The Redemption(9)

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that since… well, you know his death—”

“You can say his name. Cory.”

There’s an awkward pause that I would rather avoid. I’m glad she doesn’t leave it to build. “Since Cory’s death, you’ve remained unattached. You’re strong like that.”

“We’re all tested in life. I just got tested in the worst of ways. Anyway, I haven’t chosen to stay single. I just haven’t dated.”

“Do you think you’re ready?”

“I’m not sure. How will I know?”

“Maybe if you start getting that feeling, the tingly one deep inside when you meet someone.” She comes over and puts her hand on my shoulder. “If you are ready, I’ll help anyway I can. If you’re not, that’s fine too. You know what’s best for you.”

“Thanks. I’m just…” I sigh. “I don’t know what I want.”

She nods toward the door. “Come on. Let’s cut the shopping short and get a drink.”





While sitting at the café inside Fred Segal, I smile. “We should have just started here.”

She laughs. “I thought you actually wanted to go shopping. Next time just say you want a drink.”

We order salads and a bottle of white wine before sitting back and easing into talk of our lives. After taking two sips, her hands go into the air, and she continues the story she’s been retelling, “So I told them, ‘Honey, the 90’s have to leave before they can make a comeback.’ I got the job and she burned the valances that afternoon.”

“Beverly Hills is a lot different from Hollywood style-wise.”

Lara is an interior decorator and has a huge celebrity clientele. I’ve watched her grow from working out of her spare bedroom to buying a large house with an entire floor dedicated to her business and five employees. She’s very animated when she talks, passionate about what she does. “Totally. In Hollywood, they like clean and modern. The celebrities I’ve worked for all give me carte blanche. They’re adventurous. Not so much in Beverly Hills. This new project will be fun though, something different for me to tackle.”

“Let’s toast to that. To your new project.”

Our glasses clink right as our salads are served.

She smothers the lettuce in dressing, very un-L.A. like, and asks, “I have a job in New York next week. Want to come with me. We can move our ‘shopping’ to the other coast.”

Dex’s words replay in my mind. “You’re the second one to mention going to New York next week.”

“Oh really? Who was the other?”

“Dex. They’re playing there. He said I should come.”

Dragging her fork through the vegetables on her plate, she lowers her gaze. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Oh nothing.” Her eyebrows go up and her eyes go wide, her expression hopeful. “So is that a yes?”

“It might be fun. Maybe I can get Cory’s mom, Janice, to watch the boys for a few days. They’d love that. She spoils them rotten.”

“That’s what Grandma’s are supposed to do.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have her living so close by.”

“So that settles it. They get Grammie and we paint the Big Apple red. Yay! It will be awesome,” she adds with another tap of her glass against mine.





My thoughts wander to Dex a lot over the next few days, but why? It’s Dex, after all. He sleeps with everyone he can and has a temper to rival the titans. He smokes too much and drinks heavily. He lives off junk food and is moody. He swears too much but has a wicked sense of humor. His new haircut emphasizes a strong jaw that sometimes looks a little too sexy when it has a day or two’s growth on it. His eyes are the most unique color, so close to caramel, but more soulful. Wait…

What? Why am I thinking of him? When did I start thinking of him? Or like the little sweet nothings we’ve been sharing? This is something that’s crept up on me when I wasn’t looking.

I drop my head to the mattress and cover myself under the pillow. No. I refuse to think of him that way. But I can’t help it. Somehow over the last week, things have changed, shifted into something different, something new, something exciting.

And then the tingles began…

I know what it is, recognizing the feeling that’s sneaking in without my permission. And now I wonder if these small gestures and occurrences aren’t so random. I felt safe in his arms. The warmth between us is new, but I felt safe and wanted. It’s the wanted that scares me most. Liking the thought that Dex might want me leaves me restless and I roll over, hiding beneath the covers





Dear Cory,

It never bothered me before, but now I hate flying. My therapist… I know. I know. Yes, I have a therapist. I think that officially makes me an Angeleno now. Anyway, she once told me that it was a natural fear since you died in a plane crash. But she also gave me the statistics of car crashes, death by mosquitoes, and lightning to help put it in perspective. Not sure if it worked since I shudder just thinking about mosquitoes and hide under my covers during storms. I’m in my car too much and have a false sense of safety there.