Over dinner, I shared with Mark and Gina that Melinda was caught up with geometry. Mark responded with "Good of you to help out, Kiddo," between bites of food.
"And I might be going out tomorrow night," I added in what I hoped was an offhand tone. Better to break the news to them now rather than later.
Mark and Gina looked at each other. Mark shrugged his shoulders and went on eating. Gina was the one who spoke. "That's nice, Hon’." She poked at her food with her fork. "With whom?"
"Melinda's brother, Will." I braced myself for―I wasn't sure what. I didn't sense any serious opposition from her―just concern. And Mark’s first internal reaction was that it was "about time" somebody asked me out.
"Will Stuart?" he asked. I nodded since I had just put some food in my mouth. He looked at Gina. "I've heard some good things about him. Remember Andy's wife, Sue?" Andy was another assistant principal at the high school.
Gina replied, "Yes."
"Well," Mark continued, "she works in graduate admissions at the University. Seems they were falling all over themselves to rush everything through for him when he applied. Doctor somebody or other―same as the name of some cereal―was tickled pink to have him in his department. Even took him on to teach undergrad classes. Oh, and research. Andy said he published some original research while he was still working on his bachelor's degree. Some kind of genius or something. Just like our Cassie." He looked at me and grinned. "Be sure to have him come in when he picks you up so we can say hi. Okay?"
"Sure." Thank you, Mark.
Gina sighed. "Well, I hope he's smart enough to behave like a gentleman, and treat you like a lady, or I will load Mark's shotgun myself."
Mark let out a loud guffaw. "I'd love to see that."
"I would," insisted Gina. But I could tell she wasn't going to hold out very long. She knew perfectly well how absurd it was: Gina, the epitome of mellow, even handling a gun?
"Right," Mark responded, with a look of such complete incredulity on his face that we all burst out laughing.
And that was that.
After dinner, I checked with Gina to see if Sam had called, but there were no messages from her. So I got the cordless phone from the kitchen and went to my bedroom for some privacy. And, so I could hear―Mark was watching some kind of sports recap show and parts of it were pretty loud.
I tried the Miller's number first. There was no telling if she'd have her cell phone on or not, but she was most likely at home. "Mrs. Miller? Hi, this is Cassie. Is Sam there? Thanks." And I waited.
"Cassie?" She sounded awful! Stuffy and croaky. No wonder she hadn't been at school.
"Sam? You don't even sound like yourself. Do you feel like talking?" I asked.
A couple of coughs. "Of course, I do. Sorry I didn't call the other night. By the time I got home from school my throat was so sore! Hey, I got a B+ on my trig test!" Another cough or two.
"Good for you! I knew you could do it."
"Thanks. And thanks for helping me study. You're a lifesaver." Sneeze.
"Any time."
"Hey, Cassie?"
"Yes?"
Cough. "Who's the guy?"
Huh? "What guy?"
"'What guy?' she says. The guy you've been leaving with in a blue car after school every day this week." She sounded miffed.
How did she know about him? Oh, right. "Joel told you?"
"Not really." Cough. "He asked me who it was. Thinking, of course, since I'm your best friend, that I would have some idea of what was going on."
That was it. She was feeling left out. And she hated being left out. Should I play with her a bit? Why not? "He's a long lost love come to find me and take me away from all this." Why did that not sound as far-fetched as I had intended?
"What?! You're kidding, right?"
I chuckled. "Of course. They just moved to town and I've been helping his younger sister catch up with her class in geometry."
"Oh. Is that all?"
"That's all." Now that didn't sound right. But it was true―as far as Melinda went. I debated whether or not to tell her anything about Will, but decided it would be better to wait. There was no telling what would happen with him, and it would be easier for me if no one else knew should it all blow up in my face, so to speak.
