by Jean Oram
“Want to play?” Steve waved the box of cards as we sat at his kitchen table. My seat wobbled slightly, reassuring me in the oddest way.
“First one to explode loses,” I said, taking the deck to sort and deal the cards. Obi trotted over and dropped at my feet, his eyebrows doing a dance as he watched first Steve, then me.
As we played, we ate, the food going down fast.
“Why did you want to become a doctor?” Steve asked partway through the game, his empty plate pushed to the side.
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on my cards as I reached down to ruffle the soft, long fur behind Obi’s ears. It felt as though it was Steve’s turn to disturb his view of me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him peeking into my soul like that. It felt as though he already understood me plenty.
“Afraid to tell me?” he asked casually. He’d picked up an exploding kitten and groaned. He had a defuse card, though, putting the kitten back into play and saving him from losing the game. But increasing my chances of a win.
“It was just something I wanted,” I said, matching his easy tone. “You know how teens are.”
“Teens want to help people?”
“Being able to heal someone is kind of a big thing,” I said, feeling oddly defensive. “When else do you get to positively influence someone’s life in such a way? You get to help return them to normal after something as potentially massive as life and death.”
We played another few turns before he said, “You must’ve been devastated.”
I folded my lower lip into my mouth. It still stung, letting go of that dream. It had been many years ago, but the loss and hurt hadn’t waned as much as I’d have liked.
Maybe, I realized, because I hadn’t filled the hole it had left.
“You know,” I said, feeling miffed, “nobody seemed to even notice or care when I changed my dreams.” I folded my cards facedown on the table. “I expected it to be this big deal, and everybody just kind of acted like... like nothing had happened. Like it was better that I wasn’t going to med school.”
My parents had been relieved. My mother had stated that it was good I wasn’t going. She had worried that dealing with the stress of having people’s lives in my hands on a daily basis might be too much, and that racking up massive student loans could break me financially.
“I cared,” Steve said. He lowered his voice as he added, “I’ve seen women give up their dreams for men.”
“It wasn’t about Calvin!”
“Okay.”
“Did you not see me almost faint out in my yard when Max had his nosebleed? Or catch me in biology class?”
He was fingering the cards in his hands, not looking up. “I think everybody gets wrapped up in their own world.” He picked up a new card from the pile and revealed it. Another exploding kitten. “No defuse.” He slid his hand of cards into the discard pile, having lost the game. “Sometimes people don’t see what others are going through.”
Like I hadn’t seen the thing with his mom.
After gathering all the cards together, I reshuffled the deck, then set it aside. “You know why I didn’t become a doctor. Why did you act like I’d given up? You all but implied that I was latching on to Calvin—who never truly loved me, by the way—so I wouldn’t have to deal with my own inadequacies. That I gave up out of fear. That I’m complaisant, or too unambitious, and that it’s to my own detriment. That when things get difficult I roll over.”
My voice had grown loud and I suddenly felt Obi’s nose against my thigh. I realized I was standing, hands clenched into fists.
“Do you?” Steve asked, his tone careful and quiet.
“No!” I was disgusted that this man who seemed to know so much about me was doubting me. Doubting my strength and ability to take control of my own life. “I tried, okay? I tried self-hypnosis. I borrowed audiobooks from the library to listen to every night. I did everything I could think of to try and get over the issue. I even had this whole mantra about how everything was okay even if somebody was bleeding. None of it worked. I tried.”
Steve reached forward and touched my hand, the gesture warm and unexpected.
I yanked it back. “Giving up those scholarships was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And I hate that you think I hit a roadblock and gave up without even trying.”
It hurt more than everyone just going along with my drastic switch in life plans.
Steve shook his head, not saying anything. Finally he murmured, “It’s none of my business.”
“What isn’t?” I snapped. “You’re an open book, remember?”
“Is that why you focused on marrying Calvin?” He was looking at me, his eyes full of questions and hurt. “Even though maybe marriage wasn’t quite as much as you needed?”
I swallowed hard and stared at him, but he didn’t apologize, change the subject or take the question back, like my ex-husband would have. I took my plate and put it in the dishwasher, giving myself a moment to cool down.
“You’re the only one who ever challenged me about swapping med school for a wedding band,” I said. “You know that?”
“Maybe it’s because I cared more than anyone else.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“Maybe I saw how much you wanted to become a pediatrician. Maybe because I’ve seen women give up their careers, their dreams, for men who love them. Love isn’t enough to fill the hole, and I’ve seen it kill them. Is it wrong that maybe I wanted more for you?”
There was a fire in his eyes that was familiar, yet new. Like the flame that had licked behind every fight we’d ever had, but different today. Big enough to consume both of us if let out of control.
I’d never had anyone fight me the way he was. I didn’t know how to respond, what to say. All I could do was feel awash in that same old hurt and disappointment that had haunted me since I was a teen.
“And maybe I just wanted you to be happy for me—because it was my choice.” I was almost at the front door when I heard him speak from his spot in the kitchen.
