Sushi and Sun Salutations

by Hutchinson, Heidi

  Or at least what she was afraid she was walking into.

  The entire drive over, her mind had been a carousel of thoughts. All she could think about was that Kip’s blue bus was the prettiest shade she’d ever seen and she wondered if it was an original color or if it was custom. She was also wondering if he’d ever been camping in the back of the bus. And that thought led to her picturing herself camping with him—which was where her brain would loop back to the start. And she wondered at the sky-blue bus she was following.

  Bringing her vehicle to a full stop seemed to trigger all of the fears that had been held at bay during the drive.

  And underneath the fear was the sickening sensation that she was already too deep with him. They were new friends. Not the kind to share life and death secrets with.

  Yet she felt a certain measure of betrayal even though she knew she had no right to it.

  Why was her attachment to him so strong? It didn’t make sense; they had barely just met. But since that day, and every day after, he had become increasingly important to her.

  Important. Significant. Consequential.

  How was she supposed to ask the questions she had? All the words in the world were swirling through her mind with no hope of reasonable sentences spontaneously appearing.

  She stepped out of her car and removed her work blazer. She hadn’t gone home to change. Hadn’t even considered it.

  That left her in her high-waisted dove gray pencil skirt and a pale pink satin cami.

  As her gray pumps clomped up the wooden steps, she decided she’d shed those once she was inside.

  Kip opened the door just as she reached the top. His normally open expression was guarded. Reserved.

  “Hey,” she said as he stepped aside to let her through.

  She kicked her shoes to the corner where they were engulfed in the pile of over-sized man sneakers. Her bare feet on the wood floor had a grounding effect and she stilled—both in body and mind.

  “Have you—uh, did you tell anyone?” Kip asked, averting his gaze and swallowing hard.

  Tessa was taken aback. “No. Of course not.”

  He closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders.

  “I wouldn’t even know what to tell… or to whom…who? Whom?”

  Kip’s lips twitched with the hint of a smile and Tessa reached for it.

  Her fingers grazed his cheek as she cupped the side of his face and her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.

  “Are you going to ruin my day?” she asked, a tightness erupting in her chest at the thought that this beautiful man had a terrible secret.

  Kip’s hand covered hers and he forced a smile. “I sure hope not.”

  He gripped her hand in his and led her into the kitchen where he nodded to the chair she’d occupied just a few days ago.

  “How do you feel about homemade dumplings?” he asked, opening and closing cupboards.

  “I feel hungry towards them,” she answered honestly.

  Normally, a person doing an activity of any kind while she waited for more information would cause her to think they were avoiding the subject.

  But she’d realized with Kip he needed to be using his hands in order to get his thoughts in order.

  So, she waited.

  “When I was sixteen I was diagnosed with Classical Hodgkin Lymphoma.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you know what that is?”

  She swallowed and nodded her head. She knew enough anyway. Her job required her to know all the major cancers.

  The definition popped into her head, as if being accessed by a search engine filtering through her brain.

  Classical Hodgkin Lymphoma: A cancer of the immune system—marked by the presence of a type of cell called the Reed-Sternberg cell. There are four subtypes based on the shape of the cancer cells. Childhood Hodgkin Lymphoma often occurs in adolescents between 15-19 years of age.

  Kip sprinkled some flour onto his workspace on the counter.

  “It was fairly advanced when they caught it and we—I—chose to undergo high dose chemo stem cell replacement.”

  “That’s—uh…” Tessa tried to work moisture back into her mouth as pages flashed before her eyes detailing the many types of treatment and specifically what her company contributed to.

  Kip nodded solemnly at her. He knew what she knew. His treatment had been painful and intense.

  “So, as a result, I missed quite a bit of school.”

  “Is that why I don’t remember you?” she asked, her voice sounding foreign in her own ears. Foreign and afraid.

  Kip hummed in contemplation. “Maybe. But when I was there I didn’t exactly look the same. I was skinny and my hair was thinning. I never lost it all, but I lost a lot. Mostly on top. My friends think I just went bald prematurely.”

  “Your hat…” She put together the clues. He always wore the beanie. But especially around his friends. Sometimes he took it off around her. Was that because he felt comfortable around her? Or was it simply an oversight?

  He nodded as if he could read her mind. “I always wear it.” He dipped his head to the side in her direction. “Except with you. Sometimes.”

  Why me? Am I important? Does his heart do that weird skip thing that mine does when we laugh at the same time?

  Focus. Breathe.

  Tessa followed her own advice and took an extra breath to redirect her attention.

  “But your friends…don’t they know?” she asked, not sure if she believed that a person could hide something as huge as cancer from their closest friends.

  “No.” His jaw tightened, and he pursed his lips. “No one knows.” He glanced over at her again. “Just you.”

  Okay. So her heart did that weird skip when he looked at her like that too. Or maybe it was the words he’d said and all that they implied.

  Skip.

  “Wait.” Tessa placed the fingertips of one hand on the table and she frowned in disbelief. “You went through this major life altering event, and you never told anyone?”

