"Did you have a favorite character growing up?""Dylan McKay, obviously. Every girl's fantasy, right? And I loved Brenda too." "Oh, good, you're a Brenda girl, not a Kelly girl.""Noooo. Kelly stole Dylan, so…" - Shenae Grimes (Annie Wilson, 90210 sequel, source unknown)
xx
She'd watched two half-hour programs, a news report, set about making tea and planned out her grocery list to stock her empty fridge before she realized she'd fallen asleep without plugging in her mobile.
Once the device regained its juice, the messages came pouring in.
A text popped up from Dylan containing a link to an ecard and a request that she call him later that evening with the perplexing addition that they needed to talk, sent four hours earlier when her mobile still sat dead and her mind drifted aimlessly through a spring festival quickly dissipating from her memory.
His message was accompanied by a slew of birthday wishes from friends, family and colleagues spread out over the globe.
Whilst staring at a tracking number her older cousin Bobby Walsh sent in case the package didn't arrive in time - and it seemed it hadn't - a text came in from her brother demanding she immediately log into Skype.
"If it isn't my incredibly prodigious sister, coming to me across the world after missing our annual midnight phone call, live from this Skype thing Andrea turned me onto. Technology, huh?"
"I got in super late, Bran. I'm still half-asleep. It was a long flight and jet lag is kicking my ass. Forgive me for missing our birthday call just this one time."
"You're forgiven, unless you sing." Brandon examined her through the screen, likely taking in the dark bags under her eyes collected from her late journey on the tube and the tiring noise therein.
She responded to his insult with a mocking expression.
"Happy birthday, sis."
"Happy birthday, bro."
"What's wrong?" he asked, realizing her festive tone missed her eyes.
"Nothing's wrong."
"Brenda, it's me. Either tell your better half what's up or I'll get my majestic, very efficacious niece to call and force it out of you."
"That is so incredibly unjustified." Shooting a bow and arrow with her eyes into his distant room, she examined a dustball on her carpet before turning back to the screen. "Have you seen Dylan?" She fought to keep her inquiry as nonchalant as possible. "I vaguely remember him calling earlier, but I was practically dead to the world and now he says we need to talk, which is strange, right? Remind me why I accepted an audition tomorrow?"
"Because you're Brenda Walsh and you think you can do anything?"
"Think? Oh, my dear, naive brother, I know I can do anything." She winked. "So, you haven't seen Dylan?"
He laughed, catching on to the subtext within. He always managed to do that. It used to drive her up the wall, how easily he could read her.
After their time apart, she would gladly let him decipher her every inner thought if it meant she'd never have to repeat the experience of life as an only child.
Little Bethany Brewster of the seat adjacent to her in Mrs. Freestone's third grade geography had been incorrect. Life wasn't better without a sibling, no matter how much they could frustrate you. Valerie, however, had been spot-on when she told Brenda she'd regret wishing Brandon into another family after his basketball rammed into the clay project she'd lovingly crafted for Mother's Day in the same year.
It was mind-boggling how occurrences that used to seem so crucial were now meaningless. While he'd been gone, she forgave her brother of anything he ever did or would do, as long as he returned in one piece to those who loved him, especially his twin sister.
And to her immense relief, after she'd begun to lose all hope, he did.
"He stopped by for breakfast, car packed up and ready to hit the road. I think he took off for Baja." Brandon responded, interrupting her contemplation. "Didn't say much, just that he had some thinking to do and needed to get away. He was pretty quiet at the Pit last night, but Steve barely let anyone get a word in edgewise, anyway. He was trying to convince Dad to ship him a kangaroo for MnM to take to show-and-tell."
"One stuffed kangaroo for Maddie, coming right up. I'm sure I can get something off eBay." She knew he could detect the disappointment in her voice, but hiding anything from her brother never worked and would be futile to try. "So Dylan skipped town, huh? Did he happen to do it with a Stacey?"
"Bren, who is this Stacey you're always bringing up when something's happening between you and Dylan?" He folded his hands together, placing the steeple under his pursed lips. "You know what I think?"
"Have no idea, but I assume you're about to tell me." She tidied the corner of her desk.
