“Wow. I’m thoroughly impressed. This is so … clean. I don’t think I’ve ever known someone to do such a neat job.”
He slides his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’ll take that as a job well done.”
“Definitely. Worth every penny.”
I wish all my contractors did this great of a job. I wonder if there is anything else I can hire him for. “I aim to please.”
“Okay, well, this is it. I guess you’ll bill me?”
Our eyes don’t lose connection. He’s partially smiling, but I sense pain in the part that is not. I tried so hard to keep him out of the support group, and once he maneuvered his way in, I’ll admit, he’s grown on me. Even though we’ll see each other every Thursday, we won’t see each other every day. Why is that difficult to process? Why does this seem like the end?
“Yeah. I’ll get it in the mail next week.”
We’re two teenagers with our hands in our pockets kicking the ground waiting for one to ask the other out. I haven’t felt this socially awkward since my eighth-grade dance. “So, I’ll see you at the group, I’m sure. Unless …”
“Unless what?”
I don’t know. What do I even want to ask him? Out on a date? To go back to my place for a fun evening? For a packet of stamps? I trail off without a response prepared. What sort of a maniac am I? “Nothing,” I whisper. “I guess I’ll see you out.”
“Sure.”
I turn and start to walk toward the door, saddened by the end of this relationship. Me, heavyhearted at the end of this arrangement. Me. This feeling, it’s perplexing and new and different. In this seemingly simple moment, I’m trying to stop myself from falling apart.
“Cassie, wait.”
I stop my exit and hope overcomes me. “What?” I turn and he’s already moved ahead and is only a step away from me.
“I know you were talking about Lucas during group.”
“What? No … I … ” This is what he stops me for? Not to confess his attraction to me and to kiss me under these fluorescent lights in the basement? He wants to discuss Lucas?
“Cassie … I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and you went out with him that time. Do you have feelings for him?”
“Feelings?”
“Yes. Feelings. Emotions. Do you want to be with him?”
“No.” Wow. I realize I didn’t even have to think about it. But why does he care? He hasn’t shown any interest in me outside of the group or work. How does this even concern him? “I don’t. We had a good … time together. That was it.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?” This takes me by surprise. Does he care? Does he think about me when I’m not around? Does he close his eyes and see my face? Does he want to touch me as badly as I want to touch him?
“Have you ever thought about me? You know, outside of the group or here?”
Oh. My. God. Is this going where I think it is going? No. He’s playing me for a fool. He’s so stuck on how things are with Lucas. He’s digging for information. “What does it matter? You and Cheyenne seem to be getting a bit chummy together.” It makes me sick thinking about them flirting with one another, but it’s true. Those two are enjoying each other’s company in the group.
“After your tale of Lucas, I got a little jealous. I’m never jealous. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so when Cheyenne flirted with me, I flirted back.”
Well, it worked. “Juvenile.”
He smiles and leans against one of the server racks. What do we do now? What do I say?
“I went to see my mom.” Why did that pop into my head? Here we are on a path and I totally stick a fork in the road. He doesn’t want to hear about this.
“Oh?” He straightens himself up. “How did that go?”
Now I have to go into it. Great. This is the last thing I want to talk about. “Not too well.”
“I’m sorry, Cassie.” He reaches out to me and rests his hand on my shoulder. It’s heavy, much like the burden I’m putting on him to discuss something so personal and non-interesting to him.
“It’s not your fault.” I shrug and his hand falls off my shoulder. “I figured this was how it was going to go.”
“I feel bad for pushing you.”
I cross my arms and hug myself. “You didn’t push me. I made the decision on my own.” I back up against a rack and slide down to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. Keith joins me. “I’m just so mad at her.” I’m shaking my head and I can’t seem to stop. I’ll probably give myself whiplash. “I’m so mad.” I drop my head on his shoulder, my eyes popping open wide when I realize what I’ve done. But he doesn’t push me off, so I stay where I am.
Keith shifts forward enough to slide his arm behind me. He pulls me closer to him and I can feel his heart beating. When he reaches his hand across and touches the back of my neck with it, I remind myself to breathe.
“It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to have those emotions. No one can tell you what you’re feeling is wrong.”
I turn my head and our faces are inches from each other. As he looks at me, I’m holding back the tears that want to pour out of my eyes. I don’t know why I want to cry. Am I sad about my mom? Am I shocked at what he’s telling me? Am I confused at this sensation that seems to have taken over my heart?
I don’t know if he leans into me or if I reach up to him, but our lips collide at a force powerful enough to create another Big Bang. His hands are moving up and down my back, and I come to a kneeling position as we continue to kiss, forcing him to the ground. He’s on the hard floor and I’m lying on top of him, my lips moving from his lips to his neck to his cheek, back to his lips. Every moment of this is perfect. Each kiss fills my heart more, and I still want to cry. Am I … happy?
“What’s wrong?” Keith asks as I halt our session.
I climb off of him and struggle to find my balance as I stand. I wipe my mouth, eliminating any trace of him on my lips. “This isn’t a good idea.”
He sits up and forms an O with his lips, “Okay. Why not? I thought we had something between us. I thought we both wanted this.”
