"I'm sure it's fine," I said, and started on mine. It was watery, too, of course. I didn't care. We sat in silence again while we drank. Well, except for the typical slurping sounds that came with reaching the bottom of the cup. It was my habit to assiduously avoid making noise during the consumption of food and drink, but, again, I just didn't care this time. Or, rather, with this person. What exactly was happening to me? I wondered.
We finished too soon, and Will asked, "Shall we head to your house?"
"Okay."
When we got there, he immediately got out and helped me out, but left my backpack in and locked the car. "Want to walk around the block until Gina gets home?" What a great idea! It reminded me of one time, several years before, when Sam and I hadn't wanted to part after a day of fun together. So we kept asking to walk each other home. At first, our parents didn't catch on. When they did, they thought it was funny―for a while. Then we wore it out, and it was past time to stop. According to our parents, anyway.
"Sure. I like to walk," I answered. So he took my hand and we started. We walked slowly around the block one way, then went back the other way when we reached the house. Then we crossed to the other side of the street and did the same thing in the opposite direction. Along the way, we would point out totally unimportant things to each other, like the one number on this house that was upside down, or there was a cat sitting in the front window of that house. And we looked at the trees and the darkening sky with the sun sinking past the horizon. And we just were. Together.
We had finished taking two blocks at a time, and were discussing what to do next when we got back to the house and Gina's car was in the driveway. Without a word, Will got my backpack for me and, tucking my arm through his, walked me up to the door. He kissed my hand, then put it through the strap on my backpack, which he slipped up over my shoulder. He winked at me as he turned away, put his hands in his pockets and whistled his way to his car. I waited on the porch to wave as he drove away.
Gina was in the kitchen. Looked like spaghetti from the ingredients gathered on the counter. "Want me to make the salad?" I asked.
"That would be great, Hon’," she replied, filling the pasta pan with water at the sink. Something in her told me we were going to have a talk. "Was that Will Stuart again?"
I got the bag of mixed greens and a tomato out of the fridge. "Yes. Will and I both like to walk, so we walked around the neighborhood until you got home." I put them down on the counter next to the cutting board, then got out a sharp knife for the tomato.
"I think there's a cucumber in the vegetable drawer, if you want to check."
"Okay." There was. I started on it first.
"You've been spending a lot of time with him this week." It was a statement, not a question.
"Not so much, really. Most of the time I've been working with Melinda on her geometry. We've done both chapters she needed to cover. I promised to help her with a review tomorrow, then we'll be finished." I hadn't really addressed that last part in my own mind yet, and there was a sinking feeling to it. I would still see Will, even if Melinda didn't need my help any more, right? "Will just volunteered to bring me home."
Gina was putting a jar of spaghetti sauce in another pan on the stove while the water for the pasta came to a boil. Then she added some extra oregano, basil and―Mark's favorite―garlic powder. "He seems like a nice young man. How old is he?" I realized that I didn't know. We hadn't talked about birthdays or ages or anything like that.
"I don't know exactly. He's in college, though. He's getting a degree in neuroscience." Hopefully my lack of knowledge about his age would ease her mind about any serious relationship developing between us. If we were serious, I would certainly know his age. And he would know mine. Made sense, though that reasoning troubled my heart at the time.
It worked. The expression on her face lightened. (I couldn't speak as to the one on mine.) But I still had to listen to the punch line. "You know you haven't really dated, Cassie, and it's a different ballgame with college guys. Especially when you're still in high school. Just be sure anyone you're with treats you with respect. And remember that you don't owe anyone anything just because they pay for your dinner or a movie or whatever. Do you understand what I mean?"
I turned toward her as far as I could, being careful to keep my drippy, tomatoey hands over the cutting board. "Yes. You don't need to worry about me. Or Will. He's very much a gentleman."
She came over and gave me a side hug. "Just make sure he stays that way."
"I will." And I went back to cutting.
From that point, our dinner prep went on normally. Then Mark came home, we ate, we all helped with the dishes, and I retired to my room for homework and bed.
It hit me again as I headed for my room. Why hadn't I asked Will how old he was? Easy. Inexperience. Why hadn't he asked me? No answer. Well, I would take care of it tomorrow. It was nice to feel this confident about him. Well, seeing him anyway. The rest was still so new and different to me. He was right―I didn't know quite what to make of it all. Or him.
As I got ready for bed, I realized that I hadn't seen Sam at school that morning. And, come to think of it, she didn't call me last night. That wasn't like her. Was she sick? Well, if she wasn't at school tomorrow, I'd try to find Joel and ask him. Or call her tomorrow night.
That resolved, I got into bed, closed my eyes, and succumbed to a reverie of blue eyes and warm, soft lips touching my hand.
. Chapter Six
My Thursday outfit, which included a new burgundy sweater, didn't seem to attract so much attention. In fact, I noticed that the increased interest in me had waned considerably. Hurray! Then I began to wonder if it would start up again when I came to school with different hair next Monday. But I told myself it would be fine. Probably about the same as this week. And now I knew I could survive.
