Still holding hands, we walk over to get skates. It’s open skating, which is free, and the cost of rental skates is minimal. The guy gives us our choice of hockey or ice skates. Parker tells him we need two sets of hockey skates and asks for my size. I cringe.
“Eleven, please.” The guy behind the counter doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing my size and handing them to me.
“Eleven?” Parker questions.
I shrug, embarrassed. I’m five foot nine and have big feet. How many tall women do you know with little feet?
Parker tells him his size, a twelve. He gives the man a twenty and I make my way to the bench to start putting on the skates while he waits for his change.
After the first one is on and I’m sliding my foot in the second, Parker sits next to me. “An eleven?” he asks again, looking down at my feet as I begin to tie up the laces.
“Yes, an eleven.” I sigh. “I hate my feet. Let’s not talk about them, please.”
“You don’t look like you wear an eleven.”
I laugh. I didn’t know that people looked like their shoe size. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, no! Not disappointed. Honestly, I’m shocked. I happen to like your feet. I just never thought they were that big.” He nudges my shoulder while giving a playful laugh. Shaking my head, I go back to tying up the laces.
“Ready?” he asks, standing on the skates like a pro.
Pulling the laces tightly, I reach up for him. “Yup.”
I’ve been on skates before, but it’s been awhile and I’ve never been good, hence needing the lesson. Wobbling and holding onto Parker’s arm for balance, I follow him closely toward the ice.
The rink is quiet for this time of the night, which I’m thankful for. I’m not sure I want to be the laughingstock of the bystanders. Parker reaches the ice first, so I let go of his arm, allowing him to skate forward. I watch as he skates toward the center of the ice, making figure eights as he does. When he reaches the center, he does an abrupt stop, shooting ice up from the skates as if they’re like little sparks of fire.
“Showoff!” I call to him.
“Come on, babe.” He curls his finger, motioning for me to come to him.
“No way! You brought me here to teach me. I’m not about to make a fool of myself and show you just how lame of a skater I am.”
He skates toward me and stops in front of me. I take both of his hands and slowly make my way onto the ice with him. I wouldn’t call what I am doing skating. It’s more like me moving my feet while Parker pulls me along. He’s skating backward and never looks back to see where he is going. It’s as if he’s been on this rink a hundred times and knows just where the boards are.
We skate like this for a good amount of time, until he tells me I’m ready to go on my own. I don’t believe him, but try anyway.
I’m surprised I don’t fall on my butt right away, but even more surprised when I’m able to keep up with Parker.
“You’re doing great!” he calls. He’s skating next to me, but there’s about a three-person distance between us. I’m not sure if that’s just a coincidence, or if he’s giving me space so that he doesn’t chop off any of my fingers if I fall.
“Thanks! I think I’m getting the hang of it.” My feet push out in swift forward strokes, allowing me to go faster. When we come up to a turn, I do as Parker said and push off with my outer foot, allowing that foot to steer.
Just when I thought I was doing well at keeping up with him, he takes off full speed ahead, sending ice flying back at me.
“Hey! That’s not fair!” I yell.
“Come on, little lady. Move it!”
I push myself to go fast, but I don’t get much speed. My legs are a little wobbly, so I lose my balance every time I try to push off to go faster.
I can hear Parker laughing as he skates laps around me. We’re the only ones on the ice now. I bend my knees a little, lowering myself slightly closer to the ice. Following Parker’s movements, I swing my arms out with each push off the ice with my feet. Before I know it, I’ve gained enough speed to catch up to him. He looks pleased.
“Look at you go,” he says, smiling at me.
I give a little bow for approval, but seem to have forgotten I’m on ice skates because I lose my balance and go crashing down onto the ice, directly onto my right hip. The wind gets knocked out of me, causing me to grunt at the surprise impact. Pain slices through my hip and into my leg. Any pain I may have felt before in my hip has just multiplied.
“Shit! Are you okay?” Parker is at my side, bending over me before I can comprehend what just happened.
When I look into his eyes, his expression causes me to panic. His eyes are wide, his pupils have doubled, and his mouth is frozen open.
I look around, searching for my worst fear—my hair sprawled out next to me—but I see nothing. My hands fly up to my head. I feel hair. That’s good!
“Parker?” I ask with caution. I don’t know why he is looking at me like that.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay, good.” He stifles a laugh, which causes me to give him a stern look.
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s not funny!”
“I know. You’re right. It’s not.” But he laughs again.
“Parker,” I snap. Even though my hip’s throbbing, I give him a small smile because, after all, it is funny.
We both start to laugh. I’m laughing so hard my stomach begins to hurt. Parker reaches down, offering me his hand, and I take it.
“I think I’ve had enough.”
“I figured.”
We make our way off the ice slowly. My hip really does hurt. I can already feel the bruise forming. With my blood counts a little lower due to the chemo, I bruise easier.
