“What?”
I scanned his face, looking for some sense of where this was going. “I didn’t hang up. I dropped the phone.”
“Why didn’t you call me back?”
All the blood drained from my face. My mouth gaped open. “I…” Jackie and Talia had both told me to call him back, and a thousand times I had wanted to but…I didn’t want to appear weak. I didn’t want him to see me as needy. And how could I mention those three measly attempts on that fateful morning? Suddenly it seemed like I had been the one who gave up on us. “I…” He folded his arms across his chest and began to tap his toe. I squinted at him. Had he actually raised his voice? Did his tone sound as accusatory as I was hearing it, or were my emotions playing tricks on me? “I tried…” I looked at my hands, “a few times. But you didn’t answer.” Twice counted as a few, didn’t it? “And…why didn’t you call me back?”
“I had to deal with my dying father and, at that moment, didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with a pissed off girlfriend. I knew you would call back when you calmed down.” I looked at my feet. “Seems you never calmed down.”
I fumbled with the straps of my beach bag, lips trembling again. “It was bad for me,” I began. Then I shook my head, realizing how small and insignificant my pain suddenly seemed. “When did he pass?” I looked at my hands, unable to face him.
“November thirteenth.”
“Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry.” I threw my arms around him and hugged him. His arms reflexively wrapped around me and drew me even closer to him. We stayed there for a long time, speechless, but exchanging something far bigger than words. His hands stroked my back and tugged at my tangled, wind-blown hair. I stripped his hat off and kissed cheek and temple and rested my cheek against the side of his head, smelling him, experiencing him. I didn’t want to let him go, but he pulled back.
“San Diego? What do they have you doing there?”
I raised an eyebrow. Perhaps next we’d talk about the weather. “Same stuff. Expanding the brand name across Europe. Spent most of the winter in Italy for the Naples opening.”
“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you. I knew you were gonna sail right through this Germany thing and onto bigger and better things.”
I pursed my lips and muttered, “Sail right through. Yep, a real cake walk that was.” Ryan squinted at me. I shrugged. “Your father…I don’t understand. How did it happen, and why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. We have time for all of that later.”
Later? I thought. What the hell does that mean? Five minutes ago, seeing Ryan again fell into ‘never’ and now he was already talking about ‘later.’ I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. “Well, what do you want to talk about? I mean, how did you end up here in this parking lot standing by my car? How about we start with that?”
“We’re camping a mile and half from here,” he said. “I told the guys I needed to go for a walk this morning. Sunrise at the beach is hard for me these days,” he cut his eyes in my direction, “nobody to go find sitting on the blanket visiting the gulls without me.”
“Ryan, I—”
“So I walked. I walked this direction and would have kept going, but the rock pier sort of forced me to the parking lot. I was on my way through when I saw your car.”
“What a coincidence,” I said with more malice in my voice than I intended.
He paused and eyed me, an angry edge bringing the tension even higher. “Anyway, I should be getting back.”
“What?! You wait for hours by my car just to kiss me and shake up my world? Are you serious? What am I? A snow globe? Not cool, Ryan.” He turned to step away. “That’s it then?” I asked. “Wait in the parking lot, see me finally, kiss me, and then leave? What was your point to all this?”
“I needed to see you. At least one last time for old time’s sake. I needed to actually see you. It was worth waiting by your car for a little while. And that’s it.”
“And the kiss? What the hell?” I was flustered at the prospect that I might let Ryan slip right through my fingers once again. Stalling was going to have to work until I thought of something.
“Stop it, Jen. Stop trying to tear this moment apart. Dissect it later. It is what it is, nothing else. I just kissed you. I saw what I needed to see.”
He saw what he needed to, but I didn’t even try. I wasn’t ready for it. He surprised me. I didn’t even participate fully. I wanted a do over. “And what was that?”
“Jen, it’s been great to see you…one last time. Congratulations on the promotion.” He turned and began walking away.
“I missed you, Ryan,” I called after him, but his pace remained steady. He didn’t even acknowledge that I spoke. “I said I missed you!” I called louder, taking a step in his direction. Still no reaction. He was getting away, and I had no idea how to change that. This was a moment to try to begin again, to at least find closure if not a new beginning, and he was walking away from it.
I ran. I left my bags on the ground by the car, and I ran to him. Just as my feet hit the sand, I caught up to him. Grabbing his arm, I tugged, making him face me. “I said I missed you, goddamn it. I missed you and I loved you and I love you still. And please…can we talk about it? I had no idea about your father, and I was…” I tapered off for lack of anything that felt like it sized up to his father’s death. My lower lip trembled. He stood there, staring at me, his face not giving me any clue what he was thinking. I cupped his jaw with both my hands, “Can I get a do over on that kiss?”
