Secrets

A young man strode through the revolving glass doors with a grey satchel slung over one of his tense shoulders and stress written in the lines and shadows of his face. His eyes hinted at his youth; the curve of his lips, at his charm. His bone structure insisted that beneath the weariness that hung upon him, he was handsome. “Good morning, Rose,” he called to the young woman behind the front desk.

She looked up with a bright, rosy-cheeked smile after quickly checking her appearance in the reflection on her phone. “Good morning, Beck. I have something for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Your favorite.” She held out a cup of coffee. “I assume you haven’t had anything for breakfast.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” she winked as she handed him the cup, her fingertips brushing his. Had he paid more attention, he would have noticed how her pupils had dilated; had he taken her hands in his, he would have felt her pulse quicken.

He looked at her with a teasing smile. “You weren’t supposed to do this for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have something for you.” He opened his satchel and handed her a small paper bag. Its contents were warm to the touch and smelled like butter and comfort.

She knew what it was before she opened it, but laughed nonetheless when she saw what was inside. “You got me the soft shortbread cookies. How did you know?”

“I know you,” he smiled back. “I still don’t understand how you can like them so much. But seeing you smile is all that matters. And I assume you haven’t had anything for breakfast.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Wait, you stopped to get me something and didn’t get anything for yourself?”

“Well, you did the same.”

She laughed. “I guess.” She looked up at him, devotion shining in her eyes and affection playing on her lips.

Somehow, Rose always made Beck feel like the most important person in the world. How could she care about him so much? Of course, she meant the world to him. But she deserved better. Beck could have kept staring forever, but forced himself to look away. “Uh, so what’s the word from Tyler? Did he deem my report adequate?” he mocked.

The phone on Rose’s desk rang. “Perfect timing,” she said wryly. With her thumb, she brushed crumbs from her lips--Beck couldn’t help but watch--before picking up the phone. “Hello? Yes, he’s here. Yes, I’ll send him right up.” She hung up and with a sympathetic smile, broke the bad news. “He wants to see you now.”

The tension in Beck’s shoulders spread throughout his body. “Well, the man has spoken.” He shouldered his satchel with dismay. “Thanks for the coffee, Rose. You’re a lifesaver.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. Her perfume was scented like her namesake. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. Oh, one more thing.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a small black notebook. “I was helping a friend prepare to move and we found this. It’s blank. I thought it would be perfect for you--I know you sketch when you’re stressed.”

“I’m no good at sketching.”

“I’ve seen the sketches on your desk, so I’d say you’re pretty good at it.”

The kindness in her eyes made it impossible to say no. “Okay. I’ll try it out.” He slipped the notebook into his satchel. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

…

Beck flopped into his chair with a groan. His reflection on the computer screen in front of him showed that he looked as weary as he felt. The meeting with Tyler had been a disaster, as per usual. In addition to the mountain of work he had ahead of him, he now also had to rewrite his report just because Tyler found it boring. Maybe if he turned the report into a cartoonish infographic and posted it on Instagram, Tyler would find it interesting. Maybe he should write it in crayon. Or maybe he should just find some lace-clad showgirl to read it to him; that would keep Tyler’s attention.

Yes, Beck was bitter. Tyler was only his boss because his parents owned the company. Tyler only had an Ivy League degree on his wall because his parents bought his way in and then paid people to take his exams. That surfer dude, trust-fund-baby didn’t actually have to work for a living--he just did it for fun. And “fun” meant messing with the people below him and exercising power unnecessarily just to boost his ego.

Since the day Beck started there, he had been Tyler’s favorite target. If he could get Tyler to see him as an actual person, maybe things would be better. Maybe he wouldn’t have to rewrite reports for no reason. If only he knew how to reach Tyler.

As Beck reached into his satchel for the report, his fingers brushed the leathery spine of the notebook Rose had given him. He pulled it out and traced the cover with his fingers. With newfound determination, he picked up his pencil. Why not sketch for a little? It would help him relax.

As he opened the notebook, he was surprised to find a line of spidery handwriting in black ink. I thought Rose said the notebook was blank. As he peered closer, curiosity turned to confusion.

“Tyler likes anyone who gives him alcohol.” Did Rose write this? How would she know that? And if she didn’t write it, who did?

Beck then realized what this meant. He had a way to reach Tyler.

…

“You know, when you turned in that report, I was not expecting you to take me out for drinks. And I did not expect you to be so good at it!” Tyler drawled.

“Good at drinking?” Beck asked. He disagreed--his head already felt fuzzy and his coordination was suffering.

