Left Hanging

by Cindy Dorminy

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Darla

  We jump out of the car and race each other to the counter like a couple of ten-year-olds. After we get our cones, we sit outside on one of the picnic tables. I am so tired, but I’m wired all the same. I try to keep ahead of my ever-melting ice cream, but I’m not very successful in this summer heat. Stella would love an ice cream on a day like this.

  While we lick our ice cream, Theo grabs my unbandaged hand and presses my thumb down to start a game of thumb wrestling. I’m distracted by ice cream and eye candy. He beats me at another thumb war, but I don’t care who wins. I like holding his hand. I think that’s why he likes the game too.

  When he writes out a Hangman puzzle on a napkin, I roll my eyes. “You’re getting soft on me. ‘Ice Ice Baby.’”

  He shrugs. “You caught me on a bad day.”

  “Slacker.”

  “This is exactly what I needed,” he mumbles with a mouth full of ice cream.

  “The ice cream?”

  He winks at me. “That and other things.” Eep.

  “So tell me, who is Mrs. Lopez?”

  He takes a long lick of his mint double fudge ice cream cone and closes his eyes tight.

  “Brain freeze? Stick your thumb to the roof of your mouth.”

  He slides back into the booth, still squinting. “You want me to look like I’m sucking my thumb?”

  I chuckle. “Try it. I promise it works.”

  He shrugs and sticks his thumb in his mouth right as I click a photo of him with my phone.

  “Oh, you are dead.”

  “What?” I bat my eyes. “Are you going to get all macho on me?” I wink at him. It could be fun if he did.

  He holds his hand out for my phone. “You wish.”

  “Oh, all right.” I relinquish it. “Party pooper.”

  He deletes the photo. “Let’s do another selfie.” He leans over the table, and we butt heads. “Ow,” he says with a laugh. “Say ‘ice cream.’”

  “Ice cream,” I say. But before he takes the photo, he rubs his cone on my nose. I squeal. I cannot believe I fell for that. It’s something an eighth grader would do. I grab for my phone, but he leans back in the booth so I can’t reach him.

  “Done. I sent it to myself.”

  I wipe my face with a napkin. Oh, I know how to get him back, and it doesn’t involve ice cream. It doesn’t involve photos or even a cell phone. “That’s too bad. And I was about to ask you if you wanted to stay the night.” After seeing this side of him, I want him to stay a whole bunch of nights.

  And boom! The grin, the laughter, and the joke are over as his hands scramble around with my phone. “Oh crap. How do you unsend, delete. Come on, there has to be an undo button on this stupid thing.” His fingers fly across my phone screen as he begs me with his eyes. “Uh, you were kidding, right?”

  I shrug. “You’ll never know now, will you?”

  He scrunches his eyebrows together. “You don’t play fair.”

  “Aw, poor baby has met his match,” I say while I pinch his cheek.

  He swats my hand away. “Back to your question about Mrs. Lopez, you evil beast. When I was in middle school, my mother met her at Goodwill. And when you meet my mother, you’ll find out she never meets a stranger. It wasn’t long before she and Mrs. Lopez became half-price thrift-store buddies every Wednesday. She’s been in our lives ever since.”

  He gets this faraway look in his eyes. “My parents knew her family didn’t have much, but they were very proud, so we adopted her. You know, we would have the standard birthday parties but did something for her on our birthdays also. Sometimes, they would come to our house for the holidays, and other times, we’d surprise them with food. We would bake dinner—well, Tommy would do most of the baking—and we’d buy gifts for her kids, rake her leaves, stuff like that.” He shrugs as though it’s no big deal.

  I can’t keep my eyes off him. If God ever created a perfect human being, Theo is it. He has such deep compassion.

  “We still do what we can for her, especially on our birthdays.”

  “That’s why you work the extra shifts in the ER.”

  “Among other things, but not for an engagement ring for you-know-who.” He winks. He finishes his ice cream and stares at me. “Do you know why I went to medical school?”

  “I’m guessing you want to help people.”

  “Sure. This country’s flooded with doctors, but in Africa and other parts of the world, it’s not that way.” He’s staring at my eyes, but he’s peering much deeper, way deeper, right into my soul. He’s trying to tell me something.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I want to be a part of Doctors Without Borders.”

  I sit back. “That’s wonderful,” I say when I can find my voice again. I’m not sure I mean it. “I toyed with the idea of doing something like that, but it’s not possible being a single parent. Speaking of being a parent…” I wipe my mouth with my napkin in case there’s a trail of melted ice cream anywhere.

  “You see, that’s the beauty of not having to answer to anyone.”

  The nerve of him. Right when I’m on the verge of telling him about Stella, he goes and says something so insensitive. Maybe I was wrong about how he would take the news.

  “Excuse me? I find that having to consider another human in my choices to be… beautiful and very worthwhile.”

  He sits back in his chair. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I hold my hand out to stop him from speaking. “What you mean is you enjoy doing whatever you want at the drop of a hat. Right?”