"I think Stacey is a figment you manifest whenever you're terrified to let McKay back in."
"Yeah, there it is," she sighed, lifting her eyes to her vanity mirror.
"You mentioned her before you two first hooked up in London and you were worried about jumping back into anything, remember? I've never even met the woman. She can't be that important."
"Thank you for your thorough analysis, Dr. Walsh. If I wanted to be evaluated, I'd go to a therapist."
"My fiancée could recommend one or two to help you get over that fear."
"I'm not afraid. I have let him back in. We're friends, really good friends," she insisted, waving her hands in bullet point format as she spoke.
"Brenda. That's bullshit and everyone knows it. I know it. You know it. Kelly knows it. Little Davy Silver knows it. He and Donna told us about what happened in the pool. This Ralf Smalls guy you say you're dating probably deserves to know."
"Ralf Little."
"Whatever."
"What happened in the pool was two friends being friendly," she glowered, urging him with her eyes to drop the subject, "and Ralf doesn't need to know," she added, as if there were a Ralf outside of the BBC network to be told of anything.
Three years since her relationship ended with Graham, five years since they met and four whole years more since she'd last been with Dylan. He'd told her the night in Santa Maria that he couldn't pine over her after their split; she, in turn, hadn't spent their entire time apart yearning her own lost love from what may as well have been another lifetime. But until Graham and including afterward, she often found herself unlucky in love.
And no one, not a single solitary individual, could begin to brush the surface of what she'd felt for Dylan McKay.
She hadn't expected to see him during her trip, spend half as much time with him as she did or return home already missing his disconcerting countenance.
She certainly wouldn't admit her befuddled emotions to her brother when she herself didn't understand. He would mistakenly slip to everyone, perhaps even Dylan himself and their cautiously rebuilt dynamic would tumble, brick by brick, once more crumbling to archaic ruins.
"Well, friendly is certainly one way of putting it, especially since the constellation was his idea."
"You know, I'd really like to cancel this matchmaking subscription service everyone has decided to put me on without my permission." She saw the furious blush climbing into her cheeks reflected on the screen and hoped he wouldn't notice.
He did, of course, as he always cognized anything she wished to keep private.
"Look, Bren, I get it. I do. When Kel flew out to Washington, I thought she was only interested in trying again because things didn't work out with Dylan. I didn't expect her to wait for me or anything - it isn't like I was celibate myself - but hearing they got back together wasn't exactly pleasant." He rubbed the muscle in his shoulder. "I don't know what he's told you or if he's told you anything and if he hasn't, then it isn't my place, but the way Kelly tells it, neither of them were too happy in their short go-around at another attempt of their relationship. I don't know why and I'm not about to guess, but I do know that he stole so many looks at the gym door during our ten year that I thought his stare would burn right through the wood. And at no point was Kel standing near that door. In fact, half the time, no one was."
"I can't, Brandon. Okay? I just can't." She scraped both hands over her face, emitting a deep breath of vexation. "I can't do this, wonder if Dylan wants me or doesn't want me, watch him take off whenever the mood strikes, like it clearly did over there this morning. He loves me, he loves me not is all well and good for a silly childhood game, but we're adults. I'm getting too old for childish games."
"Yeah, pretending to be older than we actually are, sis. Are you just gonna ignore the fact that he took off every weekend and countless weekdays to see you while you were here? You might truly be friends, but only friends? There isn't anything platonic about this, Brenda. There's never been anything platonic about you two." He angled his hands, moving them rapidly to puncture his speech with a subconscious flip of his hair.
"Says the king of Platonic-But-Not-Really."
"Exactly my point, little sister. By the time I realized Andrea might be a little more than a friend, she'd moved on to Jay and then Bonner. And Kel - we went down that friendship rabbit hole over and over again just because I couldn't admit to the crush I had on her. But we started out as friends, Bren. You didn't. Learn from my mistakes without repeating them yourself."
