Never Too Late : A Romantic Story

by Rachel Sabor

  "Y-you're welcome," she said. He broke the hug and took a step away. He gave her a little nod and walked out of the courtyard. And so Amy remained alone, a bit shocked and shaken.

  It was then that she realized she had feelings for him. It wasn't so much a revelation as an expected confirmation of things she had fleetingly thought before. Cale was a good person. He was handsome, honest, and seemed to genuinely care about his charity work, and - if his reaction to Tim's death was any indication - his friends.

  She smiled a bit. Thoughts of Brad rose and were quickly squashed. Cale, she realized, was someone she wanted to spend time with. The sick feeling of hopelessness that had been like an old companion at that pointwas silent for a time. It was silent for the rest of the day as well.

  #

  She broke things off with Brad. The guy yelled and screamed and then started to plead and cry. Amy had found herself without sympathy. Brad was truly a pathetic individual, a waste of space, a cockroach. He, in the end, was nothing. All she could feel during his little tirade was a sense of shame that it had taken her this long to get the ball rolling on her own life.

  Her position at work had improved too. She no longer worked part-time, but had had a discussion with the manager which had led to a full-time position. Technically, she still held the same exact job, but she got paid more, and didn't have to sweat her bills as much.

  She still had to worry about them, but they didn't present the same kind of catatonic dread they had once before.

  Things at Carrie Cares continued well enough. The drives they organized operated well enough. People donated and Amy's group relished in the job well done. She even spent some time at the soup kitchens and community centers, doing her own part to help. Though she still sought out charity work as her own validation, she began to feel like she generally liked helping these people. Each person she helped needed it, these weren't the privileged who bemoaned their fate from their soap boxes, these were the real people who needed to be fed or they would starve. It made her feel good to help them.

  So, when Cale called Amy up one night to see if she wanted to meet up with him and some friends at a local bar, Amy felt wonderful. Things were finally turning around. She put on the best casual outfit she could find, which amounted to little more than a white blouse and skinny jeans, and she spent a decent amount of time making herself up in her bathroom mirror.

  She even noticed a few looks from other men as she walked down the street, and though those had always made her a bit nervous, she took them in stride this night. Soon Amy reached the bar Cale had told her about, and elbowed her way through the crowd to the table at the back, where Cale had said they would be.

  Someone was leaning on Cale. A girl. Her age. Blonde hair. Skirt. Tight shirt. She was leaning on him and whispering things into her ear, and as Amy approached, licked it. Cale, at least, had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. When he saw Amy coming, he stood up and motioned her over. "Hey Amy!"

  She said "Hi," and greeted the rest of them. Jacob and Deb were there, and though they seemed happy to see her, Amy saw that they wore frowns. The frowns were directed at the girl who hung on Cale like a badly setup ornament.

  "This is Lizzie," Cale mumbled, indicating the girl.

  "Hello," she slurred, and reached out a hand to shake Amy's. Amy took it, gave it a single pump, and planted herself down next to Jacob.

  The evening deteriorated quickly. Everyone did their best to stay civil and polite, but Lizzie's presence hung over them like a thick, dark cloud. She barely said anything. Rather, she seemed to think it more prudent to plaster herself all over Cale. She licked his ear, nibbled his neck, and kept trying to kiss him.

  That he resisted wasn't so much a testament to impulse control, Amy thought, but rather disgust. She didn't know how men found such people attractive, but she didn't think anyone would find someone so sloppy and all over the place appealing.

  From time to time, she tried to get a word in. Jacob and Deb were both polite listeners, and the new people she'd never met were friendly as well. All she had really wanted to do was talk to Cale, but the Lizze made it impossible.

  Things took a turn for the worst, when, after downing two shots - one meant for her, the other meant for Cale - Lizzie hiccupped, and puked out. Fortunately - within the context of the situation - she had been facing away from the table towards the floor. Leaning her back against Cale as if he were a chair. The dark liquid spilled from her and splattered on the floor. Everyone went quiet.