I tug at the hem of my shirt and ball it into my fist. “I … I don’t know what I want. This is a really bad time for me.” Timing. I’ll blame it on that.
“Oh.” He drops his gaze to the floor and then picks it back up. “Okay, then.” He hops up from the seated position and wipes down his pants. “Well, it’s been great working with you and I’ll see you on Thursday I guess.”
Really? This is how he’s ending it? He’s not upset or bothered by the fact that I shot him down? We were just kissing, right? I didn’t imagine that. This isn’t the response I would expect from somebody in a situation such as this. “Yeah. I guess I’ll see you Thursday. I have to let you out though because I’ll need to collect your entry card to the building.” Now this is awkward.
“Sure thing.” He unclips his card and hands it to me. “Lead the way, Ms. Noble.”
And with those five words, he’s broken my confidence, and I’m pretty sure, my heart.
Chapter
Twenty-One
People tend to think Shannon and I are crazy. We do this every year, and I swear every year we get more creative. I lay down newspaper over my entire kitchen table and put the pumpkins on them. I cut open the tops, and we each dig our hands into the pumpkin scraping out as many seeds as we can, our hands covered in slime.
“I’m glad we’re doing this today.” Shannon shakes her hands and seeds fall onto the newspaper.
“Me, too. I’ve had a bit of a rough week.”
“What do you mean? You haven’t said a word to me about anything.”
It’s true. I haven’t. After the failed dinner with my mom, I tried to push her out of my mind. It’s been proving impossible. I’m keeping all these feelings locked up inside of me, and I need to talk to someone other than myself. My discussion with Keith led to a much-fantasized kiss coming true and ended with me proving why I don’t get t
oo emotionally involved with anyone. Maybe my mom was onto something with her short-term relationships with men, sans the drugs.
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know where to start.”
“That good, huh?”
I hold my hands in the air as though I’m operating on the pumpkin. “Well, I slept with my boss’ nephew, who is seventeen years younger than me. I kissed Keith, who did work for my company and is in my Dating for Decades group. Oh! And I also saw my mom.”
I move over to the sink and wash my hands as I leave Shannon at the table trying to pick her mouth off the floor.
“Wait. This is a lot of information to take in. One thing at a time. You slept with someone seventeen years younger than you?”
“Sure did. It’s not like he was seventeen. He is seventeen years younger.”
“So that makes him what, twenty-two?”
“You’re great at math, Shannon.” I dry my hands off and meet her back at the table.
“Don’t be so sassy. And then you kissed this other guy?”
“Yep.” I pick up the carving knife and begin to cut.
“I can’t get my husband to have sex with me more than twice a month, and you’re getting busy with two men?”
“Don’t get too excited. I don’t plan on sleeping with Lucas again, and I’m not pursuing anything with Keith. As far as I’m concerned, Lucas is hands off and forbidden. And he’s too young. Let’s get real.” I round the knife and make a perfect circle. I pop out the piece and start another one. “And Keith, well, whatever. We kissed and I told him it was a bad idea and he didn’t really care. So I don’t either.”
Shannon rests her hands on the back of the chair. “So you have no feelings for either of these men?”
“First off, Lucas is barely a man. As much as I want his head buried between my legs every time I see him, we work together.”
“Whoa! Too much information.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Well, you asked.” I finish the other circle and pop it out. “And Keith, well, I just don’t want to go there. I don’t think it will end well, so it’s better to end that before it starts.”
Shannon’s silence speaks louder than any words she could ever say. She knows me well enough to leave the situation alone. “Are you carving what I think you’re carving?”
I back up from my creation in progress and observe what I’ve done so far. “What do you think? I think I can carve a pretty nice penis. A small keepsake, perhaps.”
“That’s far from small.”
I shrug and a laugh escapes me, and soon I’m holding onto my belly because I’m laughing so hard it hurts. “This is such a corny tradition.”
“I like it. How many other people do you know carve dirty pumpkins every year? I don’t even remember how we started doing this, but I love it.”
“Just be glad that I’m not married or have any kids so you have a place to put your pumpkin. Something tells me that Ben or your kids would have an issue with this.”
Shannon plays a fake violin. Back in college, Ben would’ve loved something like this. I can understand, though, with the kids. Shannon would have a lot of explaining to do.
“Okay, back to your tough week. You really don’t think I’m going to ignore the fact that you said you saw your mom.”
I hoped my love life was enough to discuss, but of course she wants to hear the details. “Well, it turns out that she’s been in contact with Sasha and a little bit with Sasha’s mom. Sasha really wanted me to have dinner with them, so I went the other night.”
Shannon has begun carving out her pumpkin. She’s focused on her detail, cutting the skin at a snail’s pace. “I’m proud of you for going.”
I don’t doubt she is. Shannon knows my past — every single detail. She’s the only one who does. Even those in my family don’t know everything. They know my mom was a drug addict, and they know she was a shitty mom, but they don’t know about the conditions we used to live in or how my mom often stole food for us. I don’t want them to know. I was ashamed then and I’m ashamed now.