"I've already lost him three different times, one of which should've been final, the other which was final." She swallowed past the burgeoning lump in her throat, the taste of sand dollars burrowing itself into her tongue. "I survived, brushed off the dust and kept going. I can't handle losing him a fourth time. I shouldn't have to." She clenched her lips together, blowing out air that steamed up the computer screen. "It took us so long just to get back to this place, years and years just to be friends again. Besides, all of you - you, Val, Steve, Donna - all of you are missing the very crucial idea that it isn't just up to me. You can't force Dylan to love me when he's in love with someone else just to fulfill this preposterous plan you all have of reuniting every botched relationship within our group. I will not involve myself in yet another damn triangle that never sides in my favor for a guy who probably doesn't want me to begin with. He's hurt me more than anyone, but I've hurt him, too. A couple of hours of horseplay in a pool doesn't change what we've done to each other."
"Just think about it, Bren. You're my sister. He's my best friend. I want you two to both be happy and I have never seen either of you as happy as you were when you were together."
"Okay, you only met Graham twice; that isn't a valid deduction." She crossed her arms in protest.
"Sis, if Graham Dixon made you half as happy as my brother from another mother Dylan McKay, you'd still be with him."
"You're not being fair to Graham," she murmured. "There were a lot of factors at play in our breakup and none of them had to do with how he is as a person. If I'm going to be with someone, Brandon, if I'm going to find someone I can marry, I need to know they won't run, that they won't bail if we start fighting. Our parents hardly ever fought and Dad certainly didn't leave. I deserve to have a marriage like theirs."
"No marriage is perfect, Bren, not even our parents'. No spouse is perfect. Do I want to hurt Kelly? No, never, but I probably will. She might hurt me, too. We might argue, but ultimately, we love each other and can work through anything that might come around. Grandpa slipped up here and there. Dad had his moments - rare, but he had them. Maybe you should call Mom."
She sighed heavily. "Look, if I tell you I'll strongly consider the possibility of maybe contemplating the sheer idea of reuniting with Dylan, if it's even remotely what he himself wants and I very much doubt that, will you get off my back?"
"It would help." He gave her an annoyingly smug smile.
"Great. Then I will. Now, taking a break from my life." She held up one finger to prevent his further attempt at persuasion. "What's the plan with you? Have you decided whether you're permanently moving back to LA?"
"Kel and I have discussed it in detail and I know it's something our friends really want, especially Stevie. It's been fantastic getting to spend all this time with him and MnM, with Hannah and Andrea, Dylan, the Silvers, but -" He stretched back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head. "Kel's family is here - parents, siblings, nieces, everyone. And yeah, our mutual family is here, the gang is here, but the rest of my family is spread all over the freaking globe. I mean, Mom and Dad are in Oz, you're over in Albion; Bobby's out in Kansas - God knows why - we've got Melody in Peoria, Cassidy in Croatia, Lottie in Thailand - you need a whole case of thumbtacks just to pinpoint on the map where our throng of cousins have taken up residence, Bren. Then Grandma in St. Paul, Grandma Walsh down in Florida; point is, sis, there's a whole lot of you that aren't anywhere near California and I guess, ultimately, I'm not a West Coast kind of guy. They don't even have a decent hockey team. What's up with that?"
"Moving back east, huh?" She laughed, her wandering gaze travelling over her own world map hanging in her sitting room with the exact locations of restless, consistently relocating Walshes. In the early nineteen hundreds, watching the Statue of Liberty come into view from the bow of their ship, two seventeen-year olds undoubtedly never imagined their great-grandchildren would return to live on the continent they'd been forced to flee, or well beyond into other international borders.
She'd heard the story of Eoin and Niamh Walsh throughout her childhood, kindling her own intense desire to travel and especially to see the country of her family's origins. It'd been the first place she'd visited on a free bank holiday weekend with some of the group from RADA: the forty shades of green across the sea, to County Kilkenny and its surrounding countryside. After leaving Ireland, the Walshes initially settled in Illinois until their third eldest child, her grandfather Brion, decided to move his expectant wife to the tundra of St. Paul, Minnesota - a state which their own children and grandchildren would then leave one by one until Georgette herself departed for sunnier weather.
With the exception of her mother and younger cousin Lindsey, the Beevis side never left Minnesota. It became clear as the decades went on that they would live and die in St. Paul alone, the majority never obtaining a passport or showing any interest in applying.