  Cale looked mortified. "I'm sorry," he said, without making eye contact with anyone. "I'm real sorry."

  He helped Lizzie up, and then guided her out the door. The bartender shouted at him as the left, and the other patrons shook their head as they walked out.

  "Well," Jacob said. "That was unpleasant."

  "Very," Deb said.

  Amy stayed quiet, watching the two walk out. It hurt. It really hurt. She had liked Cale, and knew Cale had liked her at one point. Was this the kind of person he really went for, though?

  Drunken messes? She had thought him a better person than that. She had thought him a mature, happy, good person. The bar had already smelled like stale beer, but the aroma of vomit made it worse. Amy excused herself shortly afterwards.

  Deb managed to take hold of her arm before she stepped out. "You okay?" She asked.

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  Deb frowned. "Right," she said. "Look, don't get yourself down about that idiot Cale was with. Why don't you stay with us a bit longer?"

  "Thanks, but I'm okay." She gently disengaged herself from Deb's grip and continued walking out. Then she stopped. She looked out at the streetlights from outside and listened to the people around her. Cale was just Cale. He wasn't the only person she knew at Carrie Cares. And if Deb was any indication, they too cared about her. "You know what?" She said, turning back to Deb. "I will stay. Sorry."

  Deb smiled and put her arm around Amy's shoulder. "That's the spirit. Cale's great but he can be a moron sometimes. Come on, let's get a drink and get back to the table."

  "Mind if we find a new table?" Amy asked as they headed for the bar.

  "Don't worry," Deb said as she waved over a bartender. "They'll drop some chemicals on it that smell like lime. The stuff will eat our brains, but at least it'll smell nice."

  "Oh joy," Amy said as the bartender made his way over.

  #

  Amy didn't so much avoid Cale at the organization over the next few days, she just chose tasks to do that she figured would take her out of his way. He was busy doing his things, and she was busy doing hers. One day, about a week after Lizzie had puked, she saw the girl pick Cale up in a nice looking car.

  She couldn't believe it. Actually, she could, but she didn't want to. She had figured Cale would've wised up, but apparently she hadn't.

  Sothose things were stewing around in her mind, as she moved a couple of boxes with canned food into a storage area, when she bumped into Cale quite unexpectedly. "Oh, hey," he said.

  "Hi," Amy said, going around him with her box.

  "Are you okay?" Cale called after her. She heard him start to follow her. "You've been acting weird the last few days."

  "I haven't been acting weird," Amy said, shoving her box into place on an eye-level shelf.

  "If anything, you've been acting weird."

  "How so?" Cale leaned against the shelf, crossed his arms and smiled at her. He always seemed to be smiling, to her. Except when Tim died or Lizzie puked, of course. "I figured myself the same as ever."

  "It's that girl," Amy said, turning to face him with certainfinality. "Lizzie. She's an idiot."

  The smile faded, and Cale began to rub his temples with his fingers. "Look, don't start with this crap, okay? Joseph and Deb have already given me an earful, and I don't fear like hearing it."

  "Fine," Amy said with a shrug. She brushed her way past him and headed down the hall.

  "Do you think she's an idiot because of how she acted that one
day, or because she's with me?" Cale followed her again. His tone had a real bite to it. For someone who didn't want to hear it, he seemed intent on hearing it anyway.

  This felt wrong. This cold, stinging anger. It froze her over. This was just like Brad. Brad would turn things around. Twist words, twist perceptions, even twist lies until they were to his own benefit. She knew this game. She didn't want to think Cale as capable of it, but she could hear it in the inflection in his voice. "Just drop it," she said, not wanting to continue with it all.

  "No, seriously." Cale was angry now. "What's the problem? Are you jealous or something? I liked you, you know. But you thought I was just some asshole."

  "Whoa," Amy shouted, turning to face him. She knew better than to get riled up with the accusation, but it had made her hot. She seethed at the man who had been her friend. "I asked you back off. You even said you were out of line, don't try to turn this around on me. I haven't done anything to you, once. You're the genius who picked some drunken mess."

