“How’s your treatment, Dad? Is it all over and done with? Now that you’re in remission, does that mean it can’t come back again?”
I saw Mom and Dad exchange silent words with their eyes. We were a loud and boisterous family, but for some reason, when it came to the C word, my parents got quiet.
“Can’t say never with those pests, BeBe. Seems like the minute they zap one, another starts growing. But your old man keeps them on their toes. I’ll never stop running.”
The “pests” were malignant tumors on his back and neck, the “zapping” was radiation and laser treatment. Before Mom and Dad had gone into real estate, Dad had worked construction and roofing, while Mom took care of Asa and me. He’d been burned by the sun more times than was sane. He now wore a rash guard and sunscreen every time he was in the sun—only fifteen years too late.
“BeBe, you should come home for the boys’ graduation—they’d love to see you. Wes’s graduation at least. It looks like Asa has decided not to complete his program.”
I took a swallow of my wine. It burned, so I washed the sip away with mineral water. I could hear the concern in Mom’s voice. Asa’s decision to join up wasn’t her first choice.
“The plane tickets are so expensive, and so is the rent on the new loft. I’ll Skype them instead and be there in spirit.”
“I just worry you won’t be able to see Asa before he ships out,” my mom said, worry drawing her brow.
Asa was joining the marines. He’d gone to school for civil engineering, and he’d done so well he could have had his pick of graduate schools or private firms to hire him had he finished. But Asa was blue collar at heart and patriotic too. He liked the idea of working abroad and making a difference with the skills he’d learned, so he left school early and signed away his future.
“At least West will be around. He’s adjuncting at the U, so you can see him anytime,” my dad added.
I wondered if they could see the fire creep over my face. Just hearing his name ignited a flame inside me—one I had no control over, and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted that feeling to ever go away.
I crammed fresh bread baked with rosemary into my mouth to cover my shame. Would I feel this embarrassed talking about other love interests in front of my parents, or was it just Weston that made me feel like I was doing something wrong? If my parents loved Weston like a son, shouldn’t it make them happy that I loved him too?
“Mom, I want you to pick out a gown before you go home. Marco said anything from last years’ collection, and I know just the one!”
“The only present I want is you coming home to Hartford someday, BeBe.”
6
Crosby
Two years later…
A lot can change in two years. Like your dad’s cancer can come back with a vengeance. Your brother can drop out of school, join the marines, and be shipped to the Middle East on a top-secret mission. Your brother’s best friend can start helping your family with the bills that keep piling up. They had to close the agency, liquidate their 401(k)s, and take out a loan against the equity of the house I grew up in.
Packing up my apartment in Milan took me less time than the flight home. I guess I had been merely camping in my flat until either Weston or I grew up, got married, had kids, and became totally and completely off-limits for one another.
Fat chance.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved that job. I styled actresses for Cannes, for Berlin, for fashion week in Milan. I learned more about fabric and structure and sizing than I’d ever have been able to learn over a lifetime in Hartford. Yet despite all of the experience, the glamour, and the fun, my heart still ached for a certain quiet and aloof smoky-eyed guy, one who’d be dashing in a tailored suit, but who could also make a tracksuit look hot. I drink red wine on the flight back because soon I’ll be carded every place I go. I’ll have to become Crosby Dashen again, regular girl who lives at home, helping out and trying like hell to get accepted to school because she’ll actually need a real job once she starts living a real life.
I just hope my dad makes it through this round, that Asa comes back from overseas in one piece, and that I don’t make a total fool of myself if Weston is in a committed relationship.
I take a sip of my wine as I imagine picking up the pieces of my broken heart. They’re made of red felt, like a puzzle you’d do in preschool. I left them all behind in my childhood room, hoping that a certain someone would come and pick them up.