New Year, New You

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New Year, New You Page 6

by Tarrah Anders


  nights. You can come with me? See New York at Christmas

  time or something.”

  “Okay.” I say, I feel like I’ve become a toddler,

  unable to form any other words.

  “You haven’t blinked since you sat down and you

  sound like a broken record, please talk to me?” He pleads.

  I force myself to blink and meet his concerned gaze.

  As I blink, a lone tear falls, I didn’t mean for it to. His finger swipes at the tear and he moves to the other side of the

  counter, pushing my knees apart so he’s settled in between my legs and he wraps his arms around me cradling my head

  to his chest.

  “You said it yourself, you don’t know what the

  future holds, and San Diego was just a stepping stone until you figured out where you were going to go. I get it.” I say quietly.

  “That was then. Things are different now. There’s

  you and there’s us. Say you’ll come to New York with me.

  It’s Three days, two nights. I can cash in my ticket for two.”

  “Okay.” I say.

  He pulls back and looks at my eyes. “Are you saying

  okay to placate me or are you really saying that you will?”

  “If I get approved for the time off, I will go.”

  “Thank dog.”

  “Dog?” I ask.

  “Spell it backwards.”

  I smile into his chest as he hugs me again.

  After talking to my supervisor I text Gabe telling

  him that my time off was approved and within minutes, he

  texts me back a screen shot of our plane tickets. It makes me smile thinking how excited he is about my going with him.

  Then I start to frown as I further think of why we would be going to New York and that almost brings the tears back to surface. I could lose him, this relationship that we’ve built over the past three weeks – while has gone incredibly fast has been amazing. He makes me forget the pain and loss and he helps make me happy. He’s admitted that I’ve done the

  same for him with his losses and I just hope that one of the positions in San Diego comes up first, selfishly.

  Our nightly ritual is that once I come home from work, Gabe hands me a glass of red wine and massages my

  feet for me while I tell him about my day. We then venture either next door or to the kitchen where he will attempt to teach me how to cook something. After ten minutes, he

  pushes me out of the kitchen and I watch him from the

  counter. He moves so fluidly through the kitchen that you

  can see how much he enjoys the tasks of preparing a meal

  and serving it. After dinner, I will do the dishes, and he will keep me company by taking my space at the counter.

  I’m finishing up the last of the dishes as I turn to

  him.

  “I was living in Arizona and I was sitting with one

  of my clients working on his progress and his checklists for when he entered housing, when my phone started blowing

  up. Since I was with someone, I couldn’t answer it, but I saw the screen light up at least 10 times within a 10 minute span.

  Thankfully, my client was almost finished and when I finally grabbed my phone, I saw numbers from San Diego had

  called a handful of times, as well as my roommate. I didn’t know your sister at the time, I hadn’t been home to visit in a few years, but she called too.” I go to sit beside him, feeling my legs get wobbly. He looks at me, I know that he knows

  of some of the story, but he’s been patient with me since he first asked me that day, waiting for me to be able to talk about it. I picked at a hangnail as I continued.

  “My roommate said someone had called the

  houseline that we never used saying I needed to call a

  number back and that it was urgent. Your sister called,

  apologizing for calling and not knowing me but she had

  heard what happened and wanted me to know from someone

  who was a friend of my family. And then the hospital called, telling me that I had lost my father and my brother in a car

  accident, and my mother was critical. My dad was driving, and by driving I mean probably 20 under the speed limit on one of the freeway over ramps. Reports and witnesses say

  that a drunk driver wasn’t handling his car very well on the over pass and the turn and basically T-Boned their car on the driver’s side at 60 miles per hours driving them over the

  ramp and into the on-coming traffic below. My father and

  my brother died on the impact, but my mother had struggled for a day and half. I had dropped everything and came back home just in time to say goodbye to my mom.” I take a deep breath, noting my voice quivering yet staying strong. “I

  clung onto your sister and Dave because they grew close to my parents; Stella was sometimes babysat by my mom. I

  hadn’t dealt with any of the stuff in the house until one day with your sister and that day, the day you helped when we

  started this thing.”

  “This thing between us is what keeps me afloat most

  days.” He whispers, taking my hand in his.

  “Me too. I get why you would choose to not talk to

  your sister or anyone about what happened. I haven’t talked about it, with anyone. I kind of came here and your sister didn’t need me to say anything, since she knew. My old

  roommate still doesn’t know all the details. You’re the first person, that I’ve said any of that out loud to.” I sniffle, staring at our joined hands.

  “I’m the last person to hand out advice, but you can

  talk to me about anything. Hell, you can come to one of my therapy sessions and take it over if you want. But if I’ve learned anything from therapy, is that it does actually help talking about it.” He says.

  “I’ll try.” I say to him. I’m not sure if I can keep the

  promise, but I do feel like a weight has lifted off of me by

  just telling him. He could be onto something with this whole talking thing.

