Wish You Were Here

by Renee Carlino

  “What are you talking about?” Helen said.

  “To hit it out at the farthest part of the field, because the air is thicker. He really got ahold of that one.”

  Helen laughed. “It has to be because she’s here.” She patted me on the head.

  “What, are you serious?”

  “Maybe,” Roddy said.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Helen leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Sometimes they just need to believe in it. It’s a head trick.”

  She wasn’t actually superstitious; she wasn’t actually buying this crap. She was doing what a good baseball girlfriend would do: letting them believe. Letting them have faith. Wasn’t that what I did for crazy Adam that one night?

  15. Worship

  When the game was over, we walked across the street to the lobby bar at the Omni hotel.

  “He’ll be over when he’s done,” Helen said when she spotted me looking around.

  “Oh, I don’t care,” I said.

  “Yeah you do.”

  Roddy was off talking to one of the coaches while Helen and I sat in round bucket chairs, watching swarms of fans gather around.

  After my second drink, I yawned and thought I would give him another ten minutes and then head home. I didn’t have any messages on my phone, so I figured he was busy with all the hype from hitting the walk-off grand slam. A moment later, I noticed Helen beside me look up and smile. Before I had time to turn around, I felt a big, warm hand on my shoulder.

  “Charlotte?”

  With the touch of his hand, something suddenly clicked for me, and I decided I would just live within the moment. I jumped up, turned, and leapt into his arms. “You were amazing!”

  His chest rumbled with laughter. “It’s ’cause you were here.”

  I kissed him, right there in front of a hundred people gathered in the lobby lounge as they looked on. He smelled clean and his hair was damp as I raked my hands through it. He must have showered in the locker room.

  I pulled away just an inch to see his grin. “I’m glad I came,” I said.

  He hugged me again and kissed my ear. “Me too.”

  Helen stood casually and said, “Congrats, Seth,” before faking an exaggerated yawn. “Gosh, Roddy and I have to get home.” Seth and I pulled apart. “Charlotte, you ready or . . . um . . . maybe Seth can give you a ride to our house to get your car? You have plans, Seth?”

  He tensed up. “I’ll take her . . . if she wants me to.”

  Helen waved her hand around vaguely. “You two can figure it out.”

  Roddy came over and smacked Seth on the back. “You killed that ball, man.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  Helen kissed me on the cheek and then kissed Seth on the cheek and whispered something in his ear. We said our good-byes and then they were gone and it was just Seth and me. And I wanted him. I couldn’t deny it. He was standing there, humble and unassuming, even though there were at least twenty-five women discreetly moving closer to him in the lounge, hoping he’d shoot them a look or leave my side to seek them out. He acted as though he didn’t even notice them. “Thanks again for coming today. You hungry?”

  “Yes,” I said, my eyes fixed on his mouth.

  “Me too,” he whispered. “I got a room here tonight.”

  I nodded. “Before you knew I was coming?”

  “No. Just now, when I saw you here. Just after I came in.” He pulled a key card from his back pocket.

  I laughed. Maybe he was assuming . . . “Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Wishful thinking.” He moved closer to me and took my hand in his. “I actually don’t care anymore how this looks. And yeah, I got the room when I saw you because I want to be alone with you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I nodded, and then let him pull me toward the elevator bays.

  He held my hand all the way up to the twenty-second floor. There was palpable sexual tension in the elevator. When the doors opened, he led me into the hall. “Come on, Charlotte, I want you and I’m tired of waiting.”

  “We’ve only been on two dates, technically.”

  “I don’t care,” he said with his back to me.

  I yanked my hand out of his just before we reached the door to his room. “What if I do?”

  He turned to me, squinting, his expression inscrutable. He braced both of my forearms and swung me around so that my back was against the door. Our lips were only inches apart as he held me pinned in place. I felt scared for a second. I looked up and down the hallway but no one was there. He pressed his lips to mine forcefully. We kissed hard, fast, passionately, and I was done for. My body was aching for him. I needed his strong hands on me. I drove my fingers into his hair while he gripped the back of my neck with one hand and my bottom with the other.

  He pried his mouth from mine. Breathing hard, he said, “Are you saying you don’t want to go in there with me? Because I’ll walk you back down and drive you wherever you want or call you a cab.”

  I stepped aside. All reservations were gone. “Forget what I said. Open the door.”

  There was a flurry of hands and lips and movement toward the bed. Neither one of us made any motion for a light switch. The Coronado Bridge and San Diego Bay were on display through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, filling the room with a magical glow. He reached behind me and lifted me to straddle him as he backed me toward the bed. I pulled my mouth away. “God, it’s beautiful out there,” I said, panting.

  “It’s beautiful in here.” My shirt went flying across the room as he kicked off his shoes. He set me down on my feet with the backs of my legs against the bed. His deft hands were unbuttoning my jeans with ease, and a moment later I was standing in just my bra and panties. I undid his belt and tugged at his pants and boxers, pulling them down as I dropped to my knees.

