, her evil, piercing stare never leaving my face. Then she slowly folds in all but her middle finger, flipping me off over his shoulder as her devilish, manipulative grin widens.
Every ounce of blood drains from my face, and my heart drops to the floor. This cannot be happening. I glance over to the short hallway which leads to the dining room and I notice Alison and Alex standing there, arms crossed and toes pointed, grinning at me, as well, while sipping from their plastic cups. That's when I realize Becca was right: this was all a show.
I quickly back up and spin back around the wall to the living room side as a number of different feelings and emotions rip through me, leaving my insides absolutely shredded. I'm in shock, I'm nauseated, I'm scared; and most of all, I'm torn apart by guilt. Becca knew all along. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew Summer was up to something, and I didn't believe her one bit.
As I stand here at the base of the stairs, leaning my head against the wall and trying to catch my breath, it all becomes crystal clear. Summer was after Bryson, and I feel like a complete idiot for not knowing that. She's wanted Bryson since the first day he arrived at Stargate last year, but he went for me, someone with a much different personality than her own. So when I revealed my genius, it not only gave her the idea, but it gave her a platform, an excuse to 'change.' An excuse to turn her personality around in the midst of my popularity. An excuse she wouldn't have had otherwise. And I have to say, she played the part perfectly.
And now here we are. The unveiling of my genius has essentially allowed Summer to take my best friend away from me--and probably Bryson, as well--and pretty much destroy my life. Not knowing what else to do, I run back upstairs, feeling alone and terrified. I close the bedroom door behind me then drop on the bed and slam my face in my hands again. Only this time, I'm crying my eyes out, trying to figure out how I've made such a mess of my life. Honestly, I'm not sure how irreparable things are at this point. Bryson is as good as gone?and Becca may very well be, too.
I start crying even harder when I think about Becca. I feel my shoulders begin to jerk around, and my palms are now soaking wet. The thought that I turned my back on her when she was only trying to protect me leaves me writhing in pain. I wrap my arms tightly around my stomach as I lunge forward, sobbing. I think of her harassing Summer at school, calling her names, shooting deadly stares at her, throwing beer on her--all because she knew Summer was playing games with me. And when I finally start to settle down a little, I lean back up and rest my chin on my fists, tears still burning as they roll down my cheeks. Then I gaze at the wall, and my mind drifts to the past...
It was the summer of 2002. I was five years old, and unlike our typical Sunday morning, my family didn't go to church with Becca's family because Carson had the flu. We were going to try to make the night service.
I went up to my room, grabbed the totally-awesome sidewalk chalk Becca and I had gotten the day before, and headed out to the end of the driveway to get a head start while I waited on her. I took a seat on the pavement and crossed my legs, fighting the urge to scribble down the physics formula I was obsessed with at the time--to keep my secret. Ultimately, I decided to write my name, careful to make it all sloppy like a normal five-year-old would. Then I went on to write my parents' names, perfectly misspelled and totally deformed, when Becca pulled into her driveway.
"Hey!" she yelled to me as she hopped out the car.
"Hey!" I yelled back. Then she ran inside with her mom and dad. When I turned my focus back to the driveway to start on Carson's name, I noticed this gigantic Rottweiler wandering down the sidewalk across the street. He seriously looked like a champion bodybuilder of dogs. About a second after, he noticed me, as well.
The next thing I knew, he was trotting in my direction, alert and staring me down. I knew better than to run, because that would only make things worse. So I just sat there, completely still--which wasn't all that hard since I was frozen in fear--as he ran up and stopped about two feet from me. He had no collar and I'd never seen him before, and the look in his eyes surely wasn't friendly. Neither was the low growl in his throat that followed. It was officially the most terrifying moment in my life up to that point. My heart was racing and I wanted to scream, but I knew I couldn't. Nor was I even capable.
But Becca was capable.
"Aaauuuggghhh!!!"
The dog and I both flinched and then looked down the sidewalk. Here comes Becca, barreling toward us in her frilly pink dress and shiny church shoes, her fists in the air, her menacing eyes narrowed, and her mouth wide open.
"AAAUUUGGGHHHHH!!!!" she continued on, her piercing scream getting louder as she approached.
And believe it or not, this massive, Incredible Hulk-shaped dog threw his ears back and flat-out took off in the other direction. I whipped my eyes back and forth between the dog's backside and Becca as she came to a stop right next to me, her eyes still squinted and her teeth clenched as she watched the dog run.
"Thanks!" I gasped.