"Too bad. You know, Joel was at his friend Kevin's house for dinner last night. Kevin who lives almost across the street from you?" Yes. He did. Drat. I let silence answer for me. "Well, Joel saw this guy bring you home." She paused―for effect, no doubt. "Joel said he seemed to like you―helping you out of his car, carrying your backpack, walking you to the door, taking your hand, kissing your hand," she recounted. Oh, dear. How could I throw her off the scent now?
"Oh, that." I tried to sound nonchalant.
"Yes, that," Sam retorted. Sneeze.
"Must be something he picked up somewhere. Doesn't have to mean anything." Even though it did. I was sure of that.
"No." Cough. "Doesn’t have to." Sneeze. "But does it?"
Tenacious as a bulldog. "I guess we'll have to see." And I wasn't going to say any more.
"Has he asked you out?"
"No." Not yet. Not really. That wouldn't really happen until tomorrow.
"But you'll tell me if and when he does, right?" Cough, cough.
"Sure." But perhaps not until well after the fact. "I'd better let you go, Sam. Talking seems to make you cough more. You aren't going to try and go to school tomorrow, are you?" Please stay home and get well so you won't see me with Will after school . . . .
"I don't know. Mom wants me to stay home, but I really want to go. So, we'll see how I feel in the morning." Several hard coughs, one right after another.
"You'd better stop talking for now. I'll see you soon."
I thought I made out "Okay" and "'Bye" through her coughing. So I said, "Get well," and hung up.
Didn't expect that. Joel was just too open and honest for my good this time. I wouldn't blame him, though. He was a great guy. In fact, I had always thought that, if I had a younger brother, I would want him to be like Joel. He was fun, but more serious than Todd and Cody. And he didn’t give Samantha near as much grief in various forms as his brothers did.
No, I wouldn't blame him. Or anyone. I would just take it a day at a time and relish every moment I got to spend with Will for as long as it lasted. The way things were going, maybe our relationship would actually have a chance.
Sleep didn't come easily to me that night, and for a happy reason: I was too excited about tomorrow.
.Chapter Seven
Friday was pretty much the same. I wore another new sweater, this time a soft ivory V-neck with tan corduroy pants. Although I knew I wouldn't be leaving with Will after school, I also knew I would be seeing him again for the express purpose of making plans to see him yet again. And this time, it had nothing to do with Melinda or geometry. It was simply because he wanted to see me.
After school, I went my usual way. Will was already parked and leaning against his car, watching for me. He smiled when he saw me. As I reached him, he took my hand and kissed it. Then, apparently deciding that wasn't enough, he put his arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. (You know, I realized later that I was so entranced by the experience that I wasn’t even paying attention to anyone who could see us. No extraneous input. At all. And I didn’t even wonder until later if Sam had been at school and seen us, or if Joel might have been watching and filled her in later.)
"Would you like to go to the football game with me tonight?" He searched my face while waiting for a response.
A football game? Oh, no! "Our game, here?"
"Yes."
Okay. Stay calm. Nebulous. Breathe. Nebulous. If it weren’t for the powerful serenity I felt with him, I would have been openly panicking.
Would I like to go with him? Of course. Anywhere. "Yes." Nebulous. Calm. Breathe. I had promised myself―and him, though he didn't know it.
"Hi, Cassie," said Melinda as she approached the car. Will went to
help her in. "I think I aced my test."
"Good for you," I said. Nebulous.
"Thanks," she replied. "See ya," she waved as Will closed her door.
"Do you really want to go to the game? You don't seem so sure,"
he observed as he came back to stand by me. He gathered some loose hairs behind my ear, then repossessed himself of my hand.
Calm. Nebulous. I took a deep breath, and forced a smile. "Yes. I'm sure."
Will kissed my hand in acceptance, and kept it as we walked around to the driver's side. He released it to open the door. "Why don't I pick you up about six, then we can get something to eat before the game? Just a drive through somewhere."
Only a few seconds longer. Hold on. Breathe. "Sounds good. I'll be ready."
