COOL BEANS

  I push it away. “I’m fine!”

  Back to the crossed arms and towering gazes.

  “So,” I say, brightly, dropping my hands in my lap, “what all have you done to the house?”

  Kate slowly turns her head and looks at Zach, shrugging.

  “We hung a few pictures,” Zach stutters.

  “Great!”

  Now they are blinking and towering over me.

  Having enough of the towering, I stand, but it doesn’t help much. I really need to look into some good quality heels like they’re always touting on What Not to Wear.

  “And we, uh, bought a new bed for that guest room,” Kate says.

  “Cool,” I nod. “Very cool. Now your parents can stay with you,” I tell Kate.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Zach frowns. “Okay, Maya. Enough. What’s going on?”

  I look at them both. “I just took a long drive and watched the sunset and had a long talk with God. And I realized that you guys and I have never really been close. Which has been mostly my fault,” I say quickly. “And since you are living back in San Diego, I feel like we should at least work on it.” I grin at Zach. “I mean, you figure God put us in the same family for a reason, right?”

  “Or so Mom and Dad tried to tell us in high school,” he says, grinning back.

  I roll my eyes. “Right. And Kate, you got stuck in the middle of this sibling rivalry, so I’ve never really known you very well.” I wave my hand at their ornate yet homey living room. “For example, you are a fabulous interior decorator.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles.

  “Come on, Maya, don’t you think ‘sibling rivalry’ is a bit strong?” Zach says. “I never rivaled you. Just the age difference, the lack of things in common …” He shrugs.

  I have to smile at the honesty.

  Kate points to the sofa. “Zachary, you and Maya sit. I’m going to go make us some coffee, and we’re going to find stuff we have in common.”

  Okay, weird. “I didn’t mean for this to be a long thing,” I say.

  “No, seriously. Sit,” Kate commands.

  I sit.

  “Decaf, please, dear,” Zach calls after her.

  “Old man,” I say to him.

  He waits until Kate is out of earshot. “This is how Kate’s family deals with conflict. They sit; they drink coffee; and they ‘share their feelings.’” He sighs.

  “Weird.”

  “You’re telling me! One time, Kate’s mom had an issue with me always getting paged while I was at their house, so we had to have a thirty-minute discussion on how I’m a doctor and that’s why I need this pager.” He pats his jeans pocket.

  I squint at him. “Every time you went over there it went off?”

  His eyes immediately narrow, too. “Kids can get sick very quickly.”

  “And apparently in a timely fashion.”

  “Maya.”

  “Zach.” I grin. “New subject. Quick, think of stuff we have in common so we can pretend we were talking about that when Kate gets back so I’m not here all night.”

  “See? That’s the spirit.” Zach smiles a goofy smile.

  “Our last name,” I say. “We’ve got that in common.”

  “For now,” he nods.

  “Considering the lack of prospects, for a while,” I add.

  He thinks for a minute. “We both like spinach artichoke dip.”

  “And watermelon.” I make a face. “When you’re not spitting the seeds at me.”

  “I think you deserved every one of those seeds,” Zach says. “Growing up, you were a brat.”

  “That was only during puberty! And you weren’t the sweetest kid on the block, either,” I protest.

  Kate comes in carrying a tray with three cups and a coffeepot on it. “So, how’s it going?”

  “He called me a brat,” I say, faking the attitude.

  “Oh yeah? Well, she called me ‘not sweet,’” Zach fires back and then laughs.

  Kate just sighs.

  I get home about eleven. We finished the third pot of coffee at ten, and when Kate found out I never had dinner, she warmed up leftovers. So I feasted on pork loin, asparagus spears, and homemade bread.

  Much better than instant Bertolli.

  And we decided to have dinner once a month, just the three of us. Considering my culinary skills (yes, warming up frozen dinners is a skill; I know people who burn them), Kate and Zach voted for me to drive to their house, and they’ll take care of the cooking.

