chapter Five
Brett walked me upstairs as if he was walking me to my doorstep after a date. It was a sweet gesture.
He gave me a peck on the lips and we both stood looking at each other.
“I’m not tired,” I said with a glance into the guest bedroom. I wasn’t ready for him to go downstairs and leave me alone. It felt good just being with him, talking with him and having him close to me. Brett made me feel safe. I could be myself with him, which wasn’t something I was with very many people. That’s a lie; I hadn’t ever been truly myself with anyone.
Brett gave me a half smile. “Neither am I.”
He took my hand and led me over to the bed. We both lay down on our backs, fully clothed. Brett took my hand and held it. We turned to face each other.
Brett seemed to be inspecting every inch of my face.
“What,” I asked.
“I’m memorizing your face.” He said it was if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Why?” I laughed.
“Because I’m not going to see you for a while. I want to remember everything about you. The way your nose turns up slightly and your mouth turns up a little more on the left when you grin. The way your blue eyes sparkle when the light hits them at a certain angle.”
I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat. I had never gotten into romance and I didn’t want to be a sappy girl, who cried when a guy got all mushy. I wasn’t that girl. Was I?
“What are we doing, Brett? You don’t want sex. You said you want to get to know me better but why? What’s the angle here?”
He propped himself on one elbow and looked into my eyes. “First of all, I never said I didn’t want sex. I just said we weren’t having sex this weekend. There’s a big difference. I want to have sex almost every minute I’m with you. I just want to take things slow. I want you to let me love you first—before we have sex.”
Then he leaned over and gave me a soft kiss.
I wanted more—so much more. We looked into each other’s eyes and I felt like he was looking into my soul. As many times as I had shared my body with other guys, I had never had a moment as intimate as this one and we were both fully clothed.
Yet I felt naked and completely exposed. Brett leaned in and kissed me again, this time with more intensity and passion. A shiver ran through me as his kisses became more heated and needy.
When we stopped for a breath, I said, “I thought you didn’t want to have sex yet.”
He looked at me puzzled. “I don’t.”
Now I was the one with the puzzled expression. Then what were we doing? Things were definitely starting to heat up.
“We can just make out and not have sex.”
But why, I wondered, but I was afraid to say it.
He eyed me with suspicion. “Haven’t you just made out with a guy without having sex? When you first start dating?”
“Maybe when I was twelve,” I joked but I could see Brett wasn’t laughing. He didn’t even crack a smile.
I shrugged. “I like sex.” I said it as if that was the answer to everything. I wanted to stop the line of questioning but I could tell by the look in his eyes he was far from done with the conversation.
A touch of sadness seemed to creep into Brett’s eyes. Or maybe it was disappointment. I had never given much thought to my sex life before I met Brett. I had a reputation for being easy and it was well deserved.
“So you’ve had sex with every guy you’ve ever kissed. You never said no.”
I gulped. I could feel the words sticking in my throat. How could I tell him that it never even occurred to me that I could say no? Once things started I never stopped them.
I could feel myself shrinking again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer any more of his questions but Brett pressed on. He was like a detective out to find everything he could about me. Like he had to solve the mystery of Anna before it was too late.
“Did you ever have sex even when you didn’t want to?” His look was so intense it scared me a little.
My mind immediately flashed back to Rodney Porter. He was one of the star football players, a senior, and I couldn’t believe it when he asked me out. I was only a freshman. We made out in the back seat of his car. I remembered it was really cramped. It was a few months before summer break. He turned the engine off, so there was no air conditioning. It was sweltering hot. As we were making out, he started to sweat a lot. He was sweating so much it starting dripping all over me. I was sweltering and it was so cramped and he was so sweaty, all I could think of was, “Just get it over with.” I just wanted him to have sex with me so I could get out of the back of his car and get away from him and his disgusting sweat dripping everywhere.
That was the first time I had sex when I really didn’t want to but it certainly wasn’t the last time.
I didn’t look at Brett. I couldn’t. I just nodded. I could hear him exhale, long and hard. I thought for sure he was going to get up and leave that he would be completely disgusted with me.
“Look at me,” Brett demanded.
