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Three hours later, I was walking down the hallway with Michelle, a tall, dark haired Hispanic woman and Kara, a woman only a few inches taller than me, with medium length straight blonde hair. Kara opened the door and Michelle and I followed her outside. Sitting on the steps outside was Brian. As Michelle and Kara said goodbye to me, he stood up, and patiently waited for us to finish.
"Hey, how was work?" Brian asked me as we started walking toward the Bidwell Bed and Breakfast.
"Your mom gave me a hundred bucks."
"That's it?"
"Well, she's not as rich as her son, at least that's what she told me."
"You're kidding me?"
"Nope. And I had to agree to send at least that much to your foundation."
"And you're complaining?"
"No. If I had my way, I'd add another zero, but the endowment will probably get two hundred from me, as long as it's in payments."
"Great." Brian stopped under a streetlight. "I, uh, talked to your friend Burke."
"And..."
"And he told me about your past. That you haven't dated in three years. That you haven't even been interested in dating since Mike." At the mention of my ex's name, I lowered my eyes to the ground, focusing on where we were standing. "He also told me that one of the reasons why you didn't want to come with me was because you were afraid that I might take advantage of you. He said that you hardly trust anyone."
"What else did he tell you about me?" I asked curtly.
Brian started walking again. "Not much. But I have a question to ask of you."
"What?"
"Now I know you have school and all, but on Monday I'd like you to accompany us to New York. We're scheduled to make an appearance on an MTV show, and I'd like you to be there with me."
I kept quiet until we reached the steps of Bidwell Bed and Breakfast. "Why?" I finally asked.
"Because I do. Wait right here." Brian ran up the steps and inside the building. He returned a moment later carrying something behind his back. I stood there, staring at my shoelaces. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to ask.
"Becca."
"Hum?" I said, still pondering my shoelaces.
He lifted my chin with his finger. "Look at me. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I feel a connection to you. I don't know how to explain it, but I believe we were brought together for a reason. I don't know what that reason is, but I'm willing to explore." He brought his hand around from behind his back presenting me with a single white rose.
"Brian, it's beautiful," I said as I took the rose from him.
"Would you go out with me on Friday night?"
"I can't."
"Why can't you?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
"Its...it's too complicated."
"Are you afraid to be alone with me? We could make it a double date? Me and you, Jen and Howie?"
"No."
"Alright Becca," he sighed, "but keep the rose, and the sweatshirt." He turned and headed inside.
He was halfway in the door, when I remembered about practice. "Oh, we have practice tomorrow at five. Same place."
"We'll be there," he said, not bothering to turn and look at me. I felt bad about turning him down. I liked him; I liked him a lot. I just couldn't afford to get my heart broken again. Not like the last time.
We had been dating for ten months before I found out the truth. Everything he had ever told me was a lie. How was I supposed to love someone when I didn't even know if they loved me in return? I called off the relationship thinking he would disappear and I would never hear from him again. But that wasn't the way it worked out.
Over the course of the next two years he haunted my memories. Every time I felt like I was over him, he would call or leave a note on my car. He did that for three months. At the start of the fourth month he walked in my back door. I got a restraining order soon after that and the harassment stopped for a while. I was finally able to get on with my life.
Or so I thought.
About three weeks after he broke into my house, he appeared on the front page of the local paper. The article talked about the services that had been offered the previous day, Good Friday. The picture was of him and his new girlfriend in church. Their heads were bent in prayer. His arm was around her shoulders. Somehow, the picture offered me comfort. I kept the paper.
Eight months later, I got a letter from him. He was in the Army. It was a three-page letter telling of his new relationship and that he almost gotten married at one point. He also sent me a picture of him. I put him out of my mind again and went on with my life.
In June of the following year, I graduated high school. It felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could leave that small town where the incident had taken place and start over. So that's what I did. I moved to Chico to go to school and I was happy. But I wasn't dating. I was afraid that I would be hurt again.
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