"Great." He reached up and stroked my cheek with his fingers. Leaving them against my face, he leaned in and softly, slowly kissed my other cheek. (I couldn’t tell which I liked better, the touch of his fingers or his lips on my face. At the time, wrestling mightily with the emotion churning inside me, I couldn’t really enjoy either as thoroughly as I would have liked.) He straightened up, looked at me, and smiled. "See you then," he confirmed as he got in the driver's seat and closed the door.
"Okay."
Now that he was driving away, I allowed myself to think more freely. I had been able to keep my "problem" from Will so far, but it would certainly surface at the game. I watched him leave, and wondered if he would do the same thing that night when he found out what a weak person I was. It felt like my heart took a plunge into my stomach.
Right now, my previous immutable decision to let things progress naturally and allow him to see me as I was when the time came didn't seem like such a good idea. As safe as I felt when I was with him, I wasn't at all convinced that our relationship was strong enough to withstand the menace of this impending revelation. What was I going to do? What could I do?
The hours between the end of school and the time Will picked me up seemed like forever, and like no time at all. I racked my brain, reviewing everything I had ever done to try and maintain my composure in a large, noisy crowd. Truth was, I had never really been able to do it very well. My greatest successes―such as they were―occurred at school assemblies where I managed to stay put and refrain from crying until they were over. But those only lasted for maybe one class period. This was a two hour plus football game.
Why couldn't I be like everybody else just this one night?
I thought about calling him with all sorts of made-up reasons why I wouldn't be able to go after all. But that seemed cowardly, and I couldn't bring myself to seriously consider trying to lie to him. I was sure he would see right through me even if I did.
There was only one thing to do. I would just have to go. And I would know from Will's reaction whether he thought I was worth it, or not. If not, I was doomed, because I would no longer have a chance with him―for anything. My heart ached.
I got ready early, and spent the time before he came practicing all the stress management techniques I knew: Controlled breathing, visualization, muscle relaxation. I knew it wouldn't prevent the inevitable, but it made me feel a bit better to know I was doing what (very little) I could.
Mark and Gina ended up going out to dinner with another couple―a friend of Gina's from school and her husband. So I was by myself, and growing more antsy by the minute. I finally threw on my jacket and went outside to pace up and down the front walk until he arrived.
Will was right on time, of course. "Where would you like to eat?" he asked as he helped me into the car.
"Wherever you want." It didn't really matter. I felt so apprehensive that I didn't want to eat at all.
Will drove to a fast food place close to the high school. He ordered his food, then reluctantly ordered only a drink for me. He drove around to the side of the park farthest from the football field and parked near the swings where we first met. There were some low concrete benches―decorative, although not very comfortable―near the swings. It was a private little area almost entirely encircled by large evergreens of various kinds. We sat on one of the benches and spoke little while he ate and I barely touched my drink.
"Finished?" he asked, gathering the remains of his meal into the sack it had come in.
"Yes."
"I'll take that," he offered, reaching for my cup.
I let him take it. "Thank you."
He looked at the cup, then at me. "You didn't drink much. And you didn't eat anything. Are you alright?"
"Yes." I shrugged. "Just not hungry."
He didn't seem convinced, but went ahead and deposited everything in a nearby trash can.
"You don't mind walking over from here, do you?"
"No." I stood up.
We joined hands and started off slowly across the park toward the main gate to the football field. He didn't seem to be in any more of a hurry to get there than I was. I looked at the sky, which had mellowed from a colorful sunset into a quiet dusk. I sighed, wishing I could just sit down right there with Will to enjoy it, and not have to face the game.
"What is it?" he asked, softly.
"I like being with you" was my equally quiet, and unthinking, response. I could feel the heat of a blush rise to my face as the realization struck me of how truly vulnerable I had allowed myself to become with him. Or, perhaps more accurately, how vulnerable I had made myself.
