It is the fact that he understood my reference when most men I met would’ve just nodded and kept pushing the conversation forward.
Could you be any fucking cuter?
“Tell me something no one else in the world knows,” I whisper in the dark.
I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I had so much weighing on me, or if the idea of knowing Gavin intimately appealed to me, but I was ready to tell someone some of the darkest parts of me. I only hoped he followed with the same question.
“Uh . . .” I can hear him swallow and pause for a breath before he speaks again. “My parents want me to marry a Pakistani woman.”
“Doesn’t count,” I say quickly.
“I haven’t finished,” he tells me, his voice a little quiet, a little stern.
Fingers slide between mine and squeeze for a moment. It soothes in a strange way. Gavin doesn’t know that’s something Sabrina grew up doing.
“I didn’t think anything of it. I always figured I’d have no problem. I’d meet a nice girl, I’d marry her . . . no problem.”I’m holding my breath and my eyes are a little closed, like I’m making a makeshift wish.
“But I met you and . . . I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”
Even though it’s dark, I turn my head toward him. The stars illuminate his profile.
“I don’t know what I’d do if my future were already decided for me.”
He sighs at my words.
“I’ve met some beautiful and accomplished Pakistani women. And before you, I could see myself with any one of them. It was never that important to me.”
Something spreads, from my chest, out toward my fingers and toes.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with them. Nothing wrong with my culture and that way of life. In fact, I’m so in love with my culture but . . .” He sighs again. “I can’t see you in that life, in my future, and it truly bothers me.”
It’s a mixture of happiness at his desire for me and the knowledge that, although I’d loved before, something about what was happening between he and I was . . . so unlike the rest.
“You like me,” I whisper, still facing him, still able to make out his profile.
“As inconvenient as it is, yes. Yes, I do.”
Secrets told in the dark are fast becoming one of my favorite things.
I turn my head to face the sky and smile up at it.
No questions need to be asked. We’re two souls walking side by side, letting the universe lead us.
“Tell me something no one in the world knows,” he finally whispers.
My turn.
The words are there but the worry is there, too.
If I tell him, will he look at me the same? Will he still think I’m worth questioning his future over?
“I didn’t take my mother seriously. I was too angry to. No one knows that.”
He shifts a little beside me and I think to myself that it’s because he knows what I’m about to tell him isn’t something to be taken lightly.
He doesn’t prod; doesn’t ask me what I mean.
His silence is like a soothing voice, beckoning me sweetly to come out, to trust him with my worst.
“My mother was always suicidal.” I swallow past my fear and continue. “She’d attempted a few times but always made it. It was like . . . a child crying wolf.”
Gavin’s hand squeezes mine and it keeps me here, right here with him.
Saying this out loud would make me feel like a monster, regardless of the many therapy sessions I’d had to attend to make some sort of sense of my emotions.
“She’d called a few times and I was busy, but I answered. And we argued . . . over stupid shit. Over her annoyance at my lack of attention to her, over my annoyance at her wanting so much damn attention from me. From Sabrina. From everyone.”
It should be easy enough to recount, even if I’d avoided thinking about it for the last few years.
“She started crying and I brushed her off, told her to get it together and then . . . she stopped crying.”
Silence. So loud.
“It was almost like she’d calmed down but . . . I couldn’t get her to respond.”
A tear slips down my face.
So much happens in silence. Suffering, loss, even sometimes joy.
My silence is a choice. I’d screamed and cried on the phone, texting Sabrina, trying to get to my mother as quickly as I could.
Lying here, I marvel at the silence Gavin gifts me.
“I didn’t get to her in time. And the last conversation we had was an argument.”
“What was she like?” Gavin asks, his tone patient.
How do I tell the man I’m falling for that the woman who created me was a monster?
“She wasn’t well . . .”
“No shit. I could’ve guessed that.”
“She was . . . she had so many issues with her mental health, it was hard to keep track of.”
He turns to look at me.
“And your father?”
I shake my head.
“All I know is he’s some Irish guy that my mother loved with all her heart. But she was crazy, so he left.”
We’re both watching the stars now. Or maybe they’re watching us.
“And Sabrina’s dad?”
“No one knows. But there are rumors that he died.”
He shifts his body on the blanket so he’s closer to me.
“So, you both grew up with a mentally ill mother. And her family didn’t step in?”
I shake my head.
“Why not?”
“I ask myself that same question every day.”
He pulls me close, so my body is halfway on top of his.
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like.”
“No one should have to know,” I mumble. He rubs my back and doesn’t let me go, picking me up when I’ve fallen asleep and taking me to his car.
Only once I’m with him in his bed, do I feel completely at home.
I’ll be the brave one.
I’ll hold the glue.
I’ll tear the tape.