  When I took ahold of him, he hissed out a breath. “No,” he said. He bent, bracing my arms and pulled me up to stand. “What are you doing?” he said.

  My face flushed. I was heated but embarrassed. “I thought . . .”

  “No, let’s kiss.” His lips were on mine again, urgent. He somehow managed to undo my bra without me even knowing he was trying. It fell to the floor as he cupped my breast. He bent, kissing it while running his hand up the small of my back. I arched into him. Seth was in charge, smooth, strong, and commanding, the way he played baseball. He laid me on the bed and then stood up straight, drinking me in. When he reached for my panties I covered his hands with mine. “Wait.”

  “What is it, Charlotte?” His eyes were drowsy with desire.

  “Do you really like me?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t.”

  He crawled up beside me, propping his head on his hand. I looked down and noticed how painfully turned on he was. “Just give me a second,” I said, my chest heaving in and out.

  “You were about to go down on me without even hesitating.”

  “I know.”

  His fingertips danced across my belly before his hand went sliding down under the waistband of my panties. He dropped his head to my breast, kissing and sucking at my nipple.

  After several moments, he whispered, “I’m going to worship you now. Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.”

  “Ahhh,” I breathed out when he touched me down below. I held his hand to me, pressing and guiding.

  “Don’t,” I whispered.

  “Don’t what, Charlotte?”

  “Don’t stop.”

  A second later my panties were gone and then his mouth was on me and my back was arching off the bed. “Jesus. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

  When I pressed his head to my body, he hummed in satisfaction, making my body explode into a million tiny pulses of light. I couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t breathe; I was falling apart, trying desperately to ride out the waves without screaming. I felt the back of my head digging into the bed while my body quaked and shuddered.

  When my brain wa
s able to register my surroundings again, I looked up to see Seth between my legs, sitting back on his heels, looking mesmerized. I was embarrassed, but all I could see on his face was desire. “That was good, right?”

  “Yes,” I choked out.

  “You’re stunning,” he said. I shook my head. His hand was still on me, moving in slow circles across my sensitive skin. “You are, Charlotte. Why don’t you know that?” He blinked. “I want to make love to you.”

  Warmth spread from my chest to my limbs. My throat tightened. I moved his hand from my body and pulled him up to cover me while I opened my legs wider, inviting him in.

  Once we were joined, his mouth was on mine and he was moving gently in and out. He sucked on my bottom lip and then moved to my neck and up to my ear. “God, Charlotte, you feel so good. Too good.” He picked up the rhythm.

  “Ah” was all I could say. His breath near my ear was making my brain malfunction. I was losing it again, feeling my body tingling around his. He thrust into me once more and then collapsed. I held him to me until our bodies stopped pulsing.

  He put his weight on his elbows and leaned back to look at me. There was just enough light in the room to see his serene expression. “That was amazing.”

  “Yes,” I said with conviction between gasps. “Very good.”

  He pecked me on the lips and then kissed my cheek and lifted himself off me. “Shower?”

  “Okay.” I followed him into the bathroom, neither one of us self-conscious of our nakedness. I admired how well built he was. How young, virile, and enthusiastic he was once I realized he was turned on again just moments after we were done having sex.

  In the shower, he lifted me, pressing me against the cold tile. I wrapped my legs around him and he was inside of me again. “I want to stay here inside of you for a long time.”

  “I want you to stay there for a long time.”

  He moved harder, pressing me against the wall. “I really like you, Charlotte. I’m falling for you,” he said through ragged breaths. How could he be so open, so honest?

  I kissed him, answering his passion without words.

  After the shower, we fell asleep naked on top of the covers, tangled up in each other.

  16. Good or Bad Timing

  Seth was leaving to go on the road in two days. I invited him to come up and stay at my house before he left, and he agreed. I was letting it all happen.

  When Seth and I got to my apartment, I was surprised to find Chucky sitting at the bar, eating cereal and reading the newspaper.

  “No hot date?” I said, walking through the door.

  “Not tonight, Fatbutt.” When Chucky spotted Seth behind me, he stood up from the barstool and quickly swallowed a mouthful of cereal.

  Seth immediately approached him, hand out for a shake. “Hey, I’m Seth.”

  Chucky gave him a firm handshake in return. “Nice to meet you. I’m Charles.” He pulled Seth toward him and then whispered loud enough for me to hear, “We have mafia ties. Don’t forget it, man.”

  “Oh shut it, Chuck,” I snapped.

  He shrugged and went back to his cereal. Seth followed me into the kitchen. “You want a beer or something?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said. Seth stood awkwardly next to Chucky on the other side of the bar while Chucky flipped through the newspaper. My brother and father read the newspaper every single day. It was like brushing their teeth—and for Chucky and my dad, that’s saying a lot. When I handed the beer over the counter to Seth, he smiled his sweet, boyish smile and said, “Thank you.” But something caught my eye as I reached across the counter. It was the voicemail notification on my phone.

  “Will you excuse me?” I said to Seth.

  “Sure.” He looked at me peculiarly as I grabbed my phone and headed for the bedroom. I overheard Seth and Chucky making small talk, so it was a relief that Seth at least had that distraction.

