Made to Love Read online

  Made To Love

  By Heidi Medina

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you first to God for giving me the gift of writing, without him I am nothing.

  Thank you to my family and friends who have supported me over the many years, always pushing me to “finish the book already!”

  A huge THANK YOU to my editor, without her this book may have never come to see the light of day!

  To my Husband- you are my life- my best friend-lover and the best father to our boys that I could ask for.

  To Jax and Jacob- mommy did it…. Finally!

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Reagan

  I admit that my impulse to move from Austin, Texas to New York was risky, since I had not ever been out of the state of Texas in all of my twenty-five years of life. I had just graduated college with a degree in graphic design and business, and was—as far as I knew-- the first out of four in my family to graduate high school, let alone college. To say I was proud of myself was an understatement. With my newly found pride, and encouragement from my college advisor, I made the decision that New York would now be my home.

  “You can get a great job right here in Austin,” my mom, Helen, had argued. I’d been with her for most of my life, and was the only child she had. Her difficulty with my leaving was forgivable.

  I sat in the kitchen watching the rain drizzle down the window, as she swept the floor, visibly upset and not making eye contact with me. I knew telling her of my plans would not be an easy thing, and as much as I was excited about this next chapter in my life, I also hated the thought of leaving the only stability I had known since the age of thirteen. “I know there are jobs here, but not the jobs that will help me get where I want to be. I have goals; you know this.” I told her.

  Helen finished with the broom and returned it to the hall closet and came back to sit across from me. “Reagan, your dreams have always been my dreams. I’m so proud of you and how far you have come, but the fact is, you have been in Austin your entire life. You have no one in New York. I’m worried about you for obvious reasons, such as where will you even live? ” Helen paused, and her voice softened. “And for the less obvious ones, too.”

  She was right, of course. Blood or not, she was the only family I had. I didn’t know anyone in New York; I barely knew many here in Austin, despite having spent all of my life here. I was not what one would call a social butterfly. And yes. There were the other less obvious reasons that I refused to think about. I couldn’t let them sway my choice. “I’ve been talking with Jen,” I replied, choosing to respond to the easiest point she had made. “She has a cousin in the city that is looking for a roommate. I’ve been talking with her for the past week and I think it’s going to work out.” I tried to sound confident in my answer, as if moving thousands of miles away to live with my college advisor’s cousin was no big deal, but I too was nervous.

  Helen sighed, showing me that she had given up trying to change my mind. “Well, I guess I need to help you pack and get a U-Haul. I’ll call and get some time off work,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “I’m certainly not going to let you move to another state and not be there to make sure you are settled in okay,” Helen exclaimed. I smiled widely at her, blinking away sudden tears. Helen had been my saving grace, and I didn’t know if I would make it without her.

  Three weeks later I stood with Helen in front of an apartment building, nervous and excited, waiting for Brooke Wade, the roommate I was about to meet for the first time. Helen had checked into a nearby hotel, where she planned to stay until Sunday before starting the drive back home. The reality of not seeing her every day was beginning to take hold, but I had no time to dwell because at that moment, a girl in yoga pants and a tank top met us at the door to let us in.

  “Reagan Andrews, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” She beamed and pulled me into a hug. I glanced at Helen, who stepped forward as if to intervene. Fortunately, the constriction was minimal and over very quickly. My arms hung awkwardly at my sides until she stepped away, either oblivious to my discomfort or choosing not to mention it. She was short, at least a foot shorter than me, and had a head full of curly black hair.

  “Hi Brooke, it’s nice to meet you, too. This is Helen, my mom.”

  Introductions over, Brooke gestured back into the building foyer. “Come on in, I’ll show you around, and then I’ll get Paul and Gabby to help with all your stuff. They are our neighbors. They just got married last fall. Gabby runs a coffee house that serves a caramel macchiato that puts Starbucks to shame. You will love them,” Brooke explained as I followed her up the stairs into my new home, trying to keep up with the steady barrage of information coming from my new roommate. Chatty Cathy was definitely not something I was used to. The apartment was spacious with two bedrooms and a huge bathroom with a tub and shower. There were hardwood floors throughout, and a large bay window that overlooked the city.

  “Wow,” I breathed softly, at a total loss for words. The infamous New York skyline I had until now only seen in pictures, was something else entirely while viewing it from up here. It was perfect. The entire apartment was perfect. I had thought Helen’s modest home in Austin had been nothing short of a mansion, considering where I’d spent my early years, but this was New York. And it was me, living on my own, thousands of miles from the only family I had. It was both exciting and scary at the same time. But I was more than ready for this, regardless of how much part of me wanted to jump back in the U-Haul and beg Helen to take me home. I wanted to, needed to, do this.

  Brooke offered us a drink, and then we went out to start unloading the truck. Gabby and Paul met us outside, and Brooke was right. I liked them instantly. They appeared to be in their mid-thirties and immediately made me feel at ease.