When I finally got the courage to look into his eyes, I could see they were wet. He was holding back tears. “Promise me you’ll never do that again. Promise me you’ll only have sex when you really want to and that you’ll say no if you don’t.”
“Okay,” I agreed although I wasn’t sure I could actually stick to my promise. Saying no wasn’t easy when you were easy. But my response seemed to satisfy Brett for the moment anyway.
“And what about you? There were times you made out but didn’t get past first base?”
He laughed. “I never got past first base. In high school, I was like a human set of training wheels for nerdy and geeky girls. They’d date me and we’d make out. Then they’d break up with me and find someone else to get serious with. For a while, it was a pattern. Christie, she was a band geek. She played the clarinet. We dated our sophomore year of high school. I finally got the courage to kiss her the night after the Holiday band concert. We made out in her parents’ basement. The next week in school, she dumped me for the snare drum player. They dated for two years after that. Melanie was a theater rat. We dated our junior year of high school. We’d sneak into the lighting booth and make out. She dumped me for the guy, who played the lead in Fiddler on The Roof. I guess she couldn’t resist his beautiful tenor voice.”
Even though his story was sad, I couldn’t help but smile at the image of Melanie swooning over Tevye while singing “Sunrise, Sunset.”
“At the end of my senior year, I dated Marcy. She was the Science Fair State Champion. We went to prom together and made out at the After Party. The next day, she dumped me for one of the State Science Fair runners-up.”
“That’s one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard.” I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand then took a deep breath.
When he opened his eyes and looked at me, there was still a bit of sadness there. “Please don’t dump me for a snare drum player.”
I smiled and gave him a light kiss. “I promise I won’t dump you for a snare drum player.” I kissed him again. “Or a cast member of Fiddler on the Roof.” I gave him another kiss. “Or any science fair contestants.”
“Do you want to make out some more?” he asked.
I kissed him as my affirmation.
“Good,” he said and kissed me back.
***
When I awoke on Monday morning, I was so overcome with sadness, I could hardly breathe. It was like a blanket of sorrow had enveloped me in the middle of the night and now it threatened to suffocate me. The feeling was so consuming and completely foreign, I didn’t know how to react.
I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back to Phoenix—back to my dead end job—back to my tiny apartment and my witch roommate and her evil cat.
I wanted to stay with Brett.
But it was ridiculous to even consider. We had only spent a few days together. I couldn’t very well move in with him. We weren’t even sexually active yet. Well, technically, we weren’t sexually active again, since we hooked up at the wedding.
I pulled myself up from the bed and looked around. A big part of me was afraid this might be the last time I’d stay here. Call it old habits but I was used to guys quickly tiring of me and dumping me for the next flavor of the week.
Not that I thought Brett was like that. But did I really know him that well? I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe that he truly cared about me and wanted something more but I was still cautious. I still needed to protect my not-so-desolate heart, just in case.
I thought I heard noises out in the garden. I hopped out of bed and went over to the window. Brett must have gotten up early because he was already futzing around in the garden.
I threw on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and decided to join him.
Brett was so engrossed in his gardening, he didn’t notice me at first. When I offered, “Is there anything I can do to help?” He looked startled.
“I don’t expect you to do hard labor while you’re here.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t call gardening hard labor and I really do want to help. If you want me to.”
He turned to face me, his eye narrowed. “You can help if you really want to.”
“I really want to,” I assured him.
He still didn’t look convinced but he handed me some shears. “Why don’t you prune that miniature rose bush?”
I was suddenly frozen with fear. I knew how much the garden meant to him and I didn’t want to mess anything up with my incompetence.
Brett watched me just standing there looking at the rose bush. “Have you ever gardened before?”
I shook my head.
He closed the distance between us. “It’s okay. You won’t mess it up. If you trim a little too much, I assure you, it will grow back.”
I gulped. I still couldn’t make my arm move toward the bush.
Sensing my hesitation, Brett took my arm in his and guided me toward one of the branches. “Snip right here,” he said as he pushed my hand to the spot he wanted me to cut.
I did as I was told and a small branch fell away from the rest of the bush.
“You did it,” Brett said as he placed a kiss on my cheek. “Now where do you think the next cut should be?”