  C H A P T E R

  Thirteen

  I’m nervous about flying from San Diego to New

  York this morning. I’m not so excited about the fact I am

  awake before the sun comes up, where the streets are empty and where it’s eerily silent as we drive to the airport.

  Gabe seems calm and collected in regards to this

  trip, and I wish I had his demeanor right now. I’m a jumble of nerves, trying to situate in my head what the potential this trip can do to us. If he aces the interview and they offer him the job, then what happens to us? Sharing a trip together is serious business, and it’s not like we’ve been together for a while, we’ve been really good at playing house for the past few weeks, but this feels like a whole different thing, a

  whole new level of relationship things that I’m unsure if we should be doing together if we’re temporary. This trip could make or break us, and should I really have come? Won’t this bring us closer together, should we dial it back and maybe just figure out the next step?

  “You’re thinking heavily over there.” Gabe says as

  he flips his blinker light on to exit the freeway.

  “Is this a mistake?” I ask.

  “What? I’m not following.” He asks, his hand resting on my thigh.

  “Should we? Why am I? What’s going to happen?”

  My thoughts are so all over the place by brain and my mouth aren’t cooperating.

  Gabe pulls over to the side of the road and into an

  empty parking lot. He sets the car in park and then turns his body to me.

  “Gabe, we need to get to the airport. What are you

  doing?”

  “The airport can wait. Listen, I could very well

  bomb this interview, going to New York is an opportunity,

  that’s all. It’s not an end all. You’re c
oming with me,

  partially because I’m a selfish asshole who doesn’t want to go a day without being with you. The other part is so you

  can have this opportunity too, we can walk around the city and be tourists, we can take a horse drawn carriage ride, and we can go to the empire state building. I just want to share experiences with you.”

  “They’ll want you. I just know it, and that leaves us

  apart.” I force back the tears that are threatening.

  “You’re jumping the gun babe. I have to like them

  as much as they like me. Let’s go and enjoy time together in New York. Let’s fuck like crazy at the hotel and order

  expensive room service and drink everything out of the mini fridge.” He smiles.

  I can’t help but to smile back.

  “Okay.”

  Gabe nailed the interview just like I knew he would.

  He came back from it in a decent mood and with a soft offer.

  He said he was keeping his options open and that the

  company would eventually give him an official offer within a week. He had some weird smirk on his face that I couldn’t read and figured it was just a good mood that he was in.

  We did what he said we should do and christened

  every surface in the hotel room that we could without

  injuring ourselves. We ate at a fancy restaurant, we shopped in stinky Times Square and we took selfies at the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. We held hands in

  Central Park and took a photo with a naked cowboy and a

  really ugly Elmo. While I was nervous about the trip

  coming out here, now I was nervous about going home.

  Home was where decisions would be made, and one way or

  another, these decisions affected me.

  We arrived home after dinnertime and picked up

  some food along the way to my house. As we pulled up in

  the driveway, it was just natural for Gabe to follow me into the house.

  After he closes the door, I turn to him. “Maybe you

  should go hang out with your sister?”

  “Is this your way of kicking me out?” He asks

  casually, placing his arms around my waist pulling our

  bodies flush together.

  “I mean, if you’re moving to New York, Stella will

  miss you.” I offer.

  “What’s this really about?” He looks at me

  quizzingly.

  “She loves you Gabe. She idolizes you, and would

  be devastated if you were to leave. I think time with her is important.”

  “And what about you babe?” He asks.

  “What about me?” I ask.

  “The same.” He nudges.

  “I shouldn’t be a factor. They’re your family.”

  “You’ve become my family too.” He says leaning

  into me and saying into my hair.

  “You know what I mean.” He can’t really expect me

  to say that I’m equal in this. I’m just a girl he’s dating but they are his actual blood family.

  “If you want to be left alone tonight, I can do that.

  I’d rather be wrapped up in bed with you. But I will do this.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose. My arms tighten around him on instinct and I don’t really want to let go.

  “You can maybe sleep over here, but maybe just

  give me a few hours?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll be back in a

  few hours.” He says, lifting my chin up with his fingers and

  taking my lips softly. I melt into the kiss and mentally want to bitch slap myself for sending him away.

  He releases me and I’m out of breath, as if he was

  my lifeline. He chuckles and then steps back as I hand him his take-out.

  “I’ll be back later.” And with that, he disappears out

  of the house. Now I just need to regain my composure and

  try to figure out how to deal with things if he does decide to move to New York. I’m a big girl, but I think I’ve become

  dependent on him being around in the short amount of time

  we’ve been spending together. I’m not a dependent person,

  but suddenly I’ve become so dependent on him that I am

  miserable with the thoughts of him moving.

