Page 52 of Beautiful Life
“Leigh, answer the question,” he pushes.
“Tone, I don’t care. You pick,” I mumble into my purse, digging around for my lip gloss.
That’s when I feel him hit the brakes and make a quick turn into a deserted parking lot. I look over to him as he stops the car and throws it into park. Looking around, confused as to why we are parked crooked in the middle of an empty lot at a business complex. “Why did you stop?”
Tony unlatches his seat belt and turns fully to me, his left hand shooting out to catch me behind the neck pulling me close to his face.
“Tony! What are you—” I start before he interrupts me.
“That is not us,” he states.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not him.”
That statement shut me right the hell up and my breath catches.
His next words come out hushed, “You’ve come a long way, gem. You gave me you last night and, in the process, told me you were happy. You know I love you, but what you need to learn and what I’m gonna teach you is when you love someone you care what they want. I care that your work makes you happy. I care that you want a dog and want to give you one because you’ve never had one before. I care that you want to sleep in your new apartment because it’s yours and that means something to you even though I’m not happy you got an apartment, so we’re sleeping there tonight. Even though it’s a clown car, I care that you have what you want even though it makes me crazy and I want you in something bigger. And gem,” he says pulling me even closer so I can feel his breath on my lips. “When you want something to eat, I care that you have what you’re hungry for.”
My tears form and I see he sees them too even though the sun has almost set and the low light from the late winter day is all we have filtering in around us. The muscles in his hand tense at my neck and open my eyes to look at him.
His hushed voice continues. “Sweetheart, I am not him. Whatever he conditioned you to do, I’ve gotta work that out of your system. I’ll stop the car and get in your face about it every time if I have to. But one day, you won’t have to think twice, you’ll know that I care. I care about what you want and I want to give it to you. I am not him. That is not us. That is not what we are building here. Do you get me?”
My tears spill over and I nod.
“Okay, now that we’ve got that straight, you’re hungry. All we’ve had today is breakfast and ice cream. I want you to tell me, gem, what do you have a taste for?” His eyes sear into mine, communicating the importance of his question.
I pull in a trembled breath. “Spinach enchiladas and cheesy potatoes.”
His other hand comes up and his thumbs swipe my face as he holds my head in his big hands. “Then that’s what you’re gonna get.”
He pulls me in to him and presses his lips to mine, lingering into a perfect kiss. He barely pulls back and says against my lips, “Call it in so I can feed you. I’ll have the tilapia.”
I nod again, trying to swallow over the lump in my throat and control my emotions. He pulls me in for another kiss, lets me go, belts up, and pulls out of the parking lot.
I do my best to gather myself and google the number for my favorite Mexican restaurant. I’m able to pull it together enough to order our dinners for take-out while Tony grabs my other hand giving me a squeeze.
I disconnect the call and feel Tony pull my hand up to his mouth to kiss the tips of my fingers. “Love you, gem.”
I don’t have the courage to respond in any way. But I do squeeze his hand back and he looks over at me. All I can manage is a shaky smile in acknowledgement. He gives me back his smile, warm and steady, just like always. I look back to the road and do my best to let all of what he said settle over me, scaring me all the same.
I feel different. I act different. I think I’ve come a long way. But I don’t even realize what I’m doing half the time because it’s become my nature out of necessity to survive during my years with Preston. Tony calling me out on it is as scary as Tony recognizing it, but Tony doesn’t miss much when it comes to me. This should not continue to surprise me, even though it catches me by surprise every single time.
Tony leaves me to my thoughts as he goes in to get our dinner and then drives straight to my apartment. Recovering from my drama, I’m pulling up the rear as Tony waits while I dig for my keys. I fumble with my purse, groceries, and keys, reaching around him to unlock the door. “Go on in. You’ve got the food.”
Tony pushes the door with his foot, heads in and I follow. But I’m still trying to shuffle everything around in my arms when I run into the back of Tony who’s stopped inside my doorway. “What the fuck?”
“Tony—?” I start to step around him, but he keeps talking.
“Stay where you are.” His voice is rough and demanding. “Why in the fuck are you here and how did you get in?”
At the sound of Tony’s voice, I stop ridged and move in close to the back of him. I peek around him at the same time I hear the familiar—but not welcoming—voice for the first time in many years spill like venom. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
“Mom?” I whisper.
But there’s no question.
There she is, Sheila Johnson, in all her glory. My mother, sitting on my sofa, scooched down like she’s in the middle of watching a movie and was settled in for the night. I haven’t seen her in three years since she moved to South Dakota with the last idiot she tied herself to. Her hair is blonde, but fake, and she’s about eight weeks overdue of needing her roots done. Dark circles surround her brown eyes, and the lines around her mouth are deeper and more set than they were the last time I saw her. Her face and voice show the signs of a smoker even if I didn’t know she was one my whole life. She’s tall, my height, but I can still see her frame is thinner and bonier than normal. She looks way older than she should for her fifty-three years—her lifestyle taking a toll on her body. Her clothes are skanky and tight as usual, not a good look for anyone, even on a more youthful skank than her.
