Yesterday's Half Truths

by Carey Heywood

  We never knew the reason why he left us. I don’t want to be a dick to him tonight, but that unanswered question has driven me insane since the day he left. I have nothing to prove to him, but that doesn’t stop me from dressing with care. I want him to be proud of the man I managed to become without him.

  The coffee place where we’re meeting is closer to Sasha’s place than mine. I’m going to pick her up on the way. I text her once I’m in front of her building. Her mouth drops when she walks out the main door.

  “This paint job looks insanely good,” she gushes once she’s in my car.

  “Thanks. Clay took care of it while I was in California.”

  “Ah, Clay. Has he divorced Courtney yet, so I can marry him?”

  I give her a look. “Don’t see that ever happening.”

  “Why are all the hot ones taken?” she grumbles.

  I shrug. Here I’m worried about seeing our dad; good to know she isn’t as freaked.

  “What do you think he looks like?” she asks out of nowhere.

  Turning to look at her, I ask, “Who…Dad?”

  She nods and I look back at the road. “I haven’t thought about it. Did he say how he was sick?”

  “Something with his liver.”

  I wonder if he’s an alcoholic. Would it be easier to forgive his sins if he was addicted to something?

  “Are you nervous?”

  She nods. “I want him to like me. That’s crazy, right?”

  It is; jacked up thing is I want the same thing. “No, baby girl. Even though I’m not sure he deserves it.”

  “I watched your second episode and mentioned to someone who I work with that you’re my brother. She lost her mind and is gross hot for you. Are you seeing anyone right now; ‘cause if you’re not, I’m pretty sure she’s in love with you.”

  “In love with me? That’s creepy, Sash. I’m sorta seeing your friend. Lindsay.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  My eyes widen. What?

  She sees my expression and starts laughing. “I’m not actually going to kill you. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me right away.”

  “Our second date is tomorrow night.”

  She smacks my arm. “Second date.”

  Even though it pisses her off even more, I laugh. I love my little sister, but she’s crazy.

  “I’m going to kill her, too.”

  I stop laughing. “Don’t mess with her.”

  She knows I’m not joking by my tone. “You must really like her.”

  “I do, so don’t start any drama. Deal?”

  “Moi, start drama?”

  After rolling my eyes, I keep them on the road. We’re at the coffee shop a couple minutes early.

  I order an iced tea and get her an iced vanilla coffee. We aren’t sitting long when he walks in. The years haven’t been kind. Even though I feel a wash of guilt, I rejoice in his misfortunes. Who knows how different his life could have been if he had stayed.

  After he orders a coffee, he comes to our table. Sasha stands and hugs him. I stand, but only give him a head nod.

  “You kids look real good,” he says, sinking into his chair.

  Where is the man I idolized growing up? This isn’t him. This is a stooped and skinny shell of the man I remembered.

  “Thank you.” Sasha beams under his attention.

  I cut to the chase. “Why’d you want to meet us?”

  He stares down at the table for a moment before looking up and into my eyes. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes over the years. The biggest one was leaving you kids the way I did. I’d like to make things right.”

  Sasha is practically hugging herself beside me, probably falling for him.

  “Why now?” I press.

  “I don’t understand,” he starts.

  “It’s been fifteen years. Why are you reaching out now?”

  “I mentioned to your sister I’ve been having some health issues.”

  “And you’d like to right your wrongs before you kick the bucket?” I finish for him.

  “Luke,” Sasha gasps before narrowing her eyes at me.

  “No, he has every right to be angry with me.” He reaches out to rest his hand on top of hers.

  I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my chair. “Why did you leave in the first place?”

  He pulls his hand back and lifts his cup of coffee with both hands to take a drink. “Mid-life crisis is the best way I can explain it. I felt overwhelmed and needed to escape.”

  Glaring at him, I ask, “Do you have any idea how much we struggled after you left?”

  He at least looks ashamed at this. “I was a fool.”

  “What are you trying to accomplish by reaching out to us now, and why didn’t you ask about Natalia, Jennifer, or Melissa?”

  His fingers rub back and forth across the tops of his pants. “I saw you on TV and wanted to know if you’d be interested in a business opportu—”

  I cut him off with a laugh as I smack my hand onto the table. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “It’s all on the up and up,” he continues.

  “Get up. We’re out of here,” I growl at Sasha.

  With wet eyes, she leaves her drink on the table and pulls her purse strap over her shoulder.

  When he starts to follow us, I spin, getting right in his face. “Don’t ever contact any of us again.”

  His mouth opens, but wisely, he does not argue.

  Grasping her elbow, I lead my baby sister as she shakes to the passenger side of my car. Once she’s settled, I get in. Silent tears stream down her face as I pull away from the curb. He saw me on TV and wanted money. I grip the steering wheel harder, blasting myself for taking the time to dress nicely to meet him.

  One look over at Sasha lets me know she did the same. The makeup she probably applied with care for him now runs down her cheeks. He used her to get to me.

  “Want me to come hang out for a while?” I ask when we reach her apartment.

