Utterances

by Jo Michaels

  “You seem really uncomfortable.” Both hands on the wheel, he looked down at his lap.

  Lips pressed together, she turned her head toward the side window, staring at all the couples walking along, holding hands, some girls with their heads on their boyfriend’s shoulder. Aches tugged at Simone’s insides. That was what she wanted, and she was pretty sure she wanted it with Tristan, but she had no idea how to get there.

  “I’ll just take you home then.” His hand went to the shifter.

  It was the moment. She knew if she didn’t do something right then, she never would, so she put her hand on top of his to stop him and turned her body in his direction. “Please, Tristan.” It came out around a lump, so she cleared her throat and started again. “Please. Can we go somewhere and talk instead? I think I need to explain myself.”

  Eyebrows that had been too close moved apart, and he relaxed his shoulders as though the tension blew out of him. Then, he smiled and nodded. “Sure. I know a place.”

  For half an hour, the air in the cab of the truck was so thick it could’ve been sliced through, but she didn’t dare speak. It was all she could do to hold back tears. She knew once she told him about her life, he’d run away and not look back. Better to be closer to home.

  Once they were back in Dayton, he drove down a dark road and pulled into a gravel parking lot.

  Simone could barely make out the silhouettes of picnic tables through the trees, and she knew they were at the park near the lake.

  Tristan cut the engine, got out, and walked toward the trees, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  After a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out, following, bag slung over one shoulder.

  They walked a pretty good way before he hopped up on one of the tabletops, resting his feet on the bench.

  She sat next to him and gazed at the sparkly reflections of light on the water a long while.

  “So? Here we are.”

  Angling her knees toward him, she rested her shaking hands in her lap and tilted her head until she caught his eyes, her speech ready in her head.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. When you asked me out, I was so excited. I got this new outfit and spent the whole day today getting ready and waiting. As the time got closer, my nerves and insecurities got the best of me.”

  “I was nervous, too! But I tried my best to put you at ease, and I—”

  “Just let me finish, okay?” Already, she wanted to run. Laying her flaws out there and opening herself up to judgment made her twitchy, and if he kept talking, she was going to shut down.

  He nodded.

  “I know you don’t know a lot about me—not many people do—but I hate that you feel badly about our date, and I want to tell you a bit about myself, if that’s okay. You might run away from me, and you might think I’m crazy, but I’m willing to take the chance because I’m pretty sure I like you a lot.” She shook her head and looked down, unable to meet his gaze, every muscle in her body screaming at her to stop digging her relationship’s early grave with words. But she forged ahead.

  “When I was fifteen, my mom was diagnosed with melanoma. A ton of tests had to be run before treatment could begin, and they found out it had caused tumors to appear in several places throughout her body. They prescribed an aggressive chemo regimen, she quit her job, and the nightmare began.

  “She was sick all the time, and my dad walked out the door six months in and didn’t come back.” Unable to sit still any longer, Simone got up and paced in front of the bench. “From then on, my life became my mother’s cancer. Schoolwork was pushed so far to the side, I barely passed my junior year, and I graduated by some kind of miracle. I think the teachers took pity on me, truthfully, because there’s no way I was doing enough to get by.

  “I won’t bore you with details, but you need to understand, when you’re taking care of a family member that’s going through something like this, that’s all you have time for. If you leave the house for some reason, you worry about them until you get back. You think about all the things that could go wrong while you’re not there, and whether they’ll be able to handle it on their own.” She spun to face Tristan.

  His mouth was a thin line, and his hands clutched the edge of the table so hard, his knuckles were white.

  “I ended up having to get a job as soon as my dad left. You see, when he took off, he also took his income, and he didn’t care about anything but himself and his new life. My seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays were spent at the hospital in the chemo ward. Just two months after the divorce was final, he got married again. It made me hate him.” Tears flowed as she recalled the pain. “My days consisted of either doctor appointments or school and work. I simply didn’t have time for anything else. All the while, what was in my head was that he should’ve been there. He should’ve been the one doing those things!” Her voice reached a high pitch as the volume rose.

  Tristan got up and put his arms around her, letting her cry into his chest.

  Sniffling, she extricated her fingernails from her palms and finally pulled herself together enough to keep talking, urging him back to his seat so she could finish.

  “You sure?” he asked as he walked back.

  She nodded and pulled her shoulders up, sure her mascara was running, but she was beyond giving a shit. “My friends all quit calling, coming around, or even trying. I turned them down too many times, and they couldn’t even come in when they stopped by because Mom’s immune system was shot to hell. We couldn’t risk exposing her to anything.” Again, Simone’s eyes went to the ground. “I’m not telling you any of this to get sympathy. You needed to hear all that to understand what I’m going to tell you next. I didn’t want you thinking I was making things up.” Lifting her head, she met his eyes.

  “I’ve never been on a date, never had a boyfriend, and I’m beyond poor, Tristan. Mom was just declared in full remission a few weeks ago. Remember that night we were at Tuck’s for dinner?”

  He nodded.

