Page 7 of Beckon

What Tami said to her mother was true, she wasn’t sure what she felt could even be classified as attraction. It was just nice to hold someone who wasn’t her son or mother for a while. It was the sense that she’d let go of her sadness that really struck her. Tami could get addicted to that feeling.

“I, myself, am in love with that young man even if you don’t know him and I’ll never meet him. The reason is he gave you proof that you can exist beyond this fog that has wrapped you up tight since Reese passed. I thought when you came out of the worst of those days that that was the best day of my life. I mean, my only child beat crippling depression. How many mothers get to celebrate that?”

“Mom,” Tami protested. She didn’t like to see her mother cry. She caused her enough tears over the years.

“But you came out of the darkness and got stuck in the fog. Which is better, I won’t lie, but now you have proved positive that the sunshine is there, and you can touch it. That alone makes that young man an angel in my book. He showed you the sun, all you have to do is step into a beam.”

Her mother was correct. Maybe that was what she felt about this whole thing. It wasn’t her fare so much as what he represented. She could move on. She was happy, she’d found happiness, but happiness with another man wasn’t something she’d given much thought to. She was ready to open herself up to the possibility of a partnership again. Tami just needed to figure out how to do that and she didn’t have a clue.

To say she had overcome a lot in her life was accurate. Some of those things left scars, and some of them left quirks, but one thing was for sure, it all made her who she was, and she didn’t hate herself.

3

CHANDLER

Sadly,Chandler woke up with a familiar feeling. “Shit.” He tried and failed, to sit up.Where is that cat who shit in my mouth?

While the feeling was becoming a bit too well known, it wasn’t typically to this extent. Yes, he drank far too often to silence the screams, but usually just enough to take the edge off. Last night was, well, it went beyond that.

However, aside from the hangover, Chandler woke feeling, not dread. It was such a foreign sensation he almost missed that sense of self-loathing and despair.

Something on the end table caught his eye.Ibuprofen and water.Praise, Tate. Maybe he wasn’t as big of an asshole toward his last remaining friend last night as he’d thought. After popping the pills, he chased them with half the glass of water in one gulp.

It hit him that Tate wouldn’t have left out pain relievers and water. His friend believed he needed to face his shit so he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to make Chandler’s hangover bearable. Tate himself had seen some dark times, same as him, and he believed wholeheartedly that experiencing pain was key.

“The pain of my choices helped me feel the pain of my past and put it to rest. It’s what you need to make it through too, Benson.”

Chandler wasn’t ready to buy into all that bull. To him, pain hurt. That was it, all it did. Cause pain. How can something cause pain and heal? It made no sense whatsoever.

A note caught his eye as he returned the glass to where he’d found it. Now he was one-hundred-percent positive Tate hadn’t been there.

Then who the hell left the water?

A wave of nausea rolled through him when he swung his legs over the side of the foldout. That’s when he realized someone took the time to remove his shoes.

The paper made an obnoxiously loud crinkling sound in his hand.

Dear Drunk Stranger,

Take these and drink this, you’ll need it.

Your shoes are in the coat closet. Something smells weird in there; you might need to check that out. Look down if you need to puke. No one hurt you while you were passed out and you didn’t hurt anyone either. You did seem, disturbed, maybe you should talk to someone. There’s no shame in asking for help when you need it. Take care and don’t forget to thank your friend for calling you a ride and keeping you and others safe.

Sincerely, Your Rideshare Driver

Smell?

A mission.

“Wow.” Fragments of memories started piecing themselves together.

He vaguely remembered trying to start a fight with some ass at the bar, Tate stepping in, the bartender giving him a bottle and then…

Oh shit, I think my momma would whoop my ass if she were around.He didn’t remember what his driver looked like or what kind of car he was poured into, but he remembered he was a prick, to what extent was lost to him.

What he remembered of the ride home was he said something that was not so nice. She, it was a she, he knew that much, put him in his place and that was that. And something about the Queen of England shaking her head in disapproval.

Apparently, she also put him to bed and thoughtfully left provisions. What bothered him was the vague sense he had of her. With no idea of even her age, he somehow thought she had a soothing voice, but he had no idea why.

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