I make a quick move of checking my hair, but it feels good, so I don’t worry about it.
“Thanks,” I say to Parker as he helps me sit on the bench.
“You’ll need to ice that. It looked like you hit pretty hard.”
“I did.” One good thing about falling is I can pass off the pain I’ve been already feeling as this new pain.
I ask Parker to skip dinner and take me home. My hip is throbbing, and I can feel the new bruise forming over the old, but he won’t listen. He insists we go back to his house and finish the date, offering to make me dinner and possibly watch a movie, saying it won’t be a true date if he takes me home without feeding me. So, off to his place we go for homemade pizza.
“Do you want some wine?”
“Sure. Just a small glass.” Because my chemo was postponed a week, and it’s five days before my next one, I was told it would be okay to have a drink or two.
He pours us each half a glass of white wine, and we clink glasses in a silent toast. I watch him taste a small sip before taking a larger one. He makes drinking wine look professional compared to my gulps. Classy!
As Parker puts sauce on our pizza dough, I start adding toppings.
“Tell me more about where you’re from. It’s a small town, right?” Parker asks.
“Correct. Northridge is very small. It’s outside of the twin cities and I think there are maybe three thousand people who live there.”
“Yup. Never heard of it.”
I can’t help but giggle. “I wouldn’t expect you to; you’re not from here. But don’t worry, you’re not alone. About 80% of the state hasn’t heard of it. I usually have to give the name of a major town around me. We don’t have much, but we do have plenty of bars. There’s not a dry mouth in that town!”
He laughs at that. “Sounds like my town. It’s small, but there are plenty of places to find a stiff drink. Oh, and a clinic.”
Taking a quick sip of my wine, I ask, “What is it with small towns having a lot of bars?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
I add the last of the pepperoni just in time for the oven to beep.
Parker puts our pizza in the ove
n.
“How old were you when your parents adopted Genna?”
“My parents adopted her first. They had tried to have a baby for a few years and couldn’t, so they adopted. Then, voila, they had me.” I add in the spirit fingers with a huge grin. Parker laughs.
“That’s awesome. I take it you two are close?”
“Yeah. We get along really well. You mentioned when we first went out that you have a younger brother. How about you two? You close?”
“Oh, Lee and I? Yeah. We are. We’re opposites, though. He played football; I played hockey. I golf in the spring; he plays baseball. We’re both athletic, just not at the same sports. But, regardless, we always have a good time.”
“Lee?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you know him?” he jokes.
I laugh.
“No, can’t say I know a Lee. It’s just, that’s my middle name, but spelled L-e-i-g-h.”
“No shit. Well, don’t get too comfortable with having things in common with my brother,” he teases.
“What’s yours?” I ask.
“My middle name?”
I nod.
“Cade.”
Cade. I like that. Giving him a soft smile, I tell him.
“Thank you.”
“Does your brother live in Florida?”
“Yes. He works for my dad’s finance company.”
“Did your dad want you to work for him too?”
“No. My parents never pressured us into anything. As long as we went to college they were happy and supportive. Lee just happens to be really good with numbers and accounting, so it made sense that he’d follow in my dad’s footsteps. I’m more like my mom. She never worked aside from running the hobby farm. All she wanted to do was be outside with the animals. I saw her admiration and love for animals, and I knew I wanted to be like her.”
Parker opens the fridge and pulls out a bowl full of cotton candy grapes. Oh my, they are out of this world! Whoever thought to grow hybrid grapes like these is pure genius. Reaching in, I grab a handful and pop one in my mouth.
“How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”
I nearly choke on the grape. “Excuse me?”
“A boyfriend. How come you’re single?”
“How come you’re single?”
“Because my girlfriend left me. Now you.”
Oh shit. Hitting territory I don’t want to go.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. She did me a favor. How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”
I take a deep breath and let it out. Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Because I got cancer. Adam got scared and couldn’t handle it. He left me. The guys since have just been filler. “He left me.”
“How long ago?”
“How long ago did your girlfriend leave you?” I’m not sure I want to know, but the longer I can keep myself out of this conversation the better.
“A year. You?”
“Why?”
“You.”
What has it been now? I count the years in my head. “Four.”
“Months?”
“Years.”
“You haven’t had a boyfriend in four years?”
I shrug.
“Seriously?”
“Well, I’ve dated and had short relationships every now and then, but nothing serious.”
“Wow. Why?”
“Okay, this is hitting too close for comfort. Change of subject, please.”
“I’m not trying to put you on the spot. I’m in shock. A beautiful woman like you, roaming the streets for four years. I can’t wrap my head around it.”
“I was never roaming the streets.” I laugh.
“Why’d he leave you?”
“Why did she leave you?”
“She wanted to get married.”
Yup, I am really hitting territory I don’t want to go into.
“You didn’t?” Do I want to know this? Yes. No.
“No.”
“That’s harsh.”