  There’s the flickering glow of the TV in our apartment as I climb the stairs, and I take a deep breath.

  Okay, Lord, help me get this out.

  My stomach’s curling in a painful pretzel twist. I try to remember the psalms I read tonight and the peace I felt. Another deep breath.

  I open the door, and Jen flicks off the TV. She stands from the couch. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” I close the door behind me, and we stand there in the dark. I turn on the table lamp.

  Her arms are crossed over her chest. Her eyes look red-rimmed. Now my stomach’s doing a churro twist.

  I really hurt her.

  She clears her throat. “You were gone for a while.”

  Nodding, I drop my purse on the floor. “I went over to Zach and Kate’s.”

  Her eyebrows raise, but she doesn’t question it.

  I let my breath out. “Jen, we need to talk.”

  She nods and sits right back down on the sofa. “Yes, we do.”

  I sit opposite her in the reclining chair and fold my hands together, nervously. “Jen.” I clear my throat. “I lied to you.”

  She nods but doesn’t say anything.

  “I never meant not to tell you about Travis.” I squint, remembering. “I was just so shocked when I saw him that I couldn’t think. And then when he didn’t recognize me …”

  She’s still nodding.

  “It made it easy to try to forget the past.”

  Again, more nodding. I’m taking this as a good sign.

  “And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  She stops the bobblehead movement and looks at me. “Did you … do you still have a thing for Travis?”

  Long silence. I look at my hands, at the wall, at the door, finally at her. “I did,” I say quietly.

  “I see.”

  “Not anymore,” I say quickly. “He’s all yours. You can have him. I just never … I don’t think I ever …” Fumbling for the words, I close my mouth and stop for a second.

  “You never?” Jen asks in a small voice.

  “He broke up with me,” I say a minute later. “But … I don’t think I ever … broke up with him.”

  She frowns. “What?”

  I wave my hands. “Do you remember when you broke up with Adam?”

  Small smile here. “You mean when Jack broke up with Adam for me?” She grins wider.

  I smile, too. “Um … yeah. Gosh, he was a horrible person.”

  “Maya, he wasn’t a horrible person.”

  “He made you cry!”

  “Therefore he’s horrible? Maya, every single Hallmark commercial makes me cry!”

  This is true. I’ve seen her curled up on the couch, sniffling into the throw pillow as some little kid’s grandparents first hear him say, “Merry Christmas.”

  She gives me a look, and I acknowledge she’s right. “Okay.”

  “Anyway,” she says, “about breaking up.”

  I nod. “Right. So, when you broke up with Adam, it took him like six months to really come to grips with the fact that you’d broken up, right?”

  “If you mean it took him six months to stop calling me every day, then yes.”

  “So, it’s not exactly the same, but when Travis broke up with me, I didn’t really believe him at first. We’d been going out for so long, and then just to have him completely out of my life …” I shake my head. “I think I always held on to the option of Travis.” I pause. “You know what I mean?”

  “Like it could sti
ll happen someday?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods. “Go on.”

  “So when he first walked into Cool Beans,” I count the points off on my fingers, “one, I was shocked because I hadn’t seen him in five years. Two, I was shocked he was dating you. And three, I was super shocked that he didn’t even recognize me.”

  “I asked him about that,” Jen says quietly.

  “What’d he say?”

  “Apparently, you were blond.” She quirks her head at me. “I just don’t see it.”

  “That’s a good thing. It wasn’t a good look.” I shrug. “I’m sure he was so focused on you that he never even really looked at me.”

  She curls her knees tighter to her chest. “That could be it, too.”

  I look at her for a minute. “And then when I didn’t tell you right away … it just got harder and harder to say something and easier to keep it quiet.”

  “Easier?” She stares at me. “You’ve been acting really weird lately. You’ve been jumpy and nervous all the time, and I just thought it was because it’s getting closer to Christmas, and Zach moved back to town, and you’d been drinking more mochas than normal.”