  “We were celebrating because Mom had saved all her tips, and I’d worked a ton of overtime to afford to pay someone really good to print her a new portfolio. She needs to get back to living her life, and I need to start living mine. It made me so angry when you admonished me for not calling, but then I realized you had no idea what I’d been through or why I hadn’t dialed your number.” Tears rolled down her face again, and she swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “I’m really sorry. I like you. A lot. I don’t want you to think I’m not interested or that I’m not having fun. I don’t actually know what to do on a date with a guy. I’m not worldly or experienced, and I understand if you never want to see me again.”

  Both hands came up to cover her face, and she turned away, shame washing over her in waves.

  In a moment, his arms wrapped around her from behind, and his voice was in her ear. “Thank you for letting me in. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  They stayed that way for a long time.

  Finally, he released her and took her hand. “I’ll take you home.”

  She grabbed her backpack as they passed the bench, feeling wretched as she was pulled along toward the truck.

  Nothing else was said until he walked her to her door.

  “Thank you for going out with me, Simone. I had a nice time.” He gave her a long hug and walked away.

  Heart pounding—she was sure dates were supposed to end with a kiss or something—she watched until he was swallowed by the darkness, fled to her room, and threw herself on the bed.

  “Simone! Simone!” Yvette’s whispers were too loud in the still of the morning. “Wake up.”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Wake up! Tristan’s here!” She hissed.

  At the sound of Tristan’s name, Simone shot into a sitting position, the night before falling down around her like leaflets thrown from a rooftop. Tears threatened instantly, but her reasonable side tapped her on the brain and told her to go hear what he had to say before she lost
it completely. Wide-eyed, she turned toward her mother.

  “What are you doing? Get up! He’s waiting.” Yvette sauntered out, and as she shut the door, she spoke to Tristan, but her words were cut off.

  “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Simone tumbled out of bed and put herself together as well as she could. When she glanced in the mirror, she gasped. Mascara streaks were all over her face, and her eyes were super puffy. She grabbed her hairbrush and snuck across the hall to the bathroom to repair the damage as well as she could.

  It took a good ten minutes to get the swelling in her face to go down a little, but she got it clean. Hand on the doorknob, she took a deep breath before yanking the door open and stepping into the hallway. Each footfall made her heart pound harder, and when she rounded the corner, the beating screeched to a stop.

  Tristan was sitting on the couch, wearing a pair of jeans, a baseball cap, and a tee, his body angled toward her mother. She couldn’t see Simone emerge, but he did, and he lifted his head and smiled.

  “Hey,” she said, bewildered. After the previous night, she couldn’t figure out what the hell he was doing there. He hadn’t kissed her, and he’d been so aloof when he left. She was positive she’d never see him again.

  “Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty! I was wondering if I was gonna have to break out the smelling salts.” One corner of his mouth lifted.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Simone! Is that how you speak to a guest?” Yvette’s face was red.

  But he didn’t seem fazed. “I thought you might like to accompany me on a little mission I have today.” His eyebrows rose as if he was hinting there was more that he didn’t want to say in front of present company.

  “Uh… I guess so. But I need a cup of coffee first.” Simone couldn’t figure him out. She’d poured her heart out to him the night before, and he’d dumped her at the door and run off. Wrapping her head around why he was sitting on her couch, asking her to run errands with him, was impossible—especially before coffee.

  “We’ll get it on the way. My treat.” He stood. “You ready to go?”

  She looked down at her attire; she was dressed much the same way he was. “Uh… Let me get shoes and stuff.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait in the truck.”

  As she walked down the hall, she could hear him thanking her mother for being such a gracious hostess at such an early hour. It made Simone chuckle. He’s certainly a charmer. Socks and shoes on, she grabbed the backpack, took the book out from under her pillow, and shoved the old thing inside before putting the straps over her shoulders and marching toward the front door.

  “Any idea when you’ll be home?” Yvette asked.

  “I don’t have any idea what I’m even agreeing to do, so no. Sorry.”

  “Well, have fun, sweetheart. When you get home, we’ll talk. I have some news.”

  Everything in Simone wanted to cement her ass to the chair and hear what her mother had to say right then and there, but Tristan was waiting, and there was no indication it was bad news. “Okay. Sounds good.”

  “Be safe. I’ll see you later.” She smiled, eyes twinkling.

  They hugged, and Simone scurried down the sidewalk to the parking lot, panning her eyes left and right. She spotted his truck a few buildings down.

  “Hey!” she said as she shut the door.

  “Hi.” He grinned at her.

  “So, where’re we goin’?”

  “I thought about everything that happened last night, everything you said, as I drove home, and since you let me so far into your life, I figured I’d show you a little of mine.” Pulling the small truck out of its spot, he shot her a wink before accelerating out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

  From all the books she’d read to all the movies she’d watched, she thought about every male she’d ever seen interact with females. He didn’t fit a single profile she had in her head, and finding out what made Tristan tick rose to spot number one on her priority list. She was smart enough to know she wouldn’t get answers to her deepest questions by asking; she’d have to observe and learn. That was okay with her, because she suddenly had all the time in the world. What his demons could be bothered her a little, but she had hope they were minute. If they weren’t, well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

  They chatted, avoiding the topic of the previous evening, until he pulled into a coffee shop and ordered them both a vanilla latte.