"Yeah, we'll wait until after the wedding, but Kel is ready to go. She says she only came back because I wasn't around and that she would've willingly stayed in Washington. You obviously know how easy it is to travel these days and flights are sure a lot cheaper on the other coast if we ever want to see you. Kel says she wants a change of scene. If I know her, which I do, she's dying to exchange Rodeo for Saks Fifth Av."
"You're moving to New York?" The idea stunned her. Since the 1984 season in which a young Brandon Walsh's eyes darted from Twins jerseys to Yankees attire and back again, seething over the New York players fighting to crush his team, he'd firmly declared he'd rather live anywhere else than the, in his vengeful words, immensely overrated Big Apple.
He laughed sarcastically and shook his head.
"We're considering Boston."
"Bran, are you and Kel gonna uproot from sunny, oceanic Cali and move to Boston just for the Bruins?"
"Considering it, Bren," he emphasized. "I could work for The Globe, Kel could travel to Manhattan as often as she wants. We're discussing a couple of other places, too, but they're all eastern - no, not Philly, don't go giving Valerie ideas." His features momentarily became stern before lightening again. "I don't really want to stay here, but I'm not looking to return to the playground politics of the Capitol, either. You know how I feel about that environment."
In Brandon's brief stint on the campaign trail, he'd become so disillusioned by a political system he'd already considered shaky that he returned to journalism purely to help expose the nefarious dealings of the US government. It shattered for good their father's long-held hope of Brandon's own presidency and elicited triumph in Andrea, who gloated that she'd always known in which profession he truly belonged.
"What about Dylan?"
"What about Dylan?" he echoed, enunciating the second word with a slight smirk that she'd brought him back into the conversation after her earlier tirade.
"I mean, he's Sammy's dad for all intents and purposes." She pushed a strand of loose hair back into her ponytail. "We both know the full story, but the others don't, not yet. He's not gonna want them to think he's a deadbeat or anything. Shouldn't he have a say in this plan to move Sammy away from LA?"
"Guess he didn't tell you." His features turned thoughtful, fingers rapidly moving over the keyboard in surreal speed.
"Tell me what?"
"Oh, just that we've already discussed this with him and it seems he's thinking of leaving, too."
"First off, you discussed this with him before you even mentioned it to me, your own twin sister, future aunt of any children you may have, adopted or otherwise?" she asked, irritated. "Secondly, Dylan's leaving LA?"
"Well, little sis, we don't share a kid with you, do we?" He chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "Man, our lives sure got screwed up, didn't they? Sharing a kid with my fiancée's ex who isn't even technically theirs, but who I already love an insane amount." The twins collectively shook their heads. "Last time I get separated from Kel. Anyway, D hasn't decided yet - says it depends on a few things, won't elaborate on what, but he mentioned it about a week ago and that's when we told him of our own plans."
"Oh." She suddenly became overwhelmed with a peculiar feeling she couldn't quite decipher. "Guess he's finally decided to permanently relocate to Baja."
"Guess so."
"You do know Steve is gonna murder you for telling Dylan first, right?"
"We can't tell Stevie anything until we know for sure. I haven't even interviewed yet. It's been a while since I took on any assignments. Who knows, I might not be able to get a job out there. It's some fierce competition, especially in this recession. Don't you dare tell anyone, Bren, not until I do. Tell Mom or Dad and I won't speak to you for a month, at least. But between you and me, Andrea might be leaving, too."
"You went missing for three whole years just for trying to top Andrea's Pulitzer nomination," she teased. "I doubt you'll have any problem in getting whatever position you decide to go for, wherever you and Kel choose to reside." Her carefully groomed eyebrows jumped upward, realizing the other half of his statement. "Wait just one second. Now Andrea's leaving?"
"Also not confirmed. Jesse has to fly to Washington a lot and she wants Hannah to be around her father more."
"Are you telling me Andrea and Jesse are getting back together?"
"No, it's strictly for Hannah. Andrea's been trying to convince me to stay here because she's trying to persuade herself to stick around. She's wanted to leave since Rose passed. You know Rose is the reason she bailed on Yale to begin with. Could've been an East Coast girl all this time and she got a small taste of it in their brief stay over there when Hannah was teeny. Speaking from experience, sis, once you do, it's hard to go back."
