"I could feed it to you," she suggested, extending her arm towards me again.
Now there was an idea. As innocent as her suggestion was, it conjured up all kinds of images in my mind.
"As much as I would love to get kinky with you, now's not the best time." I smirked, hoping to make her blush again.
"It's a pizza, not a dildo."
Her crude statement took me by surprise and I barked out a laugh.
"Okay, one piece." I tilted my head in her direction and she unceremoniously shoved it into my mouth.
ANGEL
I laughed as Travis chewed happily on his pizza while he drove. One piece turned into several and I was having way too much fun feeding him.
"So, tell me something about Claire or your dad," he requested between bites. "Or is it too hard to talk about it?" he asked cautiously.
"My dad and I weren't really close," I replied. "He worked a lot. Cops have weird hours sometimes and he usually worked at night. I spent a lot of nights at Claire's. She was already pretty involved in my life before he died, and that's probably why the transition was so easy for me when I moved in with her." As I talked, I was pleasantly surprised to notice it didn't hurt to talk about my crazy aunt. "She was wacky. Kind of a hippie-type. Spontaneous. Fun."
I searched my mind for a favorite memory. It was hard to narrow it down to just one.
"When I was fourteen, we dyed our hair together-red." I laughed and ran my hands through my hair as I recalled our love for Anne of Green Gables. "It was one of those cheap box dyes you can buy at the pharmacy. It was supposed to be temporary-the kind that washed out after six weeks. Only, it didn't. Claire and I had to wait almost two years for our hair to grow out back to our natural color. For a while, the top half of my hair was blonde and the bottom had red tips. It almost looked like I did it on purpose."
Now that I'd started to talk about her, I felt like I couldn't stop. It felt good to be able to share stories about her with someone else.
"She wasn't squeamish about sex talks. At all." I shuddered when I thought about the time she demonstrated how to put a condom on, using a banana. "And she had the worst luck on dates, so you would have been able to swap stories with her. A few years ago, she went on a date with a man she met at the grocery store. They bonded over the avocado sale." I waved my hand at the unnecessary detail. "Anyway, he invited his mother along on their date to the pumpkin patch. I mean, it was sweet that he wanted to include his mom and all, but he was forty. And it was a first date. He even made Claire sit in the backseat of his car so his mom could ride shotgun. She totally felt like the third wheel." I laughed, remembering how pissed she was when she got home from the date.
Travis was grinning. "She sounds awesome. You must miss her a lot."
"I think I'll always miss her. She was my best friend."
"You've made quite a few new friends," he pointed out. "That Beverly's a handful."
"That's an understatement," I agreed with a smile.
Tolson came into view as we drove down Main Street and Travis pulled the semi up to the designated spot beside the shop. Before we could get out, I stopped him by reaching over and grabbing his hand.
"Travis?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for today. It was the best day ever."
After unbuckling my seatbelt, he tugged me over until I was sitting on his lap. He didn't have to tug very hard. I'd always go to him willingly.
Framing my face with his hands, he kissed me long and deep until I felt breathless.
"It was the best day for me, too," he whispered before rubbing his nose over mine. "Happy birthday, baby."
*
The next morning, I couldn't put off reality any longer and I finally called my case worker. And I was really glad I did. The weight of my guilty conscience lifted when I apologized profusely for leaving the way I did. I informed her that I was staying with a friend and when I told her about my plan to find my mom, she was extremely helpful about the process.
Apparently, there were forms I needed to fill out in order to be added to my mom's approved visitors list. She sent the paperwork to my email, along with the correctional facility website, which had a list of rules including visiting hours and a dress code for guests.
I had no idea visiting an inmate could be so complicated. It would have been a horrible disappointment to get there and be turned away.
Now, I found myself back on Beverly's porch.
"Why, Angel," she exclaimed, pretending to be shocked as I stepped inside. "What a pleasant surprise. Back so soon?" Her eyes danced with mirth.
"You must think you're pretty sneaky, huh?" I scolded with my hands on my hips, but my tone was a mixture of amused and impressed.
"Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently.
She might be able to fool other people with the sweet old lady act. In fact, she was quite good at it. But I knew better.
"You know what I mean. I spent the whole ride to the train station wondering how you possibly passed a driver's test! I seriously feared for our safety, Beverly."
Beverly cackled. "Oh, please. There was no way we could've been injured going that slow. Hell, I could probably ride a bicycle faster than that," she said as I followed her to the kitchen.
"Why did you agree to take me to the train station?" I asked. "You didn't even try to talk me out of it."
"If I'd tried to change your mind, would it have worked?"
I shrugged. "Maybe not. I probably would've tried to find a different way."
"Exactly." She pointed at me.
"Well, anyway, thanks for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," I teased.
All joking aside, I really was extremely grateful for her meddling. If she hadn't interfered, who knows where I would've been right now.
"Maybe I should be thanking you. I haven't had that much excitement in years," she joked. "Would you like some Oatmeal Crème Pies? Or … " She opened the fridge and took out a round container. "How about some cake?"
She beamed as she took off the white plastic top to reveal a round, vanilla frosted cake with a big number ‘18' drawn in pink icing in the middle.
"You made me a birthday cake?" I asked, touched by her thoughtfulness.
"Of course I did. We're friends, aren't we?" She raised her eyebrows, giving me a look that meant she actually wanted me to answer her question.
"Yeah, of course we are. I just didn't expect anything special."
"We're led to believe that expectations are our enemy," she said as she placed the cake on the counter, then she turned to look at me. "The greatest expectations lead to the greatest disappointments, right? Well that's a bunch of bullshit. In this life, you expect nothing, you get nothing. Expect great things, Angel. Expect everything. Don't ever sell yourself short. You got me?"
I'd never heard Beverly sound so passionate about something before. And the words she was saying … I had to admit it was great advice. No one had ever said that to me before.
The problem was, disappointment was something I'd gotten used to over the years. I wasn't the kind of person people went out of their way for. I once saw someone make a Facebook post declaring they had a case of the sniffles and fifteen people commented, offering soup and home remedies.
That kind of stuff didn't happen to me. And I didn't expect it to. But I felt like I was getting some sort of priceless wisdom, so I absorbed her words and nodded my head.
"Good," she said, turning back to the cake. "By the way, my birthday is April twenty-fifth and I expect a card and a phone call, at the very least."
I laughed, even though I knew she was completely serious.
Then I had to swallow around the lump in my throat when I realized a card and a phone call was probably all she would get from me, since I wouldn't be here. I was going to miss her so much after I was gone.
Maybe I could teach her how to Skype.
Pushing all thoughts of leaving aside, I forced myself to live in this moment. Thinking about moving on was just too painful.
After cutting two giant pieces of cake, she handed me a plate and we went to sit on the front porch. As we were getting settled, I quickly filled her in on all things Kendra, and lamented about the fact that my panicked trip to the train station was all for nothing.
"Women are bitches," Beverly stated very matter-of-factly.
I nodded in agreement. "It never even occurred to me that she was lying. I'm too gullible."