  I hit the voicemail button and recognized Stacy’s voice immediately. “Hi, Charlotte. I talked to Adam. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to call you after all this time but he would love to hear from you. I also think you and I need to talk if you do decide to call him or see him. I’d rather not discuss it over voicemail, so if you’d like to call me back, I’ll be here for the rest of the night.”

  I immediately dialed her number. “Hi, it’s Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte, I’m so glad you called. Sorry about all the anticipation. I wanted to go and see Adam myself, and see what state of mind he was in.”

  State of mind? He is crazy. “Okay . . . and?”

  “He was actually in great spirits.” She paused for a few beats. “Charlotte, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he wanted me to tell you that he’s in the hospital. Adam has a stage four glioblastoma.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a brain tumor. He has cancer, Charlotte.”

  I dropped the phone. A guttural sound escaped me. I lost my breath, clutched my chest, and felt a sharp pain radiate through my lungs. The wind had been knocked out of me by one sentence.

  It all made sense. Quitting his job. The parking tickets. The Post-it notes. His odd behavior, which had seemed like spontaneity in the moment.

  When I met Adam, he was already dying. And he knew it.

  I finally gathered the strength to pick up the phone and lift it to my ear. “I’m sorry, I dropped the phone.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in right now. You left quite an impact on Adam. At the time you two met, part of the tumor was pressing on his brain so much that it was affecting his short-term memory. He couldn’t remember what day of the week it was, or who he had met five minutes before. He painted a lot of women during that time but remembered none of them but you. He tried to find you. He painted the name Charlotte over and over. He wanted to tell you that, for a little while, he believed the story you two had made up. I don’t know what that means, but I guess that will mean something to you.”

  I was speechless.

  Stacy went on. “They removed part of the tumor and now Adam is much sharper, though the cancer is still wreaking havoc on his body.”

  I couldn’t respond. Tears were running down my cheeks.

  “Are you there?” she said.

  “Yes,” I squeaked.

  “There’s something else, Charlotte. After Adam moved out, he asked me to get rid of his paintings. I didn’t have the heart to do it, so I called a gallery owner I know downtown. We went through hundreds of paintings, and she realized they were connected to dozens of murals throughout the city. She alerted some preservationists, who are trying to protect the murals, and now the LA art community is calling him the West Coast Banksy. He wants to keep his identity a secret for as long as possible. If it got out that the artist is dying of cancer, the press would go nuts.”

  I thought about the wolves. The winged man.

  She went on, “But people talk most about the mural of you in the red dress. Adam wouldn’t tell me the story behind it, but he remembers why he painted it.”

  I nearly choked on the emotion rising in my throat. “So where is he? What hospital? Is he dying for sure?”

  “It doesn’t look good. He gave me a letter to give to you, and I think you should read it before you see him. He’s at Cedars.”

  My brain was so overwhelmed that I had to remind myself to breathe. Seth stood in the doorway. He had only been there for a second, but he was looking at me cautiously.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow and get the letter and maybe make arrangements to see him. Thank you, Stacy. Thank you so much.” I was hesitant to say this last part in front of Seth. “He made a great impact on me as well.”

  We said good-bye and hung up. Seth was still standing there. He came over and bent his head and kissed me delicately on the shoulder. My throat was tight and I was trying desperately to swallow my emotions. “Tell me what’s going on,” he urged.

  “That painter, the guy I told you about . . . he didn’t dog me after all. He was dying; he’s still dying.
Of cancer. He’s been trying to find me but . . . the tumor . . . his memory . . . he couldn’t remember . . . oh god.”

  Seth just stood there quietly.

  “His neighbor has a letter for me. I told her I would get it tomorrow and then go see him.” I collapsed on the bed.

  After a few moments, Seth finally spoke. “Should I go home?”

  “No!” The thought of being alone terrified me.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. I don’t want this to affect what we’ve started.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that it was most definitely going to affect what we had started. Right now, I just wanted him to stay with me.

  “I shouldn’t be here, Charlotte.”

  “No. Please. Stay.”

  He shook his head and turned toward the door.

  “You’re leaving?” I asked.

  “No, I’m going to get you some tissues and water.”

  I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying.

  When he came back, I said, “Are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad. Of course I’m not mad.”

  How could I know what Seth was thinking or feeling? Everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes seemed like a dream. I was barely able to get ahold of my own emotions about Adam, the night we spent together, and this new information.

  And what was life like for Adam? Was he withering away, alone and confused in a hospital bed, thinking that we had this amazing connection while I was merrily going on with my shallow life, stalking Match.com and sleeping with baseball players?

  “I’ll stay if you want me to,” Seth said.

  “Yes, I want you to stay.” I wish I knew how to be alone.

  “Do you want to get into bed and talk?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  He turned off the lights and slipped into the bed beside me. We wiggled out of our clothes and lay in our underwear. “I don’t know what to do,” I said quietly.

  “You should get the letter and go see him. He wanted you to have it and he wants to see you. He’s a dying man.”