  Four long hours later, the truck was empty and I was exhausted. I still had to unpack, but my bed was set up and I planned on crashing in it as soon as I could clear a path. Gabby and Paul told me goodbye and made me promise to come to dinner with Brooke on Sunday night. Brooke got a phone call and I walked Helen back down to the U-Haul.

  “I’ll be by in the morning to help you unpack,” she said.

  “Thank you, for everything,” I replied. I had fought the threat of tears all day, but standing in front of Helen, the realness of my decision made me very emotional.

  Helen felt it too as she quickly wiped away her tears. “Now go on and get to bed. Don’t stay up too late; you got a big day tomorrow,” she instructed.

  I nodded and turned to go. “Hey Reagan,” she called. I turned back and caught her smile. “You did real well, honey. It’s nice here, and I’m proud of you.” Helen’s voice caught, and she turned quickly
and left. I wiped a few stray tears and headed back up to my apartment.

  “I ordered pizza—please tell me you like mushrooms--and I took the liberty of pouring you a glass of wine,” Brooke announced as I entered the kitchen. She raised her wine glass and winked. “To a new start, to being amazing roommates, and to living in the best city in the world.”

  I picked up my wine glass, touched hers and took a drink. “Thank you,” I smiled. “And mushrooms are fine.”

  “You’re welcome. Now come, relax. We will eat and drink and then go to bed. I know you must be beat.” Brooke said.

  “I am. It’s been a long two days, but Helen was determined to make it here by Friday.” I sat my glass down and made myself comfortable on the couch.

  “You made good time, and I’m glad you’re here. In all honesty, I think this move is going to be a great experience for you.” Brooke grinned at me. Something in her smile made me believe it. I clamped down the annoying trace of anxiety that refused to leave the pit of my stomach and stared out the window as Brooke went down to meet the delivery guy. It’s going to be okay, I repeated to myself. People do this kind of thing all the time. It’s going to be okay.

  After eating and hearing about all the “cool stuff” Brooke wanted to show me, I finally went to my room and cleared off my bed so I could sleep. I was too tired to even shower, knowing I needed to after moving all day. I smiled thinking of Helen, and how appalled she would be. First night without her and I was already going wild. I lay in my bed and before I could even fully digest everything that happened in the past forty-eight, I was asleep.

  The next morning, I surprised myself by waking early. I felt well rested from the night before, but had hoped I would have slept later than six am. Brooke wasn’t around when I ventured down the hall to the bathroom to take a much needed shower. She had probably been lucky enough to sleep in. After scouring myself head to toe, I pulled on my bathrobe and headed into the kitchen in search of caffeine. Brooke had told me during our tour last night to help myself to anything I wanted, and I took her up on that as I popped a K-cup into the machine. I knew Helen was an early riser and was probably waiting on my phone call to come over. I took my coffee and wandered to the bay window, staring out at the New York skyline. I sighed. It truly was amazing; my eyes could barely take it all in. From the marquee signs, to the endless stretch of brake lights and the vast pool of New Yorkers out and starting their day, it was a blur of activity. I couldn’t wait to join that activity, explore new places, and perhaps a new me.

  I turned as I heard Brooke’s bedroom door open. She yawned and stumbled over to the Keurig and popped another cup in. “Hey,” she mumbled. “You’re up early. A result of the excitement of being here, or is this normal?” She grabbed her cup and joined me in the living room. Several wayward curls fell into her eyes and she tucked them behind her ear.

  “I was so tired last night, I’m surprised I’m up, too but I have a lot of unpacking to do. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” I sat beside her on the couch.

  Brooke waved off the question and smiled, “No, I’m always up this early on Saturdays. I teach a yoga class. When you get settled, you’ll have to come.”

  The thought of taking on an extracurricular was daunting, but I promised Brooke I would anyway. No need to be a total stick in the mud. “Monday I’m going to hit the streets. My first order of business is to find a job,” I said, as I took my empty cup to the sink.

  “You will take it easy for a few days, get yourself unpacked and settled, and then we’ll see. Don’t feel like you have to rush out and secure your half of the rent. You’re in the city of great opportunities; your perfect job will come.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that . . . all of it. For letting me move in; just, all of it.” I said, struggling to give voice to my feelings.

  She took pity and gave me a sympathetic smile. “You are very welcome, for all of it! I’m excited! It’s going to be a lot of fun. Now, I have to go take a shower. If you need anything at all, call my cell. I have a few errands to run after class, so I’ll be home this afternoon.”

  Brooke left to get ready and I headed back to my room to get dressed. I pulled on jean cut offs and a black tank, and pulled my dark brown hair into a sloppy bun, silently cursing the hair gods that had seen fit to grace Brooke with piles of thick curly hair while leaving me with the stick straight leftovers. Helen always said it was too heavy to hold a curl, and it probably was, but I knew stick straight when I saw it. Thinking of Helen, I called and let her know it was okay to come over. As I expected, she had been up for well over an hour and had been waiting for my call, much as she tried to pretend otherwise.