I’ll thread the needle and weave in and out,
In and out.
And maybe that mangled heart won’t belong to me.
But I hope that whomever has the honor,
Stands back and admires my work.
My God, survival is beautiful.
Day 50
“Do you think they’re on their first date?”
Gavin’s brows furrow a bit as he tries to catch what I’m whispering. I tilt my chin toward the couple sitting at the bar a few feet from us.
“Sometimes I look around and wonder about people,” I confess with a smile. He looks at me, at the couple, back at me with a grin, and then settles in to focus on the pair in question.
“They might be. She seems interested.” He offers a shrug.
“Eye contact is there. But I think he might like her more than she likes him . . .” I trail off and glance at Gavin. He frowns, still looking at them.
“How can you tell?”
Sitting here, amongst his friends, we’re playing a secret game.
“Well, they say the feet point toward what the heart wants,” I lean in and tell him.
Gavin doesn’t sit up straighter to see if her feet are pointed toward her date. No.
He twists in his seat and glances under the table to see that, although my body is facing away, my feet are turned toward him.
He straightens with a satisfied smile.
It matches mine.
We’re the same in this moment. Filled with the same knowledge.
That my heart wants Gavin more than I’m brave enough to admit.
We watch as the couple gets up and the man helps her into her coat. She pulls her dark curls out from beneath her collar and when she turns to him, she leans in close to press a kiss. To his cheek.
“Aw, man,” Gavin says, more to himself than anyone else. And I love that he’s invested.
“Who kno
ws?” I say as he reaches for his drink.
“Always the optimist.” He smiles around the rim of his glass and I know there’s no hope for that couple.
Because even sitting here, I yearn to be the cup he presses his lips to, to be the flavor he tastes, to intoxicate him.
“You’re not like other women.” I lean in to hear him better, even though I heard him the first time.
“No?” I ask.
“No,” he confirms. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. I thought my heart didn’t really work the way it looks like it’s starting to.”
He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink like he didn’t just say the sweetest fucking thing.
“It didn’t work before?”
He shrugs again.
“I think it had a defect or something. And then you came around and fixed it.” He smiles and squeezes my hand under the table.
And I sit there the rest of the night wondering how the hell I didn’t grow wings and fly away.
I wonder what my last kiss will taste like.
I pray he tastes it, too.
Day 8
“Well, well, well.”
I look up from the stack of chambray shirts I’d been eyeing, trying to figure out which would look best on the mannequin, when a shadow falls over me.
I glance up and it’s the last person I thought I’d see.
“Gavin?”
He holds a hand out to help me up. I grab it, despite my inner concerns.
“I was starting to think you were a figment of my imagination,” he says.
Kinda wanted to be, I think to myself.
“How’d you find me?”
He just smiles a big smile that reminds me that he knows what I taste like.
I mentally slap my palm to my forehead.
Must not let random men put their faces in your vagina. Because then shit like this happens.
“This isn’t creepy at all,” I mumble. He’s still smiling, just standing there. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m great. The guy you were with? Yeah, he checked in at the restaurant on Facebook and tagged you.”
Stupid fucking Jordan. I have to delete my account. I’m never on it anyway.
“Listen, I’m not here to scare you. Or to make you think that I want something from you, Denise.”
“Oh, you don’t?” I place my hand on my hip and he smirks.
“Nothing more than what you haven’t already given.”
“That was a one-time deal, mister.” I start walking away.
“Bet I can change your mind.” His words make me look back at him and he wiggles his eyebrows.
“You do all this work to find me, just to fuck?”
“Who said anything about fucking? I want to have dinner, maybe swap plates again, have some more of that excellent conversation you’re so fond of. And if we end up fucking, that’s cool, too.”
It isn’t a half-bad idea. Especially since I know a few things.
One: We have enough natural chemistry that I’d have a good time.
Two: I know the conversation is amazing.
Three: I don’t think I’ve ever come as hard as I did when he set me on the counter and did terrible things between my thighs with his mouth.
“Okay.” I nod. “We can head out now.”
He gives me that big smile again and waits in the front of the store as I grab my things. Paige gives me an odd stare and I shrug and wave.
He leads me toward a car on the curb.
“Not afraid of getting a ticket?” I ask.
He’s still wearing that big smile that makes me want to snap my fingers and wake him the hell up.
“Not really, no.”
Shit. I don’t even have a car and I’m afraid of those.
He takes us to a Greek place and I have to stop and think. Did I tell him I’m Greek?
I don’t hint at anything when I order Pastitsio. He watches me while I eat, asking me questions here and there.
Midway through the dish, we switch plates out and I’m eating his lamb. It’s delicious, but not better than my yiayia’s. She would put this place to shame.
“I’m half Greek. The food here is amazing. But nothing beats my grandmother’s cooking.”