  "No, I picked you-"

  "And I told you no. So you should've backed off, but you shouldn't have jumped into the arms of some slob."

  "She's not a slob, she works-"

  "I don't care where she works." She steamrolled over everything Cale tried to throw at her. She didn't care that he couldn't get a word in, because he didn't deserve to get a word in. She was pissed, and this felt good. "I don't give a shit about her."

  "Well, that's fine." Cale stopped following her. "Because the truth is, Amy, that I don't give a shit about you." He spun on his heels and marched away, leaving Amy in the hall.

  "Fine," she shouted at his back, but the words felt hollow. Oh, they had the same push she had been using, but they felt flat to her ears. She wanted to tell him to come back, that she was sorry, but she wasn't. It wasn't fair to her to pretend that she was okay with what had just happened. "This is the way it is," she said to no one. She stood alone in the hall for a time, before she returned to the meeting room for her next task.

  #

  Things were not going well for Amy. Or rather, they were, but she found she couldn’t enjoy them. She had gotten promoted to full-time at work, and made more money. Her friends from Carrie Cares invited her out pretty frequently, and she enjoyed her time with them. She enjoyed her work at the organization, and at the coffee shop as well. Still, she felt guilty.

  Not about Cale, which is what she expected the initial feelings of guilt were about. No, she had realized after some deep introspection, that she felt guilty about still being at Carrie Cares. She knew she helped people, but if she was being honest with herself, she thought she had gotten what she needed from the place. She had originally joined Carrie Cares to give herself a sense of worth. It had worked, to a degree. She was more confident in herself, had more truer friends, and a wealth of experiences.

  Nevertheless, despite all the good she did, she felt she had hit a plateau. Another benefit or canned food drive wouldn't help her improve herself. That's what she wanted, to improve.

  That's what she had wanted all along.

  She still attended the Carrie Cares meetings, and though she threw herself into it, she knew in her heart she was elsewhere. She was gaining experience some place else, she was meeting new people, seeing and doing new things. She wanted to go.

  Amy confessed her feelings to Deb and Joseph, and both of them had encouraged her. She felt lucky to have these two as good friends, and felt bad about leaving them and not spending as much time as she should've with them. "This place does good work," Joseph said. "But it's really just a stepping stone towards self-betterment."

  "Yeah," Deb said. "What he said."

  So she steeled herself to leave, but found she couldn't. And this, she knew and attributed to, Cale. Their argument had jostled something in her. She couldn't bring herself to be angry with him anymore, but she couldn't bring herself to initiate a conversation that might repair the damage.

  Her assignments retained her vigor, but she knew she wanted to be gone. She just needed a catalyst to do so. She tried a bunch of mental techniques she found on the Internet. Positive self-talk, mental framing, simple pep-talks.

  She was in the midst of one of the latter, as she left Carrie Cares one night, when she heard what sounded like shouting. Amy followed the noise out to the courtyard, where she found Cale, sitting in the same spot he had been when his friend had died. "I'm not going to change my mind," he said into the phone. "That's it. We're done." He went silent for a little while, before shaking his head and shouting, "Goodbye Lizzie," with a sense of finality and hanging up. He put his phone back in his pocket, let out a groan, and dropped his head into his hands. "Thank God," he mumbled to himself.

  "Cale?" Amy asked.

  He looked up at her, like a deer in headlights. "Uh, hi."

  "Hi." Amy, without thinking much about it, walked to one of the chairs that still lay around the place, and sat down. "Are you okay?"

  He shrugged and grinned. "Just, breaking up with Lizzie."

  "I'm sorry."

  "I'm not. But thanks."

  They sat for a while, the sun setting over the rooftops. "Listen," Amy started.

  "I wasn't brave enough to break up with her to her face," Cale suddenly said, his face red. "I couldn't. I knew I'd cave. This was the best way I could do it. I guess I could've done it over text message or something, but I'm not a bastard."

