Wait For It

by Michele L. Rivera

  “We must,” Elle says.

  I exhale and press the phone to the side of my face. “Ring. Ring.”

  Elle gives me a thumbs up. “Atta girl!”

  “Hey! Stay in character,” I scold.

  “Jesus,” Elle mumbles. “Alright. I’m in it to win it. I’m channeling my inner Abby. Aaand, I’m Abby. Go!”

  “Ring. Ring.”

  “Hello?” Elle says.

  “Hi, Abby, it’s Parker. Don’t hang up,” I say.

  “Click.” Elle pantomimes hanging up and wags her index finger on me. “Don’t tell her what to do,” she says. “Take two.”

  “You said once!”

  Elle shrugs. “I lied. Sue me.”

  “How many times are you going to make me practice?” I ask.

  “As many as it takes until you’re ready to actually call her.”

  “You’re a bad friend.” I impersonate her from earlier. “A bad, bad friend.”

  Elle smiles. “You’re welcome.”

  I reciprocate the smile. “Thank you.”

  Suddenly, on the other end of the line, the phone is really ringing, reverberating through my ear canal. Terror paralyzes me. How did that happen? Abby’s number was highlighted on the screen of my phone. My chin must’ve tapped it. I dialed Abby with my chin! Who does that?

  The sweat drying on my skin is cold. I feel my pulse thump against my wrists, my neck muscles, my temples.

  “Parker?” I hear Elle, but her voice is a distant, muffled sound.

  I manage to mouth the words, “It’s ringing.”

  “Oh fuck,” Elle says. “Er. Okay. Stay calm.”

  After the third ring, an operator answers, “I’m sorry. This number has been disconnected or is no longer in service.” The automated notification is followed by a dial tone.

  I move the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. Abby’s name is lit up. It was definitely Abby’s number that I accidentally called. I feel a twinge in my chest. My jaw tautens. I blink rapidly for a moment and glance over at Elle.

  “Abby’s number…it’s not valid anymore,” I say softly. “She’s unreachable.”

  “What?” Elle stands up. “Isn’t she online?”

  “I don’t know. I know I don’t have her email address or anything. I know she’s not into social media and prefers to leave hardly any digital footprint.”

  “Ooo! Her job! Can you call her at work?” Elle asks.

  “I don’t know where she works.”

  Elle’s eyebrows lift skywards. “You don’t know…how can you not know where she—never mind.” She places her hands on her hips. “Ah ha! But you know where she lives! You can go to her house!”

  “No. I can’t,” I say.

  “Why can’t you?”

  “What if Abby disconnected her number because she doesn’t want me to contact her? I have to be respectful of that, not go there, unannounced.”

  “Yes. Yes, you can go there.”

  “No, Elle. I can’t. It’s too risky.” My bottom lip quivers. “I have to accept it.” My head weakly bobs up and down. “I lost Abby.” My eyes moisten. “I let her go and now she’s gone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Six Months Later

  I lurch forward and press my palm against the shower wall to stabilize myself as an orgasm charges through my body. I groan in ecstasy and hold myself in place, waiting for my breathing to become uniform again. Abby kisses the softness between my thighs then her tongue catches the warm drops of water cascading down my skin. Slowly, I move my two left forefingers away from my sensitive clit. I want to stay in my fantasy a little longer, but I can’t. I have to get ready for work. Reluctantly, I open my eyes and Abby isn’t there. She never is. Every day, I mourn her absence. Every day, I miss her. Every day.

  I turn off the water, step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself. I wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror and frown at my reflection. I look haggard. I’m thirty-two, single, living in a dismal studio apartment with my cat and I look haggard. Awesome.

  In less than twenty-minutes, I’m dressed and exiting the building, juggling my travel coffee mug in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar in the other. The late summer sun is hidden behind a patch of fog, making for an unseasonably cool August morning.

  I tread quickly to my car, pull the keys from pants pocket and unlock it. I lob my bag onto the passenger’s seat and get inside. I start the engine, scarf down the rest of my breakfast, and slurp my piping hot beverage for a glorious moment before I back out of my parking spot and begin my commute.

  Friday traffic is light and I’m driving a tad over the speed limit, therefore I arrive at work a little earlier than I’m scheduled to be. I use this spare time to stare at Abby’s name on my phone even though I know her number is disabled, and I wonder if she ever thinks of me…

  I have no recollection of walking from my vehicle to The Community Aging Center because I’m taken aback when I realize I’m standing at the entrance to my office. I must’ve gotten way too preoccupied with thoughts of Abby for she is the last thing I remember seeing.

  I give my head a hard shake and open the door. I place my coffee mug on my desk and power up my computer. I sit down and begin organizing the heap of files next to my keyboard when I hear a quiet knock to the right of me.

