Beth haphazardly stuffed items into her bag, her mind on everything but what she was packing. Time away with Nash would be good. A distraction. A way to reconnect. She wouldn't think ahead. She'd just keep moving forward. One day at a time.
How could Oz ask her back? And how could she even consider it? Why did she ask clarifying questions? It should have been clear cut. Instead of doing what was right, she asked questions, gave him hope, and then fled. Bolted. Ran. Escaped.
How was she going to elope with Nash--because that's surely what was going to happen during their getaway--if she couldn't shrug off her ex?
"This trip is a good idea," Nash said. "I think you'll really enjoy this area. It's near a gated community I want to show you. It's close to the airport, the opera, and a few other great places I think would be great for raising kids." Nash carefully tucked his folded underwear into his suitcase. "Beth?"
"Yeah. Great." She grabbed a tube of toothpaste from the en suite and shoved it into her bag along with her nightie and e-reader.
"Here." Nash held out his hand. "You're going to get toothpaste everywhere. Let me." Nash came around the bed to root out her toothpaste. "And don't forget your toothbrush."
Beth zipped her bag with a sharp tug. "Ready?"
"I need another ten minutes. Don't forget your toothbrush."
She released her bag, letting it thud onto the floor.
"What's wrong?" He turned, hands on his hips. He was pale in his uncharacteristic sweats and T-shirt, the bandage still covering his stitches and the worst of his hot and heavy smooch with the concrete.
"Nothing." She flicked off the movie Nash had turned on. "Let's go."
"Beth. What?"
"Nothing!"
She was not going to discuss the scary, tempting second thoughts that battered her nor all the thoughts whizzing through her mind about how wrong everything felt. It didn't matter what she did, there was no clear path that seemed like it was the easy, obvious, one-hundred percent right way to go.
"If you're mad at me, be mad at me.” Nash's eyes flashed. “It isn't fair to act like this. I made a mistake. I admitted it. I apologized. I'm not perfect. Nobody is."
She stared at him.
"Beth!" He slammed his open hand on the bed. "Engage, damn it!"
"I can't do this," she whispered, backing away.
He rubbed his forehead. "Go on a trip? Get real. Pick up your bag and let's go."
"No."
He sagged onto the bed. “Why not?"
She took in their shared bedroom. Nothing said ours about the room. A photo of her and her sister sat on her bedside table and a bra hung on the closet doorknob, but other than that, everything else was Nash's. The exquisite bedspread, the trendy art on the walls, the fluffy towels in the en suite. Everything. At first it had been reassuring and luxurious, but now it felt lonely and exclusionary.
It wasn't their condo. It wasn't her home. It was Nash's. And it would always be that way. She felt as though she was the movie he put in the fancy DVD player when he wanted entertainment. And while she loved being Paris Beth, it wasn't the real her. She cared too much about everything and everyone and wasn't that free-flying independent adventure gal Nash thought she was. She was Blueberry Springs Beth. The woman with the job that wouldn't go anywhere big, but satisfied her heart. She was the person who provided hope and joy at the end of good people's lives and now helped others in need of therapy. She loved the fact that she knew all the faces walking around town and that if she fell down they would pick her up again. This town and all its flaws and aggravations accepted her, warts and all. It was home.
They knew what she wanted even more than she dared admit to herself.
She studied Nash. Perfect, perfect Nash. She closed her eyes. She loved him, but this wasn't where she belonged. When she was with him she wasn't her true self. If she wanted more people around her Thanksgiving table all she had to do was open her door and holler.
"I can't do this anymore, Nash. The real me is the woman you want to change."
Her ears blocked the sound as he lectured his way around the room. Detached, she watched his actions, demanding and pushy. Nothing similar to what would comfort and convince her to change her mind.
"It's been fun," she said, static pulling at her mind, "but I can't be with you, Nash. Not forever. Being together doesn't make us better people."
She hefted her bag and walked to the door, leaving him standing in the bedroom, jaw hanging low.
"Oz?"
A groggy, yet hopeful voice on the other end of the line replied, "Beth, is that you?"
"I hope I didn't wake you." Beth checked the alarm clock resting next to the hotel room's bed. Its bright red numbers announced the wee hours of the night. "I woke you, didn't I?"
The grogginess fell from his voice. "Are you okay? Everyone's worried."
"Sorry. It is too late, isn't it? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." Shouldn’t have run away from Blueberry Springs. But the need to think, to be alone had been too strong.
Beth was about to lower the phone to its cradle when Oz said, "I'm here any time, Beth."
She paused, telling herself she only wanted to hear his voice. That it would never work out between them. That her hope would crush her. But she also wanted to reassure herself that his offer was real, and for a moment, believe that things could somehow work out for the two of them if she just reached out and took his hand again.
"What's new with you?" she asked.
He paused as if caught off guard. "I started a dining room table." He sounded perkier. "I'm working on going through the process of making the legs on my own, but I don't have a machine. I want to make the whole thing, start to finish, with my own hands." His voice lowered. "It's good for the soul."
