by Lindsey Hart
I hit Rowan’s number and hold the phone up. It rings. And rings. And rings some more. When it goes to her voicemail, I sigh hard and hang up. I study my phone for a minute before I decide to try again. I call her two more times without any success. I’m about to admit defeat when I stare back at the buzzer buttons. There are only twelve in the whole list. Determined, I reach out and punch the first one.
“Hello?” A deep male voice comes over the intercom.
“Sorry,” I say, pressing the button to talk. “I obviously have the wrong apartment. Do you know which number is Rowan Mills?”
“No,” the guy barks. “But this isn’t her.”
Yeah, I got that.
I punch the second buzzer. It’s just after seven, so most people are already home from work. A lady with a heavily accented voice informs me that no, she’s not Rowan, and no, she doesn’t know which buzzer is Rowan’s.
I try the third. No one answers. I skip to the fourth, and an elderly man wishes me luck. I hit the fifth and sixth with no luck. By the time I reach for seven, I start to feel weird about this. I press it anyway, determined to make it through the list. I really hope Rowan isn’t twelve. Maybe I should have started there. When I get no answer on seven, I move on to eight. It only takes a minute, and then Rowan’s voice crackles over the intercom.
“Hello?”
“Rowan.” My sigh of relief nearly deflates me. I keep holding the button down to talk. “I’m sorry. I can explain. I— please. Will you come down?”
“Not a chance,” she responds. It appears she was choosing not to answer her phone. “You’re the one who ghosted me. I’m not interested in going out with a jerk. Sorry. Find someone else you can string along.”
“I wasn’t stringing you along!” I don’t know if she can still hear me, but I punch the button down and keep talking. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone the night we were at the barn. I didn’t even realize it was missing until Sunday morning. I looked all over for it. I didn’t think there was any way I could have left it at the barn because I thought I had it when I got home. I spent all this time looking for it. I went back to the barn, but I didn’t find it, so I looked some more. Everywhere. I finally went back to the barn again, and this time, I did find it. Unfortunately, I ran out of gas on the way home. I had to walk to a farmyard, and I swear it was eight miles away, and use their phone to get a tow truck to bring me some gas. I then was able to turn the car on and charge my phone, and when I saw all your messages, I drove straight here. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to ghost you.”
“Oh, really?” Rowan snaps, proving she can still hear me. “That’s ridiculous. You could have just gotten a new phone. It’s not like you couldn’t afford one.”
Wow, that’s a pretty low blow, especially coming from her. But I know she’s pissed and probably doesn’t mean it.
“I didn’t have your number. I borrowed my dad’s cell and phoned your work and asked for you yesterday, but they said you didn’t work there anymore. I know it’s because of me, and I want to tell you I’m sorry.”
“Is that why you’re here?” she asks, after a long pause.
“No. Yes. No. Sort of?” I realize I’m not making this any easier for myself. “I didn’t know how to contact you other than through your work number.”
“You could have emailed. Or did you lose your computer too?”
“Email? Shit. I never even thought of that. I was so preoccupied with trying to find it that I didn’t even think of it.”
“You know where I live. What’s your excuse for the past five days?”
“I didn’t know which one was your apartment.”
“You seem to have done okay tonight.”
“I literally buzzed the first seven before I got to you.”
“And that probably took all of a few minutes. Sorry to have put you out.”
I swallow thickly. My chest is on fire. I know I’m going to have to just come out and tell her how I really felt the past few days, and well, that kind of sucks because it means I have to stand out here on the doorstep in front of an intercom and spill some more of my deep, dark, insecure secrets. I know I probably don’t have any other choice.
“I thought maybe it was some sign from the universe trying to tell me I’m just not made for this.”
“Or maybe it was just another excuse or a way out for you.”
“No. It definitely was not that.”
“The universe? Give me a break. You really thought you were supposed to be alone by some kind of divine rules? That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Believe me,” I grind out, breathing hard. “My phone was not easy to find. I spent a lot of time looking for it. I searched the entire barn. Twice. I finally did find it, pushed up under the stall we, uh, stood in front of. It was dead, so that made it even harder. I thought about you constantly.”
“But you never thought to check your email.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think to check it. I didn’t even open my laptop these past few days. I literally spent almost all day, every day looking for my phone so I could call you. Or text you. I’m sorry. I would never just ghost you. Not after…”
“Not after we banged like rabbits in the barn? Yeah, that would be in bad taste. Just saying. I’m surprised you’re here right now. I would have thought divine signals from the earth would have kept you away. The running out of gas thing was probably a sign.”
I wince because the whole neighborhood can probably hear this. “Except it happens all the time.”
“Oh, but this time, I think it really was a sign. You shouldn’t fuck with nature, Cliff. It can have drastic consequences.”
“Look, that was a stupid thing to say. I get it. Can you please just open the door for me and let me come up and explain what I actually mean? I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I wasn’t ghosting you, Rowan, I swear it. I would never do that. Please believe me.”
