Chapter 64

Morning shifted into afternoon as they lazed together on the porch. Cilla had taken over the chaise and Jon had stretched out as best he could in the wicker chair, his feet propped on the ottoman. The wicker creaked and groaned as he shifted again, not able to sit still. He had been up and down several times, to get a drink, to grab the paper, to talk to Jo. It wasn’t normal for him to spend so much time sitting and doing nothing. Refolding the newspaper he had been reading he set on the floor beside him and glanced over at Cilla.

She had been so quiet since their morning interlude. He had hoped she would talk more about what had happened yesterday but so far, she hadn’t said a word about it. And now, she had her nose buried in the latest New York Times best seller. “Good book?”

Without taking her eyes from the page she was reading, she held up one finger, “yeah, just a sec.” When she finished she marked her page and turned her attention to Jon. “You’ve been up and down more than a yo-yo this afternoon. What’s the problem?”

“Nothing. You want to take a walk, maybe check out the beach?” He was antsy to do something, anything other than just sitting in this damn chair. Cilla studied him for a minute. She could see the restlessness in him, his fingers were tapping against his thigh, his eyes darted around and he kept crossing and uncrossing his ankles. She rose and went to stand in front of him, holding out her hands, "come on let’s go get changed and you can show me the beach.”

The beach was alive with activity; the sand was covered with striped umbrellas shielding bodies that were used to three-piece suits instead of bathing suits. Colorful towels held teenaged girls in oversized sunglasses and tiny bikinis, cell phones in hands, fingers flying over the miniscule keyboards as they tried to find a way to escape the parents for an evening. The scent of coconut oil hung in the air and the squeals and laughter of children running into and out of the waves as parents called out “be careful” rang around them.

Jon and Cilla walked near the water; the hard-packed sand was warm and wet under their feet. He was slightly ahead of her, his ring and pinky fingers curled around two of hers between them, their flip flops dangling from their free hands and he had a blanket tucked under his arm. The breeze lifted the ends of Cilla’s hair and swirled her wrap around her thighs as they moved along the water’s edge.

“You’ve been quiet today” Jon said as the water rolled up over their feet.

Cilla glanced around, wondering still how she could fit in here with him. She wanted to believe what she had seen and felt from Jon, but all she could hear was Charles in her head, criticizing how she looked in her bathing suit and cover up, telling her she didn’t belong here, how she didn’t belong with Jon. She tried to find something to say, something that would get him talking and save her from having to.

“Sorry. When are the kids coming?” The kids, she thought; he could talk about them for a little bit at least.

Jon sighed and tugged her to dry sand, spreading out the blanket. “The kids are coming tomorrow after breakfast. We have that dinner tomorrow night, Sunday to do as we please and then we head home on Monday.”

Settling themselves on the blanket, they fell silent again, watching the tide pushing the water up on the shore, pulling it back out again. Jon took Cilla’s hand, “I wish you would tell me what’s going on with you. You haven’t said much about yesterday. How can I help if won’t talk to me?”

Cilla studied their hands, how could he possibly understand? She looked around, she was sure all the bathing suits came from Barney’s or Nordstrom’s or wherever. Hers? It came from Filene’s Basement. There were just some things you don’t buy second hand.

Her flip flops were last summer’s Old Navy and her sunglasses, hell, she couldn’t even remember. Some second hand or thrift shop she supposed. She dressed how she dressed and shopped where she shopped because that’s all she figured she was entitled too and it never seemed to matter. But now, here with Jon, it all seemed so much more important.

Bringing her gaze back to Jon she pushed her sunglasses up on her head, “do you know where your sunglasses came from?”

“What?” He was totally bewildered.

“Do you know where you bought your sunglasses?”

He named some shop on Madison Avenue. “What has that got to do with anything?” He was still confused.

“How about your bathing suit? Your flip flops?” She picked at the blanket, “this blanket?”

He didn’t answer this time, but asked a question of his own, slightly afraid of what the answer might be. “Where are you going with all this?”

“How am I supposed to compete with all this?” She motioned to the activity all around them. “How am I supposed to fit in here? I’m not like you or them. I’m not sure I belong here.”

Jon cupped her chin with his hand and turned her face to his, her gray eyes were murky with turmoil. “You are just as good as anyone on this beach Sweets. You belong here as much as I do. It doesn’t matter to me where you buy your clothes or how big or small your apartment is. All that matters to me is you. If you can believe nothing else, believe that.”

She tugged her chin from his grasp. The words sounded so pretty falling from his lips. She wished she could believe them, wanted to believe them. But it was far easier to believe the negative that she had heard for so long.

A long sigh fell from her lips. “I used to care Jon. I used to shop at the fancy boutiques; I used to have nice things, live in a great apartment. But when all you hear, no matter what you do or how hard you try is ‘you’re not good enough’, ‘you’re not smart enough’, ‘you shouldn’t wear that?’; you start believing it. I lived with that for a long time and when I left I stopped trying. I let myself go. I got rid of all the clothes and started shopping thrift stores. I wasn’t worth anything better. Eventually, I got used to it all and even now I enjoy it.”

She gave a sad, half laugh, “did you know that before I bought my computer, my bed was the newest item of furniture in my apartment?”

He shook his head, “no, I didn’t know that.” He couldn’t imagine living like that. How the hell had she stayed with this Charles for so long and how many kinds of an asshole must he have been to treat her like that?

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she shook her head, determined not to cry because of Charles again. “Sid is always on me about how I should do better for myself. Its not that I don’t have the means, because I do, but I’ve never felt like I deserve to.”

Sensing she needed it, Jon wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Resting her head against him she sucked in a shaky breath and angled her head so she could see his face. “This morning, on the porch with you, I felt like maybe I was worth it, but it’s just so hard for me to believe it. It’s been a lot of years since I felt like that.”

Jon pressed his lips to her forehead, “you are worth it Sweets. The first time we were together I told you I thought you were special. And if I have to tell you that everyday until you believe it, I will.”

~

Tired and emotionally drained after their talk, Cilla lay down feeling better than she had in a long time. Maybe she could finally leave all that crap behind her and move forward in a healthy relationship with Jon. Maybe Sid would finally leave her alone about it now too.

Not even the nagging ache in her lower back could keep her from smiling as she stepped into the shower. Jon had left her to nap after they came back from the beach and when she woke she found a note from him.

Sweets,

Meet me on our porch for dinner at 8.

Wear something pretty, for me, please?

J

Drying her hair as quick as possible she slicked on her lotion and dropped the deep red sundress over her head. The thin straps criss-crossed her back and it stopped just above her knees. She left her feet bare, dusted some powder over her face, added a touch of lip gloss and studied herself in the mirror.

Her eyes seemed brighter now; her shoulders a bit straighter, as if a burden had finally been lifted. She adjusted the front of the dress over her breasts and smoothed it over her hips, hopeful that she would never again feel less than worthy.

Smiling again she fastened the bit of pink sparkle at her throat and went in search of Jon.

Stepping out onto the porch she could only stand in awe. Candle light flickered from every available surface; the table was set for two in the waning sunlight; a pillow and throw were tossed on the chaise and a bottle of something sat cooling in a bucket.

Eyes brimming she turned at the slight cough behind her. Jon stood waiting for her, barefoot, dressed in summer weight khakis and a deep blue gauzy button down that was open nearly to his belt.

Cilla didn’t move. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He moved closer to her, opening his arms as he went, “I told you I thought you were special. You deserve this and so much more.”

Stepping into the circle of his embrace gray met blue and for the first time, she actually believed it.