"Wow." She sat in flabbergasted silence. "You're all really gonna up and leave David, Donna and Steve, huh?"
"Kel, Andrea, Dylan, me - we've all moved away at one point or another, Brenda. You're the only one who didn't choose to move back later. It's nothing those three haven't dealt with before. After everything we all have been through, Steve knows better than anyone that no amount of distance can wreck what we've spent years building. We can't force ourselves to stay where we don't wanna be just to remain near to the people we love. Look at this. You, me, somewhat face to face with an ocean between us. You gonna tell me other users of this thing haven't left their own families and friends behind? I hate saying it like that, though. We aren't leaving anyone; we're just going to a different part of our story. The world's too big; this country is too big to spend our lives in one place. And no kid of mine is gonna grow up without a full comprehension of hockey played by a team that actually knows what they're doing."
She examined a hangnail forming on her ring finger.
"Bran?"
"Yeah, Bren?"
"Are you ever - I mean, do you think," she hesitated, gripping her elbows under her desk, "do you think you might tell me someday? About, you know, what happened to you."
"Bren," he broke their eye contact, surveying his twiddling thumbs, "if I do tell anyone outside of the therapist, you'll be the first to hear it."
"Every time you say that, Kelly finds out first."
He slid a finger along the area of his heart, using the same finger to draw an imaginary line over the first. She stared.
"Did you just literally cross your heart?"
"Maybe."
"Brandon, you are so weird."
"So are you," he shrugged. "I'm sure whatever Dylan thinks you need to discuss isn't that bad. Just be patient, consider what I said and call Mom."
"Have some cake for me."
"Always do. On to another year of being the best brother anyone could ever ask for."
"Pretty sure that's my line."
"You're good. I said it for you, my equally amazing little sis."
"By mere minutes!" she scowled, shaking her ponytail.
"Still older than you." He flashed an infamous, scintillating, triple dimpled grin known for causing queues of girls to line up in West Beverly for a chance at acquiring Brandon Walsh's heart.
"Then you'll just get all the greys before I do."
He uttered a dramatic farewell in the way of the Von Trapp children that sent her into sputtering laughter long after she turned off her computer. She stared at her mobile, considering his insistence to call their mother. Distracting herself with cleaning rooms which beckoned in the dust of a two month absence, she intently listened to the radio's familiar accents, accents she'd heard only amongst the troupe in their time away.
Humming to one of her favorite songs, she heard the ringtone assigned to her mother sound off before she could dial Melbourne herself.
"Another year older, sweetheart. How do you feel?"
"Contemplative." She stilled in her housework, taking a seat on her bed.
"Oh? How so?"
"What's the secret to your marriage, Mom?" she blurted. "Besides Andrea and Donna, all of our longtime friends are children of divorce and now Andrea's divorced, herself. You've barely even fought with Dad."
"That just simply isn't true."
"What do you mean?"
"Brenda, your father has been a terrific husband and I'm extremely blessed, but you're old enough now for me to tell you that it hasn't always been easy, especially in our first year of marriage. You kids may have rarely heard us argue, but trust me when I say it wasn't as rare as you think - not often, but not rare."
"This is the first I've heard of anything rocky outside of that illicit affair with your old ex." She sat back against her pillows, studying the pattern in her duvet.
"Oh my, Glen Evans," Cindy laughed. "I almost forgot about him." She quieted for a moment. "Your father isn't the jealous type, Brenda, but after we got married, he was jumpy when other boys would speak to me. He worried I'd change my mind about being with him, which was utterly ridiculous and of course I didn't know it at the time. Paula, Sheila and I would go for girls' night every Friday. Some boys were a little too flirtatious for your father's liking. We did have a few fights about it. Even a man secure in his relationship can become insecure and feel inadequate when another man shows interest in the woman he loves, whether or not she welcomes that interest. A few months before we found out about you two, he saw that I'd been a little tipsy and maybe more friendly than appropriate - nothing explicitly inappropriate, just a little more than a wife should behave. He took off - no note, nothing, right over to your uncle Simon's who let him throw back one beer, told him to never leave a woman in the dust and drove him straight back to our house."