Gavin sits back in his seat, a smaller version of his signature smile on his face.
“We’ll have to get some from her someday.”
“No. I don’t speak to her.”
Other than his brows lifting, nothing about his expression changes.
“So, you and that guy . . . you two still have anything going on?”
“I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I?”
“Touché.”
It’s my turn to sit back and stare at him.
“Is this living up to your expectations?”
He shakes his head.
“I have no expectations, Denise. We were either going to go out, or not. We were either going to have a good time or we weren’t. I figured, given the great time we had the other night, that we would. But I never expect.”
“And are you having a good time?”
He licks his lips and eyes the ceiling before a smile erupts on his face.
“Of course.”
Something about this man, with his open smile and his beautiful presence, makes me want to know him. So, I don’t give him much. I give him barely anything at all.
That night, I leave him at my doorstep without so much as a kiss. I figure if he went through the trouble of finding me, he’d figure out himself whether I was worth it or not.
One night;
Two strangers.
The possibility of forever,
Beating at my chest
Competing with the sound of my heartbeat.
Day 2
I should be ashamed. I should . . .
I roll my eyes.
Shame is such a fucking waste.
Chase the heart’s desires, Denise.
I wouldn’t kid myself and fall into some notion that I’d ever hear from or see Gavin again.
We had the one night, it was exceptional, and that was all it was.
“What’s got you smiling?”
It takes a few seconds to realize I’m being spoken to. A second more to realize I was even smiling.
The store manager, Paula, is staring at me, waiting on an answer.
“Eh, just had a good date last night.”
One that started with one man and ended with another.
I should be ashamed.
“Ohhh, that’s nice to hear. I’m guessing you’re not with that guy anymore?”
I shake my head with a look of disdain.
“He was never really my type.”
“I could see that. Whenever he picked you up, I always figured he was a little too square for you.”
I hum my agreement and pull the dress over the mannequin’s head.
“And this guy? What’s he like?”
“Funny,” I start as I grab the shirt I’d picked from the pile to replace her look, “I don’t think I’ll ever really know. It was more of a one-night thing.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that!”
She holds up her palm and I slap mine against it.
“Shame you won’t be seeing him again.”
She walks away, and I don’t have a chance to respond but if I did, I know what I would’ve said.
Isn’t it?
Maybe that’s the beauty in all this uncertainty:
We can see the picture so clearly,
We could frame it and hang it above a fireplace.
We’ll look back on this “almost”
And know we’d nearly touched the stars.
Day 1
I don’t think anyone’s ever ready to end a relationship. There’s no real guide to this chapter closing thing.
Still, as I ignore Jordan’s incessant chatter, I’m so ready to get it over with. I wasn’t proud of the time we’d spent together. The time we’d wasted knowing we weren�
��t right for each other. I’m surprised he hadn’t complained when I arrived late.
“Denise?”
I look up from my soda. The bubbles trying to escape the glass and I were kindred spirits. I’d do anything to float away.
“What’s up?” I ask with a small, quick smile.
He sucks his teeth, the perfect white ones that look too bright against his beautifully even brown skin.
“Were you even listening?”
“Of course not,” I answer, looking at the ceiling with a chuckle. “Look, Jord—”
“I was talking about us really trying for a baby.” He grabs the hand I was reaching for my soda with. “I think it’s time.”
“Of course you do.” I squeeze his fingers before I pull my hand away.
It wasn’t like we’d been trying. But we hadn’t been not trying, either. It was this, ‘if it happens, it happens,’ situation. Considering it’s been weeks since the last time we slept together, I feel suffocated by his attempt at permanently attaching himself to me. In my eyes, there’s a reason a baby never came.
We are ill-suited.
“Denise, don’t be like that.” His disapproving tone makes the childish part of me want to join in on this date.
“I’m not being like anything. Just being honest. We don’t work. You want to focus on yourself right now and that’s okay. But wanting to give me a baby just to make sure I stick around isn’t what I want for my life. I’d like to think I deserve more.”
“So, you’re admitting that you’re selfish?”
Don’t react, don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Let’s just call it over and skip the insults.” I move to get up, but our waitress is setting down a dish he’d ordered, apparently while he suffered my tardiness.
And that’s how Jordan ends up with a lapful of Pakistani food.
I hear yelling from a very angry Jordan and the waitress stands there, stunned, as he aims insults at her.
“Come on,” I say.
“Shut up, Denise,” he says to me.
I’m gearing up to aim insults at him that would make my potty-mouthed sister proud, when a voice cuts through the chaos.
“Is there a problem here?”
All eyes fall on the newcomer. Mine is the only jaw that drops, though. I think. I’m too busy staring to see everyone else’s reaction.
EVOL Page 16