  “Come in,” I say.

  I watch the doorknob turn and my senior staff attendant, Lily, pokes her face through the crack, into my office.

  “Hey, boss,” she says. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but we have a visitor,” Lily explains. “I gave her the tour and she’s interested in proceeding with the intake process.” She gives me a wry grimace. “Guess you’re up.”

  “Ah. Yes.” I sigh. “That is why they pay me the big bucks.” I smile, sarcastically. “Is she in the lobby?”

  “She is.”

  “Did she fill out an application?” I ask.

  “She did.”

  I purse my lips. “You’re getting to be a little too efficient at your job, Lil.”

  Lily grins. “This is why I’m your second-in-command.”

  I chuckle and rise from my seat. “Name?”

  “Catherine.”

  “Alright.” I straighten my shoulders. “I’m on it.”

  “Here’s her info,” Lily gives me a manila folder. “I like her. She’s spunky.”

  I take the papers from Lily. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” My colleague bids me farewell and struts off.

  I exit my office and head towards the Center’s waiting area. Once I get to the lobby, I approach the only elderly woman sitting on the sofa. She’s dressed in a leopard-print jumpsuit. Her long, frosted hair is tied in a bun and large golden hoops hang from her ears. I smile and extend my arm to her. “Hi Ms.—” Shit! I don’t know her surname. I go to glance at the folder I’m holding, but Catherine waves dismissively at me.

  “Oh, pish posh with your formalities.” She returns a smile to me and shakes my hand. “Call me Cath.”

  I clear my throat to suppress a laugh. Definitely spunky. “Right.” I nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Cath. Welcome,” I say. “I’m Parker, the Activities Director here and I’ll be in charge of enrolling you in our program.”

  “Parker.” Cath repeats my name contemplatively. “Huh.”

  “Yeah. I get that a lot.” I take my hand back. “Lily told me that she showed you around the facility. Did you have any questions?”

  “No, I don’t,” Cath says. “But my chaperone might.”

  “You brought someone with you?”

  “Yes, she’ll be right in. She went out to feed the parking meter.” Cath glances at the entrance and points. “Ha! There she is!”

  My eyes follow Cath’s index finger and I stop breathing.

  Abby is frozen in the doorway, staring at me.

  “This is Abby, my granddaughter,” Cath says to me. “Abby, this is Par—”<
br />
  “Parker,” Abby whispers.

  Cath looks at me, then at Abby. “You girls know each other?”

  “You could say that,” Abby says without turning her focus away from me.

  Cath looks at me again. “I knew your name sounded familiar.”

  For a long minute, Abby’s magnificent amber eyes hold me prisoner and I don’t so much as utter a syllable. She is exactly how I remembered, only even more beautiful. Eventually, I take in a breath and find my voice.

  “Abby, hi,” I say timidly.

  “Hey.”

  “How are you?” I ask.

  Abby steps further into the lobby, closer to where I’m standing. “I’m well. How are you?”

  “I’m alright.”

  She knits her eyebrows together. “You work here?”

  “Yes.”

  Abby bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Why? I’m not.”

  Abby flinches, astounded. “You’re not?”

  “No. It’s…” I swallow. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It is?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Abby says. “It’s um…good to see you too.”

  Cath coughs loudly into her embroidered handkerchief. Both Abby and I turn to face her.

  “Pardon me,” Cath says. “But where might the powder room be, Parker?”

  “Oh. I can take you,” I say.

  “Nonsense.” Cath waves her hanky at me, admonishingly. “You stay put. Just point the way, dear.”

  I hold out my right arm, gesturing with my hand. “Straight down that corridor, last door on your left.”

  Cath stands up. “Thank you.”

  “Nana, I’ll go with you,” Abby says.

  “Abigail, no.” Cath gives Abby’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back in a jiff. You find out from Parker what else needs to be done to get me enlisted in the program.” She smiles then lumbers passed us towards the restroom.

  Abby watches her grandmother for a couple of seconds and once Cath is out of earshot, Abby’s gaze is fixed upon me. “How do we complete the enrollment?”

  “I have to get Cath’s signature on a few documents and that should do it,” I say.

  “Cool.” Abby glances at the papers I’m clutching then her eyes level with mine. I fall into them without hesitation, my heart thudding ferociously. “Did you set a date yet?” she asks.

  My forehead wrinkles. “A what?”

  Abby raises her eyebrows. “A date. For your wedding.”

  “Oh.” I exhale. “No.”

  “You know, rumor has it that that’s not the kind of thing to procrastinate on.”

  I half smile. “I’m not procrastinating.” I hold up my left hand to reveal my unembellished ring finger. “I called off the engagement.”

  Abby pales. “What? When? Why?” She instantly cringes. “Sorry. That’s not my business.”