  Since that day where he helped me with the house,

  we’ve hardly left another’s side. If he decides to move, I’ll have more time alone which could revert me back to being a machine in my everyday life, so I need to mentally prepare myself for it. However, I may just feel lonely, which I

  wasn’t entirely feeling before he and I got together. He’s become a huge part of my every day that I’m stressing over a few hours and for that I’m feeling sick. My thoughts are just as crazy as they were when we were on the way to the

  airport.

  I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine. I

  uncork the bottle and take it into the bathroom with me. I run myself a bath and relax. I try to silent my brain and it works a little with the assistance of the wine. I don’t know how much time has passed, but I’m pruned and the bottle of wine is finished. I wobble out of the bath and dry off. I brush my teeth, grab my phone and then stumble into the bedroom. I don’t bother putting on clothes as I fold the covers back and soon darkness has taken over.

  C H A P T E R

  Fourteen

  It’s been three days since we’ve been back from

  New York. Gabe says he hasn’t gotten the official offer yet, however he’s been usually giddy and secretive. He’s been

  spending a few hours in the late afternoon with Stella, that when I come home from work, he’s usually doing something

  with her. Except today, he is nowhere to be found, and Stella is at home with Dave.

  When I unload my belonging on the kitchen counter

  , I see that he left me a note on the fridge saying that he’s bringing dinner. I change out of my clothes and relax on the couch. As I’m flipping through the channels, there’s a

  commotion at the front door and then footsteps in the

  hallway.

  “Do you want food or a glass of wine first?” Gabe

  asks, holding up bags from the local grocery store.

  “Ugh, no wine please, I think my wine hangover the

  other day was punishment enough to make me swear it off

  for a few more days.” I moan.

  “Just a few more days?” He laughs.

  “You kill a bottle of wine in warm water and tell me you don’t get drunk immediately when you stand up.” I

  narrow my eyes playfully.

  “One, you didn’t have to drink the whole thing. And

  two, I typically don’t take baths. So neither would happen to me.”

  “You know nothing of which you speak!” I retort,

  not having anything other to say.

  “Whatever you say, whatever you say. Food it is.”

  He busies himself in the kitchen whistling as he goes about his motions.

  Moments later, he hands me a glass of water and

  then sits beside me.

  “So, I have a few more job interviews lined up. I’ll

  be jet-setting for the three next days and then I’ll be back right on the 23rd and we can spend Christmas next door.” He says like it’s nothing.

  “Where are the interviews?” I ask meekly.

  “One of them is in Seattle and the others are in LA.”

  “LA isn’t too far from here.” I say, with a little bit of

  hope.

  “No, it’s not.” He kisses the top of my head as he

  moves to get up. I grab his hand and he stops. “What’s up?”

  He asks.

  “What’s going to happen here?” I ask, hating that I

&n
bsp; sound so pathetic.

  “Nothing we can’t handle together. I promise to talk everything over with you, I won’t make any firm decisions. I may not get to offers after interviewing with each firm, but I will learn something from each place.”

  “I don’t want you basing your decision on me. But I

  do want to know what’s going on. I feel like we’re in limbo.

  We can’t move forward, kind of like we’re halted until we

  know if we have to break things off or not.”

  “I don’t want you to hold back with us, I’m not

  holding back. I know we’re something new, but as pussy as

  it sounds, I’m hooked on you. To me this isn’t just a hook-up. We’re a team, and teams discuss options and

  everything.” He squeezes my hand in assurance. “And I

  promise you, we’ll figure this out and will be together.”

  I still don’t know how to feel about any of this. I feel

  like we can’t make plans or maybe we should take a step

  back, although he is acting like nothing has changed, maybe I need to take a page from his book and live in the moment.

  My inner self is battling, I’m a planner, I like to have the possibilities open and I like to know what’s happening, this is something that I cannot control and it’s driving me nuts.

  I tentatively smile at him and squeeze his hand in

  return. He goes back into the kitchen and it just sounds like he’s banging around in there to make it sound like he’s doing something. He appears moments later, placing a plate of

  what looks to be Chicken Marsala in front of me. I lick my lips and my fingers inch to the plate.

  “Mindy told me that you loved Chicken Marsala,

  and I’ve never had it before, so here goes nothing.” He

  smiles picking up a fork.

  “You’re going to love it.” I assure him with a smile.

  “Here’s hoping.” He cuts a piece of chicken and

  further drenches it in the Marsala sauce with a mushroom

  and lifts it to his mouth. Seconds after his lips close over the fork, he lets out a loud satisfying moan. He smiles over the fork and looks at me.

  “Holy crap. Why have I not eaten this before?” He

  exclaims as he chews.

  I laugh and start in on my plate. It is delicious and

  his sister was correct when she told him that I loved this dish. I look at him and he’s almost finished with his plate.

 

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