And without waiting for an answer, I kissed him. It was tender at first, loving and tenuous, fearing rejection. But when he gave me a slight teasing response, barely participating, I was alive again with the memories of how we used to be, how we teased and played, always pushing the other to be more forceful in their pursuit. I pulled him to me and pushed my tongue through our barely parted lips. My heart smiled as our tongues danced together, and his hands found their way to their usual roosts at the small of my back and the under cup of my ass. The kiss must’ve lasted minutes because when we finally broke, I was winded.
“Is that a better answer to whatever you needed to see?”
He looked down, trying to hide a smile. “For someone who has issues with abandonment, you didn’t mind abandoning me, Jen. You left me to deal with one of the hardest events of my life completely alone. I don’t know if I can get around that.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m sorry. I really just felt like you had decided not to come, that you had found someone else, that everything I always feared was going to happen was actually coming true. And when you didn’t call back, it felt like confirmation.”
He exhaled as if the weight of the world was upon him. He scratched his head, and then shook it as if clearing cobwebs. “No, Jen. No. It’s not that fucking simple. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I saw your car. I don’t know what I was thinking. But now, seeing you, talking to you and thinking about us, I have no idea how I thought this would play out or why I thought this would be a good idea.” He turned and took a step. I watched him moving away from me. Again, I was losing him, and it stabbed at my heart worse than the first time.
“Can you walk away so easily, Ryan? When you know I love you, when you know you still love me, how can you turn your back on this?”
He spun around. “You had no problems doing it. You didn’t hesitate to cut and run. Not so much as an e-mail?! Just…just… gone!”
“Not ‘just gone’! It wasn’t near as simple as you make it sound! I cried my eyes out, Ryan. I was devastated. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. But I wouldn’t beg you to be with me. I had left you to go to Germany, and I felt like you would abandon me for it. I told you that before I left and then…in August, I believed that you were proving me right. It all made sense. I wasn’t goi
ng to email you just to grovel and beg! Either you wanted to be with me or you didn’t and it seemed pretty clear to me that you didn’t. How could I have known about your father? How could I have guessed that there was something else?”
“Because I told you Germany would not break us. Because I told you I loved you. Because I showed you in every way that I could, that we were a forever thing. You were the one who wouldn’t marry me, the one who’s so afraid of commitment, the one who has had me on a string for more than six years now. If anyone was going to leave, it was definitely you. Off in Europe with business executives and retail moguls and people who think like you do and talk like you do and are interested in the things you care about. I believed we could make it, and I meant everything I said to you before you left. No. You can’t lay this at my feet.”
I looked at the sand, listened to the sound of the gulls, hugged myself, and felt my paper-dry pink skin bristle at the contact. “No one’s blaming you.” I began softly, feeling the weight of the decisions I’d made, hearing Jackie and Talia chastising me. “I’m just…” I stepped into his space, lowering my voice even more. “I’m just saying don’t walk away. Today. Just don’t make this the last time I ever see you.”
He looked away somewhere down the beach. “I need time. Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to figure out what I was thinking when I decided to stand by your car today. My number hasn’t changed. You could have called it all this time. Maybe you should consider using it sometime.” He stepped back and turned to go. I reached for him as tears of guilt silently chased each other down my cheeks, screaming, “Your fault” to one another as they fell. He pulled away from my grasp. “Don’t. Just stop. I need time. How hard is that to understand? I’m going back to camp. You should go wherever you were headed when you came to the parking lot.” He walked away, and I stood watching him for long minutes until he was nearly the size of an ant.
Finally, I turned back to the parking lot. My skin was reaching a shade of pink that foreshadowed a painful week of scarlet, starting before sunset this evening. Gathering up my bags and my pride, I got in the car and headed off to the drug store to find that aloe.
Chapter Seventeen
In the weeks that followed, I called and texted Ryan sporadically. Sometimes he’d answer. Sometimes days would go by without a word. I felt like we were starting all over again: small talk, benign topics, and general checkups on each other’s well-being. Bah, it was all so painful. I spent time talking to Talia about expectation management and whether it was worth the time and effort it might take to repair things with him.
“Honey, I don’t know. He doesn’t feel very receptive, but…….” She took a deep breath and then whispered in a tentative tone, “Can you blame him?”
We fell silent, and I listened to myself breathe while I struggled with the guilt that I felt. “I’ve thought and thought about it, Talia. We’re both to blame,—both of us. I mean, he could’ve called me, too, y’know.”
“Yep, he sure could’ve. And I’m not saying he’s blameless. I’m just saying—I mean—well, hun, his dad died.”
“Not my fault at all.”
“Nope, it isn’t. But he was dealing with that and all of the things surrounding that. So, maybe he couldn’t come up with the strength to also call you when he believed you didn’t care anymore.”
“But I thought he didn’t care!”
“Oh, I know, hun. I witnessed that little belief system at work when I was there with you. I’m aware of what you thought.”
“Is this an ‘I told you so’? Seriously?! Are you really gloating right now?”
“No. The time for gloating hasn’t come yet. I’m just saying be patient with him. It may take awhile before you get the warm reception you’re hoping for. And if you can’t be patient, then accept that this really is over.”