She sat next to me and grinned, completely calm as if it were no big deal at all. "No problem, Dor." Then, noticing I was still upset, she scooted closer and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You know I'll never let anything happen to you. I'll always be here to protect you." Then we leaned our heads together. That was the moment I real
ized Becca would truly do anything for me, and never steer me wrong?
Now I sit here, wondering once again how I've screwed everything up so royally. I completely tossed Becca aside, then befriended this psycho bitch downstairs. I don't know how I could have been so blind. Even though I'm glad Becca's not here with me at the moment, because there would be three broken crayons in the kitchen, my heart is aching for her more than ever. I need to go to her house and salvage whatever I can of our friendship. Then I'll try to pick up the pieces and move on, hopefully with Becca next to me.
Sniffling and wiping my eyes with my forearm, I reach to my back pocket to grab my phone.
"Shit!" I whisper-shout, realizing I left it on the bar in the kitchen. Then I realize I'll have to go down anyway to get Bryson or Holly to take me home. So I start wiping my eyes thoroughly with both hands, trying to mentally prepare myself to go down. Just as I close my eyes and begin taking deep breaths to relax, Bryson suddenly tears through the door, scaring the life out of me.
"Something's wrong with Becca!" he shouts, his expression horrified as he frantically rushes toward me.
My eyes immediately flood again, and my heart starts pounding. "What?" I ask, my chin quivering.
"Your mom's been trying to call. We have to go!"
I quickly grab my phone from him with unsteady hands. And when I look at it, I see five missed calls from my mom--and a text.
"Come home now! Becca's being rushed to the hospital! Come home!!!"
Suddenly, I can't breathe. And the world goes quiet. My mouth drops open, and my vision becomes blurred with tears. My hands start shaking with such fury I can no longer hold on to my phone, and I feel it buzz again just as it falls from my grip. I begin to feel sharp pains on my ears, and I realize my fingernails are dug into the backs of them. Then I hear a high-pitched noise?some kind of faint, continuous beeeeep ringing steady in both ears. With my mouth still wide open, and my lungs still closed, I somehow jump to my feet and run smack into Bryson's chest. That's when my hearing gradually returns, and I realize the high-pitch beeping was my constant screaming.
"?NOOOOO!!!" I finally relent and gasp for air, taking frantic, deep breaths as if I've been held under water. "NOOO!" I belt out once more, still panting. Then I collapse into Bryson's arms, exhausted. But only briefly.
A sudden bolt of anger quickly zaps right through me. Anger at the world, anger at the choices I've made, anger at the raw, unforgiving consequences--just pure anger. And I find myself screaming again and fighting to get away from Bryson. Then, in a complete fit of rage, I grab something off the dresser that feels like a heavy glass vase and, still screaming at the top of my lungs, I violently hurl it straight through the bedroom window. As everything shatters wildly, the streetlight somehow manages to reflect off each individual shard of glass, beaming the light straight into my blurred, watery eyes, completely blinding me?
35
Realization
The bright light quickly engulfs me, until I literally can't see anything else. Once again, the world is quiet. But this time, I feel disturbingly removed. Removed from the universe and from life and just from being in general. As if I'm traveling through time, or being thrust into another life after passing away, or something of that extreme nature. And in the midst of the experience, my mind remains perfectly clear--one hundred percent free of all thought. And my vision remains a clean, pure white blur.
But it doesn't take long for things to clear up. My eyes start to focus, and my hearing begins to return. The brightness all around me slowly dissipates until I'm staring at a single light directly above me. My scrambled thoughts are the last to arrive.
I let out a small gasp as I lift my head. Then I see my mom rushing toward me.
"You okay, sweetie?" she asks, rubbing my forehead as my dad hurries up beside her. I silently nod as Carson and Hailey scurry up to me on the other side?...then Becca walks to the foot of the bed.
My eyes instantly double in size, and I freeze. I finally realize I'm in the hospital. Then I wonder, how in the world is Becca on her feet? Why am I in this hospital bed instead of her? And why does she look completely filled out, full of color, and totally healthy like normal? Was my mom lying about her being rushed to the hospital for some reason?
My thoughts swirl as my brain tries to make sense of the situation. I glance at Carson and Hailey, then back to my parents.
My mom smiles at me, still rubbing my forehead. "You're gonna be fine, sweetie, just like you said. The real doctor came back in about an hour ago and said you were perfectly okay."
I stare at her, completely confused. Then I roughly press my palms to my eyes, and the world starts to spin. I seriously feel as though I've been tossed into the center of a tornado.
What is going on here? I ask myself this question repeatedly in my head.
But before I know it, the smoke starts to clear, and the puzzle pieces begin to fit.