Sam wasn't there again, and I didn't see Joel to ask about her. I would call her tonight―if she didn't call me first. No matter how sick Sam was, she typically didn't miss more than one day of phone usage. But I'd be sure to find out about her one way or another before the day was over.
As Will drove Melinda and me away in his car after school, I decided to just have out with it. "Will, when is your birthday?"
It was clear he wasn't expecting this, but he answered evenly, "May eleventh. I turned twenty this year." Twenty? Twenty sounded so much older to me. Maybe too old for me?
"Do you want to know when my birthday is, Cassie?" Melinda joined in.
"Sure."
"January twenty-fifth. Aquarius. And I'm fourteen," she concluded.
"Good for you," I commented. Would he ask me, or not?
"Cassie," Will started, "when is yours?" His inquisitiveness didn't ring quite true for some reason.
"August twenty-ninth. I just turned seventeen last month."
"What did you do to celebrate?"
"Dinner and a cake with candles at home. It was pretty quiet." Actually, very quiet. At my request. Our only guest had been Samantha.
"I'm sorry I missed it." Now that was sincere. I must have been imagining things earlier. "Is it too late to get you a present?"
A present? Only three people ever gave me presents―the same three that were at my birthday dinner. But it sounded nice, especially coming from Will. "I suppose not."
"Then don't be surprised if I show up with one someday." Would he really? Just the possibility was pleasant to think about.
"That may not be avoidable. I can be rather easily surprised," I replied. Very true―at least when a lot of people were around. In spite of the fact that I seemed to be unnecessarily well attuned to the psychoemotional workings of the world around me, I couldn't isolate specifics except with individuals who were physically close to me. Even then, I was most often so preoccupied with the sheer volume of miscellaneous input in the general area that a great deal of effort was required to try and ignore everything else so I could focus in on my immediate vicinity. When all that was going on, I missed
things. And that left me open to all sorts of surprises.
When there were fewer people around or only people that I knew well―meaning Mark and Gina, or Sam, and, to an extent, her family―so my hypersensitivity wasn’t inundated to the point of sensory overload, I could be much more aware. But none of it worked at all with Will. So . . . .
"You'd better be careful, then. Will is really good at sneaking up on people. I know," cautioned Melinda. "Don't I, Will?"
"I really don't know what you are talking about, Melinda," he replied, with a too sober look on his face.
"Yeah, right," Melinda responded, rolling her eyes. She leaned up toward me. "I'll tell you sometime―in private," she added conspiratorially.
"Soon, okay? I need to know what to watch for," I said. And I was serious. I had already experienced Will's facility for stealth―intentional or not, I wasn't sure. But I had been entirely blind and deaf to his approach in the park on Saturday.
"Sure. But it won't help. He's too devious." I must have looked a little worried at that point, because she added, "But only fun devious. You know?"
"Oh." Now I was actually looking forward to finding out more for myself. I looked at Will, but he was still maintaining a "Who, me?" expression.
"Anybody care for some music?" he suddenly asked, turning on the radio. Obviously an attempt at distraction. And it was successful. Melinda almost immediately gushed, "Oh, I love this song," and sang with it and the successive ones until we reached their house.
As Will parked in the garage, the potential for finality reoccurred to me. Would this be the last time I ever came to their house? For Melinda's geometry, yes. Last time for me altogether? I couldn't see how with the way Will had been treating me. Surely he hadn't been pretending. Every feeling I had revolted at the idea. But was that wishful thinking colliding with reality?
Melinda and I followed our routine of the last two days and were in the dining room, ready to begin, when Will wandered in. "Any idea how long you'll be today?" he queried.
"Not very. We actually reviewed a lot of this stuff in class today because we have the test on it tomorrow. Why?" Melinda answered and asked.
"Just wondering," he replied, and wandered back out.
Melinda was right. It didn't take us very long. "Thank you so much for helping me. It was a lot easier doing it with someone else. Especially someone who was willing to just work and get it over with." She frowned thoughtfully. "I can't think of anything right now, but if there's something I can do for you sometime, let me know, okay?"
"Sure," I agreed, though I couldn't imagine what it would be.
"Do you want to go ahead and tell Will we're finished? I've got more homework to do, and I want to hurry because there's a show on tonight I can’t miss."
"Okay. You'll do fine on your test tomorrow," I encouraged as I made sure my backpack was ready to go. Then I headed through the living room and around the corner toward the stairs and Will's room. But I didn't get any farther because I unexpectedly found him sitting on the stairs. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out.
"Eavesdropping. You're good at explaining things. And patient," he complimented me.
I could feel a blush coming on, but only a minor one. "Thanks, but Melinda catches on fast. She doesn't require much patience."
He chuckled. "As her older brother, I could legitimately take exception to the part about patience. But, then, she would probably say the same about me."
"If you say so," I responded, doubtfully.
"Oh, I do. And I'm sure she'd be happy to expound upon that in great detail whenever you want," he said matter-of-factly. This was good. He seemed to be assuming there would be continued contact―at least between Melinda and me. But, again, with the way he had been treating me, how could I continue to be so dubious about him? Perhaps it went with the territory. Or perhaps it was just me.
"Now I'm curious."