I examined the rose bush. I thought the right side looked at little fuller than the left. I pointed to three small branches that I thought could have been eliminated to even things up. “Maybe trim these?”
“I think that’s a good choice. Go for it.”
I clipped the three small branches off and we both examined my work.
“I think that’s perfect,” Brett praised. “You’re a natural.”
“Anything else you need me to do?”
Brett grabbed a small garden shovel and handed it to me. “I want to add these tickseeds. I think the yellow will really brighten things up.”
“I’m ready,” I said as I eagerly held up the shovel.
To my surprise, Brett kissed me. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re helping in the garden.”
“Honestly, before I met you, I’d never given gardens much thought. But you love them so much and I can see how happy they make you. I want to be a part of that and share that with you.”
Brett took three small potted plants and showed me where he wanted them replanted. I dug small holes for the three plants based on Brett’s guidance and he carefully placed each of the plants into the holes I’d created. He added a bit of plant fertilizer then carefully patted the soil around each plant. The way he expertly handled the soil reminded me of a sculptor handling clay. Brett grabbed a spouted water container and he carefully gave each plant a small amount of water. I marveled at the love and care he took with each plant. He was nurturing. It reminded me of the care he took with me when I was sick and hung over the morning after we hooked up.
After the three small plants were settled in their new surroundings, Brett perched on the garden wall. I sat beside him.
“I got my love of gardens from my mother,” he said. “Gardening was her passion and I’d always help her around the garden on the weekends. We spent a lot of time together planting, weeding, pruning, and trimming. She loved her garden and she taught me to love it, too.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened to your mom? You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.”
He seemed to think about it for a few moments then said, “She died in a car crash.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. For some reason, I thought he was going to say she had been ill.
“I think deaths can be harder to deal with when they’re unexpected.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mom. It sounds like the two of you were close.”
He didn’t respond, which I thought was strange. There seemed to be a lot more there that he wasn’t telling me. Then he said, “All this work in the garden must have made you hungry.”
I didn’t want to push if he was done talking about his mom. I was happy he shared what he did with me. At some point, though, I wanted to know the rest of the story.
“Yes, trimming a few small branches and basically watching you replant those tickseeds starved and exhausted me.”
“You didn’t just watch the replanting. You dug the holes. That’s the most important part.”
“Whatever you say. What are we making for breakfast?”
***
I expected Brett to just drop me off at the airport and part of me hoped he would because we would avoid the painful process of having to say goodbye. I just knew I would cry. I could feel it bubbling up inside me. Kind of like those volcanos third grade teachers always made for their classes; the sadness was getting ready to erupt.
Brett insisted on parking the car and helping me get checked it. I suspected he didn’t want to say goodbye either and this was his way of prolonging my visit as much as he could.
After my bags were checked and I got my boarding pass, Brett took my hand in his and walked me to the gate. We both stood there for a few moments just looking into each other’s eyes. Then Brett kissed me. It wasn’t the peck you’d expect in a crowded airport. It was a kiss filled with passion and hunger. It sent a wave of shivers through me. “I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered in my ear. “Only two weeks until the wedding in Tucson.”
At that moment, two weeks felt like a really long time. He might as well have said two months. I willed myself not to get emotional but I couldn’t help it. The volcano inside was about to erupt. “I’d better go,” I managed to get out. I didn’t want him to see me fall apart.
He embraced me in a hug and that sent me over the edge. I could feel my body start to convulse. I was crying. For someone, who never cried (Flaw 5) because she was completely dead inside with a withered heart (Flaw 23), I certainly broke down a lot with Brett.
He continued to hold me tight. “It’s okay. We’ll see each other soon.”
Then he grabbed my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “I want you to know that you’ve captured a piece of my heart. And you’ll have it with you wherever you go. Please take good care of it.”
That made me sob even more. He kissed my forehead. “You have a plane to catch, my beautiful Anna.”
No words would come out of my mouth, which completely shocked me. Being at a loss for words had never been a problem with me. Just the opposite. I generally lacked a filter and managed to say awful things I immediately regretted (Flaw 9).
I just nodded. Then I placed a soft kiss on Brett’s lips and turned and walked away. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t turn back around to look at him one last time. I knew if I did, I wasn’t going to get on the plane at all. So I hurried toward the security gate and headed back to Phoenix.