"Sounds like Uncle Simon." She giggled slightly, pausing to slide a hand through her hair. "I'm scared, Mom," she confessed, releasing her conscientiously hidden turmoil out into the open. "I miss Dylan and I hate that I miss him. I've only been gone a day! I got used to having him around. What if I do want him, deep down, and he doesn't feel the same? What if he does, or thinks he does because Kelly doesn't want him? I've been down this road so many times, Mom, and I'm always the one who is left picking up the pieces."
"Oh, honey. I saw the way he looked at you in that restaurant. He never even glanced at Kelly, not once. At the risk of sounding like Frankie Valli, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. The longest relationship you've had was with him and from what your brother tells me, the longest Dylan has had was with you. He had plenty of opportunities to be with Kelly. He could've been with her while your brother was gone, but he wasn't. He could tell her he wants her now, make her choose between him and Brandon again, but he isn't. Dylan's never been particularly subtle in his emotions, Brenda. Your brother wears his heart on his sleeve; Dylan wears his in his eyes. If his eyes were any indication yesterday and they usually are, he knows what he wants. It isn't Kelly."
"I'm guessing Dad isn't around to hear you wax poetic about the man he used to hate."
"Your father never hated Dylan. He hated losing you to him. But it wasn't just Dylan. We were always losing you to something, watching as you kept trying to grow up too soon. You were constantly trying to snatch your independence while you were still so young, whether it was house sitting for that one woman from the club -"
"Sky." She hadn't thought of Sky, Jack or her brief career as a comedian in years. She'd been awed by the woman's travel resume; now, hers equaled at minimum the length of a tape measure and perhaps surpassed Sky's own.
A person came into another's life when they were required and departed when they weren't - unless they were one of seven obstinate members in a certain tenacious group she and Brandon could never quite shed no matter where they lived.
Even when two of the gang disappeared from her life supposedly permanently, they both doggy paddled their way back in until, gradually, the abyss between slowly began to heal.
"- house sitting for Sky, moving in with your boyfriend in high school, going back to Minnesota on your own or nearly eloping with the future tax evader."
It never failed. Every time Cindy alluded to Stuart Carson, she always included his future crime. Brenda was accustomed to the remark, but nonetheless irritated by the constant reminder.
"Then we permanently lost you to London and Jim suddenly wished that we really had lost you to Dylan, just so you'd still be living in the same country. Parenthood can be very strange, Brenda. You might understand someday."
"Yeah. Maybe." She managed to keep the sadness out of her voice, the uncertainty of whether she would, in fact, comprehend life as a parent. Only Brandon knew what she'd been informed that day at the gynecologist's shortly before his disappearance and even the gyno hadn't been able to provide her with a clear answer.
"Just listen to your heart, honey, wherever it takes you. If it leads you back to Dylan and into marriage with him, we'll be pleased to finally, officially have him as a son, the way we will soon have Kelly as a daughter like it always should've been. If it doesn't, then it doesn't. But running from your feelings, hiding because you're scared, will never get you anywhere."
"I swear, you, Bran, Steve, Val and Don must be reading from the same script." She looked down, noticing absently drawn adolescent doodles on her own script and hastily erasing the ones pertaining to a specific individual.
"Sweetheart, if that many people are convinced there's something brewing between you and Dylan after all of this time, then maybe you need to consider there is."
"Thanks for the talk, Mom. You've given me a lot to think about. I love you."
"I love you too, dear. Have a very happy birthday and say hi to Dylan for me the next time you speak to him."
"Okay. I will."
She tried to focus on her scripts, on the impending auditions and the necessary memorization, instead of dwell on her conversations or figure out her boiling perplexity in the matter of Dylan McKay - a complexity that only arose in his startling lack of communication. Her call went to voicemail; he didn't respond. He didn't text, email or sneak onto Skype. For the first time since he'd initiated their nightly phone calls, they didn't speak at all.
She texted him, as promised, to no avail.
Three days scuttled past without a single word from the irritably handsome surfer and as the clock ticked by, a connect four seemed frustratingly promising.
