Page 58 of More With You

He laughs reassuringly. “Hey, it was a damn good forgery. Levi knows my handwriting inside and out, from when we were friends. He used to do essays for the classes I sucked at, and I did the same for him. Only reason he got into Ole Miss.” A wrinkle of sadness appears between his eyebrows. “If I hadn’t done that for him, I wonder if he’d be as much of an ass.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” I say quietly, trying to imagine what the two of them were like in high school. There’s no way Ben wasn’t drowning in a sea of girls, but the art kids at my school were always one of two things: super quiet with headphones stuck to their ears or super loud in every way, right down to the wild makeup, neon clothes, and the music they’d blast from the communal CD-player in the art studio.

“What were you like, back then?” I decide I might as well ask.

He smiles: his expression faraway. “First, you’ve got to understand that everyone was from a similar background at our school, which kind of leveled the playing field. There were a couple of scholarship kids, but they kept to their own group, or they were taken under the wing of another group.” He pauses. “Levi and I were… in-between. Not popular, not unpopular. Levi, believe it or not, used to be the school ace on the football field. Trouble was, we were a swimming, lacrosse, and everything-but-football school, so it didn’t make him the cool guy.”

“Saying “the cool guy” makes you very uncool,” I tease, settling into my very own bedtime story as I drive on aimlessly down the dusky road.

He laughs. “I told you, I wasn’t popular or unpopular. I had my thing. I hung around the art department, mostly. I was pretty good at a bunch of sports but running and painting were my sanctuary. In high school, being artistic doesn’t make you cool, and running only does if you’re a sprinter. I was a take-my-time, slow-burn, fresh burst of strength at the very end kind of guy.”

“You still are.” I cast a mischievous grin, and he smooths his palm onto my thigh, right where the split tapers up to my hip.

“If you keep distracting me, I’ll forget which part of my past I’m at,” he chides playfully, stroking my exposed skin with his thumb. “So, Levi and I had been friends since we were little. We stuck together through elementary, middle and into high school, where he’d just hang out while I painted. We’d listen to music, and we got friendly with the other art kids. That led to crazy parties, and it never seemed like Levi was interested in being one of the ‘cool kids’. I guess that changed when he went off to Ole Miss, where he realized his privilege. The playing field wasn’t level anymore, if you get what I mean?”

I nod. “I think so. He went from being middle of the road to being the top dog, kind of thing?”

“Exactly. It changes people. Power.” Ben sighs and sags back into his seat, his hand still stroking my thigh. It feels nice.

“And money.” I’ve seen it in the casinos. The losers and the winners can turn into monsters at the flip of a chip.

He gives my thigh a squeeze. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Your mom didn’t seem to think so.” It’s not funny yet, but I hope it’ll be one of those stories that we look back on and laugh.

He shrugs. “She’s got no taste. I appreciate it very much.”

At that moment, Grace yawns, and we slip into a conspiratorial silence, stifling laughs as she snuffles and falls back to sleep again.

After what seems like enough directionless driving around, I take us back to my cottage. Before long, we pull into the dirt semi-circle that serves as a parking lot. I kill the engine and get out, going straight to the trunk to get Grace’s things while he tends to her.

I’ve gathered up the little duffel bag and assortment of stuffed animals when I stop and see Ben with Grace in his arms. She’s still asleep, or pretending to be, as he carries her through the gate and down the path to the cottage. It’s the single most wonderful thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I only take two steps before I realize there are tears in my eyes. No one ever picked me up as a child, asleep, from the backseat of a car, and carried me to my bed, making me feel safe and loved. No one ever cared enough to do that.

Shaking off the heavy regret, I follow them down the path, and I think, You’re lucky, Grace. So very lucky. And I hope you always know just how lucky you are. As for me, I’m beginning to understand that, as long as I’m with Ben and Grace and Ms. T and good people, my luck is going to keep on changing for the better.

BEN

The colors are muddled tonight. It started with the cobalt blue of indifference, dining with my parents, with specks of sunflower yellow relief that I’d be back in Summer’s arms soon. Then, Summer came in and threw a bucket of violet confusion, hot pink shock, and bottle green concern onto the otherwise bland canvas. Some black and silver, too, for that incredible dress and that necklace. Although, the necklace already looked red to me—spoiled. Toss in more red, every red, for the spectrum of my anger at my parents’ response, then a hopeful streak of purest white when Summer stood up to them, and brushstrokes of cerulean for Grace’s uprooted sadness and confusion. The problem is, when so many colors are thrown together, it inevitably makes a muddied brown, verging on pond-scum green. That’s how my mind feels, right now, though there’s a seductive shade of heliotrope purple awaiting me in the bedroom. Summer is showering, so I’ve got some time to write before I kiss away both of our worries.

I say that, but I’m not worried about her or about Grace being here. When you’re a kid, everything is an adventure, and this is just another one for Grace to explore. All I’m worried about is what my parents are going to do. I don’t want to freak Summer out, but they’re not going to stop here. I guess I have to trust that Lyndsey remembers how they treated her, when I brought her to the house that first time. We were going to announce her pregnancy, but they were so foul to her that we kept our mouths shut. Then, as soon as they did find out, from Levi of all people, they couldn’t have been sweeter to Lyndsey. Fawning over her, asking when we were getting married.

Yeah, I have to trust in Lyndsey. But there’s a problem there, too. I haven’t told Summer yet. I’ll tell her tomorrow, once she’s a bit less rattled. See, Lyndsey is held up. An old friend of hers died unexpectedly, so she’s asked if I can keep Grace for another week. Obviously, that’s incredible, and I’m so happy that I get to have my daughter with me for a while longer, but my parents can’t find out. They’ll use that wiggle room to make my life a living hell.

Right now, I’ve got no idea how to keep the truth hidden from them. Part of me is thinking I should just pack up Summer’s car and hit the road with her and Grace, as far from here as possible.

Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can finish my paintings from memory if I have to. Lou would be pissed if I quit early, but he won’t hold it against me. I could even go to the gallery in New Orleans. That’s far enough away, right? They’re on my ass about when the exhibition is going up, so it’d be two birds, one stone.

Anyway, this is tomorrow’s problem. Right now, I’m going to kiss my daughter on the forehead, then I’m going to bed with my beautiful Summer. Everything will be clearer in the morning. So, if my next entry is from New Orleans, you’ll know what I decided, but I’m already dreaming of the open road.

Speaking of which, my motorcycle is at my parents’ place. I swear, if they so much as touch it, I’ll… Leave that thought with me. Summer is the one with the creative revenge ideas.

19

“Summer? You in here?” Sandra pokes her head around the door of the staff locker room.

I look up from tying my shoelaces. “Sorry, sorry! I know, I’m two minutes late, but my shoelace snapped. Tell John I’ll be out in literally thirty seconds. Is John on today?”

I’m actually two minutes late because I spent an extra twenty minutes in bed with Ben this morning, and then my shoelace snapped, but I’m not going to divulge that to Sandra. We’re work buddies, sure, but there are some things I like to keep for myself. Plus, I could’ve been a whole lot later if I’d let Ben carry on. He’d already been out to work and gotten back before I’d even woken up properly, so he was in need of some post-bridge attendant relaxation while Grace was busy watching cartoons and eating the waffles that he’d picked up on his way home.

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