Will stopped walking, so I did, too. He turned to face me, and put his hands lightly on my shoulders. His lips curved into a smile as he said, simply, "The feeling is very mutual." His arms slipped around me and pulled me gently to him. The feel of him radiated through me. As I naturally turned my head to the side, my ear was against his chest and I listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady, just like him, I couldn't help thinking quite clearly.
"Thank you." I loved having his voice inside me, even though we had yet to openly acknowledge that phenomenon to each other. I wondered vaguely if it would ever happen again―after he found out what I really was. Well, no sense in rushing it. So, nebulous . . . .
Releasing me from his embrace, Will reached up to my cheek with one hand, and took one of mine with the other. My heart was surely in my eyes as he gazed into them.
"Shall we go?"
I nodded. And swallowed hard. He kept my hand in his, and it still felt at home there. But I knew that it would take a miracle for that to last through the evening.
As we went into the game and found a place to sit on the bleachers, Will never let go of my hand. Not even when he took the money out of his pocket for our tickets. When we sat, he finally released my hand to put his arm around me, and pulled us close together.
"It's kind of chilly. Are you warm enough?" he asked moments later.
Was it? Was I? "Yes."
He cocked his head as if in doubt, and reached with his free hand to feel mine. "You’re cold." He started to cover both of my smaller hands with his larger one, but I took his in both of mine. He chuckled. I managed a small smile, then watched him intently, drinking in every second of him. It wasn't going to be much longer.
My enjoyment of his company was indeed short lived. As the crowd grew, so did the chaos. The usual preliminaries were completed, and the game began. Will cheered when our team made a quick touchdown during its first possession, and cheered again with the extra point. He occasionally asked me questions about some of the players on the team, or made a comment about the game, or the weather, or . . . then I couldn't hear him anymore. I don't think it was even halfway through the first quarter. It was too much. Too much.
I closed my eyes to focus on shutting out the world; on calming myself. But it wasn't working. My head felt like it was going to explode. Then the shaking started. My breathing became quick and shallow.
No! What is he going to think of me? Tears started welling up in my closed eyes. I can do this. I can do this. I . . . can . . . . Tears were overflowing one by one onto my cheeks.
"You don't have to. I won't let you. We're
leaving."
The next thing I knew, I was being half pulled, half carried out of the stands. I kept my eyes closed. Once outside the gate, I was walking. Was an arm around me? I wasn't sure. And I still kept my eyes closed. It grew more and more quiet as I continued to walk. At last, when the sounds of the game were no more than background noise, I stopped. Then I was sitting, but not on a bench or in Will's car. Where was I? Was I alone? I was so agitated and disoriented, my brain wasn't working right and I couldn't tell. Finally, it occurred to me that it would probably help if I opened my eyes so I could see. But what would there be to look at?
It took several deep, measured breaths to prepare for opening my eyes. If Will was still there, I dreaded the disappointment or disgust or whatever else might show on his face. It was going to be horrible.
And if he wasn't there . . . .
I took one more breath, and opened my eyes. They opened a lot wider as I realized where I was sitting―on Will. He had settled me across his lap, with one arm around me and his other hand stroking my face and hair. He was watching me intently.
"Better?" he asked.
"Some," was my weak response.
I felt Will's chest expand, and heard him sigh. He shifted us so I was sitting up straighter, and gently lifted my face with his hand under my chin so he could look into my eyes. There was no disappointment or disgust or anything like it on his face. His expression was soft, and full of concern.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a tone of tender reproach.
Well, that did it. Unspeakable relief washed over me, and the intense array of emotions I had been living with for the last week finally found an outlet. The tears that had been coming singly, now came in a gush as I allowed myself the luxury of letting them out. Will pressed my head against his shoulder and waited patiently while my sobbing first deepened, then gradually calmed, and finally stopped.
At some point, Will placed some paper napkins in my hand, saying something like, "I guess it's good that I didn't throw these away." I dried my eyes and face with them, and put them in my jacket pocket.
"I'm so sorry, Will," I murmured, looking down.
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