  It was impressive that he knew what she liked, and she quirked an eyebrow at him when he handed it over.

  “Your mother is quite full of information.” He shrugged and winked.

  As the hot, sweet drink flowed down her throat, she sighed and sat back, watching the mountains roll by, squinting to see the mansions perched on the edges of cliffs. It was peaceful.

  Tristan pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine. “We’re here!”

  The sign on the front of the building said they’d arrived at Gretchen’s Kitchen.

  “We’re where?”

  His shoulders slumped a little, and he put his hands on the wheel, dropping his head to stare at the floorboard. “This is what I do every Saturday. This is a soup kitchen. They feed the homeless. I come by to help out where I can, and the diner donates excess food.” He tipped his head and glanced at her. “I thought you might like to join me, see a little piece of my life.”

  Stunned, she gaped at him for a full minute before she found her voice. “Are you kidding?”

  “It’s okay. It’s not for everyone. I can take you home.” He moved his hand toward the key, but she caught his fingers and squeezed.

  “Hell no! This is amazing!”

  “Really?” His whole face lit up, and his dazzling smile appeared. “You wanna help?”

  “Of course I do! I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday. Plus, I get to hang out with you.”

  Tristan flipped his hand over and caught hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips and grazing the flesh. “Thank you for being excited. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, and man, was I nervous!” He chuffed.

  “Why are we still sitting here? Let’s go!” Simone made sure the backpack was well hidden under the seat. No way would she risk taking it in.

  Laughing, they climbed out and tossed back the last of their drinks, throwing the cups in a bin nearby.

  “What do we do first?” she asked.

  In response, he flipped back a tarp in the bed of the truck and gestured to the stacks of boxes with one hand. “Carry these in.”

  Eggs, fresh veggies, and meat filled the crates, and Simone dove in and grabbed several, following Tristan around the side of the building to the back.

  He knocked and waited, and when the door opened, a robust, older woman greeted them with a huge smile. She yelled over her shoulder, “Tristan’s here, y’all! Get outside and give him a hand with this stuff!”

  People flowed from the many rooms off the hall, patting Tristan on the back and welcoming him as they passed.

  “Stuff in the truck?” one guy asked.

  “Yeah. As always.”

  Two trips had all the food out of the vehicle and into the kitchen, and people fell into what seemed to be a routine. Some stocked the fridge, some pulled items out and started cutting, and others gathered the cans and hauled them away to storage.

  Simone didn’t know what to do, so she stood in a corner and watched the activity.

  “Hey there! Friend of Tristan’s?” It was the woman who’d greeted them at the back door.

  “Yeah. He brought me along to help, but I’m kinda feeling useless.” Simone smiled and shrugged. “I’m a little out of my element.”

  “Well, any friend of Tristan’s is a friend of mine.” The woman’s eyes lit up as she grinned and stuck out a hand. “I’m Gretchen, and it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Oh!” Recalling the name of the establishment, Simone flushed and took hold, moving her hand up and down. “This is your place?”

  “It is!�
�� Gretchen laughed. “Though I don’t really think of it that way. I see it as everyone’s place.” Pride radiated from her as she lifted her eyes and panned them around the room.

  “I’m ready to do my part. Where do you want me?”

  “Why don’t you help the young ladies the state sent over as free labor for community service? They’re right over there.” She nodded to a group of gangly-looking teen girls in ripped jeans.

  “Okay. Perfect.” Simone grinned and set off to introduce herself. She approached the group slowly—they had a lean, hungry look about them. “Hi. I’m Simone. Gretchen said I’m with you guys today.”

  “Whatever,” one of the teens said.

  “What do we do first?” Simone asked.

  “Ugh. I did not want to babysit an additional newbie today.” Another girl hopped off the counter and waved her hand. “Follow me, y’all.” As she walked, she gave instructions. “First, you gotta fill up the water coolers. Make sure you put in plenty of ice. These poor people only get one thing to drink with their meal, so let’s make it tolerable. Let’s give that job to you.” She pointed to the girl walking behind Simone.

  “You two”—the leader gestured to the girls in the back—“go take all the chairs down off the tables. Make it look nice. I ain’t getting yelled at today because you’re stupid.”

  They grunted and walked off.

  “Simone, you’re with me. We’re gonna fill up the shakers.”

  It seemed like it would be the easiest job, but once Simone realized that the shakers were full of some kind of mixed pepper, her heart dropped. As she poured from the bigger container into the smaller ones, she sneezed several times.

  “It’s good for you. Cleans out the sinuses,” her partner said. “Trust me, it beats the hell out of the alternative.”

  Simone hustled, and they were done in no time. They filled trays with the little containers and placed one on each long table.

  Delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen, causing her mouth to water. She wondered what kind of magic the cooks were working with the supplies they’d been brought. A couple of times, she caught a glimpse of Tristan as he passed, his arms always full of something or other.