Hayden

by Matt Tims

  Claire looked up from her coffee. “We are?”

  “Yeah, we’re going on the date I had planned when we were fifteen years old,” he announced. “Tomorrow. Make sure you wear sneakers too.”

  She responded an ear-to-ear smile. “Hey, better late than never, right?”

  “Better late than never,” he smiled back.

  The two exchanged numbers and bid each other farewell, but as Mike began to walk away, he suddenly stopped.

  Attaboy. Now go do the one thing you wanted more than anything back in high school.

  He headed back over to the table, softly placed his right hand under her chin, turned her face to him, and planted a kiss on her lips. No amount of sex and no number of drugs had ever given him the high he’d just experienced. That kiss was twenty years in the making, and when he pulled back and gazed into her sparkling blue eyes, he realized there was no chance he would allow this opportunity to slip through his fingers again. This was the girl he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

  Chapter 4 – The Date

  “Where are we going?” Claire asked as she struggled for breath. It’d been a long time since she found herself doing anything physical. “Oh my God, I was in such better shape when I was in high school!”

  Mike laughed as he continued to lead his date through the woods, following a beaten path he’d become very familiar with over his youth.

  “Seriously!” she exclaimed. “We gotta stop!”

  He turned around with a smirk to find her leaning against a paper birch tree. “What about all that field hockey?”

  “That was seventeen years ago!” she declared while tilting her head back for oxygen. “I gotta start doing more cardio.”

  “You still look great to me.”

  She shot him a smile before letting out a long exhale. “Okay, I’m good.”

  “Alrighty…” he said before turning around. “We’re a quarter of the way there…”

  “A quarter of the way there!?” Claire shouted.

  He laughed as the trail led down the steep side of a mountain, the path beginning to zigzag to allow them to descend. “I’m just kidding. We’re almost there.”

  “We have to come back up this way, don’t we?” she asked, still laboring to keep up with her date. “I’m not gonna make it.”

  “I’ll carry you,” he joked. The truth was, he would carry her if she needed him to.

  “There better be a big buffet, or a massage, or something at the end of this,” she playfully remarked.

  His smile couldn’t be bigger. “You’ll see…”

  Mike had played this moment over and over in his mind as a teenager. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in him, but he couldn’t help but feel it was a can’t-miss. It felt perfect.

  The hours he’d spent hiking alone during his childhood had taken him through relatively unexplored acres of Adirondack wilderness. Unmarked trails became easy to navigate throughout his high school days; and while it was close to two decades later, following this path took him right back to his youth. To the days when he would hike with his Discman and headphones in, but none of the music would register in his ears. He wouldn’t hear anything because his mind would be spinning a million miles a minute. He would be busy playing through imaginary conversations and scenarios as his lungs adsorbed the fresh, clean, upstate New York air. His mind was constantly thinking about Claire.

  But it wasn’t 1997. It was 2017. Twenty years had passed. It was a failed marriage and seven years of broken trust later. Discmans didn’t exist anymore. Neither did those bulky, low quality headphones he would explore the rugged terrain in. Now, there were phones that doubled as music libraries and wireless earbuds that removed the need for cords, but some things hadn’t changed—like the woman on his mind.

  A small creek finally came into view. The trail descended another twenty or so feet until they were on the ground, their footsteps following the narrow creek in the quiet, desolate woods. Suddenly, the sound of pouring water came into light.

  Claire smiled. “Oh my God…”

  Mike led his date the length of the long creek which emptied into a small pound. A large, ancient wall of rock towered along the far end of the water—vibrant, green moss scaling the side. Forty feet up, water rushed over the edge and fell down the stone, pouring into the pond below. It was the very waterfall he’d always imagined taking his dream girl to.

  Claire shook her head in amazement. It was like a scene from a movie—out of a Hollywood romance or an animated Disney film she’d grown up on. It was something none of her ex-boyfriend’s would’ve ever dreamed of leading her to. It was—

  She abruptly felt a hand grab her arm.

  “Give me your phone.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your phone,” he repeated. “Give it to me.”

  “Why?” she asked once more.

  “Because I asked,” Mike told her. “Let me see it.”

  Claire dropped her phone in his hand and watched him place it on a rock along with his.

  “It’s a good thing you wore gym clothes,” Mike said while lifting his t-shirt over his head.

  She felt a flutter deep inside her chest as she took in the picture just to her left. Mike didn’t look anything like Bob; but more importantly, he didn’t act like her husband either. This was the excitement she’d always wished for in her life. This was the guy who almost seemed too good to be true. But before she could continue her admiration of his defined midsection, a hand locked around her forearm again.

  Just like he’d wanted to do twenty years ago, he pulled his crush into the pond with him. The cold, knee-deep water quickly gave way to chest-high depth. Slowly but surely, he began leading her toward the waterfall.

