Free To See You Again by marian gard Page A

other company that does
the sort of stuff that we do."
    Beckett shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth and
then garbles out, "you'll nail him, baby. You always do."
    I reach over and squeeze his knee, thankful for
him; he's good to me. "Thanks, Beck."
    "Anything else happen today?" He asks, dabbing the
corners of his mouth with his napkin in a way that would make any Miss Manners
proud. I think of brunch with Vanessa, and then a wave of unexpected guilt
floods me. I've never told Beckett anything about Collin. Outside of Vanessa and Ryan, he has only met a few
of my college friends—but none of them were connected to Collin. It seemed
easier, for some reason, just to leave him out of any retelling of that period
of my life. I hover over this omission for a moment, wondering about its
meaning.
    "Nope. This is a great dinner, thank you." He
nods. We eat in silence for a while and I glance around his apartment. It is such a bachelor pad. He has expensive taste when it comes to anything requiring an
electrical cord, but other than that, he could care less. We eat at his
mother's old kitchen table, which she happily cast off to him the moment Beck's
dad offered to go furniture shopping with her. He has little on the walls and
likes it that way. He doesn't enjoy art, loves mindless tv, including reality programming,
and all things sports—his home is a reflection of this. It's purpose driven in
layout and décor, but lacks anything that makes it feel personal. I used to
think it was just a guy thing, but the older we've gotten the more I just think
it's a Beckett thing. I consider my townhome and wonder how it will be
possible for our two households to successfully merge in the fall. Everything
on the walls, shelves and tabletops of my home is in some way an artifact of my
life. It all carries meaning, even if the story behind it is just for me.
Beckett calls it cluttered and busy. He claims it gives him a headache.
    Beck's deep baritone voice interrupts my reverie. "Did
you see the other stuff I added to our calendar?"
    I nod, covering my mouth, which is full of food. "You
put a lot in there, Beck."
    Although it's technically a shared calendar, there's
not a lot of sharing going on. He pretty much controls our social lives. I
think he just got sick of me perpetually forgetting dates and times for all the
things he planned for us to do, so he took matters into his own hands. Most of
the time I don't mind. Nearly all of his large, extended family is in the area
and they're all pretty close.  There's something going on all the time, and
Beck likes us to be there as much as we can. I sometimes wonder what it would
be like if we had to split time between our respective families. Beck isn't the
best at compromise, but given that my family is far away both physically (and
emotionally), it works out.
    When we were growing up I was never close with my
dad's kids. My stepmother was a master at making me feel like I was a temporary
inconvenience in their lives whenever I visited. It didn't start out that way,
partially because I think she wanted to impress my dad, but over time her
resentment toward me grew and grew until it was too big for anyone to ignore.
Once she started having babies it was clear I was in the way and that her kids were hers. She only changed her tune slightly when I became old enough to
babysit. She and my dad began regularly going out on the weekends he was
supposed to have me. "Bond with your sisters," he'd say on his way out the door,
giving me a weak smile. I could see in his eyes that he knew he was hurting me,
but it wasn't enough to stop him.
    Life with Mom was different. After the divorce she
made dating her focus, and went through a lot of boyfriends before she settled
on my stepdad, Jack. I was too young to really understand what was happening
with her, but I remember the feeling. There was a frenzy surrounding her, a
constant nervous energy. I remember wanting to cling to her, though I'd never
been that