then Ry’s safety would be all up to me, and how could I protect him from something I didn’t understand?
I couldn’t.
Surprisingly, the moment I made that small realization, the smothering pressure on my chest lifted slightly, and deep down I got the renewed sense that this really was what Ryland needed. I still had a mountain of reservations, but it was clear now that running wasn’t going to be the answer. I promised to always do what was best for Ryland, and – much as I was uncomfortable with it – it seemed that at the moment, that meant doing nothing at all.
I stood and stretched, feeling much better, at least when it came to Ry. However, I was feeling increasingly awful for the way I’d treated Alex this morning, especially knowing what he’d done for Ryland last night. I stood and stretched before making my way back indoors, happy to get out of the damp chill. When I arrived at my room I found a brown postal box waiting for me at the foot of my door. I took it in with me and tossed it on the bed, before removing my musty shirt and jeans that still smelled like rainwater in favor of a cozy pink sweatshirt and black yoga pants. I washed my face, brushed and braided my hair, then turned my attention to the mysterious box.
The postal code told me it was from Mom – she must have posted it almost as soon as we left – and I opened it to find goodies galore. Three of my favorite magazines, a box of Oreos, a five pound bag of peanut butter M&Ms, a new tube of lip gloss, my fuzzy slippers that I hadn’t had room in my suitcase to pack, and a card with instructions to share the loot with my brother, even though I was sure he’d gotten his own box. Last but not least, way down at the bottom, I found one of my favorites – three boxes of Kraft Velveeta macaroni and cheese – which gave me an idea.
I slid off the bed, pulled on my slippers, and went up to Alex’s room, praying both that he would be there and that he wouldn’t turn me away, though I couldn’t say I’d blame him if he did. I knocked timidly three times then stepped back, wringing my hands together in front of me. I counted ten-Mississippi’s before I heard footsteps, then five more Mississippi’s before the door opened and I saw Alex – who looked horrible. Pale, drawn, and so tired it was almost hard to believe he was standing.
“Becca?” I don’t know if he could have sounded more shocked. It was as if he’d never expected to see me again. Though I suppose that was my fault. Immediately he was beseeching, “Becca, please believe me, I never–”
“No.” I stopped him, guilt scratching at my stomach. “You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know you weren’t trying to… I just…” I didn’t know what to say.
Fumbled words or not, they seemed to have done the trick as he smiled. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I can be a little over-emotional at times,” I smirked.
“No. I don’t believe that for a minute,” he laughed.
“Have you eaten yet?” I asked, hoping to have the chance to make up for my horrible behavior.
“No.” He narrowed his eyebrows in a silent question.
“Good!” I said, perking up. “Give me twenty minutes, then come down to my room… that is… if you want to,” I added in a milder tone, not wanting to force him.
“I’ll be there,” he said.
12
“What about McDonalds?”
“Yep. Actually, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the ones here are better,” Alex said, leaning over and placing his empty bowl on the coffee table. “They have curly or ‘twisty’ fries, and onion rings. Not to mention the ‘euro-saver’ menu.”
“Ha! As in, the dollar menu?”
Alex and I had spent the last hour sitting on the couch in my room, eating, talking, and laughing. I’d been throwing tons of random – and probably stupid – questions at him about how Ireland differed from the US, while he humored me with as many answers as he knew. The latest round of queries regarding food and restaurants had sprung from the Velveeta Mac and Cheese peace offering I had made us for dinner.
“That was really good.” He nodded toward his empty bowl.