  Nervousness had been replaced by excited energy as Claire followed him further into the water. Romance had been redefined to her over the past fifteen years. Being surprised with flowers was merely a fantasy. Those types of experiences only took place in movies and novels. Events like that were for fictional characters. Real people like herself didn’t experience those types of moments. She was greeted by an angry man when she arrived home from work, and his idea of love was to roughly fuck her whether she was in the mood for it or not. That was the kind of affection she’d grown accustomed to over the years; but as that waterfall grew closer, she couldn’t tell if Mike was truly different, or if she was caught up in a romance that should’ve taken place two decades ago.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” she answered with a smile.

  He guided her under the pouring water before pulling her cold body into his, holding her as tightly as he could. Their lips locked and for the second time in two days, Mike kissed his dream girl; and much to his surprise, Claire’s mouth opened, allowing their tongues to dance as the forceful water continued to empty onto their heads and shoulders. He quickly moved her away from the waterfall and smiled as he gazed deep into her blue eyes.

  “That kinda hurt…” he sarcastically said.

  Her eyes shifted in the direction of the pouring water before looking back at her date with a smile. “I know, right?”

  Mike let out a laugh before leaning in and kissing her again. In the waterfall, to the side of it, on the moon—everywhere he took this girl felt like heaven. He knew one thing for certain: he wanted to spend every waking moment with this perfect woman.

  Forty Minutes Later.

  Claire gasped for breath as they exited the woods, back to Mike’s car that was parked on the shoulder of a backcountry road. “I have to start hiking regularly. I’m so out of shape.”

  He popped his trunk and dug around inside, pulling out a beach towel and handing it to her. He was infatuated. Even the simple things she did drove him insane. Like the way she gave her wet hair a playful shake before wrapping the towel around it. And the cuteness of her bright, red nose from the cold water gave him the tingles. Every adorable thing she did caused him to feel like a kid again, and she wasn’t even
trying. It was just how she naturally was.

  He took the towel from her and tossed his date a clean pair of sweatpants and an old Foo Fighters concert t-shirt, allowing the woman he was quickly becoming obsessed with to respond with a grin.

  “I’ll turn around…” he playfully huffed before facing the other direction. The things he would do for a mile-wide mirror to be hovering in the clear blue sky right now.

  “You’re not going to change?” she asked.

  Mike turned back to one of the greatest sights of his life. Claire stood on the side of the road—barefoot—dressed in the same clothes he would wear on a lazy Saturday afternoon. He knew he wanted to see this again. No, not again, but all the time. He needed to see this girl still groggy after sleeping in late on a chilly weekend afternoon, stroll into his kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, and greet him with a big kiss while she was wrapped in one of his shirts. Was it a primal thing? Was it his way of marking her? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t completely sure. It felt more like acceptance. Like a way he could always be with her even if he wasn’t. He wasn’t hugging her at the moment, but his clothes were; so in a way, he was too.

  He used the same towel to dry himself. “I’m good. Ready to go?”

  Claire nodded as the two climbed into his car. “I want to make you dinner.”

  “Yes!” he strongly reacted before attempting to play it cool. “I mean…yes. I would love that.”

  “Tonight,” she told him.

  There was no chance that he would turn down her offer. Tonight, tomorrow, or a year from now—he was in. “Tonight would be great!”

  “I’m not much of a cook, but I’ll do my best,” she said.

  “I’m sure you’re a great cook,” Mike told her before pulling out his phone and syncing it to the car stereo. “But I have a question for ya. What would you be listening to in 1997?”

  “1997…” Claire pondered aloud. “What was I listening to in the tenth grade? I was—oh my God!” She suddenly dropped her head into her hands with embarrassment, her still damp hair dangling below. “Boy bands…”

  “No way!” Mike shouted.

  She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “I loved The Backstreet Boys.”

  “What!?” he yelled. “Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. So, in tenth grade you listened to boy bands, and then you showed up in eleventh grade dressed in all black, and were into goth music? Oh, you sellout!”

  “I know!” she continued to laugh. “I was so easily influenced when I was young.”

  “So, what about thirty-five year-old Claire?” he asked. “Boy bands or goth music?”

  “Definitely more toward goth,” she answered.

  He fiddled with his phone for a few moments before one of his favorite bass lines in the history of music kicked in. If someone told him that he was sixteen years old right now, he would absolutely believe them. He was sitting in his car next to his dream girl, while “Go” by Tones on Tail began blaring through the speakers. This is what his life should’ve been. But he couldn’t go back and change his past; now, he could only create his future.

  Claire’s face lit up as she was taken back to those days alone in her childhood bedroom, listening to music on her headphones. And Mike was probably doing the same thing in his room on the other side of town. All throughout high school and even up until the past week, she had begged for someone to accept her. She just wanted someone to love her for who she was. Mike had been doing that this entire time and she didn’t even know.

  He turned the ignition but left the car in park as his shoulders slowly began to move. Claire watched him turn his head and smile while the sounds of clapping joined that unbelievable bass line.

  “We’re not going anywhere until you start dancing!” he shouted over the music.

  She shook her head, horrified by the notion of him seeing her dance. “I can’t dance!”

  “Neither can I!” he yelled, his head now dipping and flowing with the rest of his upper-body. “But we aren’t going anywhere until you start moving! Come on, goth girl! I know you want to paint your nails black and shadow dance to this!”

