The Girl with the Golden Spurs

When relationships end, women no longer want the mystery. They want answers. Why is that?

Nothing was ending. This was a mistake. If they could only talk or have sex, they would sort it all out. But they hadn’t had sex. Not for a while.

She stared at the red tie dripping from his closed suitcase. “I—I want to know what’s wrong.”

“When we met, you were so exciting. You even dressed differently.”

“And now I’m boring?”

His gray eyes drilled Vanilla. “I’m going to that party—alone.”

“Because I’m boring?”

“You never wanted to talk about it before. Why now?”

“When the baby leaves— When Walker leaves—”

“I thought you were wild…free…exciting. But you have this whole family thing.”

“They’re in Texas.”

“They call all the time. Not to mention half your tribe is living with us.”

“So—you think I’m boring—in bed and out of it.” Careful to keep her voice low, she stroked the baby’s hair.

“Don’t make me say things I don’t want to say.” He looked past her. “I’ll come back for my things later—when you’re calmer.”

“I am calm.” She measured out the words very carefully, her eyes glued to the point of the red tie sticking out of his suitcase.

“But your eyes are wild.”

You said you wanted wild.

From the bed he picked up a dark rectangular object about the size of a book. Carrying his black suitcase with the red tie flapping, he strode toward her only to stop and place the rectangular object on the dresser next to where she was standing. “I found this in your brother’s things.”

“You went through Walker’s things?”

“I was packing, looking for my stuff stored in his bedroom.” He stopped. “Oh…” His eyes changed, and he let the word hang ominously. “Nell called, too.” His smug expression filled her with dread.

She froze. “Nell?”

“I told her I wouldn’t be here to give you her message, so she called back and left a voice mail for you.” He swallowed.

“You listened to it, didn’t you? You’re leaving me, and you listened to my—”

“Maybe now isn’t the time to listen to her message.”

“What does that mean?”

“Wait until you’ve had a good night’s sleep. That’s all. Don’t watch that video, either…not until you’re feeling stronger.”

“Video?” Too much was being thrown at her. Vaguely Lizzy realized the black rectangular object he’d placed on the dresser was a VCR tape.

“I’m strong!”

Bryce stalked past her with his bags, his long legs carrying him through the apartment to the entryway, out the door. When his footsteps thudded down the stairs, Vanilla looked at her, a tentative smile beginning at the edges of her cherubic mouth. Then the doors three floors below boomed shut behind him, and Vanilla clapped.

“Oh, Vanilla, you are a little rascal,” she said numbly.

Vanilla smiled, and Lizzy tried to smile, too, but her lips were quivering too much.

“I’m not a weak, softhearted wimp.” Lizzy reached for the cordless phone on the dresser, intending to listen to her voice mail tonight. She could take anything this city and Nell could dish out. She could. Gently she set Vanilla down and got her a container and a lid for her to play with.

Lizzy had six messages. Nell’s was the last. It was short and sweet; well, not sweet.

“I’m sorry to do this over the phone—Liz. I should have told you today. I meant to.” A drumbeat pounded in Lizzy’s throat. “I should have told you before you went to Texas. It just isn’t working out… You’re too young. Your viewpoint is too softhearted and naive for this city. You don’t do the kinds of stories we do. Your research is sloppy.”

“What? What?”

Nell’s voice hadn’t stopped, but Lizzy’s mind went blank. When she could think again Nell’s brisk voice was saying, “…budgets cuts. I have to let you go. Your severance check will be ready first thing tomorrow. My assistant put your things in boxes. You need to turn in your security badge.”

“What? Boxes! No! No…”

Lizzy listened to the message a second time, but that only made the horrible words cut deeper.

Slowly she hung up the phone and picked up the videotape and turned it over in her hands. Vanilla had abandoned the container and lid and had crawled into the living room, over to her green couch. Pulling herself up and patting the cushions, she looked over at Aunt Lizzy, waiting to be congratulated on her accomplishment.

Aunt Lizzy was probably white as a sheet. “Darling, that’s wonderfu—” Her voice broke. Babies were so self-confident when they faced their challenges. They didn’t quit.

Lizzy was shaking too hard to speak. Still holding the videotape, she gulped in a breath. Then she went to the couch and sank down beside Vanilla, hoping to draw strength from her.

“Darling, darling, what would I do if I didn’t have you?”

Blue eyes sparkling, Vanilla grinned at her impishly.

Lizzy fought back hot wet tears. She wasn’t going to cry, and she wasn’t going to call home, either, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to talk to her mother—even though Mother had never understood her.

Nobody could know the terrible turn her life had taken. Nobody.

Lizzy wasn’t going home to Texas in defeat. Maybe her perfect life was unraveling, but she wasn’t going home. She’d get her job back and she’d get Bryce back, too. It was all a mistake. A terrible mistake. All she needed was a plan. Affirmations. She’d do some affirmations.

Downstairs the big doors banged, and she heard the fa miliar tread of boots on the stairs.

Walker! She’d forgotten about him.

The video!

Her brother was loping up the stairs two at a time as she shoved the tape underneath the cushions of her couch.