by R. S. Lively
Opening the door a few inches, I look out at her.
"Good morning!" she chirps.
"Good morning," I reply hesitantly. "Can I help you?"
"I'm a friend of Fiona's," she says. "I came by to see her." She notices me looking at her questioningly, and lifts up a pink cardboard box for me to see. "I brought donuts."
Biting into a chunk of fried dough filled with raspberry jam and covered with powdered sugar sounds much better than cooking with eggs that may or may not be edible, so I take a step back and gesture for her to come inside.
"I'm Cade," I say.
"Esme," she says, reaching forward to shake my hand. "It's nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you."
"Oh, really?"
"Yep," she says, walking toward the small table up against one of the kitchen walls so she can put down the box of donuts. "Fiona has told me all about you. Well, not all about you."
Esme seems to realize she’s babbling and shifts her focus to opening the pink box instead.
"I haven't heard anything about you," I say. "Of course, I haven't talked to Fiona in a really long time. You probably know that, though. "
She shrugs, avoiding making eye contact with me. I don't like the idea of Fiona talking about me with Esme, but at least I've crossed her mind in the decade we've been apart. The coffee maker has finally finished filling the carafe, and I open the cabinet to pull out mugs. Rinsing out the dust inside beforehand, I pour coffee into one, taking a long sip to fortify myself.
"Is there cream and sugar?" Esme asks.
"There's probably sugar somewhere in one of these cabinets or the pantry, but there's no cream. Fiona was planning on going to the grocery store today."
"That's fine," she says. "I have some."
She reaches into the large black leather bag hanging from her right shoulder and pulls out a small container of individual cream packets.
"You carry cream around in your purse?" I ask.
"You never know when you're going to need some," she replies. "Besides, I know Fiona and how she likes her coffee."
"A splash of coffee with her cream," I say with a chuckle.
I feel like I'm getting a tiny glimpse of insight into Fiona's life. She sets it on the counter and picks up another mug to fill for herself. I make my way over to the box of donuts and glance inside. Rows of various options stuff the box, and I contemplate them for a few moments before choosing the raspberry-filled of my prior fantasies.
"Where is Fiona, by the way?" Esme asks as she comes up to the table to choose her own donut.
"She hasn't come down yet," I say.
"Really?" Esme asks. "What time is it?"
I look at her strangely. Does she not own a smartphone? She managed to get ready for the day, buy donuts, and drive all the way out here without having any idea what time it is? Somehow that fits with Fiona’s best friend. I'm not sure why, but it seems appropriate.
"Early," I say. "Where did you get the donuts?"
"Donut or Not Donut."
"Ah. Yes. The only donut place in town. Well, they don't open until five, so considering the distance to the shop, and how long you've been here, assuming you got there at opening or shortly after, I would say it's still before six."
"Wow," Esme says, staring at me with slightly widened eyes.
I take a bite of my donut and a sip of my coffee, then realize she is still staring at me.
"What?" I finally ask.
"One of the few things Fiona did tell me about you, before last night, is that you get lost in your head. You overthink things."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You could have just looked at your phone to check the time." I'm not sure how to respond. Esme grabs an eclair out of the box and takes a bite. "I'm going to go find Fiona."
I want to stop her, but I don't really have any logical reason to, and I as she makes her way out of the kitchen and down the hallway, I realize I’m still shirtless.
Fiona
As I open my eyes, I can’t help but wonder if Cade is familiar with the concept of morning or not. It was still dark outside when muted footsteps on the first floor, directly beneath my bedroom, woke me from a deep sleep. As the lingering remnants of an intense dream bounced around the edges of my mind, I had to resist the urge to curl back up under my blankets and fall back asleep. I finally manage to drag myself up out of the cozy nest I created for myself and get out of bed. Just enough light filters in beneath my bedroom door and through the curtains that I don't bother turning the lamp on before getting dressed. I want to protect my eyes from the blaring brightness of the outdated incandescent bulb as long as possible. Letting the smell of fresh coffee guide me down the stairs, I’m almost awake by the time I get to the doorway of the kitchen. I stop when I see Cade with his back to me as he looks out the kitchen window. On either side of him, the sun has started its daily ascent into the sky, but that's not what I'm looking at.
Cade is shirtless. Damn, even though I hate to admit it – he looks good. I’m mesmerized when the muscles of his back flex as he lifts his mug and sips of his coffee, I feel an unexpected shiver in my belly, and chide myself for it. As if he read my mind, Cade suddenly turns and looks over his shoulder at me.
"Morning," he says. "How did you sleep?"
"Good, for the approximately seventeen minutes I was asleep."
"Somehow, I think you're exaggerating."
He turns around and leans against the counter, sipping from his mug as he looks around the kitchen. My eyes travel along his chest and down his rippling stomach. Glimpses of tattoos tease me, and some images from the dream I'd been having before the sounds of him walking around the house woke me, pop back into my mind. I drag my eyes away from him to the box of donuts on the table.
"Coffee would be great, thanks." I walk over to the box and look down into it. "How did you already get donuts? I didn't hear you leave."
"They were delivered."