  His mouth opens, but no words come out.

  “You can fly off to Haiti or the Ivory Coast or Guatemala on a moment’s notice.”

  “Well—”

  “And people like me, a single parent, can’t make choices like that. Our decisions are made for us.” My face is on fire. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to defend myself because what I wanted to do conflicted with what I needed to do. And until Theo has run a mile in my size-six Nikes, he’ll never get it. While he was off doing who knows what with Mallory, I was changing dirty diapers, kissing boo-boos, and having to justify my single-mommy status every step of the way.

  He swallows. “I, uh, no matter what I say, it isn’t going to take back the fact that I was being kind of high-and-mighty. All I can say is I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  I fold and unfold my napkin, managing a slight nod.

  He clears his throat. “Not to change the subject, but the whole family will be in town this weekend, so Mom wants to have a cookout. Want to come?”

  “Uh, sure.” I’m completely shocked that he wants to be in the same county as me after the two scoldings I have given him today.

  “Great. I’ll let you know. But just so you know, it’s not a birthday party. ” He takes my hand and kisses each knuckle. I guess it’s a nonverbal “I’m sorry” gesture.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do. A few hours earlier, I was ready to tell him everything. But now that I know he plans to head off for months at a time, I’m not sure that would be fair to Stella. Meeting him when he plans on leaving might break her heart. And I don’t know if he can handle being in our lives full time. Stella deserves no less than everything, and if he can’t give her that, I don’t know if he deserves any of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Theo

  Silence looms over us on the drive back to her house. Darla stares out the passenger window. She doesn’t even crack up when I purposely sing off-key to every tune on the radio. I thought we were having fun, but things went south fast, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t like to apologize for wanting to volunteer, but it’s obvious I struck a nerve with her.

  When I stop the
car in her driveway, I get out, but I’m not ready to say good-bye. I don’t want the day to end this way. She slides out of the car and starts up the driveway.

  Oh crap. The gift. “I almost forgot.”

  She turns back toward me.

  I retrieve a gift bag and hand it to her. “Happy birthday.”

  “You didn’t have to do this,” she says, not making eye contact. She flings tissue paper all over the driveway and takes out a DVD of Romeo and Juliet. She squeals with laughter. Maybe I haven’t ruined everything after all.

  “This is perfect. But I didn’t get you anything for your birthday.”

  I scrunch my forehead. “Sure, you did. Spending time with you is all I could ever ask for. It’s something I should have done a long time ago.” I wink at her. “Did you enjoy your birthday?”

  She wraps her arms around my neck and whispers, “Yes, thank you.”

  I slide my arms around her waist and tug her closer. “You’re welcome. I’m so sorry about what I said earlier.”

  She bows her head. “I have no idea how hard it’s been for you, the sacrifices you make every day. Please forgive me.” She wipes a tear away and leans back, but I don’t let go. “I’m sorry for being so touchy.”

  “I’ve already forgotten it.”

  She swallows hard. “Why did you do all this?”

  I stare at her. “You don’t know?” I lean in to kiss her, but she pivots her head.

  “Please don’t,” she says softly.

  “Not even a little peck? Aw, come on. Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want you to fall in love with me.”

  A warm sensation fills my entire body. I rub her shoulders. “Uh, too late.”

  She sucks in a breath. Again, I go in for a kiss, but she covers my mouth with her hand.

  “If you kiss me, I know I’ll fall in love with you all over again, and I don’t want this to end.”

  “Why would it end? Because I want to…” I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true. That’s why she got so quiet in the car. Africa is a total buzzkill, and she didn’t know how to tell me. I let her go and lean up against my car. I took a chance telling her about my desire to be part of Doctors Without Borders, and it backfired on me. It’s fricking volunteer work; it’s in my DNA.

  “Because of what I need to tell you. It might influence your plans, and I can’t make you feel guilty over your choices.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Trust me. You’ll hate me. I… God, why can’t I spit it out?” She rests her head on my chest.

  I tilt her head up and press her forehead to mine. I stare into her eyes. They are filled with such sadness. I wish I knew how to fix what was wrong so she would be happy.

  “You said again.”

  She closes her eyes. “Huh?”

  “You said you would fall in love with me… again. Again implies there was a before, so I’m guessing…” She was in love with me. I knew it. It wasn’t one-sided.

  She buries her face in my shirt. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” I hold on to her for a moment longer, breathing her breaths, smelling her baby-lotion scent, and soaking it all in. When I come up for air again, I abruptly let go. I rumble around in the backseat to fish out my Bible. It’s my source of comfort, my source of inspiration, and it’s the only place I can turn that will give me the words I know I have to say. I pace in front of my car, flipping through the pages until I find the scripture passage I’m searching for.

  I lean back against the hood of my car. “I want to read something to you. First Corinthians,chapter thirteen, verses four through eight.”

  I stop to clear the crud that has built up in my throat and blink my vision clear. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it’s exactly how I feel. She needs to know how much she means to me.