***
By the time I got home, it was late afternoon. Winter must have been working because our apartment was desolate, which didn’t improve my mood. I didn’t even see the evil cat anywhere; it must have been hiding.
I threw my bag on my bed and didn’t even have the energy to deal with unpacking. I turned on my laptop and decided to do some mindless web surfing.
My first stop was Facebook. I wanted to see Brett’s photo, so I stared at his page for a few minutes. It was amazing how much he’d changed in the five years since we were freshman in college. He’d gone from not cool to kind of hot.
A twinge of sadness washed over me when I saw his relationship status still sad single. Not that I expected him to change it. It probably would have freaked me out if he did. We’d only been seeing each other a few days, if you could even call it that. I didn’t know what to call it. It felt like much more.
I debated uploading some of the photos I’d taken at Fililo. Not only did I not ask him how he felt about it, I knew all of the people we’d gone to school with would freak out when they saw them.
Okay, I admit, I wanted Sweater Vest to see them. I wanted her to know he had someone else. I wanted her out of his life and I wanted me in it.
F*ck it.
I scrolled through the shots on my phone and selected three that I thought were really good. I tagged Brett and uploaded them to my Facebook page.
Then I waited. And waited. And waited some more. I waited about 15 minutes before the flood of comments started, more than I thought there would be.
Most of my so-called friends from college expressed surprise, which didn’t surprise me. I was as shocked as they were that the two of us were “together.”
Olivia asked if she should change her seating chart and put us the same table for her wedding reception.
A few of the guys I’d been with made rude comments like: I’m available, Baby, if you want a real man.
I held my breath until I saw Brett was online. He messaged me: Nice photos. Looks like I’m one lucky guy.
Sorry about the comments, I messaged back.
They’re just jealous that I got the girl, he messaged.
Me: Want a few more to upload to your laptop? That’s why I took so many.
Brett: Of course. Please send them. I can never have too many photos of you.
I emailed him most of the photos. And he messaged me back a few moments later: I’m uploading these right now. Now you’ll need to come back to visit me so you can see if I’m telling the truth.
Me: Maybe…if you’re good.
Brett: I’m always good.
Me: We’ll see how good you are in Tucson.
Then I saw an alert come through: A comment on a message you were tagged on from Rebecca Stiller (friend of Brett Conner). I clicked on Brett’s wall to see what Sweater Vest had posted.
One of the photos Brett was tagged on was of the two of us standing in front of Fililo. It was a gorgeous photo. The sun as just right and our faces were lit up with sunshine and the happiness of the moment.
While the photos of us had garnered scores of comments, Sweater Vest’s was the only comment on the photo on Brett’s wall. The comment was short but to the point: Who’s that?
Obviously she didn’t mean it in the literal sense. She could see my name on the photo and she could visit my wall to find out all kinds of interesting things about me, which I was positive she was already doing. And I was sure her final conclusion would be: what’s my ex fiancé doing with that slut?
Sweater Vest didn’t really want to know who I was, she wanted to know what I was. She wanted to know what my relationship was to Brett. I guess that was the one and only thing we had in common because I wanted to know the exact same thing.
***
Work on Tuesday was more boring than it had ever been. It didn’t help that I kept thinking about Brett. I didn’t want to wait two weeks until the wedding to see him again. I didn’t want to admit that I missed him but I knew I did. The guy had managed to expand my withered heart just enough to weasel his way into it. It was a feat no one else had ever managed to do but somehow Brett knew just how to do it.
After work, I found myself in the garden section of Target with little recollection of how I had actually gotten there. I had never actually been to a garden store before and I felt uncomfortable being there, like I was some kind of imposter. But being there also reminded me of Brett, which made me smile for a brief moment. Then I just felt pathetic. Was I actually pining after a guy? Me? The biggest slut of the 21 century. I could drive to any club in the Valley and have my pick of hot guys in the place within minutes yet the only guy I really wanted was in another state. And while I was usually very sure about what most guys wanted (sex), Brett was a complete mystery to me. I wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted and that made him intriguing and scary. Mostly because he seemed to have the upper hand and that was something I definitely wasn’t used to. I was used to having the power and holding all the cards.