"Are you going to buy one of those things they had in the school shop?"
He chuckled. "I haven't dared price one out."
"You have money though, right? You haven't spent it all?" The idea of him being broke already bothered her.
"I still have a bit of savings from selling the business, but I need to be frugal so I don't end up having to take a job I hate." He paused. "Right now I'm driving the recycling truck two days a week. It's a bit of mindless income to help me out."
"Oz?"
"Yeah?"
"... nothing."
There was a pause.
"Where are you, Beth?"
"Away, thinking."
"I heard you broke up with Nash."
"I guess so."
"You're not sure?"
She stared at the ring on her finger. "I'm confused." She wanted this to be easy, but was afraid if she ran to him he'd only break her heart again.
Silence stretched down the line.
"Make sure you do what'll make you happy. If he ..." Oz’s voice broke off.
Anger burned through her, lighting her mind on fire. Oz had asked her back, but was implying that she shouldn't be too hasty in dumping his rival?
"What will make you happy?" he asked.
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" she snapped. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on with you, Oz?" Her voice wobbled and she clung to the phone. "Why did you shut me out?"
"I was scared." He paused, his deep voice soft and strong. "It seemed easier and safer than trying to live a different life. I was afraid of losing you. And then everything started to feel as though it was too late. And no matter which way I turned I wouldn't be able to give you what you needed. I couldn't find a way to be true to your needs. If I quit the firm we'd be broke and if I stayed there I'd be broken." He sucked in a slow breath and she could picture him running a hand through his hair, messing it up. "Sometimes I think we'd still be together if I'd been man enough to stand up and say I needed to make some changes in my life. That we would have found a way for us both to get what we needed.”
She almost replied that of course they would have. But in her heart she wondered if the old Beth would have understood. If she would have been as accommodating and flexible. She'd been so determined that kids were the only thing worthwhile on her horizon that she may not have been able to give him the space he needed to find himself while they were together. "I should have known you weren't happy."
"The past is the past. You need to do what will make you happy tomorrow."
"I don't even know what happy is anymore!"
She slammed the phone down and let her tears breach the brim. She flung a pillow across the room, sending the vertical blinds jangling. Picking up the receiver, she jammed her finger down on redial.
"You're never going to let me in, are you Oz?" she said as soon as he picked up.
"Beth," he said with a hint of exasperation. "You're already in. You have been for years."
"But I don't even know you. I don't know anybody anymore. Even myself." Knowing who you wanted to father your children should pretty much be a gimme kind of answer at this stage of the game. And the way she was feeling, kids didn't even feel that important anymore. She knew what she wanted and that was the old Oz. But the old Oz was gone. She didn't know the new Oz. What if he pushed her away? What if they couldn't get past their history and habits? What if she went back to him and it was a mistake?
She sniffed and swiped at her eyes, her anger building. "I used to know exactly what I wanted until you messed up everything. I'm different now. I'm different, Oz. I'm a good, caring person who makes a difference in the lives of people who are nearing the end of their time. And it feels good to be that woman. To be strong and to be needed. I'm independent and make my own choices. And I don't need a man, Oz. I don't need you. I don't even need kids. I have family, Oz. I have Blueberry Springs. There are people looking out for me. They aren’t prefect, but they are mine. The problem is you, Oz. I don't know you. I don't trust you. How can I when you kept yourself from me? You ask me back but I don't even know who is asking me. I know nothing."
"Come get to know the new me. I'm an open book. All you have to do is ask."
"Fine," she said sharply. "Do we have a chance together?"
"I'm not a fortune teller."
"Oh, so, no then? Nice." Her eyes stung. "That's all I wanted to know."
"Beth." The pitch of his voice edged higher. "That's not what I said." He sucked in an audible breath, and his pitch slid lower. "It's what we make of it. Everything in life is what we make of it."
"So, I've made my life a big mess, have I?" She was unable to stop herself from twisting his words. "I'm the only one to blame since I'm not happy?"
"Beth, there's hope. There is always hope." He paused before continuing gently, "Where are you? Let me help you."
"I don't need help. I need to be alone. I need to make this decision and it sucks.” She dug her fingernails into her palm. "I'm still totally in love with you, and I don't even know who you are!" She flinched at her words, not wanting to love Oz. It was complicated and it hurt. She swiped at her runny nose with a tissue. If she had Oz, she might not have kids. By the time he was ready it might be too late for her. And while the idea pained her, she couldn’t imagine her future without Oz being there at her side.
"Beth, I still love you, too. More than anything. And that's more than anyone else can offer. Come home. Let me love you again."
Tears streamed off her chin and she wished she could close her eyes, click her heels, and repeat over and over, There's no place like home, and wake up to find herself at home with Oz, everything as it was before Harvey's heart attack. But she couldn't because she wasn't Dorothy. She was the cowardly lion. Except she didn't even have Oz.
And like everything in life, it was hard to go back.