I Try

Chapter 2 - Blueberry

Beth’s Point of View

I woke with the light changing around me, and it took several moments of rapid blinking to attain that there was a storm underway. Unusual, I’d learned, for California. I sat up slowly. A sharp pain surfaced in my tailbone. It was then it all came back to me. 

Shane had shown up at my apartment, managed to see what I’d been hiding, and flipped out on me. Bryan had come to my rescue, like the Superman he is, and I’d fallen asleep in my bed. I winced again when I shifted, trying to avoid my throbbing backside. When I ultimately failed, I clambered indelicately out of bed and made my way to the door. 

Soft singing made its way to my ears:

Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is La Vie en Rose

 

When you kiss me, heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see La Vie en Rose

 

When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom

 

And when you speak, angels, sing from above
Everyday words seem
To turn into love songs

 

Bryan stands near the window, arms folded and eyes gazing up at the lightning cracking down around our town. His cheeks are damp and his stance suggests stress. He must be worried. 

“Bryan?” I say softly. 

He turns abruptly, flames lighting his cheeks. He swipes at them, before speaking. “Beth. I didn’t know you were awake.”

I nod down at my feet. “Yeah. Just woke up, actually.” My hand moves up to graze my swollen stomach, before I recall how that very move landed me in this situation right here. The idea dawns on me and I shift unhappily. “I, um, I feel like I should explain.” I say, my eyes darting up to his for a millisecond before shooting back down. 

He puts a hand up, silencing me. “Beth, there’s no need. You don’t owe me anything-”

I cut him off. “-if only that were true,” I smile sadly up at him. “I’ll make some tea, or hot cocoa. And we’ll talk.” I let out a breath at the end of my statement, the butterflies becoming monstrous in my stomach. I let my thoughts wander as I begin pulling the necessary items to make us hot drinks - mugs, powder, milk - and my hand slips as the nagging idea of Bryan becoming irate at my awful decisions cripples my stability.

The cup shatters on the hardwood floor, splitting into so many pieces I feel like I traveled down with it. My heart can only take so much as I kneel to retrieve the broken shards. Seems like a lot of glass ends up broken around here. 

“Are you alright?” Bryan rushes to the kitchen. I wave my hand at him - wanting to do something as simple as clean up glass - on my own. I am on the verge of tears already and I haven’t breathed a word of his name yet, even. This was going to be a long night.