  He shrugged one shoulder and watched his hands work. “I didn’t want anyone to worry. I wanted at least one part of my life to be untouched by it. They would have treated me…different.”

  Tessa’s lips parted but she had no words.

  “And it’s not a big deal. Not now anyway. I’ve been ‘better’ for more than ten years. There’s no reason to tell anyone now.”

  “Then what were you doing at the doctor’s office today?” she reminded quietly, knowing that after five years of being in remission a person was usually declared “cancer free” and only went back for checkups when necessary.

  He sniffed a soft laugh. “I had some weird symptoms crop up last week so I made an appointment with my oncologist just to check. I guess it still makes me jumpy.”

  Tessa raked her fingers though her long hair, starting at the temples and ending at her crown where she gripped the strands and held on.

  Small beads of sweat had begun to collect at her hairline and she wasn’t even surprised. What did surprise her was the amount of catastrophizing her mind was barreling through.

  What if fill in the blank.

  A never-ending fill in the blank.

  It was a lot to process.

  Kip must’ve sensed that she needed a minute because he kept working without saying anything further. For which she was thankful.

  Because, what the ever-loving fork?

  This not only explained why she didn’t remember him, but also why he was so into yoga. It was a common practice among cancer survivors to help handle stress and regain strength.

  Her eyes burned as she pictured beautiful, thoughtful, sweet Kip going through rounds of painful chemo virtually alone.

  No one should be alone.

  Tessa had never had to be alone. (Which was probably why she was so upset with Spencer for bailing so often these days). But she knew, humans weren’t meant to be alone. They were social creatures despite society’s attempt to popularize the lone ranger mentality.
>
  People needed people. It was just a fact.

  That’s when it hit her that if she hadn’t caught him seeing his oncologist, she’d still be unaware. And that he hadn’t been planning on telling her.

  Oh, that was some bullshit.

  “Kip,” she said, dropping her hands into her lap.

  He gave her his attention.

  “Caring about people isn’t a burden.”

  His eyebrows twitched carefully. “I know.”

  “Caring about you isn’t a burden.”

  He sucked in a breath and paused.

  Tessa rolled her lips inward and stood. She clenched her hands into fists to help keep her focus.

  It hurt.

  The fresh pain of picturing a young man trying to cope with the kind of treatment he’d endured washed through her chest and burned her lungs. And not just any young man, but Kip. The tenderhearted and affectionate soul she was more than fond of.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Everything in her cried out to hold him, to shake him, to forbid him from doing that ever again.

  But all the words pared down and down and down until she was left with the most basic and truest of sentiments.

  “You’re probably not going to be very happy about this, but—” She shrugged, walking closer to him. “I care about you. And that sucks for you, because I’m not going to let you get away with keeping secrets from me. Especially big cancer-sized secrets.”

  He tried to interrupt, but she was on a mission. She stopped him by throwing her arms around his neck and holding on tight. He hesitated for the briefest of seconds before his arms encircled her waist and pulled her close.

  She buried her face in his neck, emotion clogging her throat. She fought back tears and won as she whispered in his ear.

  “You’re important to me. And I care very much what happens to you.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  But his hug became crushing.

  They stood there for a long time.

  Just holding on.

  CHAPTER 9

  do I bleed blue because of birth

  or genus?

  will I die soon

  or never?

  will they remember me as I intend

  or as they painted me?

  -on the canvas,

  in the hall,

  next to the coat rack

  -Kip

  KIP

  “Who was your grown-up visitor last night?” Bo asked while pretending to peruse the contents of the refrigerator.

  Kip paused chewing his avocado toast. There were numerous layers to that one question and he had no idea where to begin.

  Bo closed the fridge door and leaned a hip against the counter, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow.

  “Tessa was here last night,” Kip responded, knowing there would be follow-up questions.

  Bo narrowed his eyes but the one eyebrow remained arched, making him look like a blond Dwayne Johnson.

  “She was the one in the bank clothes? Huh. I didn’t recognize her.”

  Kip almost choked on his toast. “Bank clothes?” he asked.

  Bo blinked once like he thought Kip was slow on the uptake. “Yeah. Like she works in a bank.”

  Kip wanted to ask how he’d come to that sort of comparison, but he’d learned long ago that knowing how Bo got from point A to point B wasn’t in his best interest.

  “She came over for dinner after work.”

  She’d been coming over after work every Friday for two weeks now. After the night when he told her about the cancer, they’d become more anchored in their connection.

  But secret traumas often did that.

  Bo, satisfied with his simple explanation, turned to get a coffee mug out of the cupboards. As he worked the Keurig he spoke, “I’m going out of town for a few days. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

  Kip paused before answering. This wasn’t the first time Bo had casually asked if Kip would be fine while alone. It didn’t happen often, but it happened.

  If Kip had been a less observant person, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed that Bo only asked that question of Kip—never Brady or Steve.