  I bite my lip, much as I hate that action. “Okay, so it wasn’t easier.”

  “I would say not. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “Jenny,” I say, looking her square in the eyes, “what would you have done? If the first night, I went to you and said, ‘Jen, you’re dating my old boyfriend’?”

  She laces her fingers together. “I would have said, ‘Thank you for telling me.’”

  “You lie!” I shout. “You would have said, ‘Oh my gosh, we’re never going out again.’”

  She chews her lip, thinking. “Okay, you’re probably right.”

  “I’m definitely right.”

  She sighs and buries her head in her hands. “When did everything get so complicated?” she moans.

  I watch her for a second. “Jenny,” I say almost whispering.

  “Yeah, Maya?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She lets her breath out and then looks at me. “Thank you.” Her eyes are getting more shimmery in the lamplight, and I know what’s coming.

  “Jen. Jenny,” I soothe, getting out of the recliner and moving to the couch. I rub her shoulder as the first tear trickles out.

  She blinks rapidly, trying to keep them in, but the droplets just fall faster. “Sorry,” she mumbles, using her shirtsleeve to wipe them away.

  “No, I’m sorry!” The backs of my eyes start to sting.

  “I don’t even know why I’m crying.” She sniffles.

  My first tear makes its way down my cheek. I wrap both arms around her now, and we rock a little bit, tears flowing.

  “I’ll never lie to you about anything ever again,” I promise.

  “I’ll never date another one of your ex-boyfriends,” she half-laughs, half-cries.

  I wipe my face, grinning. “That shouldn’t be an issue. He’s the only one.”

  She giggles, reaching for her tear sponge, aka, the throw pillow. She smashes it against her face, sniffling.

  Disgusting. “I’ll get us the Kleenex.” I grab a box from the kitchen and rejoin her on the sofa, handing her a tissue.

  “Thanks.” She blows her nose and lets her breath out slowly.

  “So.”

  “So.” I blow my nose as well, swiping at the last few tears.

  “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, is it going to be awkward for you if, uh, if Travis and I keep dating?” She asks the questions slowly, not looking at me.

  She really likes this guy.

  I smile.

  “Not at all,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s where I went tonight.”

  “Travis’s?” She frowns.

  “No, no.” I shake my head quickly. “I went to that overlook near San Diego I told you about one time.”

  She squints, trying to remember.

  “It’s not important. I went and … talked with God for a while.”

  “Yeah? How’d it go?”

  “Better than it has in a month and a half.” I look at my hands, twisting a clean Kleenex around in them. “I never really forgave God for what happened.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, I never really trusted Him with my relationships. I’ve got to work on that.”

  Jen rubs my hand. “We both do.”

  “Yeah.”

  We quiet, leaning back against the couch. I drop my head on Jen’s shoulder and we both sigh.

  “Are we okay?” I ask softly.

  She wraps her arm around me and pulls me in for a long hug. “We’re better than okay.”

  I smile into her shoulder. “Yay.”

  She laughs.

  Right then, Calvin trots in. He’s still carrying the Pilates DVD. “Roo!” he barks, dropping it on the couch beside me.

  Jen laughs harder. “Your dog is ridiculous!”

  I giggle. “He just likes working on his core. Right, bud?” I rub his ears.

  “Roo!”

  She stands. “I’m getting ice cream.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  We both sit down with huge hot-fudge sundaes a moment later. “So, I don’t know how this works. Are we allowed to talk about Travis?” I ask.

  Jen licks her spoon. “Heck, yeah! I want to know what drove you insane about him.”

  I swallow, thinking. “His obsession with football.”

  She shrugs. “I guess he’s over that now because I don’t see it.”

  “Oh, gosh. Consider yourself blessed.”

  She grins. “What else?”

  “He always told a story beyond the point where it needed to be told,” I say.

  Jen starts laughing.