  She shakes her head. “I want to be alone if that’s cool.”

  “I love you.”

  She gives me a wet smile. “I love you, too.”

  I call my mom on the way home. I’m not surprised when she answers quickly since she knew what we were doing tonight.

  I skip hellos. “He wanted money.”

  “What?” She sounds horrified.

  “Yep, he saw me on TV. Wanted to see us so he could talk to me about investing in something. I didn’t let him get far enough to tell me what it was.”

  “How’s Sasha?”

  “She was crying when I dropped her off. Said she wanted to be alone.”

  “I’m going to head over there.”

  “She said she wanted to be alone.”

  “A child always needs their mother when they’re hurting.”

  I don’t argue.

  What does someone wear to eat sushi? Believe it or not, I did a sushi inspired blog post last year. I refer to it as I try to decide what to wear for my date with Luke. The last time we went out, I didn’t know if it was going to be a date or not and had to dress in case it wasn’t. This time I know, and knowing is somehow making it easy for me to stress out over it.

  There are so many things to consider; the outside temperature, the parking spot to restaurant walking distance to determine shoe comfort level, type of food to be consumed to match sauces in case of any accidental spillage.

  There is only a 10% chance of rain, so I’m going to chance it and curl my hair. Since it’s a date, date, I’m going to wear a dress. It’s on the short side, but my legs are currently still my best asset, so I need to amp their impact. My dress is high necked and paneled, which has a slimming effect. The knit is a charcoal cotton blend with a subtle hint of shimmer.

  I paired it with black hose and heeled Mary Janes. If it’s chilly, I’m bringing my fitted black leather jacket. A cluster-style pendant of multicolored beads dangles from a long chain around my neck. I warm up all the g
rey and black of my outfit by going bronze with my eye makeup. Once I’m finished getting ready, I like the look so much, I hurriedly take a few pics before Luke arrives.

  I’ve barely finished when he knocks. Pressing my hand to my chest, I try in vain to settle my racing heart. It would be just my luck to keel over and miss out on a date with Luke.

  Nerves or not, I head to the door. Luke is a vision in a cream Henley and dark jeans.

  “You look gorgeous.” He smiles, passing me a bouquet of wildflowers.

  “Thank you.” I blush. “Would you like to come in?”

  He steps inside, waiting by the door while I hurry to put the flowers he brought in water. Coco is in the kitchen, lifting her head from her water dish as I enter.

  “Do not eat the flowers,” I warn.

  She’s had a habit of knocking over any potted plants I’ve ever attempted to bring into the house. Even though they’d look beautiful on my coffee table, I decide to set the flowers on my small kitchen table. It’ll be easier to clean up in here.

  “Thank you so much for the flowers,” I say, walking back into the living room.

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me.”

  “I’m nervous,” I admit.

  “About the people who might be there or me?” Luke asks.

  “Both.” I blush.

  “Don’t be.” He holds the door open for me, and then waits on the sidewalk while I lock up.

  He walks me to his car, opening my door for me. I haven’t been in a car in… I try to do the backwards math in my head but am distracted when he gets in on his side.

  “What kind of car is this?”

  “This is a ‘53 Chevy Corvette. I’ve been fixing her up since I got out of college.”

  “Her? Oh, I forgot what you called her. What’s her name again?”

  “Sally.”

  “Why Sally?”

  He shrugs. “When I was little, my granddad had a little blue corvette named Sally. Before he passed away, I loved going for a ride in his car and decided one day I would have a car named Sally, too.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  “My granddad was a great guy. I’m named after him.”

  “Two Lukes with cars named Sally.” I grin.

  The restaurant is not far from my house. I enjoy the entire drive, even though the close proximity to Luke and whatever aftershave he’s wearing is tantamount to torture.

  After parking, he walks around the car, I mean Sally, to open my door. We walk side by side, our hands only a breath apart. I yearn to clasp them together, but silently wait for him to take my hand first.

  The restaurant is small and not crowded. Luke had made a reservation and we are taken directly to a small booth in the back corner. He offers me the seat facing the rest of the room.

  “Is this good? I figured you’d be more comfortable if you could see where everyone else was.”

  I gulp; his thoughtfulness a ball of emotion I need to swallow before I can speak. “It’s perfect.”

  “Would you like me to order for you? I can if you want.”

  While people as a whole intimidate me, our soft-spoken server does not. “I think I’ll be okay, but thank you for offering.”

  I’ve never had sushi altogether before. In some shape or form, I’ve had all of the varying ingredients, just never together. As an appetizer, we shared a bowl of salted edamame.

  “Do you drink?” Luke asks as we look over the menu.

  I shake my head.

  “No pressure, but Saki is good if you’d like to try a little.”

  “Will I get drunk?”

  “You probably have a pretty low tolerance, so I wouldn’t recommend having more than one.”

  “Are you going to have one? Can you drive after?”

  “I won’t drink at all if it makes you uncomfortable, but if I’m driving, I limit myself to two drinks if I’m out.”