“I want to get married. I just … I couldn’t give her what she wanted at the time. She wanted a ring. I was looking into internship programs. I didn’t know where I’d end up. I wanted her with me, by my side, but I didn’t think I needed to give her a ring to prove that to her. When she asked for one, I said I wasn’t ready. I came home the next day to an almost empty apartment.”
“Because you wouldn’t get her a ring?”
“Guess so.” He takes a longer sip of his wine this time.
“I’d be happy with that.”
Parker raises his eyebrows and lowers the glass. “You’d be happy if I didn’t get you a ring?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but not like how you think. I mean …” Why do I always find myself in a hole? “I don’t want to get married. So I, personally, would be thrilled knowing I was with a guy who wasn’t thinking about getting me a ring.”
“You don’t want to get married?”
“Nope.”
“Ever.”
“Ever.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Ouch.”
I let out an awkward laugh.
“So, is that why the boyfriend of the small town left you? He wanted to get married, work the farm while you raised the babies?”
“The farm?” Babies?
“Yeah. You said you were from a small town. Isn’t that what people in small towns do? Get married out of high school and have kids?”
“This isn’t the South or 1950. And, no, that’s not why he left me.” I honestly don’t know if that’s what they do in the South.
“Then why?”
Because he was a coward? Ah, that’s not nice. Adam was a great guy. He was just a scared eighteen year old. I don’t blame him. I probably would have left me too.
“We had different plans in life. My plans didn’t match his. He went his separate way. I went mine. I don’t blame him.”
“And, what are your plans in life, Aundrea?”
Stay alive. “Graduate. Travel the world. Spoil my sister’s kids. Enjoy life.”
The oven goes off and I jump.
I watch, sipping my wine, as Parker takes out our pizza. It’s done to perfection. The cheese is golden brown and bubbling from the heat. The smell of Italian spices fills his kitchen. He grabs a pizza cutter and starts cutting it into small squares.
“Where are your plates?” I ask.
“Second cupboard to your left.”
Walking over to the cupboard, I take out two white square plates.
“Here you go.” I hand him our plates, allowing him to dish up some slices. Sitting at his table, I blow on my pizza before taking a bite.
“This is really good.”
“Thanks.”
Swallowing down his second bite, he brings up the one topic I want to run from. Kids.
“You said you want to spoil your sister’s kids. You don’t see yourself having kids?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just know she’ll have them before I ever consider it, and when she does, Auntie Aundrea will be right there to spoil them.”
“But kids aren’t out of the question?”
“Okay, Parker. All this kid and marriage talk … it’s a little premature, don’t you think?”
“I’m just trying to understand you. I want to know you.”
“Listen, I don’t know the rules for dating and when the personal questions come into play, but remember our conversation about no strings? No questions?”
I can’t have this conversation with him. This talk about marriage and kids. I like him. A lot. The second he learns all this information about me is the second he goes running. I’m not ready for him to go running. Maybe I’m being selfish. I am selfish. I want to keep him around, but I don’t want to share anything personal. Is that too much to ask?
How do you tell the man who you are falling in love with that you don’t want to be a wife or have a family becaus
e your biggest fear is leaving them alone? That you can’t stand the thought of leaving your husband a widow, or your kids motherless.
“Noted. No questions.” He sounds a little irritated as he gets up from the table to get another beer.
Shit. Now I feel bad.
“Look,” I say, following him to drop my plate in the sink. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this dating thing. I’m trying, I promise, but can we just lay low on the deep stuff for a while?”
He walks over to me, setting the unopened beer bottle on the counter. “For now,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Making our way into the living room, I laugh when I see the horror movie he rented for us, joking that it’s his way of scaring me into staying the night.
It works. I fall asleep on the couch with my head resting in his lap.
Chapter Thirteen
Parker and I become inseparable in the week following my postponed treatment. We go to the movies—including a movie in the park—dinner, lunch, and he even takes me to a new bookstore that opened a few towns over. He doesn’t complain once while I walk around for hours reading the blurbs and staring longingly at all the beautiful covers.
We eat in the break room at the clinic together with Shannon, and sometimes Bryn. Sometimes he nudges me under the table to get my attention, then smiles at me when I look his way. He doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable or try to flirt with me in front of others. He still winks at me though, which makes me feel special.
One quiet afternoon, Jason and I are alone in his office talking about random things when he brings up Parker’s and my relationship.
“So, what exactly is going on with you and Parker?”
What is it with everyone asking this?
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just wondering. I know it’s not normal to see in the work place, but I want you to know that I am okay with you two dating. Not to sound all dad-like it’s just with him being co-owner now, I don’t want you to think that I’m against it.”
“I didn’t think you were, but thank you.”
He nods.
I look out through the open doorway and into the empty hallway, when he says, “You think it’s fair not to tell him? I’m not blind. I see how he looks at you and vice versa.”
What's Left of Me Page 15
