“Thanks.” I fold the garment over my arm. “I’ll try it on.”
She picks up a dress and lays it over her form, inspecting herself in the mirror. “So, you’re okay though?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m just worried about you.” Facing me, her expression full of concern. “I don’t want you to get hurt again, and it seems like a lot of work with him. The whole thing.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe it will be, but I don’t care. I just can’t…” I sigh as I’m at a loss for how to justify Brent and I to her. It’s impossible. There’s no way to explain that I don’t even see the issues. All I see is him.
“I get it,” Mara says, turning her palms upward in a motion of surrender. “It’s what you want, and nothing will make you think otherwise.”
“No, it really won’t.”
She brushes my shoulder as she walks past me before stopping at the next rack over.
“You know,” she says with the utmost sincerity, “if he fucks this up with you, I might just cut his balls off.”
“Subtle, Mar,” I say in a snarky tone, “very subtle. I’m a big girl, and I’ll be fine. I don’t think you need to worry.”
“I’ll sharpen my knives just in case.”
Twelve
Three weeks, but who’s counting? Me.
The longer we’re apart, the harder it is to remember what it feels like when we’re together. I keep thinking that it might be all in my head, that such a fantastical feeling couldn’t possibly be true. I hope that my tickling doubt is a lie.
With my school schedule filled with assignments and exams, I haven’t been able to make another trip out to California. Brent has been busy, too. Almost every day has been crammed with practices in preparation for each upcoming match. I had no idea it was so intense.
The sun is setting fast on this Sunday afternoon as I wait for Brent’s call, mindlessly biding my time by working on a paper. He has a game this evening, and it’s an important one, deciding whether or not his team will head to the Cup Finals. His team is favored to win, meaning it will likely be another week or two before I can see him again.
Time ticks away while I anticipate hearing his voice again.
Every.
Minute.
One.
After.
The.
Next.
He should be calling soon, very soon. I need to stop looking at the time.
The phone finally rings, displaying an image of Brent. It’s his roster picture from the club website. When we were together last, it didn’t occur to me to take a picture, so I grabbed this one. I let it ring twice, trying to convince myself that I’m not desperate to hear his voice.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Every time he speaks to me, the tone of his voice splices straight to my veins.
“Are you at the stadium?” I ask.
“Yeah, we are breaking now for a little bit. How are you doing?”
I close my schoolbook. “Not bad. Just working on a paper. How about you?”
“Fine.” He laughs. “Are we done with the small talk?”
“Sure. I can give it up anytime.”
“Good, because I wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Thursday’s Thanksgiving, and with the way we’re playing, I don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere. I know you mentioned that you were planning on spending the holiday with Cody, but would you consider coming out to be with me?”
I don’t know what to say. I’m overcome by the proposition. There are so many things to consider—the timing, Cody, cost, work, school.
“If you’re worried about the flight, don’t,” he adds. “I’ll buy your ticket.”
“It’s a lot of money,” I remark in protest.
“I don’t care. I just want to see you again.”
There’s nothing more I’d rather do than see him soon, but explaining to Cody my sudden change of plans would be interesting. Fuck it. He’ll find out eventually anyhow, and it’s not like Brent and I need to be a secret. It’s complicated, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“Yeah, I can make that happen,” I answer.
“Really? I was going to head up to see my mom for the day, but she’s so busy with work, and I have a feeling she’ll be occupied with a client project.”
“She’s going to work on Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.” There’s a tinge of disgust in his voice. “I guess the client requires it sometimes.”
“Then, I’ll be there for sure.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Brent?”
“Ruby?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking it’ll be so good to see you again.” He sighs.
I lock down my longing. Three weeks is a long time when noticing every hour without someone. It’s gone by so slowly.
“I really miss you,” I tell him.
“Hang in there. We’ll be together again very soon.”
“It seems that way.”
“It sure does. I’ve gotta get going and join the guys. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll make arrangements for your flight.”
“Sounds good. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks. Are you going to watch?”
“Maybe just the updates online. I’m writing a paper tonight, too.”
“Well, get it done,” he encourages. “Don’t worry about the game.”
“That’s right. You worry about the game.”
“Exactly.” I can visualize him smiling right now. “Okay, I really need to go now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
“Don’t forget,” he says, like he does every time when we’re about to hang up.
“I never could. Soon. I remember, soon.”
“Very soon.” He sighs. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
Ending the call, I grin like a fool. Talking every day really does help, and to think we will be seeing each other in less than a week is just…wonderful. Cody will be pissed, but I will deal with him when I get back. I’ll call him tomorrow to let him know what’s going on and then give him a few days to cool off and get used to it. He has his own life to focus on, and I’m focusing on mine.