Cade takes a bite of the donut in his hand, and I notice a bit of raspberry jelly cling to his lip. He licks it off, and I quickly look away.
"I didn't know anyone delivers donuts around here. Especially not out this far."
Cade shrugs, reaching for a mug.
"Cream?" he asks.
"Please," I say as I reach for one of the donuts. I'm biting into a lemon-filled Bismarck when it occurs to me. "Wait,” I say. “We don't have any cream. We established that last night."
Cade shrugs.
"That was delivered, too."
I set the donut back down into the box, letting out a sigh.
"Where is she?" I ask.
"Where's who?" Cade asks, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"Fiona?" I hear Esme calling from the recesses of the house.
I point toward the muffled sound.
"Her," I say. "The only person who travels with her own cream."
I stalk out of the kitchen and toward the sound of Esme's voice as she continues to call for me. After a few seconds, I realize her voice is moving, meaning she is traveling around through the house rather than just standing still. Finally, I find her in a back staircase, pressed against the wall.
"There you are," I say. "What are you doing?"
"I didn't think I was ever going to get out of here," she says. "What is with this house?"
"It's an old house," I say. "There are all sorts of rooms and hallways and nooks and crannies."
She looks at me with an expression that is somewhere between flustered and indignant.
"English muffins are supposed to have nooks and crannies, Fiona, not houses. I didn't think I was ever going to be able to find you."
"All you needed to do was go up the front stairs to the bedrooms," I say. "How did you end up all the way back here?"
"I thought the front stairs seemed too obvious," she replies, shrugging in defeat.
"That's because they are obvious. That's the point. But that doesn't matter," I say. "What are you doing here?"
"
I brought donuts."
"I noticed." I take her by the arm and guide her back through the house and out the front door onto the porch. "Why did you bring donuts?"
"You told me it was my responsibility," she says.
"I told you it was your responsibility to bring donuts to the office," I say with emphasis. "Why are you here with donuts? And how did you even know where to find me?"
"I work in the HR department," she says. "I know everything. Well, at least I know everything in everybody's personal files."
"That's disturbing, Esme. And unethical on several levels."
"It's unethical to find out where your best friend is so you can bring her a box of sustenance to fortify her for the hard caregiving tasks ahead?" she asks dubiously.
"You didn't bring sustenance. You brought donuts. And nobody drives two hours to bring somebody a box of donuts just to reward them for taking care of their grandmother. Besides, I saw the box. I know you got those in town. You came to see Cade, didn't you?"
Esme tries to look innocent and unassuming, failing miserably.
"Fiona!" she gasps. "How could you think that of me?"
"Because it's true," I tease.
She stares at me for another second before her expression drops, and she finally relents, nodding in agreement.
"It's true," she says. "But, you really didn't give me any choice. You've always been so secretive about this man, and I became so curious I had to see for myself."
"You just had to?" I ask.
"Yes," she says.
I nod, linking my arm through hers to start guiding her toward the steps leading off the porch.
"Alright. Well, now that you've seen him, you can go back to the office and prevent both of us from getting fired."
Esme flinches. "Why would we get fired?"
"Because if Mr. Hansen shows up to the office and there aren’t any donuts, he's going to get fussy. Then he's going to come looking for me, inevitably having forgotten I'm on vacation, and fire me for not being at work. Well, actually, Tina is the one who would probably get fired."
"But how would that get me fired?"
"Tina isn't taking the blame for all this. If she goes down, she’s going to take you down with her."
"That is not a very loving thing to say to the best friend who came all the way out here to see you."
"To see Cade."
"Come on, Fiona," Esme says, finally melting down into full desperation mode. "You have to finish your story. I need to know what happened. Especially after seeing him."
I narrow my eyes at her.
"What do you mean, especially after seeing him?"
Esme raises an eyebrow and glares at me.
"Don't try that," she says. "You aren't fooling me, Fiona. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to drive all the way the hell out here, buy some donuts, and show up at your back door, and I fucking did it, and now I'm here, so tell me the damn story."
"I don't think so –" I start. I look at her pleading eyes and know there's no way I'm getting out of this. She's here, standing on this porch, and she already knows most of the story at this point. At the very least, I can tell her the rest. "Fine. Did you at least call the office and tell them you weren't going to be there on time today?"
"Girl, I've got time. I'll make it. I have Tina picking up the donuts. You don't know what I'm capable of on the open road. I'm liable to pull some Tokyo Drift foolishness."
I nod and walk over to the glider where Cade had been sitting last night. Setting my coffee on the table, I sit down and turn to face Esme.
"Where was I?" I ask.
"He went to jail, got out, and the two of you didn't really see each other all that much," Esme says. "You said it was like you had grown up, which was just so heartbreaking."
"Right," I say. I let out a breath. "So, obviously, I missed him."
"Clearly. That man is luscious. Have you seen him?"
"Yes, I've seen him."
"Did he look like that when he was eighteen?"
"No. He was much… ganglier. I mean, he's always been… attractive."