The electric kettle boiled downstairs. It'd been a long day of auditions and, mentally preparing for those to come on the following day, she set about unpacking. The majority of her carefully folded clothing headed directly into the washer, smelling strongly of Californian warmth presently obscured in the hibernal climate occupying her city of residence.
Bills paid. Tea drank. Laundry transferred to the dryer. Her mobile ringing once - Valerie, delightedly planning a weekend visit with Javier. A second time - Donna, David and the girls.
By the third call - Brandon and Kelly - she'd given up. Glancing at the microwave clock, she realized that if he did decide to phone, she'd be out.
Such is life when distanced eight hours apart.
She examined her choices in the mirror: a purple sweater or a green. Her mobile rang, but this time, she ignored it.
Another ring.
Yet another.
Brief silence, only for the noise to resume.
Annoyed, she picked up the persistent device without bothering to check its caller ID.
"What is it, Bran?"
"You don't have a special ringtone just for me? I'm hurt."
"Mm, guess I'll have to put one on if you've decided to call again," she said bitingly. She hesitated. "How's the waves today?"
"Wouldn't know, but I'm sure staring at an awful lot of pigeons." She heard the staccato of a bustling city through the crackle on his side.
"You're in New York?"
"Well, there is a York, but it isn't new." He must have turned into a quieter, residential area.
"So you're in Pennsylvania? Are you visiting Val? If you get a pretzel pocket with her, tell me how it is. She's always saying how delicious Philly's pretzel pockets are."
"Bren, can I give you one piece of advice?" he asked, catching her off guard.
"Uh yeah, sure."
"Go with the purple."
"What?"
Startled, she dropped the purple jumper.
"The green is nice, but you look ravishing in purple. Then again, you look ravishing in the entire spectrum of the rainbow."
"Dylan, how did you -"
"Nice curtains, Bren. Might want to actually close them to avoid any peeping toms."
She gasped and looked out the window.
He stood at her iron gate, holding a mobile up to his ear, waving with his free hand.
"Holy shit."
"Well, you gonna let me in or should I check out this café down the street? I hear it has excellent kebabs. Could get some rashers. Never too late in the day for rashers."
Still staring with her jaw spinning down an emotional water slide to her bare feet, she let her phone topple to the carpet and willed her frozen legs to move towards her shoes, any pair of shoes to soften her sprint across the flooring of her home.
-x
This chapter sprung out of nowhere. I had the next one all set and ready to go for this chapter and then Brandon started monologuing, Cindy joined in and the Walsh family grew. So the beginning of the next chapter instead became a cliffhanger.
There is, evidently, a strong shipping going on of Steve and Bren from a loyal reader, which is both unexpected and flattering that I've unintentionally written their dynamic to the point of shipping them. This is unquestionably a BD fic with their much-deserved happily-ever-after, but I'm not one to stamp on any shipping of BH90210 relationships not named DK (slight joke - better to not engage with DK fans.) It did elicit a curiosity in me as to who the readers feel Steve should be with, since I myself cannot decide. Those who are interested in helping to choose, you'll find a link to a Steve relationship poll in the bio. (But if you choose Bren or Kel, just be aware that Dylan and Brandon say hell no.)
- in case the link has issue: docs. google forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdoPzpjPwfrjtIn92b-zZrtMJ8KEcrAHTQCD6eLBoiL8Lfy8g/viewform
Crystal & brendamckay61 - Hope this chapter answered your inquiries!
Princesskarlita41 & starlite22 - I honestly didn't plan to have Steve and Bren half as close as they became, but they've been extremely easy to write since their first phone call. starlite - If you want more on Steve/Bren, may I recommend the one-shot I wrote recently entitled Knight of the Canary? It's still BD and BnB-centric, but does have a heavy focus on them. Anyone know of a good smush name for Steve and Bren?
In other news, I don't know how this fic possibly managed to get to the same number of chapters as the 70s fic I've been working on for the last four years, or how the West Beverly gang has somehow become even easier to write than the basement gang.
As always, thank you for your readership, reviews, likes, favorites, story follows, author follows, author favorites, differing opinions, etc. Stay healthy and safe out there.