“But I don’t want it to be over. God, you know the guys I’ve tried dating. They’re terrible—stodgy, aloof, pompous, narcissistic, broken, low self-esteemed—guys with full sets of past-life luggage. I’ve tried them all. Jesus, the guy from last week?! The business dinner turned awkward proposition?! Where do these guys come from? And why do they find and pursue me? I just want Ryan, Talia. I want it to be like it was.”
“Even if it takes time to get it back?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he needs your reassurance and commitment?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you calling me for? Call him.”
“I love you, hun.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
I continued to give Ryan space and reassurance, but I knew that nothing would ever be different if I didn’t change something. So I dialed his number on a late June afternoon.
He answered after only two rings. “Hello.”
“Come stay with me for a weekend.”
“What?”
“Come to San Diego and stay with me for a weekend.”
“I’m busy with work and stuff. I don’t think I can.”
“It doesn’t have to be this weekend. How about next? I am not going on a trip to Europe again for more than a month. I have regular office hours, and I know that the Las Vegas summer is coming into bloom, and you could use a break. So, next weekend? Or the weekend after that?”
Silence stretched the tension so thin that when he finally spoke, I jumped. “I might be able to come down next weekend, but I’m not sure I like the idea of staying at your place.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
“It’s an open invitation. We don’t have to decide that right now.” He grunted agreement. “You can bring your bike if you want. There are cool tracks around here to ride…or so I’ve been told. Glamis isn’t too far east of here. It would be really cool to see you ride again.” Again a grunt. “Okay. We can plan that as the week progresses. How was work today?”
And conversation fell into the typical meaningless drivel of checking in and making small talk. By the time I hung up, I felt tentatively hopeful at what was to come.
* * *
Over the next week, we spoke more frequently than we had been, and I loved it. His voice had not changed. It still had its impact on me. I wanted to hear it in my ear again as we lay naked on the bed in the aftermath of our sex. I wanted to hear it at the back of my ear as I cooked in the kitchen and from across the condo as we made plans for the day. I just wanted him near me, and each day that passed made that more of a possibility.
The weather forecast for the weekend was absolutely amazing. I couldn’t have asked for a better setting for this time together. He arrived on Saturday morning, refusing to come down Friday night because he didn’t want to stay in a hotel and was as yet undecided about staying at my place. This day felt like a trial run at something, and that made the excitement, and nervousness, tangible.
We met for coffee at a nearby restaurant. I offered to show him around town or to do any one of a number of other things, like going to the beach, going to a motorcycle track, going to a movie, and so on. He was quieter than he had been on the phone, but I didn’t let that bother me.
“I’d love to show you my place. It’s right on the beach, and we could swim or hang out or….”
“Okay. Let’s go see your place for starters.” He smiled across the table at me. “I’ve missed the beach. I love Vegas, but I miss the beach.”
As I drove, I was silently taking inventory. Was my place clean? Had I made the bed? Would he like my condo even though it was small? Would he be spending the night? As I pulled into my assigned parking space, the butterfly colony in my stomach threatened to fly right out of my mouth. I took deep breaths and swallowed hard. “I need some water,” I said as he grabbed his bags from the back of his truck. I noticed he hadn’t brought his bike and wondered why.
Opening t
he door to my condo felt as if I was looking at it again for the first time. The waves crashed on the beach, white caps glistening in the bright sunlight. It was gorgeous today. The kitchen was clean and still looked as rich and luxurious as it had on day one. I grabbed a glass and poured myself some water. Taking a sip, I offered the glass to him. “Want some? It’s filtered…”
He didn’t answer. He was walking slowly from the front door toward the balcony, mesmerized by the view. When I took his bags from him, he finally acknowledged me. “Wow. Now that’s a view. I love this place if only for that.”
I smiled proudly. “I love it here. It’s worth the money for beachside. You want some water?” He took the glass from me and took a big swig, handing it back half empty.
“Do you sit on the balcony?”
“All the time.”
He opened the sliding glass door and let himself out, taking up roost in the chair I normally sat in. I set the water on the side table and sat down, musing to myself that I was sitting in the chair that I mentally think of as the one for guests. We sat there quietly, watching the beach, the gulls, the people, and the waves for quite some time. And when he finally stopped staring at those things long enough to look at me, I spoke. “So, umm, there is more to this place than the balcony. And it turns out that I’m giving tours today. Do you want to see the rest of it?”
“Sure,” he said with the natural smile that I remembered so fondly. “Sure, hun, show me the rest of the joint.”
The tour was short. A one-bedroom place doesn’t offer much in the way of side trips. Then we spent the afternoon on the beach. We changed into swimsuits and walked right out of the complex onto the sandy dunes. We probably walked at least three miles in one direction before deciding that we were getting hungry enough to turn back around. On the way back, my hand found its way into his, and he didn’t reject it. It was amazing to be in this space at this moment in time, holding his hand and walking along the wet sand at the water’s edge.
Sunrise Fires Page 15