"Fiona, he is not just attractive. The purple floral dress Aunt Penelope wore to Easter service is attractive. The weird painting I got from my great-grandmother for graduation is apparently attractive. That man makes me want to look at the Michelangelo’s David and go…" she shrugs, putting on an exaggerated, disinterested expression, "meh."
I don't want to listen to any more of Esme waxing un-poetic about Cade. It's not like I haven't noticed. I just don’t want to. The last time I was on this porch with Cade on my mind, I promised myself I would never think of him that way again. In those moments, I never wanted to think of anyone that way again. But I moved on. Life happened. I met Ellis. I fell in something that, at least at the time, felt like love. It was nothing like the deep, intense attachment I felt for Cade, and I never felt desire burn inside me the way I do now.
"That wasn't what mattered to me," I explain. "I mean, I appreciated it, obviously, but it was so much more than that. It sounds ridiculous talking about it now. We were teenagers."
"So? Juliet was only thirteen."
"And that whole situation ended so well for her."
"Have you tried to convince a bunch of people you're dead recently? If you avoid that, I think everything will be fine. The point is, it might not happen all the time, but it’s still possible to find love, real love, when you are young. Just because you were a teenager doesn't mean the feelings you had for him weren't real. I can see it in your eyes. You might say you don't feel that way anymore, but it obviously impacted you. It never really went away, did it?"
I look down at the dusty wooden floorboards to hide the tears stinging my eyes. This is one of the reasons I don’t discuss Cade or my friendship with him with anyone. It’s precious. I don’t share about it because I don't feel like anyone would actually understand. The intensity of the bond we shared was unlike anything I've ever experienced, and until now, I thought anyone who heard our story would think it was the ramblings of a mind stuck in the past, romanticizing and dramatizing an ordinary friendship. Well, friends with benefits.
"I told myself it would. That as I got older, I would forget about him, or that our time together would fade into a pleasant memory, and it would stop hurting. Every time I did that, though, it was like Cade could sense it. It was like he knew I was trying to let go of him, and he would come back into my life, and remind me of his existence all over again. Usually, it was just a quick visit or an encounter that seemed completely out of nowhere. He'd show up at my school and drive me home, or we’d somehow wind up at the same place. There was always some brief reconnection that let us know the other was alright. Until I was a senior. A few months after turning eighteen, actually."
"What happened then?" she asks.
Esme’s eyes are wide with anticipation, and I know she wishes she had a bucket of popcorn in her lap.
"That's when everything went to hell," I say. "And it happened really fucking fast, so stick with me here. It was a couple months into senior year, and I hadn't seen Cade in months. I hadn't even spoken to him in weeks. Then he showed up at my house in the middle of the night."
"Here?" Esme asks.
"No," I say. "Not this house. The one in the suburbs. That's what made it so completely bizarre. We had never hung out there together before. The only time he had been there, as far as I knew, was when he was helping Gramps with a project, and they went there to get some supplies. But that night, Cade showed up there, and he was freaked out. I'd never seen him that upset before. Even when he would tell me about his time in jail or what he'd gone through with his father, he never seemed this upset. He came inside and sat with me to talk. It took a while for him to calm down. He kept getting up and pacing around the room."
In the back of my mind, I could still see Cade's wild, flashing eyes, and the way his legs seemed to stretch as he took long strides back and forth across the small living room. I knew there was s
omething seriously wrong, but I hadn't known what to say to him. Somehow, I knew there wasn't really anything to say, and all I could do was sit and wait for him to be ready to talk.
"What was wrong?" Esme asks.
"His girlfriend, Amy, was pregnant," I say.
Even now it was hard to choke out the words. I remember not even being able to say it then.
"Oh, shit."
"Yeah. He was frantic and angry."
"Because he wasn’t ready to be a father?"
"Because it wasn't his."
"What?"
"He told me he had been dating Amy for a few months, and that it wasn't anything serious."
"That seems pretty damn serious to me."
"You would think so, right? Apparently, though, they met when he was hanging out with some friends, and they took a liking to each other… physically."
"Oh, to be young and carefree," Esme says with a misty look in her eyes.
"You can keep that 'oh' to yourself," I say. "There is no way I'd want to go back to that time. I don’t want the word 'teen' anywhere near me, ever again. And that is the perfect example why. He had this relationship with Amy and didn't even think of me. Not once."
"And you were jealous."
"Yeah. I was," I admit. "I thought he was supposed to be with me, but he wasn't. He chose someone else. After sharing those few kisses when we were younger, it all changed for me. When he told me Amy was pregnant, it felt like someone had ripped my guts out."
"That's fairly graphic."
"It was graphic. It felt awful. I didn't know if I should be sad or angry or disappointed or worried. It was overwhelming. I knew I was supposed to think about Cade and consider how this was going to affect him, but in those first few seconds, before he told me the rest of the story, all I could think was that he shouldn't have some casual girlfriend in his life. If he was going to have a girlfriend, it should be me. If someone was carrying his baby, it should be me. But, you know, in the future. I wasn’t about the baby life then."
Esme laughs. "That sounds just like you, Fi. Those are some pretty intense thoughts for someone in high school, though."
"I know."