I drop my hands and look over at the table against the wall; I see my roses from Bryson sitting there, in a vase. I glance quickly to the couch under the window, and there's the little pink gift shop bear from Holly. My eyes zip back to Becca; she's standing there, eyes red and swollen, in the same outfit she wore to the car show.
Then the realization fully hits.
I've been asleep.
This was all a dream.
36
Verdict
Unbelievable.
The room swirls again as I fully return to reality from the powerful grip of the most horrifying, intense, vivid nightmare I've ever had. I feel the tears building in a hurry, but somehow I fight them back as Becca sniffles, smiles and says, "Bryson got the vase for you. He asked me to bring it up here."
Her voice sounds amazing. My tears briefly become happy tears.
Then she smiles again, and turns around and heads for the sofa under the window. "Holly got you something, too."
"A little pink bear?" I ask, my voice breaking up. She turns back around with the bear and stops cold, her expression suddenly serious and knowing as she gazes at me. She just became aware.
"Wow, how'd you know?" Hailey asks, leaning on the bed next to me.
"Yeah, really," Carson adds.
But I don't answer or even pull my eyes away from Becca's. I just burst into tears, yanking my hospital gown over my face. As everyone begins consoling me, I know they're all thinking this outburst is simply due to the accident, that I'm still shaken up and worried about Bryson and his car and all that. And while those things are surely true--I'm extremely concerned about Bryson in every way right now--they're far from the cause of this meltdown. It's all about Becca, and this terrifying path I came so close to steering us down. This dream has gutted me. And even though Becca doesn't know the details yet, she's the only one here who knows why I'm really crying.
"Shh?it's okay, sweetie," my mom assures me, leaning down and kissing my head. "You're gonna be fine...everything's gonna be just fine."
"Yeah, and Bryson's perfectly fine, too," Dad says, rubbing my leg as I finally lower my gown from my face.
Then Hailey grabs my hand, squeezes it tightly, and presses it to her face as Carson pats my knee and says, "It's okay, Dori; it's all over now."
I look at him and nod appreciatively, then flash a glance at Becca. Her hand is resting motionless on my foot as she stares at me with puffy eyes, not saying a word. I can tell the wheels in her head are turning as she tries to figure out what my dream could have been about. As good as she is at figuring out these things, I don't think there's a way in the world she'll guess this one.
Then I look at Hailey right next to me, the back of my hand all pressed to her little cheek. She remains silent like Becca as her eyes gaze worriedly into mine. So I wipe my eyes with my free hand and force a smile.
"Did you get to see Bryson?" I ask, hoping to cheer her up.
But she just shakes her head. "No, I didn't," she replies impassively, as if I'm her main concern at the moment.
"The doctor
released Bryson a couple hours ago while you were sleeping, and his mom took him home," Becca tells me.
"Yeah, luckily he didn't have the little incompetent doctor we had at first," my dad chuckles.
I whip my head around in a panic. "Y'all didn't tell the real doctor about me, did y'all? About my genius?" My eyes frantically jump between the two of them, causing them both to look at me, concerned and confused.
"No, we didn't, honey," Mom says, placing her hand on my head. "He came in with the MRI scans and had everything together before we could say a word."
I nod in relief and then ease my head back on the pillow. Then I peek over at Becca. Her eyes are still fixed solid on mine.
"But you said you wanted to reveal your genius before you fell asleep earlier," my mom reminds me. "Is that still something you want to do?"
I look back at her and my dad as they stare at me, waiting for my answer.
Do I want to reveal my genius?it's a question which has never produced a good answer in any way; only a bad one and a really bad one. What I want is to not be a genius at all. It's been the absolute bane of my existence for sixteen years now. A secret life I never wanted, but could never disclose.
But since I can't exactly snap my fingers and make it go away--I've been working on a formula for that since I was eight, by the way--sure, I'd love to reveal it. If I don't, it could all go to waste in a heartbeat. This accident has made me realize just how fragile and short life can be, and it would be an extreme waste for my intelligence to go down the drain. I honestly feel like it needs to be contributed to the world.
Also, if I don't reveal it, I'll have to continue to tiptoe through life, careful not to slip up and expose myself, which, believe me, is much more exhausting than you realize. It would be amazing to be able to relax after all these years.
And finally--and most importantly at the moment--I can't be with Bryson if I don't reveal it. There's just no way it could work. I refuse to be with someone and keep that kind of secret from them. It would be horribly wrong of me to do that. And even if I did decide to go that route, surely I'd blunder at some point and he would find out anyway. So there's just no way around it. If I want to be with Bryson, revealing my genius is an absolute must.