“Why?” She grinds out, but I’m sure I hear a note of reluctance when it comes to staying mad, and it gives me the slightest glimmer of hope. “You’re the one who wanted to stay single. An avowed bachelor? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that term used with your name before.”
“Please, Rowan, let me up.”
“No way.”
“I made a stupid mistake. I should have checked my email. I was so frantic about my phone that I didn’t even think of it.”
“You could have called my work number. You have my business card.”
“I, uh, I actually kind of misplaced it.” I sound like an idiot making excuses, and I know it.
“You could have asked your mom for it.”
“Then, she would have asked why.”
“And you could have said to contact me about your dates or any other matter.”
“She would have seen through it. She always does. She would have asked me what was going on, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to answer.”
“Because you’re ashamed of me? Or maybe because you wish none of this had ever happened?”
“No!” I have to take a step back; I’m so surprised. I let go of the button completely, but the speaker crackles as Rowan’s voice drifts over it.
“It’s alright. If you just want a one-time deal, you can tell me. I just wish you would have told me ahead of time instead of suckering me in by telling me all that deeply personal stuff. I would also say you could have been making it up to get what you want, but I know it’s probably not true because I could tell you were genuine. I think so. Maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know anything. Maybe the regret came after for you.”
I don’t know what I could possibly say to convince her otherwise. She seems pretty determined to think what she wants and, although my relationship experience is admittedly pretty limited, I am old enough to realize that when people get angry, they tend to stay angry and not see sense until they cool off.
“Anyway, why would you be interested in me? We’re not in the same income bracket. We probably don
’t have anything in common. There’s an age gap. You live in a nice house. I live in a crappy apartment. You drive a brand-new car. Mine is ready for scrap. I like to do things like shop for vintage clothes, thrift, and go to garage sales. You probably shop at high-end stores. The highlight of my day is generally seeing how my cactus blossoms are coming along. I have almost no friends, so I like to play board games. On my phone. By myself. Against the computer. The most fun I’ve had in a really long time was seeing that old barn with you. I’m boring. I’m not even fun.”
I have to hit the button again. “Are you done listing your faults? Because if you are and you still refuse to listen to me when I tell you that I think your vintage finds are gorgeous, at least on you, and your style is unique, and cactuses are cool, and board games are awesome, and I have a ton of friends, but I still play them by myself, against the computer, then I’m going to have to ask if you’re willing to come out here. It’s not too late to go for ice cream. Or a drive. Or a walk. The point is, I’m here. I want to take you out. I never said I wouldn’t make a shitpile of mistakes or do stupid things or panic and not think to check my emails, but I am telling you that I’m here. I’m here, and if you need time to process, I’m okay with that. If you want me to leave now because you’re angry, and you need time to deal with it, I’ll leave. But I will come back. If you want me to.”
The speaker doesn’t make a sound—no static. No crackles. Just silence. I resist the temptation to hit the button again and start begging. A minute ticks by. I glance behind me just to check and make sure there’s no crowd gathered on the sidewalk witnessing this. I have to say, if I was standing there, I might be tempted to pull up a chair, break out the popcorn, and enjoy the show.
When the speaker crackles again, I nearly jump out of my skin. “What kind of board games?” Rowan asks.
I can’t help it. I break into the silliest grin I think I’ve ever grinned in my life. I hit the button. “Uh, anything. Strategy. Classics. Card games. I’m secretly a huge nerd.”
“Well, we might have something in common, after all.”
“Don’t forget the cactuses. I like those too. I don’t have any, but I’ve been thinking about growing them for a while. You know, because my company does seeds and everything. I’ve been planning out how to fill my planter boxes this year, but I think something like that would do better inside.”
“I think so too. At least where we live, it probably would. Uh, you could probably get some really cool seeds, couldn’t you?”
“I think I could.”
“Well…” The speaker crackles and goes silent.
I step back, waiting. I glance around again. There’s still no one out. I wait. I step forward. My finger hovers over the button. I don’t know what to say, though, so I let it fall away. I step back again. Hover my finger over the button again. Everything is still silent.
I’m just getting ready to push it and ask Rowan if she’s still there when I catch a shadow moving down the steps. A second later, the shadow materializes into Rowan, her classic wool coat on, and her yellow tote draped over her arm. She pushes open the door and studies me. I study her. Finally, she steps out and shuts the door gently behind her. She stares at me. I stare back.
Her lips purse as she tries to hide a smile. “If you wanted to talk cactuses and board games over ice cream, you could have just said so.”
I thought the grin from a few minutes ago was the biggest one of my life, but I was wrong. The one I’m giving her now, the face-cracking, cheek-splitting, forehead-wrinkling grin, is definitely the biggest, boldest, and brightest by far.
I offer her my arm like a real gentleman, and Rowan reaches out and takes it. She offers me a tentative smile, but her eyes are sparkling. We might have a lot of things to discuss and a long way to go if either of us is going to be able to make this a thing—if we’re going to make this work. Both of us were burned pretty badly in the past. We’ve both been cautious. We’ve both been hurt, and we licked our wounds for years after. But we’re here, and we found each other. Life might be crazy. It might be hard. It might even be messy and painful at times, but Rowan makes me want to go through it with her. By her side. I wish I would have met her years ago, but I know I wasn’t ready then. I’m ready now.