As I was browsing through the garden section, I noticed a stand of small plants that were on clearance. They all looked like they had been neglected and were half dead. They reminded me of myself in so many ways I could feel a little pull on my heartstrings as I examined them. Sad little plants that no one seemed to really care about or want; it was the story of my life. I often felt disposable. Like something to be used then thrown on a sale rack because it was too pathetic for anyone to pay full price for. In an impulsive moment, I grabbed the most pathetic looking plant of the bunch and took it up to the register.
The older woman at the register eyed me suspiciously when I went to pay for the plant. It looked even worse when I set it on the counter.
The older woman wrinkled her chicken beak of a nose at me. “You know this will probably be dead in a day or two.”
“And your point is?” I was in a take-no-shit mood, which was a fairly common mode of operating for me (Flaw 35).
“What would you want to waste your money on a pathetic thing like this for?”
I glared at the woman, suddenly feeling defensive for the fragile plant. “Somebody has to at least try to save it.”
“Some things aren’t worth saving,” the woman sneered and I could have sworn she was talking about me.
I threw two dollar bills at her and grabbed my plant.
“Don’t you want your change?” I could hear her say as I hurried out of the store with my pathetic excuse for a plant.
By the time I made it back to my car, I saw seething. In the outdoor sunlight, my plant did look pathetic and sad. I wasn’t sure it was worth saving but I was going to try. I thought about Brett. Would people ask him why he was wasting his time with a slut like me? Would they tell him I wasn’t worth it? I’m sure Sweater Vest already had.
When I got home, I placed my little plant on the counter. I gave it a tiny bit of water and then stared at it and waited. I wasn’t sure what to do next. I knew it would take time to get better. I knew I would have to have patience with it. Was that what Brett was doing with me?
I grabbed my cell phone and snapped a photo of my plant. I decided to call my plant Marvin because when I was a kid and asked for a dog, which my parents refused, I always wanted to name my dog Marvin.
I decided to get some plant advice from the expert so I emailed the photo to Brett and waited. It only took him a few minutes to respond: You got a Dracaena. They’re great plants. Although, the one you selected is a bit rough around the edges. It will take a little bit of work to bring it completely back to life and thriving again. I wish I was there. I could help you with it. But here are a few suggestions. First, it will need to be repotted so it has room to grow. I have attached some suggested types of pots with dimensions. Second, the plant needs moderate sunlight. It’s a delicate balance. Too much sunshine and you’ll burn the poor thing. Too little sunshine and it will wilt. The same is true for water. I would suggest using a spray bottle and misting the plant rather than watering it. I have provided a link to a YouTube video that explains all about misting plants. Finally, please get a little bit of Miracle Grow that will provide the plant with some nutrients it looks like it missed while it was developing. You can’t make up for everything it missed but you can give it enough to bring it back to health. I know you’ll be able to save the darling little thing. I think you’ll be surprised how lovely it will be with a little love and someone to care about it.”
I was suddenly struck with a sense of fear. I had never made a commitment to anything in my life. I didn’t even like to commit to being at any one party on a Saturday night, if I could help it. Now I had committed myself to bringing a plant back to life. I wasn’t sure I could handle it. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. I could have looked up stuff about plants online but I realized I had told Brett about the plant because I wanted to make myself accountable. I wanted him to know about it because otherwise I might have just said f*ck it and thrown the thing away.
I looked at Marvin. Since I had never actually done anything worthwhile in my life, I decided I’d start with this pathetic little plant and see if I could save him from the brink of death. I wasn’t sure I was up to the challenge but at least I had to try.
A few minutes later, Winter come home. We usually ignored each other but today she stopped and looked at my plant.
“Why is there a Dracaena on the counter?”
Why did everyone know the type of plant but me? And I was the one who purchased it. How pathetic is that?
“I’m trying to save it,” I answered.
“Good luck with that. It’s pretty messed up.”
“I know.”
“Do you really think you can save it?”
I shrugged.
“How much did you pay for it?”
“Two dollars.”
“You got ripped off.”
With that, Winter grabbed her bag, headed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
I was alone again with Marvin, the plant symbolic of me.