But unfortunately--and fortunately--as far as I'm concerned, I've seen how it all plays out. And sadly, I'm not certain I could be mean to Summer, even knowing the truth.
I look at my parents as they wait anxiously, their frozen expressions now revealing a touch of worry.
"Well, honey?"
I look back to Becca, struggling to control my emotions, and slowly shake my head. "Not a chance," I say confidently.
Epilogue
Sunday; one week later?
"Okay, I'm gonna go watch some movies with Mrs. Anna," my mom says, wiping her hands on her pants as I pour popcorn into a bowl. "Carson and Hailey are at friends' houses, and your dad's upstairs in his office. Y'all gonna be alright?"
I peer up at her and grin as I tap the bag to make sure it's empty. "We're gonna be fine, Mom."
"Okay. Y'all have fun then." She grabs a popcorn bag off the counter and heads for the back door. I tell her bye then walk back to the living room.
"You're not done yet?" I ask, sitting on the couch. "You know, I could--"
"Shhh." Bryson presses his index finger firmly to my lips, his eyes never leaving my book.
My cheeks balloon out as I chuckle. So I just sit here and watch, my lips mashed together by his finger, as he finishes reading the last page.
I gave him one of my books to read Friday night, and that's all he's been doing since. He swore up and down I couldn't make him cry, so I gave it my best shot with one of my saddest books. Even though he looks all choked-up and moved right now, I don't see any tears, which completely sucks.
"Wow!" he exclaims, slamming the binder shut and setting it on the table. "That was sad." He leans back and slouches as if he's emotionally drained.
"You totally need to cry right now, right?" I encourage. "I promise I won't call you a sissy or anything."
He rolls away from me and curls up into the fetal position, pretending to weep. And just as I start to laugh, he quickly straightens back up.
"Whatever. That book wasn't sad," he insists, his rough-and-tough expression making me laugh even harder.
Then he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth and looks at me with a grin. "No, that book really was sad?but I'm a sexy sissy, though, right?"
I smile and nod, gazing into his eyes as he moves in and gently presses his lips to mine. As soon as the tingles start to rush down my spine, I feel his hand rest softly on my cheek, turning those tingles into a full-body tremble. These kisses seriously keep getting better, and I wish I could literally keep my lips on his all day long. But since my dad is right upstairs, we keep it short and sweet.
He backs away, leaving me a complete wreck, like a war plane swooping in, dropping a bomb on me, then taking off. It takes me a minute to compose myself.
"So," he begins, reaching for the popcorn. "How did Becca convince you to tell me about your genius?"
"She said she would rip my face off if I didn't," I tell him, reaching for the popcorn, as well.
That's right, Becca absolutely refused to let me lose Bryson after I told her about my dream. So against my better judgment, I let him in on the secret, and he was perfectly fine with it--extremely intrigued, even. And I have to admit, I was happy I didn't have to let him go.
He flings his head back on the couch and laughs. "Well, I guess that'll do it. Is she still coming to watch the movie with us?"
Right after he says that, the front door flies open and Becca barges in.
"Got it, Dad, I will," she says, exasperated and rolling her eyes with her phone pressed to her ear. Then she slams the door behind her and stomps over to the couch.
"Yeah, okay, I got it, gotta go now?okay?bye." She slings her purse on the couch next to me and flops down on the recliner.
I look at her, giggling. "What was that about?"
"Ughh," she groans, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes at the TV, looking as if she's about to spill it. But then she suddenly sits up straight and says, "I can't even talk about it right now. I don't want to get all riled up."
I nod and look back to the TV. She's already bummed that Brian had to work today, and now she's dealing with whatever crap from Mr. Brett.
"Well, Bryson's upset, too. He's been crying because of my book," I tease.
Bryson jokingly sniffles and wipes his eyes.
"Was it the one about the uncle and his niece?" Becca asks with wide eyes.
"That's the one," Bryson confirms.
"Aw, man, I cried for like a week when I read that."
We laugh at Becca's statement. Then she pushes her purse aside and sits next to me. "We're watching The Shining, right?" she asks, reaching for the popcorn.
"Yep!" Bryson and I exclaim.
I grab the DVD remote to cue up the movie, and a feeling of satisfaction flows through me, followed by a feeling of anxiety. It's been like this all week. Happy- nervous, happy- nervous, happy- nervous.
I'm ecstatic that Bryson and I are still together, but there's no denying it--the secret is now at risk. And considering the dream I had last week in the hospital, that kind of terrifies me. I'm hoping I didn't make the wrong decision by filling Bryson in.
I guess time will tell for sure.
But for the moment, he and Becca are both securely by my side. And in this mess of a situation, I guess I can't ask for much more than that.
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