"Then maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Let's change the subject," he said, standing up. "Feel like a walk?" he asked, holding his hand out for mine.
"Yes," I said, putting my hand in his. "Where are we going?"
"Not sure. I'm just not ready to have to take you home yet." That felt nice. "Do you want your jacket? It's cool out there."
"Yes."
"Is it in the dining room?" I nodded. "I'll get it," he offered, and was gone before I could tell him that I would. He was back quickly and held it up for me to put my arms in the sleeves.
"Thank you."
He took one of my hands and kissed it. "You're welcome.
"We have a couple of acres here, and there's a bike path that goes along one side of the property," he explained as he led me out the front door. He gestured with his arm, indicating all of the outdoors visible to us from the front porch. "Where shall we go?"
There was a stand of trees a short distance off the side of the house. I pointed in that direction. "How about over there?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, and we started walking slowly in that direction. There was no hurry, and all the soothing feelings I always experienced with him had already flooded over me. In fact, they had grown and multiplied, it seemed. It was like a kaleidoscope of all the good feelings that ever existed, changing from one colorfully enticing pattern to another―some darker, some lighter, but all equally appealing. And all centered in the engaging young man holding my hand in his and walking with me just because he wanted to.
How long could this wonderful dream possibly last?
"I didn't know about this," Will suddenly declared. We were well back in the trees now and had come upon a small gazebo, painted white, with a built-in bench around the inside. "Do you want to go in?" he asked me. I shook my head for no particular reason. Just wanted to keep walking, I guess. "Then let's see what else we can find," he said. And we moved on.
It was similar to our walk the night before, but I enjoyed all the trees and bushes and open space more than I had the houses. And it was more quiet for me―virtually no people. In fact, I couldn't see or sense anyone besides . . . I was thinking Will, but I couldn't sense him that way at all. In any case, it was the next best thing to being alone―being with Will. No, major correction―it was much, much better than being alone.
We meandered here and there, and nowhere and everywhere. The whole time holding hands. I was more interested in enjoying the feel of him and of being with him than making conversation. And I wondered if it was the same for him. (Still couldn't sense him like I could everyone else. Darn it.) When we did talk, it was the same as before when we walked the neighborhood―inconsequential observations about things we noticed as we strolled along. Nothing and anything. And the time seemed to pass so quickly. It was already getting dark, and that meant it was time to go home. I sighed.
"Something wrong?" Will asked.
How did I put this? I don't want to be without you―ever? "Maybe we ought to head back. It's getting late."
"Yeah, I know. But I wasn't going to say anything until you did." We had stopped walking. He faced me, gazing at me for I don't know how long. "Let's go." He squeezed my hand, and we headed back toward the house―by then, looking much smaller in the distance. We had gone farther than I'd realized.
As we drew closer to the house, I heard music―a lovely soprano voice accompanied by piano. (Though I didn't sing myself, I had learned enough from Gina to distinguish parts and, to some extent, the quality of voices.) I stopped to listen and Will stopped with me. He apparently knew what I was doing, and smiled. "That's Mom," he explained. "She majored in music performance and was starting to sing professionally when she met Dad. After they got married and I came along, she decided to teach voice lessons and do occasional charity concerts. She still practices almost every day."
We stayed and listened until her song ended, then walked on. No wonder he and Melinda could sing. They had probably picked it up by osmosis. Was that why he was so disappointed that I didn't sing, too? Maybe―just maybe―I would find out one day.
As Will
drove me home, his hand still holding mine, I was worrying about how and when I would see him again when he asked, "So you and Melinda are finished with the math tutoring?"
"Yes. All done." Was this going where I hoped it was?
"Well, then, I guess I'm going to have to make arrangements with you on my own from here on out. That alright with you?" he asked, glancing at me.
"Yes," I answered, more emphatically than I had intended.
He grinned. "I have a TA meeting on campus tomorrow at four, so right after school won't work. Why don't I watch for you when I come to pick up Melinda, and we'll figure it out. I'll think of something that we can do after my meeting. Sound okay?"
"Sounds good." It was so relieving to finally know that I was going to keep on seeing Will, that I really didn't think about what he might have in mind. Everything we had done together so far had been manageable; and, most of it with relative ease (emphasis on “relative”). My commitment to making sure that my problem didn't interfere with his plans for us hadn’t been as hard to keep as I had feared. And it had been well worth it.
Gina's car and Mark's truck were both in the driveway when we got to the house. Will walked me up to the door like before, and kissed my hand like before. Then, after a second's consideration, he kissed me softly on my cheek. "See you tomorrow," he called back to me as he walked to his car. I waited to watch him drive away.
I would see him again tomorrow. How wonderful!
And I hadn't used "nebulous" once today. I had come to feel so safe with him that I hadn't been worried about what he did or didn't hear. And I hadn't thought about my problem while I was with him, except for one brief instant in passing, so there had been no need to block that. I guess I had almost felt normal with him.
Maybe someday, if we ever did anything that wasn't manageable and he realized that I wasn't―normal, that is―hopefully by then he would have experienced enough good with me that he'd be willing to . . . well, at least not despise me. But it looked like that would come much later. If ever.
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