  “I’m curious, but I don’t know.”

  He starts to reach his hand across the table toward mine, and my stomach somersaults until he stops halfway and pulls his hand back. “Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you’re not sure of.”

  I nod. How sad it is that I still don’t know if I can believe him.

  When our waitress returns, Luke orders iced tea while I stick to water and we both order a combo plate with a variety of different sushi rolls to sample. As more guests arrive, and are seated, I allow myself to observe. A short while ago, a scene like this would have caused me to panic. Now, comfortable with my vantage point and able to see that they are all focused on their own groups and not me, I’m able to relax.

  Luke tries to teach me how to use chopsticks, but I can’t seem to manipulate my fingers the right way. I give up and use my fork instead. I’m still nervous. That hasn’t gone away, but Luke doesn’t scare me the way he did in the beginning. We can hold a conversation.

  He surprises me by confiding about a meeting he had just the day before with his father. How horrible that he was only trying to come back in to Luke’s life for monetary reasons. Our conversation lagged after that.

  “Luke.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “Earlier, I thought you may have been reaching out to hold my hand, but then you pulled back.”

  He wets his lips, setting his chopsticks down. “I was.”

  “Why did you pull back?”

  “I want you to initiate any touching that goes on between us.”

  My mouth drops open. “What? Why?”

  “I want to be with you, in every way you can imagine. If and when you initiate the movement, I’ll know that’s what you want as well.”

  “But.”

  “I’m in no hurry.”

  I blush. “So, if I’d like to hold your hand all I need to do is reach out for it?”

  He nods.

  “Does that mean you’ll never reach out for me?”

  He leans back in his chair, pensive. “That’s an interesting question. How would you feel if I waited until after three times?”

  My brow furrows. “Meaning, if I reach out for your hand three separate times, after that you won’t wait for me, but you’ll take my hand should you want to hold it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But why three times?”

  “Here’s how I see it. The first time you do something, you might not like it. The second time could be you confirming you did not like it the first time, but with the third time, you would be telling me you do.”

  “What if I’m scared?”

  “I think you’re brave.”

  He thinks I’m brave.

  After dinner as we walk back to his car, I decide I may as well and reach for his hand. His surprise at my movement is evident when his hand briefly tenses before relaxing. As I curl my fingers around his, he looks over at me, squeezing my hand gently. Our pace slows, as though we both realize our contact will end once we reach his car.

  Instead of opening my door right away, we stand here.

  Now the sun has set, I’m grateful for my jacket. It doesn’t stop a shiver from escaping.

  “Are you cold?”

  All I want to do is step into him, rest my cheek against his chest, and have him circle his arms around me. Instead, I glance down at our joined hands and shake my head.

  “Did you have a good time? Was it stressful?”

  “It was perfect. Thank you.”

  It’s not until his shoulders drop that I see how tense he was all night. Like at the park, during the soccer game. He has made himself my personal guardian against the rest of the world.

  He thinks I’m brave.

  I want to be brave for him.

  But will he think I’m fat? I’m in the best shape of my life, but he is the Adonis to my Quasimodo.

  Be brave.

  One step forward and I’m an inch away from him. I’m tall and even in my heels he’s still taller. I can do this. I inch forward, dropping his hand, eclipsing the space between us and rest my cheek on his
shoulder.

  “Can you hold me?” I ask softly.

  When he doesn’t move, I worry the wind carried my quiet plea away before he could hear it. Then two strong arms lift and wrap around me. His grip is loose, allowing me to move away from him.

  “Tighter,” I whisper.

  And he listens.

  He is a warm wall of solid muscle. There are parts of me that are now firm; but against him, the parts of me that are soft melt against him. It’s been nine years since another human being has held me. It is paradise on earth. My hands lift to rest on his sides.

  “You aren’t going to hug me back?” he asks, his mouth against my hair.

  I had been seeking his permission, and now granted, I circled my arms around his waist.

  We fit together in a way that makes me want to cry. It’s perfection. It’s terrifying. I allow myself one last moment of bliss before stepping back.

  His arms may have released me but his eyes hold tight. “Are you okay?”

  I nod quickly, swallowing the emotion that threatens to ruin our night. I’m happier than I have ever been before. Why does it make me want to cry?

  “We’re not going out?” Lindsay asks, confused.

  “I thought we could eat here.” I lift the bag of takeout I picked up on the way to her house.

  Ever since we went out for sushi, I’ve been taking her out to get used to, and more comfortable, being around other people. I thought I’d give her a night off from all the stress it causes her and hang out at her place instead.

  “That’d be great.” She steps backward and I follow her, closing the door behind me.

  “Is chicken curry okay?”

  She grins. “Sure. It smells delicious.”

  I lead the way to her cozy kitchen and grab plates. Coco jumps onto the kitchen counter to investigate. Four short months ago, I conned my way into her house with a Christmas tree. Now I’m comfortable enough here that I know where she keeps stuff in her kitchen.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “I brought a bottle of white wine but forgot it in the car.” I set the plates down. “I’ll be right back.”