Page 36 of This Side of Beautiful

“I’m low key into cold weather, deep dish pizzas, and museums. You should take a walk with me down Michigan Avenue. Then we can eat hot dogs and take selfies at the Bean at Millenium Park.” I squealed. “I love that city.”

Landon chuckled. “You sound like a tour guide. Didn’t picture you as someone who remotely cared about anything not related to fashion or music.”

I rolled my neck slightly. “You do know your words hurt.”

He was silent.

“Landon?”

He quietly replied, “I’m here.”

“What’s up?” I shifted again to look out the window at the bright lights of the Los Angeles skyline in the twilight. For once, Los Angeles didn’t trigger thoughts of my ex and his new woman.

“I’m not trying to come across as judgmental or mean. Sometimes I’m not aware of how my words affect others or when I’m coming off rude. If I’m your moral compass, then you have to let me know when my tongue stabs.”

“Tongue stabs? You have a way with words.” I giggled. “Trust, I won’t have any problem checking you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” I said, and meant it. I wanted to be an open book as I learned how to make friends again.

“It’s been three years. Don’t you have regrets?”

“Not really. I needed to do it at the time, and I won’t let what led to me using happen again,” I said, not quite ready for this type of questioning.

“If we’re going to be friends, and I at least believe we’re heading that way, you have to be honest with me.”

The aesthetically pleasing palm trees and mountains in the distance reminded me, as they always did, how far I had come from that little girl from the hood. I insisted, “Iambeing honest. I made a decision, and I have to live with the consequences. I can’t dwell on it.”

“Then where’s your necklace? You haven’t worn it since Saturday morning.”

I touched my bare neck. “I don’t deserve to wear it anymore.”

“Do you still have it?

“Yeah.”

“Then you should wear it again,” he suggested.

“It doesn’t work like that, Landon. I used. I lose my coin.”

“Says who?”

I sighed. “My substance abuse counselors. My therapist.”

“And even they’re divided. Some say once you’re a drunk, you’re always a drunk, and others believe that a substance user doesn’t have to look over their shoulders for that monkey for the rest of their lives. It doesn’t seem fair that you don’t get to wear the necklace anymore because you relapsed one day. It’s like the other thousand-plus days you didn’t use no longer matter. You already have fingers pointing at you, left and right. You don’t need the necklace to do that too. Wear it to represent what you’ve already achieved and what you will do again. Wear it proudly because you believe you can beat your addiction.”

“This might be the most I’ve ever heard you speak.” I chuckled as the car turned onto my street. “But I hear you, and I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“Sounds like you’re not driving.”

“I’m sitting outside my house waiting to make sure you get inside yours safely, since you’ve been gone a few days.”

“And I thought chivalry was dead.” I smiled, pleased that I’d actually met a decent man who had no ulterior motives. A man who cared enough to make sure I got into my home safely, though he was thousands of miles away.

“Or I just don’t want your death on my conscience.”

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