  "No," Amy said. "You're not." Then, with a clarity she hadn't felt in a while, said, "I'm leaving Carrie Cares."

  "What?"

  She stood up and dusted her legs off, even though there was nothing on them. "I've done all I can here," she said. "I want to move on. I want to do more, see more, be more. I appreciate this place, and maybe I'll come back to help out some time, but for right now, I'm leaving."

  Cale stood up. "Does this have anything to do with us?"

  "I thought it did," Amy admitted. "But no, this is about me."

  "I know I've been stupid, Amy. I'm sorry for all that crap I said to you the other day. You were right about Lizzie. You were right about me too. I want us to be friends, and to hang out like we did before all this went down."

  "I'd like that too," Amy said, and she started to walk away. "But I don't think I can right now."

  This was the push she had needed. Not some pretty talk online. A closure, a resolution, a something. This was physical. She could feel this. She would go on to better things, always carrying with her the things she had learned from Carries Cares, Cale, and the others. It would be good. Not perfect, but better than what she had been only a short time ago. She believed in herself now, and she would continue to do so.

  "I want you to stay," Cale said. He didn't sound desperate, but she heard it in the spaces between his words, and the silence before and after. It was strange, she thought, how much they had relied on each other without realizing it. Perhaps Cale had needed her more than she had ever needed him. If that were true, and again she knew this with an unbelievable clarity, then he needed this more than she did too. Cale's journey may still involve Carrie Cares, but it didn't involve Amy anymore.

  "Thank you," Amy said. "But I can't."

  Then she was gone, and Cale was alone.

  #

  Four Months Later

  Amy lifted the box with the new K-Cups and moved them into place on the display. "Nice," her manager said. "Very nice. Think they'll sell?"

  "They better," Amy said with a smile.

  "I'm very pleased with your recent work," her manager said, almost as an aside. "You've been doing well around her."

  "Thanks." She smiled up at him. "Not to counter what you just said, but mind if I take off a few minutes early? My running group is meeting a bit further away from our usual spot."

  "Sure, sure," her manager waved her away like it was no big deal. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Thanks. See you later." Amy waved at him and jogged out of the store.

  She had joined the running group a month after she'd l
eft Carrie Cares. She had started to go jogging, and had felt so good while doing it, she had looked for others to go running with.

  Overall, she was vastly improving her health, and her new gusto for work had earned her a recent raise. From time to time, she hung out with Jacob and Deb from Carrie Cares, and they would talk about all the old times.

  They never went out with Cale, though. "He was a little weird when you left," Deb admitted, "but he got over it. He's fine now, but I don't think he's ready to see you."

  "I can understand that," Amy had said. She could, too. She wasn't sure she was ready to see Cale either. It had been four months since she'd left, and she still believed the separation had helped spur her on. She also still believed it would be good for Cale in the long run, but sometimes she thought about calling him. Sometimes she dreamed about him, but only rarely and never in an overly sexual or romantic way. She did miss him though. When they had been friends, every day had brimmed with possibility and purpose. She still had those, but having Cale around had also felt good.

  It had been a while since Amy had gone speechless, but when she jogged around the corner from her coffee shop and bumped into Cale, she felt it. He stood there, handsome as ever, looking at her with a shocked expression she felt sure must've looked like hers. "Hi," she said, after what felt like a minute.

  "Hey," he said. "Wow. You look great."

  He blushed and she blushed at the comment. "Thanks," she said, breaking eye contact. "You look good too."

  "How've you been?" He asked.

  "I'm fine, you?"

  "Good," he said with a nod. "Good."

  They stood there for a minute, sharing pointless information. "I've got to get going," Amy said. "I'm going to be late for my running club. It was great to see you." She wanted to stay, but something compelled her to keep moving.

  "Want to get dinner later?" He asked.

  She stopped midstride and turned back. "Huh?"

  "Do you want to go out with me later? For dinner. On a date." His face was resolute, and he looked as dead set on anything he had ever had.