  “Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

  I close my Bible and toss it through the open car window. Tears streak down her cheeks. I take her face in my hands and wipe away the teardrops I’ve caused.

  “I love you, Darla. Whatever you have to tell me and whenever you tell me, I promise I will not be easily angered, and I won’t keep record of wrongdoings, and I won’t delight in evil. I will rejoice in the truth. I will always protect you. And you, my sweet love, can always trust me. I won’t fail you.”

  She stands there with her mouth open. I softly close it with my finger and cup her face with my hands.

  Her lip quivers. “That was the most beautiful…” Her body trembles, so I hold her close.

  I kiss her so softly at first. This is really finally happening. I wrap my arms around her. I kiss her over and over again, my tongue exploring that familiar mouth of hers that I have missed so much. My hands run under her shirt, touching her warm, soft back. She lets out a slight moan, and her hands grip my shoulders. I don’t care what happens next. Right now, I love her, and I know she has never stopped loving me.

  It’s quite obvious where this is heading, and I certainly have no plans to stop it. Suddenly, a lion roars, and I realize my phone is ringing.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I shout. I lean back against my car, coming up for air. I think my lips are bruised from the passion of our kisses. I snatch my phone from my pocket.

  Darla stumbles backward, out of breath. Her poor cheek is raw from my sandpaper-rough near-beard. She leans over my car’s hood and sucks in air.

  “Sorry, it’s work. I have to take this.” I swipe my hand over the phone and snap at the innocent person on the other end of the call. “What?”

  “Hi, Dr. Edwards, this is Carmen from the ER.”

  “Sorry, I’m, um, in the middle of something.”

  “Er, I hate to break up the lovefest, but we’ve got two life-flight helicopters coming in from a five-car pileup on I-40, plus we’re busting at the seams with patients today. Can you come in?”

  “Oh, all right. Yeah. Uh, can you get me some scrubs to change into?”

  “Sure thing, Doc. And I’m sorry to bother you.”

  I hang up the phone and groan then bang my head on the hood of my car. This is just my luck. “I have to go. It’s actually a five-car pileup. Some of the injured are coming in by Life Flight.”

  She touches my face. “Your ringtone is a lion?”

  I shrug as I wrap my arms around her waist and tap her forehead with mine. She kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Work is a lion because they always call at the most inopportune times, and it makes me growl.” I show her my frequent caller list. “Mom’s is her voice saying, ‘Turn on, tune in, drop out.’ Dad’s is John 3:16. Tommy’s is his voice saying, ‘Risk, the game of world domination.’ And my sister is nails on a chalkboard.”

  She giggles. “Your sister is nails on a chalkboard? That’s awful.”

  My face hurts from the perma-smile. “You haven’t met my sister.”

  “What is my ringtone?”

  I bat my eyes and gaze far off. “Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo.”

  “I stepped right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “Yep.”

  She kisses me on the cheek. “Now go. See you tomorrow.”

  I kiss her again. I like this kissing tennis match we’re playing, especially when the score is love-love. I have to leave, but not forever. It seems as though we are finally moving in the right direction together, so I’m going to do everything in my power to keep us moving forward. Somehow, I need her to trust me enough to get over her secret hurdle. And she
needs to meet my parents. Plus, we need to finish that kissing match we started.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Darla

  After he drives away, I scramble indoors and collapse on the couch. What a day. He loves me! If I ever had any doubt before, it’s gone now. He said it. He showed it. I feel it.

  And I am going to ruin it if I don’t spill the beans. I was close to telling him when he started talking all about Doctors Without Borders. Sometimes, those docs are gone for months, if not years, at a time. That’s the last thing Stella needs.

  Another perfect chance to tell him he has a daughter, and I let it slip through my fingers. I could have said, “I love you too, and so does your daughter,” but no, I didn’t say anything. I let myself live in the moment, and that moment was awesome.

  After I’ve watched the entire Romeo and Juliet movie that Theo gave me, I drag myself off the couch and toward the shower. I’m not sure why I bother. Five minutes in the Tennessee summer sun, and my shower-fresh feeling will be replaced with sticky, sweaty grossness. I throw on some clothes that won’t stick to my skin in this sweltering, muggy heat and head out the door. If I tell him before Stella gets back, I’ll have time to recover from his possible rejection. But if I wait until she returns, he might not be able to resist that beautiful face of hers. I am driving myself crazy. I need a counseling session with my favorite sassy therapist—Shelby. She always knows what to do.

  I zoom across town to her condo. By the time I get there, my hair is already plastered to my sweaty face. But it’s only Shelby; she won’t mind. I rap on the door. No answer. I knock louder. I know she’s here because her car is right outside her building. I text her, and she replies, telling me to use the spare key because she’s getting dressed. I feel around under the mat to find the key and let myself in. Her condo is super classy. She hates all the modern art on the walls, but her mother insisted. But there are hints of Shelby’s personality everywhere, from the herb garden on the kitchen windowsill to the autographed photo of the latest rock star she’s cozying up to these days.