“Yeah!” Tyler burst into a fit of laughter that shook him so hard, he almost fell off his stool. He looked over at the bargirl who had served them their third round. “She’s pretty. What’s her name, Jenna? I wonder what her secrets are.”

Secrets. “Yeah, I wonder…” Beck murmured. He pulled the little black book out of his bag and opened it, expecting to find the line about Tyler. Instead, there was a new sentence in its place: “Jenna is studying political science but wants to star on Broadway.” Huh.

Beck closed the book, then thought of his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Azalea. He took a breath, then opened the book, and in the same place where he had seen Jenna’s secret, he now read, “Mrs. Azalea used to serve as a special agent for the CIA.”

This small black notebook was a book of secrets. And seeing how Tyler was treating Beck like his new best friend, these secrets were true.

Tyler slung his arm around Beck and came so close, their noses almost touched. “Beck. You do such a great job at work. You know what? I think we need to get another round, and you need to get a raise.” Tyler pulled out his wallet and started scribbling on a check. He handed it to Beck before calling Jenna over. Beck looked down at the check and felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Tyler had written him a check for twenty thousand dollars.

…

“Oh my god, please tell me you took the check.” Rose asked him with wide eyes, fork and knife hovering over her untouched plate. “Beck, this changes everything for you.”

“I know. But he was drunk. Trust me, it was tempting. But I couldn’t do that.”

“So you gave it back?” Rose asked, leaning back against the wooden chair.

“Well… I tried.” Beck grinned. “I called him up this morning, explained what happened, and offered to give it back or something. But he insisted I keep it. He really thinks I’ve worked hard. And we’re going out for drinks again next week. I think the Tyler problem is solved.”

“Oh please, that’s not the only problem that’s solved.”

“You’re right. I’m going to finally pay off the rest of my student loans, fix that leaky sink, and put some into savings. I’m never going to have to worry about losing all this,” Beck smiled, looking around his apartment, “ever again.”

Rose stood and walked over, placing her hands on his shoulders. “You know, even if that did happen, you could always move in with me.”

“I know. It’s just nice to finally relax. You know that feeling when your heart is racing and you can’t get it to stop?”

“I get that feeling every time I look at you.” Rose murmured, smoothing his hair with her hand.

“Rose, you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. But you know what I meant.”

“I know… and you know that I did mean what I said.”

Beck turned to look at Rose and saw her looking intently--and a little sadly--at him. “Rose, you know I can’t.”

“You’ve always said you couldn’t because of everything else you had to worry about. Tyler, your student loans, your rent, the leaky sink. That’s all over.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one who fixed it, so how am I supposed to fix problems in the future?”

“You were the one who fixed it. Tyler wrote you that check because you work hard.”

Beck shrugged her hands off his shoulders, stood, and walked away.

Rose’s cheeks flushed as red as her namesake. “Why are you doing this?”

“Rose, I can’t be with you.”

“Why not? Every problem that stood in the way has been solved. Your life is stable, you have time. And we get along. We care about each other. We’re there for each other. Why can’t you do this? What are you afraid of? What secret are you keeping from me?”

Secrets. “How do I know that I won’t end up hurt?” Beck yelled. “How do I know you don’t have secrets?” He turned to Rose and saw tears in her eyes.

At that sight, he felt his heart crumble. He wanted to hold her close and whisper he was sorry. Instead, he stumbled back, saying, “I’m sorry, I need a minute.” He picked up his satchel and walked out onto the fire escape, placing his elbows on the iron railing. He hid his face in his hands, fighting back tears.

“Why do I do this?” he whispered. He pulled the notebook out of his satchel and opened it. “Beck is afraid that he is not good enough for Rose.” That was his secret. Tears fell down his face, out of sadness or relief, he couldn’t tell.

He closed the book and thought of Rose--her kind smile, her gentle touch, the way she made him feel like everything would be okay. Rose. He opened the book and there on the page was her secret. “Rose loves everything about Beck and knows she always will.”

Beck grabbed a pencil from his satchel. Underneath Rose’s secret, he wrote one more of his own: “I will not let my fear hold me back any longer.”

With that, he tucked the book back into his satchel. Tomorrow, he would donate it. He had no more use for a book of secrets; he wouldn’t keep secrets from her any longer.

“Rose?” he called.

Still waiting for him after so long, she turned to him. She had never looked more beautiful. He strode towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

“I do,” she whispered back. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. It felt so familiar to both of them. They knew each other so well. He pulled her closer and she did the same. They would have no space--and no more secrets--between them.