“But maybe I could see that you weren’t entirely happy with it.”
“Maybe my happiness is none of your business,” I muttered under my breath, shoving my arms into my coat sleeves.
“My dad traveled with the military as a helicopter pilot,” Steve said, his voice carrying. I paused, unsure whether I could truly walk out in a huff when his tone told me he was about to reveal something. “My mom used to be the chief financial officer for Cohen’s Blissful Body Care in South Carolina—somehow managing her career despite how we moved around from base to base. She loved it. She was made for it. But she gave it up for my dad. For me.”
I stepped back to the kitchen doorway.
“She wasn’t happy at home, and she got sick. She became a shell...” He paused and swallowed, but then his voice filled with conviction as he met my eye. “You have to fulfill your dreams. You have to pursue life. You can’t waste it.”
I nodded to let him know I’d heard him.
“Let absolutely nobody stand in the way of what you want. Nobody.”
The kitchen felt small, electrified, as though if either one of us took a step we’d bring the walls down.
I stood in the doorway, frozen to the spot. As a teen, every once in a while Steve would get like this. He’d tighten up, clam up, then skip chemistry class. But there was no class to skip tonight, just me.
He suddenly pushed his chair back and marched over to where I stood. His eyes a churning sea of emotion, he scooped his hands into my hair, tangling his fingers in the strands, bracing my entire being with his for one long glorious moment before locking his lips on mine in a fervent kiss. He took my breath away with the intensity and ferocity of his need. I kissed him back, lost in the feeling of being consumed by him.
Panting, we broke apart.
“Wow,” I breathed.
He pulled me in for another long kiss, this one slower.
“I couldn’t become a doctor,” I said, when it
finally ended.
“I know.”
Somehow he had seen what I had refused to. He’d seen that Calvin couldn’t fill that big, empty hole that my lost dream had made. That was why he had been against me getting married after high school.
But this time I could see things just fine.
“This isn’t going to work,” I whispered.
He kissed me again, that urgent need rising between us once more. It made me light-headed while at the same time grounding me. I felt lost, but found. It was as though two contradictory universes were spinning through me, and I was powerless to do anything but turn with them.
“Never sell yourself short,” he said between kisses.
“Take your own advice,” I retorted, kissing him back.
He pulled away to look at me. “What does that mean?”
“You put up walls. You run to a new adventure instead of staying through the quiet. You fight instead of bonding.”
“We’re not fighting.”
And we were bonding. Did that make me a liar?
His kisses turned tender, his hands secure on my back, my waist. “What if you met someone who could love you the way you needed? What would you do?”
I was unsure of the territory he was leading us into. “What are you saying?”
“I think you could be a lot happier, Joy Evans.”
He gently tipped my chin upward so I’d be forced to look at him. And maybe so I’d consider him. The idea scared me.
“I’m happy enough.”
“You have everything you want in your life?” His eyes were on my lips as he brushed the hair from my face.
“I applied to go back to school.”
I shouldn’t have told him that.
I knew he wouldn’t let me reverse my decision about going if I got accepted, but it also meant he would hold me to a lot of other things, too. It would be good for me—as long as I didn’t break from the pressure.
His spine straightened. “Good. Don’t give up on what you want. Don’t put the needs of others…”
“Your mom’s history is not repeating itself through me, Steve.”
He dropped his arms, his face suddenly expressionless.
“Seriously, Steve. Let me live my life my way. They’re my mistakes to make.”
He took a step back.
I didn’t know how to navigate this. His reaction suggested I’d hurt his feelings or crossed a line. But this was us—we fought and threw daggers, without injury. At the moment, though, it felt as if we were unearthing things that could cause wounds in both of us. We were in landmine territory, and I didn’t know how to avoid them. One moment it felt as though he was throwing bombs at my feet, shrapnel and dirt flying up at me. The next moment he was pulling me out of harm’s way.
“Don’t put others first, Joy.” His tone was quiet.
“You do understand how disruptive going back to school would be?”
“Tell me about France.”
France. The air left my lungs. France was a problem. One I didn’t want to talk about with Steve.
“It’s beautiful.” I had crossed my arms and now lowered them to my sides, but found them landing on my hips instead. “There are job opportunities for engineers. The people over there speak French, and their food is supposed to be divine.”
“Tell me about how you feel about France.”
“I don’t want to move there,” I blurted out. I whirled away from him, curse words running through my mind. I had not meant to say that.
“Then don’t.”
“Yeah? And how’s that going to work?” Tears filled my eyes as I faced him again. “I’m a mom. I don’t get to be self-centered, Steve. And maybe your mom didn’t either. Being part of a family means being well-acquainted with give-and-take. Maybe she stayed home because she loved you, and being your mother was what mattered most to her. Maybe her getting sick was unrelated.”
I turned away once again, blindly making my way toward the door.
As I fumbled into my winter boots, Steve stood close enough to touch. I looked up at him with an ache in my chest. I feared speaking, because it would surely unlatch the gate holding back the tears I was fighting.