  I began to unpack, opening a box of framed pictures I had always kept on my bedroom dresser back home. I pulled out an old favorite of me and Helen from when I had just passed my driver’s training test and smiled. I started to place it on my dresser, but hesitated. Turning the frame over, I pulled off the back and pulled out the picture that was hidden behind. I sat on the floor next to my bed and stared at my three year old self, and the woman next to me. My thoughts swirled as I fixated on the woman with her dark skin and long, jet black hair pulled into a braid, indicative of her Native American blood. She stared into the camera with a big smile, her even bigger brown eyes full of laughter and happiness. And at the tender age of three, I had not yet learned that happiness was all in one’s perception, and that my biological mother’s happiness was a facade. This picture and one dress were all that remained, other than my memories, of the first thirteen years of my life. I was saved from further travels down memory lane by the front door buzzer, announcing the arrival of Helen. I hastily stuffed the picture back into its hiding place and went to let her in.

  We finished unpacking, and then went to lunch at a nearby deli. Knowing she’d never been and that she’d be leaving tomorrow, I relented when Helen insisted we find our way to Central Park for a short walk.

  “How are you feeling about things,” Helen asked as she lit a cigarette. It was a habit she had tried to fight for years, but when she was worried or stressed, the habit usually won.

  “I’m good. I feel ready to start a new life here, but I’m nervous too,” I admitted, as we paused to let a group of joggers pass us by.

  “Well, that makes two of us,” Helen blew out smoke and laughed softly.

  “Helen, I need to tell you that I’m going to be okay. I don’t know how to best explain it, but I just feel it’s going to be okay. No setbacks, no anxiety. I need this, and I know I’m not the best about telling you how I feel, but I’m so grateful for you. For your support, and for putting up with my incredibly huge amounts of crap for years,” I blurted out, attempting to make a joke and ease up the seriousness of my words. I was not a big mushy “I-love-you-let’s-talk-about-our-feelings” kind of person, and Helen and I had always tiptoed around the emotional aspects of our relationship for that reason. I knew she loved me, and I certainly loved her and we left it at that. But learning to open up and express what I was feeling was a lesson I was trying to learn and so I went for it. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”

  “Oh hell, Reagan, don’t get me crying again!” Helen wiped her eyes quickly and occupied herself with trying to locate her cigarettes. I silently pointed to her pocket, and then hesitantly leaned in for a hug. It was something she wanted, but something she’d never initiate. She loved me too much. Seeing my willingness to overcome my discomfort for her sake, she grabbed me tight around the shoulders, taking care to not trap my upper arms. Despite her desire for this physical contact, she was still putting my feelings first and my heart swelled with love for this woman who had taken me in all those years ago. Tears leaked from my eyes, despite my rather forceful silent command that they stay put. She held on for several seconds before reaching down to grab my hand, which hung limply at my side. “I’m going to miss you, kiddo.”

  “Me too. I’ll call you every day,” I promised as we made our way back to the apartment.

&
nbsp; Helen laughed. “Let’s agree to talk at least once a week and go from there, okay?” I agreed that every day was probably a stretch. “Just don’t forget about me up here in your new life.”

  “Never,” I vowed.

  Helen left the following morning, and Brooke took me sightseeing that afternoon. Austin was huge, but with the amount of things to see and do in New York City, Austin paled in comparison. We returned that night and had dinner, as promised, with Gabby and Paul. I learned that Paul was a professor at NYU, and as Brooke had mentioned, Gabby owned a coffee shop a few blocks away.

  “Reagan, what are your plans now that you’re here in the Big Apple? Any idea what you would like to do?” Paul asked as we sat in their living room, stomachs full from the amazing tilapia Paul had prepared for us. My seafood experience to date had been what I ordered from Long John Silvers, which admittedly was never the fish, but I surprised myself by actually enjoying tonight’s meal.

  I took a small sip of wine before answering. “I know I would like to work in graphic design. I really like to design websites, but I figure I’ll have to just take what I can for now, and hopefully get my foot in the door somewhere,” I explained.

  “Websites? “ Paul looked intrigued. “Interesting. And seems you’d not have any trouble finding work there. I mean, really, who doesn’t have a website these days?”

  “You know Cup of Joe’s website could use a makeover,” Gabby suggested.

  “Yes, Gabby pays for it and I don’t think anyone even knows it exists,” Paul snickered and winked at Gabby.

  “I would be happy to look at it for you,” I offered. “I can even take a few orders for you, too. I wasn’t all that shabby at taking coffee orders in Austin,” I continued with a smile. Probably presumptuous of me to practically ask for a job, considering I’d known them for all of five minutes, but these days it was all about who you knew. And while I had just about convinced myself that everything was going to be perfectly fine, and the most amazing job would appear at the right time (repeating it to myself nine thousand times a day kind of did that to me), I couldn’t shake the small pit of anxiety that had taken root in my stomach. And so I was not above using my connections, no matter how new or slim they appeared to be.