  She rolled her eyes before slowly beginning to move.

  “There we go!” Mike encouraged her. “I’m gonna need a little more though.”

  Her body started grooving to the music as she sat in the passenger seat of her former high school classmate’s car. Abruptly, the bass line dropped and she waited for the lyric she was oh-so familiar with. Three…two…one…she turned to Mike and smiled. He smiled back.

  “Go!”

  The car shifted into drive, and the forty-five minute journey back to her apartment was under way.

  Chapter 5 – Spaghetti

  Claire was in a panic. She wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest cook to begin with, so she decided to keep it simple. She couldn’t mess up spaghetti, right? It was one of the simplest dishes to make for a reason, after all.

  She ran to the grocery store after Mike dropped her off, grabbed a few boxes of pasta and two jars of sauce, snagged a loaf of french bread, and hurried home to make dinner. Well, if you want to call it home. Home was a small, dinky apartment with a card table and folding chairs acting as a kitchen table. The only other piece of furniture she owned was a twin size mattress which had yet to be joined by a frame or box spring. To be honest, she was embarrassed by how little progress she’d made in rebuilding her life. Part of her still felt like a child, and as she hurried to check on the now boiling pasta sauce, she was desperate to impress her former crush the best way she could: with a good meal.

  She wasn’t a delusional princess. Claire knew what she was. She was a soon to be divorced thirty-five-year-old woman, with a little extra weight and a face that was beginning to show her age; but at the same time, she wasn’t some staunch feminist. The idea of cooking for her man turned her on. Her man? That certainly had a nice ring to it.

  It’s been a week, Claire. How about you cool it with the happily ever after? You’ve yet to bring anything to the table other than tagging along, so try not to mess this up! Just do your best not to be worthless, okay?

  Buzz.

  Shit! He’s early!

  A big smile washed across her face after scurrying over to the door and opening it. She’d texted Mike to keep it casual, but she wasn’t sure if he would know just how casual she’d meant. The truth was she didn’t have any nice clothes. Her dresses, skirts, and higher end fashion were still in her closet back in the place she used to call home. The black yoga pants and pink t-shirt she’d managed to stuff into her gym bag were about the best she could do at the moment—especially on her limited budget. “Relief” would be the best word to describe her mood at the sight of Mike wearing a pair of orange basketball shorts and a gray t-shirt.

  “Wine for the lady?” he asked with a medieval accent as he held out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

  “Red wine,” Claire giggled. “The key to my heart.”

  Five Minutes Later.

  “How hungry are ya?”

  Mike watched her dump a sizable amount of pasta onto the paper plate in front of him. “Very.”

  “Sorry, I haven’t gotten any real dishes yet,” she apologized for the juvenile setup.

  “Hey, I’m not eating the plate,” he joked.

  Claire laughed before allowing a substantially smaller amount of spaghetti to land on her own plate. She strutted over to the counter and placed the pan of pasta that had already been mixed with sauce back on the stove. She made sure to do one final check before taking a seat.

  Pasta?

  Check.

  French Bread?

  Check.

  Wine…in plastic cups?

  Check.

  “Oh!” she shouted, running back to the kitchen area. She dug through a bag and quickly returned with a tall dinner candle and a small holder to place it in.

  “Fancy…” Mike teased.

  She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and lit it.
/>   “This is awesome, Claire,” he told her. “It really is.”

  Truth be told, this was about as fancy as Mike liked it. Paper plates, plastic cups, and pasta were all right up his alley. It was a hell of a lot better than going out to some overpriced restaurant where you have to wait forty minutes for your food to come out; and when he watched his date sit across from him in her gym clothes, he knew this was the way he wanted to eat dinner for the rest of his life.

  “Okay, dig in,” she announced.

  He punched his plastic fork into the pasta, gave it a quick twist, and raised the tasty looking dish to his lips. To say that he was hungry would be an understatement. The eating utensil swiftly slid into his mouth and he bit down.

  Claire was locked on his every movement. She wanted to watch his face light up when he tasted her cooking. She made sure to go extra heavy on the sauce and butter to make it as delicious as possible; but when he took his first taste of her dinner, she wasn’t greeted by the reaction she’d expected.

  He took a few struggling chews before eventually swallowing his mouthful. He looked up and smiled. “Good. No, great!”

  Something wasn’t right. There was a hint of surprise on his face after he took that first bite. She wasn’t always the most aware person in the world, but even she couldn’t miss that one.

  He quickly wrapped more of the saucy strands around his fork and slipped it into his mouth, eager to show her just how much he loved his dinner. Claire’s eyes shifted down to the pasta on her own plate as she hesitantly stuck her fork into it. She lifted some to her mouth and allowed her teeth to clench down.

  Crunch.

  That didn’t happen. Claire, you imagined that. Just take another bite. Everything will be normal after you do.

  Crunch!

  Holy shit! You fucked up pasta!

  He watched her face turn a ghostly white. He could feel her panic; and while she was looking at him, he could tell she wasn’t really there.

  “Claire…Claire!” he firmly spoke up in an attempt to grab her attention. “It’s great. Really. It is.”