  “Of course,” he responded as the uncomfortable thought that perhaps Bo knew rolled around in his mind. “When are you leaving?”

  Bo glanced at him over his shoulder and nodded once, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Before lunch. But I should be back Sunday night.”

  “And where are you off to this time?”

  Bo didn’t answer as he took milk from the fridge and added it to his coffee. He opened a drawer and extracted a spoon which he used to stir the liquids together in his chosen mug—a large novelty one with a superhero on it.

  It wasn’t until after he’d left the spoon on the counter and gone back to his room that Kip realized Bo had never answered his question.

  ***

  TESSA

  The past two weeks had been a blur of yoga on the beach, longboarding by the pier, and sushi three to four nights out of seven.

  The sushi was often fed to her by Kip as she skated past him. For every successful turn she made without running him over, he was there to reward her with the perfect bite of salmon, or tuna, or rice.

  At first, she felt super dorky about the system. But that was short-lived. And now she found herself craving sushi and longboarding on the daily, and wondering why it had taken her so long to get into both.

  With zero regret, Tessa grafted Kip into her life.

  They hadn’t spoken of the cancer since that night, but it was never far from Tessa’s mind. Sometimes, she’d look over at Kip and wondered about the man he would have become if his life hadn’t been interrupted.

  But she was careful to keep those kinds of thoughts to herself.

  “Bo thinks you’re a grown up,” Kip said, a smirk hiding on his lips.

  Tessa cocked her head to one side. “Newsflash for Bo, he’s also technically a grown up.”

  Kip shuddered. “That doesn’t seem right somehow.”

  Tessa brought the longboard to a stop by dragging her foot on the pavement and picked it up. She took a seat on the curb beside Kip and leaned over for her reward. He dropped a spicy tuna roll into her mouth from his chopsticks.

  It melted in her mouth and she hummed in contentment.

  “You’re a dork,” Kip chuckled.

  “You’re an enabler,” she countered around her mouthful.

  Normally, speaking with a mouthful of food in front of a cute boy would be enough to cause her to go into a full-fledged flop sweat.

  But with Kip it was barely a blip on her self-conscious radar. And not because she no longer regarded him as a “cute boy.” He was cute as hell. Sometimes more than she could stand.

  With Kip, she cared more about what he thought of her ideas and less about how he perceived her humanness.

  Some things she wouldn’t ever be able to control—her age, genetics, imperfections, whether or not she was a mess most of the time. Her thoughts, ideas, dreams—that was soul stuff. And it mattered to her what he thought of those things.

  But she didn’t know why.

  “I was thinking about that, uh…” Kip scraped the bottom of his shoe against the sand gathered near the gutter and set the food container off to the side. “About that conversation we had about visiting the National Parks.”

  Tessa’s heart fluttered.

  Ah, yes, she remembered it well. Though she’d been hoping he would forget.

  No such luck.

  Kip laced his fingers together and rested his forearms on the tops of his bent knees. Those sea green eyes focused on something in the distance and the ends of his dark hair moved in the gentle breeze.

  Tessa couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Kip was one of those people you just loved to look at. Whether he was crouched low in a curve on his longboard or sitting unreasonably still. His vibrancy demanded recognition. Color and sunshine in all facets of his existence.

  �
��I think I’m going to take some vacation days and head up to Yosemite in a few weeks. I still need to work out the details of the dates with Clarke.”

  She blinked as she regained her footing in the conversation. National Parks. Yes. Okay. She was back.

  “I’ve given it some thought and…” He took a deep breath, the sole of his shoe scraping into the sand again. He swiveled his head her direction and locked eyes with her. “I’d like you to come with.”

  Tessa blinked rapidly, assuming she’d misheard. “Say again?”

  Kip’s lips twitched and he tilted his head as he observed her. His eyes ran over her features with a new familiarity that made her chest constrict.

  “Please?” he asked, not repeating the same request exactly. But that one word seemed to hold more.

  ***

  Tessa turned the blender off and stuck the wooden spoon inside to push the ice down.

  She needed to stop thinking.

  Or think in a different direction.

  Maybe she wasn’t thinking at all. Maybe this was what it felt like to be near catatonic.

  She hadn’t really given Kip an answer earlier that day. Instead, she’d stuttered through some words about having to check her work calendar and see if she had all her proper vaccinations.

  Yeah.

  Really.

  She hadn’t said no.

  Spencer breezed into the kitchen just as Tessa started the blender again.

  Wearing her jacket?

  And putting on her shoes?

  Tessa shut off the blender.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, caught between wanting to be upset and already feeling relieved.

  On one hand, she knew she needed to talk to her girl about all the things happening in her head. On the other, she wasn’t sure she was ready to talk about it at all.

  With anyone.

  Spencer straightened and her periwinkle eyes flitted between the blender to Tessa to the door. “Oh man, Tessa, I totally forgot we had plans.”

  Uh-huh.

  “I volunteered to cover a shift tonight at the gym. I’m so sorry.”