Over the next few hours, I finish my paper, taking longer than I thought, but that’s due to the fact that I keep checking the score for Brent’s game. It’s almost eleven at night. His team is ahead by two points, and the end of the game is near. It’s highly likely that they will be heading to the finals as predicted.
I have to get up early in the morning to take the train to class, so I change into the shirt I swiped from Brent’s closet. It’s my nightly reminder of him. I shut off my lights and tuck into bed. Through heavy lids, I check the score of the game on my phone. My eyes eventually close and don’t open again as I fall fast asleep.
~~~*~~~
With weighted arms, I push the paddle through the murky water in the early morning light. The fog is thick above the dull lake, and like a sea of moist dust, it’s obstructing my view.
“Just keep going,” a voice says from behind me.
I look over my shoulder, finding no one there. The blanket of mist is too dense.
“It will be fine,” he says again.
This time, I recognize the voice, and a calm comes over me.
“Okay,” I reply to Brent.
Turning back around, I plunge the paddle back into the water, pushing forward. I trust him, knowing he would never lead me into danger.
The visibility is minimal for some time, but as the sun rises farther into the sky, the fog lifts, and a small island comes into view. Knowing where we are, I whip my head around, and I’m finally able to see Brent. It’s not the Brent from our teenage years who took me to this very place years before, but it’s the one who made love to me before saying good-bye not too long ago in California. It’s the Brent who
has grown into the man beyond our days from this island and the place where we began as a couple.
“We’re almost there,” he says, a content smile plastered across his face.
“I know,” I excitedly say. Facing forward, I urge us to shore with his assistance.
The sun is high in the sky, and the mist has completely dissipated. We exit the small sea craft and haul it up the small beach of our island. It’s just as I remember—vivid and lush with flowers and trees spanning the private space made just for us.
Like déjà vu, Brent grasps my hand and pulls me into the wooded area that’s full of our secrets. They’ve been waiting and resting for our return.
Here, a tree whispers inside my head. He kissed you here.
And here, another says.
Here, too, more of the trees utter as we weave toward the beach.
As we pass every one of the tall oaks, my heart swells, feeling the passion from each one of those kisses, those caresses, and those tender touches. The memories of our young love beat against my soul.
At the wooded edge and through a small meadow of spring flowers, Brent leads me to the narrow beach overlooking the glassy lake framed by trees on either side. A blanket appears where the water begins, and I find myself seated between Brent’s legs, his arms resting over my shoulders.
“I told you.” Brent’s voice cradles my soul.
“You told me what?”
“That I would always come for you.”
I close my eyes. “How do you know where to find me?”
“Finding you is easy.” His lips graze the shell of my ear. “Because that’s where I find me.”
The water laps near our feet, and I melt into him completely. We’re finally one with absolutely no barriers at all.
~~~*~~~
The alarm on my phone gently alerts me that it’s time to get up. My hand clumsily grabs it from the space next to me on the bed. Groggy, I silence the tone and then place it on the nearby table.
In a very lazy and autopilot-like fashion, I toss Brent’s shirt into the laundry basket, and then shower. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my hand brushes the raised, uneven skin on my left arm, evidence of a past pain. Nothing mends perfectly, and the scars are reminders. I barely notice it anymore, but it still causes my gut to flip. Not lingering too long on that thought, I hurriedly get dressed.
The sun has yet to rise as I slip on my jacket and pull my schoolbag over my shoulder, heavy with my laptop and books. Tugging the beanie hat over my ears, I go to the bedside table to get my phone. Quickly checking the time to make sure I’m not running late, I discover a text message from Brent. Opening it up, I immediately acknowledge the hour it was sent, around two this morning while I was sleeping. I must have been so exhausted that I never even heard the alert.
Brent: Change of plans. We lost, and the season is over. I’ll come to you. We’ll talk tomorrow. Hope you are sleeping well.
A guilty joy develops as I read the words a few more times. His season is over, and that means we can see each other without a forty-eight hour expiration. We can be together. It’s all I want.
I tuck the phone into my coat pocket and open the door. I need to get on the train soon, so I don’t miss my class. Entering the hallway, I turn the dead bolt and then walk to the end of the hall before quickly descending the steps. At the first landing, my shoulder brushes with another tenant on the way up as I hurry to exit the building.
“Whoa,” he says, grabbing around my waist.
My head snaps, meeting a pair of bright, magnetic eyes and a mischievous grin.
The world stops like a dream, but this isn’t a dream.
This is real. Fatigue echoes underneath his radiating joy.
“What are you…how?”
“I couldn’t wait.” Brent’s face relaxes, and he wraps his other arm behind my back, pressing our bodies flush together, our winter coats touching. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Thirteen
Just past three in the afternoon, I ride aboard the train back to my apartment. My stop is getting close, so I stand to wait near the doors.