She was right. It was when I was least prepared to find an amazing, rare treasure that I did.
She glances at me in question as I open the car door for her. “You did get gas after you got back to the city, didn’t you?” I shake my head sheepishly, and she groans. “Alright. Gas station first, then ice cream?”
“Sounds like a date.”
A real date. The first of what I hope is going to be many. Tons. Years’ worth. I know I might be getting ahead of myself, and this is a pretty big leap for a guy who didn’t want to even go on one single date, but this is Rowan, and Rowan is special. Rowan is everything. She makes me want to hope. No, that’s not right. With her, I actually can hope. I can think about tomorrow. I can breathe again. I can feel.
So yes, this a real date. And I’ve never been more thankful or excited.
EPILOGUE
Rowan
“Do you have that order packed? The red velvet dress and the white gloves?”
Cliff grins at me as he thrusts a giant flat box into my hands. “You bet I do. And the Edwardian wedding dress, a set of very wild white boots with huge platforms, the hand tooled leather purse, and the very strange hat with the fishnet at the front of it.”
I take the box out of his hands with a laugh. “It’s good to see that you’ve been working so hard to get your terminology correct. Although I am impressed you knew the wedding dress was Edwardian.”
“I did because it’s one of your favorite pieces.”
“I’m impressed you knew that too.”
Cliff saunters over, removes the box I just took from him out of my hands, and sets it onto the already overflowing table. We have the entire basement dedicated to my online vintage and retro clothing business. Two rooms for the inventory, one room for the processing, and the other for outgoing and incoming packages. We have a huge kitchen table filled up for outgoing packages. Since it’s Saturday, and this is the day we send everything out, the table is mounted a few feet high with boxes of all different shapes and sizes.
Cliff wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me up against him. “Of course, I know what your favorite things are. I’ve had two years to practice.”
I lace my arms around his neck and stand on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But still. I know a lot of people who are together a lifetime, yet they don’t know anything about each other.”
“That’s highly unfortunate for them then. I know all your favorites. I happen to know the cactus we named Prickly Chrissy is your favorite because you love the pink blooms. I know that out of our three cats, you don’t have a favorite because you can’t choose favorites amongst your ‘kids.’ I know you love all things vintage but finds from the eighteen hundreds really get you excited. And I know that all your favorite board games are the ones I suck at the most.”
I giggle right near Cliff’s ear. I lean in and kiss his earlobe gently before I run my tongue over it. I’m rewarded with a shiver that produces a set of equally amazing shivers skittering up my spine. “It seems you have me pegged.”
“And I also happen to know you love working with and for my parents.”
“Stop.” I scrape my teeth over his earlobe. “Just because I’m only part-time at the company doesn’t mean I don’t love it. I will always love it. Seeds are actually quite exciting.”
“No, I think it’s just that you love to steal glimpses of me every chance you can get.”
“I do. And I also love your humility.” I trail my tongue along the shell of Cliff’s ear. “I also like that since you already have your degree, you help me all the time with mine. I don’t think I’d be able to pass any of those hard math classes without you there to explain it all to me.”
“You’re a superhuma
n,” Cliff groans as I go back to nibbling on his earlobe. I happen to know he loves it, although he’d never say those words out loud because he thinks ear affection is kind of strange. He also doesn’t listen to me when I tell him that ears are probably an erogenous zone all on their own. “You’ve been taking night classes for two years. You have this amazing business. You work at the company with me. We live together. You take care of my ass. And you still have time for gardening and board games and all the fun stuff.”
“Well, that’s because we split all the crappy stuff like housework and dishes. And you help me out with this. And math. Yeah, that should have gone on the crap list for sure.”
“Look at all you’ve accomplished in two years.” Cliff gently sets me back so he can look me in the eye. “I can’t wait to see where we are in another year, or two, or three.”
“Me? I couldn’t have done any of this alone. I would never have wanted to. You’ve helped me so much. You offered me a job at your company when I didn’t have one. You suggested that moving in together would just make financial sense. You let me use your basement for my business. You helped me set everything up and do all the hard, complicated stuff while I had all the fun getting things and hearing from all my awesome customers.”
I think about the house we’re building outside the city. We decided to leave the barn as it is—with a few structural reinforcements to extend its life—and instead, build a modest farm style house on the land not far from it. Other people might say it’s not practical. Some people might even say we’ve lost our minds. It’s a crazy amount of work, and so far, we’ve been building it for a year already. By we, I mean contractors, but we go and do as much as we can, and we were the ones who designed the house—with some professional help, of course. We’ll be the ones to pick all the fits and finishes and all those details. It’s an amazing process, and I honestly can’t wait, even if it means our commute to work will be way longer. At least we’ll get to spend that time together. Cliff has also been talking about working from home more often, and I think when the house is done, that will become a reality, at least a few days a week.