“If something isn’t working for one of the family members,” he said, “chances are it won’t be working for everyone else before long.”
I shakily zipped up my coat, but before I could march out the door, Steve swept me into a hug, enclosing me in his warmth, his heart pounding under my ear. “Don’t be like me. Don’t run away.”
“I thought you wanted me to be like you,” I said in a choked voice, “and have the world bend around me.”
He didn’t answer, just kissed me with a tenderness that confused me even further.
Chapter 6
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled, shuffling toward the front door. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and smoothed my hair. The knocking had stopped and Obi had ceased barking after only two bellows, which meant the person was either gone or was someone he knew.
I’d had a late night painting Max’s room and going over all I’d said to Steve before that. Of course I wanted to go to France. I wanted to be with my family. Was I losing my mind, saying what I had to him? Now he’d never let it go, and he would pester me mercilessly if I didn’t pull the plug on leaving town, should the tentative plan ever come to fruition.
But why was Steve, if he was so into adventures, encouraging me to stay home? Why wasn’t he telling me to go?
I opened the door to find myself face-to-face with him. Steve was smiling, and looked perky and well rested.
“You again?” I asked, as Obi—the big traitor—leaned against Steve’s long legs, his big doggy eyes adoring as he waited for some love.
“You’re cute when you’re all groggy.” Steve had an affectionate warmth in his gaze as he handed me an insulated cup of coffee. Didn’t he understand fighting? You didn’t just come over the next morning as if everything was good again.
I hoisted the cup like I was toasting him, and went to swing the door shut. There hadn’t been nearly enough hours between our tough words and this morning for me to feel fully sorted out. Not to mention our kisses.
He stopped the door from closing. “I have a surprise. Put on some clothes.”
Didn’t he feel the need to rehash last night’s fight? Prove to me that I’d been in the wrong?
When I refused to budge Steve tipped his head to the side, watching me for a moment. “I’m sorry if I was bossy last night.”
“I’m fine with moving to France.” My words seemed to have no impact. “And I’m happy,” I added.
“Okay.”
“And I won’t take back my words. About... any of it.” Even if I may have stepped over the line.
He didn’t look quite as perky, but gave me a nod. “Fine.”
I waited for him to defend his side of the argument. He didn’t. “So?”
I didn’t know where to go from here. I’d created some mighty big plans on how I could avoid him for the next few days, weeks, maybe even months.
“We’re good?” he asked.
“No, we’re not good.” Moving past fights wasn’t supposed to be this easy. Where was the guilt trip for how I’d treated him, for the words I’d slung? Wasn’t he going to act wounded and draw out his hurt forever? It felt like I was getting off easy for speaking my mind so freely. “Don’t meddle.”
“Hmm.” He looked down at his feet with a frown.
“Okay! So I could handle making some changes in my life. You’re right! School will be good. If I get in, I’m going. Even though it’s going to cause a major mess.” I watched him carefully. There was no gloating? No grin of victory? “So be happy you were right, and win this one.”
He was still staring at his feet as if he had something to hide.
“What did you do?” I asked.
He looked up, appearing contrite. “To be fair, I didn’t know about the no-meddle rule.”
I waved the cof
fee cup he’d given me. “You’re not going to let me go enjoy this in peace, are you?”
He shook his head and took a step closer, so I’d back into the house. “Go put some clothes on.”
I sighed in defeat. “Fine. Give me a minute. I have to walk Obi-Wan anyway. We are walking, right?”
He nodded and I hurried to my bedroom, where I yanked on a pair of faded jeans and a sweatshirt, before running to the bathroom to splash water on my face and wrangle my hair into a ponytail. Moments later I was standing beside Steve along with my dog.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far.”
I had a feeling I might know where Steve was taking me, and I was buzzing with anticipation to find out if I was correct.
As we climbed the creaking steps to the community center, I knew that whatever Steve’s surprise was had to do with the piano.
“Calvin promised to deal with the piano,” I said, carefully avoiding the spot on the steps where ice had formed. Steve didn’t need to know that Calvin had given up already.
He unlocked the door. Obi stood with his nose in the crack, ready to go in first. I unclipped his leash so he wouldn’t drag me into the doorjamb.
Steve moved inside, feeling his way down the wall, on a search for the light switches to brighten the room. Onstage, Obi ran his nose along the length of the piano bench before giving a huff and moving on with his tour of inspection. The piano was off-center, not quite under one of the bright stage lights.
Steve and I climbed the stairs to the stage and he flipped up the keys’ cover, then gestured for me to sit. “I was watching some YouTube videos last night.”
Ha! So he hadn’t had a perfect night’s rest, either. Somehow that made me feel better.
“I still don’t have all the tools or pieces I need, but see if this is better.”
I hesitated, then slowly eased onto the bench. “You tuned the piano?” And had done some legwork to track down the center’s key as well.
“You be the judge of that.”