Surrealism has encompassed my day, which has gone by in much of a blur. Brent’s arrival this morning was beyond unexpected and more than surprising, but I still had commitments to attend to.
After the initial shock set in and we held each other briefly, I needed to be on my way. I walked him to my apartment, listening to him tell me about his rash decision to catch the red-eye flight the moment the game ended. He rushed home, packed a few things, and barely got on the plane in time for it to take off. Once he appeared to be settled and he assured me he would be fine, I gave him a key and told him to make himself at home and that I would be back as soon as possible.
Thoughts of skipping my classes crossed my mind, but I couldn’t with the quarter quickly coming to a close, and I had a paper due. The day went by slowly as I counted every minute in a daze, still in shock that he was here and waiting for me at my house.
Our time apart is over.
The train slows, my stop is announced, and the doors open just as the car comes to a rest. With an energetic step, I exit onto the platform and descend the stairs to the sidewalk below. I only have to walk six blocks, and I am home in so many ways.
About a block away from the station, my phone rings in my pocket. Excitedly, I grab it, thinking it’s Brent, only to be disappointed by Cody’s name and image flashing on the screen. Sighing, I answer the call, knowing a conversation will have to happen soon anyhow. I’m supposed to be driving to his house in a few days.
“Hi, Cody,” I say, slowing my pace to hear him better. “What’s up?”
“Well, nice to talk to you, too,” he jokes. “So much for niceties.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease. “Are we going to start being nice to each other now?”
“Hey, I’m always nice.”
“Okay, if you say so.” I turn off the main thoroughfare filled with many passing cars and onto a quieter side street. “So, what’s up?” I ask again, completely avoiding the impending conversation.
“Shauna wants to know if you want to bring a dessert or an appetizer and if you are coming up on Wednesday night.”
“Actually…” This is it. “I don’t think I’m going to come at all.”
“And why not? What do you have going on that’s so important on Thanksgiving?”
It’s a fair question since my life has been pretty boring and predictable for the last few years.
“Well, I kind of have company,” I say, skirting around the full truth, “from out of town.”
“Oh, well, bring them along, too. We have room.”
The answer of, No, is my first instinct. There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to the torture of us all being in the same room…yet.
“I think we’re just going to stay here. I don’t want to put you guys out.”
“Don’t be like that. You won’t be putting us out at all. Who is it by the way? A friend from Florida?”
“No,” I hesitate, “not Florida. Someone from back home.”
“Your friend Lexi?”
“No.” I reach the end of the block, stopping for the rest of the conversation. “It’s Brent.”
Silence.
It’s heavy, intentional, and full-of-judgment silence.
“Cody?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say Brent? As in Cromwell?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t know any others.”
Silence.
I don’t even hear his breaths.
A couple walks hand in hand at the park across the street, traveling the length of six cars parked along the side of the road, as I wait and listen to nothing on the other line. Cody’s quiet is more frightening than his moments of rage.
“He’s here in town,” I say tentatively, “and I’m going to spend Thanksgiving with him.”
A long sound of air enters through the phone as Cody takes a calming breath.<
br />
“Why didn’t you just tell me before?” he questions.
He’s trying to be reasonable. We’ve both come a long way.
“I didn’t know he was coming, I just found out this morning.”
“So, what does this mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you seeing him? Or is he just here to get in your pants?”
That hurts. It hurts badly.
“That’s none of your business,” I reply defensively, continuing toward my building. “But if you must know, I’m seeing him. Okay?”
“And you’re just now telling me?” He’s flabbergasted.
“We literally just decided to spend the holiday together last night. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not talking about Thanksgiving. I’m talking about him. How long have you been seeing him?”
“About a month.” Might as well give it all to him. “I went out to L.A. a few weeks ago, too.”
“Wait.” Cody exerts a few tongue-tying sounds, not making any sense at all. “What the hell? Now, you’re taking secret trips across the country?”
I don’t know how to respond. He’s got me there. At the time, I wanted to keep what was happening with Brent and me a private thing since I wasn’t sure where it would lead, but in retrospect, traveling two thousand miles and not telling anyone is a big deal.
“What are you?” he continues. “Are you ashamed or something?”
“No. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I just didn’t want to deal with the shit I knew you would hand out—like you’re doing now.”
“Hell yeah, I’m giving you shit. Do you need a reminder of what happened? ’Cause I’m happy to recap it for you. That fucker left you, and I had to pick up the pieces. Shit, Ruby! How could you even forgive him for what he did?”
“Because there’s nothing to forgive. He didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”
“You must be blind. You want to go through that again? Back there?”
“I’m not going back there,” I tell him through tight lips. “That was a long time ago. I’ve paid my dues, too.”
These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow Page 44