“It didn’t go so well. The night ended with me throwing spaghetti at her.”
She stops carving what I can only imagine are nipple tassels, and sits down at the table. “You what?”
“Yes, you heard me correctly. I tossed pasta at her. It landed right on her shoulders and went down her shirt.”
“I can’t believe you would be so immature.”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“You’re sure acting like it.” She drops her knife on the table. “You’ve been given a chance to reconcile with her and this is what you do?”
This conversation is moving into uncomfortable territory. I don’t sit at the table with her, and instead, pull a stool out from underneath the breakfast bar and sit down. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but Keith convinced me to go.”
Her lips practically disappear as anger grows on her face. “Keith? You went to Keith about this, but you didn’t come to me, your best friend?”
“I knew you would tell me to go see her.”
“You mean like he did?”
I know she’s upset and I understand why. I trust her more than anybody in this world, but I know it’s a touchy subject with her. “I’m sorry.”
She rubs her forehead and pulls her hands down the side of her face. I’m terrified of what she’s going to say. I blew it. I should have come to her, and now I probably lost her. I can’t. She is all I have.
“Don’t worry about it.” She picks up her knife and starts carving again, and I’m relieved I’m in the clear. “How did she look?”
“Fine. I can barely tell she was a drug addict. Her hair is really thin and so is she, but that’s probably from her illness. With all the drug she’s done, she’s contracted HIV. It serves her right.”
“How can you say something like that?” She tosses the knife down and flies across the table. I’m grateful I’m not sitting on the other side because it might have hit me. “Do you know what I would give to have my mother here with me?”
This is why I didn’t want to tell her. Her mother died three years ago after an infection took over her body. The two of them were close. Like best friends. The kind of relationship I wish my mother and I had. “I understand, but our relationships with our moms are entirely different. I would have loved to have had a mom like yours when I was growing up. You hit the jackpot. My mom didn’t even know what it meant to be a mom. Why does she get a second chance now?”
She slams her hand on the table, startling me. “Because people deserve second chances! When she’s gone, you’re going to regret that you didn’t do more to spend time with her or be with her. You’re going to wish you had taken the time to work through your problems. As much as she ignored you, you’ll realize you still love her and that she did love you.” She starting to cry and speaking so quickly I can barely understand her. “One day you’re going to look at your children and wish you’d made it work.”
She covers her face with her hands and I realize she’s no longer talking about me or our mothers. I grab a tissue and bring it to her. ”What’s going on, Shannon?”
She wipes her eyes and blows her nose, her breathing heavy and fast. After a few sniffles and deep breaths, she manages to speak. “Ben has been discussing the possibility of separation.”
I know she’s waiting for me to say something, but nothing comes to mind except the fact that this is one of the reasons I don’t like marriage. Now she may lose her husband and her kids will be affected. It’s not a good situation. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” This is all I can offer her, and I hope it’s enough.
She shakes her head and blows her nose again. “No. We’ll figure this out, I’m sure. At least I hope so. I’m tired of us either fighting all the time or him completely ignoring me. I know you think I’m joking when you’re on your tablet all the time, but that’s the same to me as when Ben is staring at the TV. My husband ignores me. I don’t need my best fr
iend to as well.”
I’m a terrible person. It’s not a secret that my technology is an extra limb to my body. It’s who I am. It’s my job. It defines me. Of course, maybe this is why I’m so blind to human emotion. I’m a robot, just like my iPad. Hell, Siri may show emotion better than I do. Even she takes a break sometimes.
“Point very well taken. I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt like I’ve ignored you. I’ve never intended for it to be that way. And I had no idea how things were between you and Ben. Whenever you mention things like that, I always think you’re joking. I look up to you two as a couple. You’ve been in love since college. I’ve had as many boyfriends for as many years as you two have been together. And you have two beautiful children. I envy you.” I do in a way. I don’t want marriage or kids, but I also don’t want to be a forty-year-old without anyone in her life.
“Sometimes I envy you.”
“Envy me? Why in the world would you envy me?”
“You’re single. Unattached. I love my children and my husband. Sometimes, though, I think how life would be much easier if it were just me. I could do whatever I want, whenever I want.” She points to my penis pumpkin, “Whomever I want.”
I laugh silently. “You don’t want my life. You may think you do, but I don’t wish my life on anybody.”
“You’re an independent, successful woman.”
“So are you, whether you realize it or not. My life can be pretty empty sometimes. You have a full house to come home to. I don’t even own a cat.”
“You don’t want a cat. If you want anything, you want a dog.”
I rub her back up and down and she takes a hold of my hand so it’s resting on her shoulder. “The point is you have a home. A family. You may think you envy me, but it’s pretty lonely being me.”
And that’s the truth. I throw myself into my work, because honestly, what else do I have?
She shakes her body and pretends to wipe something off her shoulder. “Enough with this. This isn’t about me. Ben and I will get through this. I know we will. You, on the other hand, should really try to have some sort of a relationship with your mom, even a small one. An occasional cup of coffee, maybe a phone call here and there. I don’t want you to have any regrets in life.”
Dating For Decades Page 14