  “He still does it?”

  “Oh, Maya. So the point of this one story was that he was late to an important meeting he had because he went to the grocery store. But he went into so much detail!” She giggles. “The tomatoes weren’t very ripe, and the celery looked as wrinkled as his grandma precosmetic surgery….”

  “His grandma had cosmetic surgery?” I gasp.

  She nods. “Better skin than I’ve got,” she says.

  “Oh my gosh.”

  “It took him thirty minutes to tell me he was late.”

  I grin. “Okay, your turn.”

  “He’s always extremely courteous, but sometimes he’s overly so,” Jen says. “I mean, I have lifted a grocery sack or more in my lifetime, but if I even look like I’m about to pick one up, he flips out and gives me this long lecture on a guy’s responsibilities.”

  “He could never get that I liked daisies,” I say.

  “Did he bring you tulips?”

  I sigh.

  She grins. “Works out well for me, then.”

  I pull out a generous spoonful of warm fudge and creamy vanilla. “I’m sorry if things were awkward between the two of you because of this.”

  She shrugs. “It wasn’t that bad. He told me that you guys started dating in high school, things got pretty serious, and then you broke up freshman year of college.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  She carefully eats a spoonful of dripping ice cream before asking her next question. “Did you ever think you’d marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods. “That is probably why it took you so long to get over him.”

  “Yeah.” I think about it for a minute. “What about you?”

  “What about me what?”

  “Do you think you could marry him?”

  She blushes and says nothing.

  “Uh-huh,” I say. “Your poker face is awful.” I look at her. “Take it slow, Jen. It’s only been a month and a half.”

  “And we’ll change the subject now.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Hey, who wants to do Pilates?”

  “Roo! Roo! Roo!”


  I don’t get into bed until two forty-five. I moan and fall flat on my stomach into the sheets. My eyes are closed, and my cheek is buried into my pillow when I hear it.

  Beep!

  Ugh.

  Beep!

  What is that? I push myself up and look around the room. It’s not my alarm; it’s not my carbon-monoxide detector that Dad bought me.

  Beep!

  It’s my cell phone. I grab it and lie back down with another groan. The too-bright screen reads, “3 New Text Messages.”

  Nutkin, just curious if you talked to her. Let me know. — Jack

  Hey, just wondering what’s going on tonight. I’m praying for you. — Jack

  Six hours, no response. Now I’m getting worried. Call me when you get this, night or day. — Jack

  I squint at the clock, my eyelids not quite open wide enough to see clearly.

  I push the speed dial and close my eyes.

  “Maya?” he answers.

  “Is two forty-five considered night or day?” I mumble.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I talked to her; we had ice cream. I even drove to San Diego tonight and saw Zach and Kate. We had coffee.”

  He laughs, his voice deep from being woken up, I guess. “So, I’m taking the ice cream and the coffee to mean something like breaking bread?”

  “What? No, we didn’t break bread. We had ice cream.” I make sure I enunciate this time. I put my hand over my closed eyes. Sleep. Sleep is what I need.

  He laughs again. “No, breaking bread like an act of … you know what, never mind. So, everything’s good then?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I’m trying to decide if I’m really on the phone or if it’s the start of a dream. I can feel my breathing start to regulate.

  “Okay. Well, thank you for calling and telling me. I’ve been praying for you.”

  “Mmm. Okay. Thanks. Good night.” I roll over, snuggling into the covers, and I’m out before I even finish moving.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ten thirty, Saturday morning.

  It’s still not late enough after our teary ice-cream fest, but oh well. I’m standing in the kitchen in my pajama pants, T-shirt, fluffy slippers, and bathrobe staring at the cereal cabinet.

  “Hey!” I yell. “Where’s the Cocoa Puffs?”

  Jen comes out of her room, hair done, makeup halfway done, still in her pajamas, carrying an eyeliner pencil. “We’re all out.”