  “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.” I drop my arm. “Actually, I…uh…I’d like to talk to you about it.”

  “You would?” Abby asks.

  “Yes. I would. I want to answer all your questions.”

  “Parker, that’s not—I was being nosey. Forget it. Forget the questions.”

  “No, no. Let me explain,” I say. “Will you go out for a coffee with me?”

  Abby squints and purses her lips. “You wanna get a coffee together?”

  “Yeah. That’ll give us a chance to catch up.” I reach for Abby and when my hand touches hers, a familiar, energized heat jolts us both and our eyes lock on each other’s. Neither of us pulls away. I can see the vibration of Abby’s pulse at the base of her neck. There’s a myriad of emotion behind Abby’s stare and I am inundated with emotions of my own. We are barely breathing.

  “Abby,” I say in a low voice. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sor—”

  “Shh,” Abby entreats. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not mad. I wasn’t ever mad.” She gives a small shrug. “I was just sad.”

  I frown. “I’m sor—”

  “Stop,” Abby says astringently. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Abby releases my hand. Immediately, I miss her closeness. “When does your shift end?” she asks.

  “Four thirty.”

  Abby nods. “Meet me at five o’clock then.”

  “Where?”

  “The Bean,” Abby says. “You know, for that coffee you’re going to buy me.” She smirks.

  I smile. “I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to track down Nana, who obviously wanted to give us privacy.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I say. “How does she know who I am?”

  Abby rolls her eyes and chuckles a little. “Duh. How do you think?”

  “You told her about me?”

  “Of course I told her about you, Parker from the Bar.”

  A blush warms my cheeks. Then I wince. “Did you tell her everything?”

  “Not exactly everything,” Abby says. “But almost everything.” She starts for the restroom, but pauses once she’s next to me and whispers, “Because I only told her the good things.”

  Before I can turn to respond, she’s gone from my side—headed down the hallway, my heart in her possession…still.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  At 4:53 p.m., I stroll into The Bean and scan the shop for Abby. When I don’t see her, I hijack the sole unoccupied table in my field of vision, which is conveniently located in the center of the café, a few feet from the door, giving me an unobstructed view of the entrance. I watch for Abby.

  I wait only for a matter of seconds until I spot Abby filing through the entryway behind a crowd of forthcoming customers. She’s scouting the place for me over the shoulder of the man in front of her. I hold up my left hand to get her attention, but it’s in vain because the guy has at least five inches on her. Once he steps to the right, Abby catches sight of me. I give her a small wave and we smile at each other as she makes her way to where I’m at. I stand up and gesture to the chair across from mine. My inward cringe is immediate. Standing? Really? Could you be more moronic?

  Abby raises her eyebrows and coughs into her fisted hand to impede a giggle, but says nothing.

  Suddenly bashful, I do everything I can to not skirt her gaze, rallying all the self-confidence within myself. “Hi.”

  “Hiiii.” Abby’s voice has a smidgen of curiosity to it.

  “I…uh…I saved you a seat,” I say.

  “I see that.” Abby purses her smiling lips. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that kind of reception entering a coffee house.” Abby brazenly sizes me up and nods. “Someone took an introductory to lesbian chivalry seminar and crushed it.”

  I feel the onrush of blood to my face. You need a repartee. Where’s your repartee? I shrug. “Not to brag or anything—”

  “Oh, please do!” Abby takes her seat and I sit down after her. She unfastens the cuffs of her flannel shirt and rolls up her sleeves. “Brag away.”

  “Well,” I say. “Technically speaking, it was an advanced seminar. None of that intro ridiculousness. And in the world of academia, the class is referred to as ‘Lesbechivalrous’.”

  Abby explodes, laughing from her belly and it is one of the sexiest sounds. I laugh along with her. It’s impossible not to. Once we compose ourselves, Abby brushes a tear from the corner of her eye with her thumb.

  “I don’t know why that made me laugh so hard,” Abby says. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

  I gawk at her. “What? That’s a time-honored joke.”

  “Also known as trite.” Abby grins.

  “Pshaw.” I turn my nose up at her. “Apparently someone was absent on the day of that seminar.”

  “Wow. Are you saying I’m not chivalrous?” Abby asks.

  “I could be saying that. Yeah.” I get up from my chair. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
<
br />   “A demonstration, eh?”

  “That’s right,” I say.

  Abby leans back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. “Dazzle me.”

  “I will.” I point to her. “You stay there.”

  “I will.”

  I wheel around, my back to Abby, and waltz over to the service counter. Thankfully, there is no line. I make small talk with the barista, place an order for two drinks, and leave most of my change in the tip jar after paying. In under four and a half minutes, I’m walking towards Abby, a cup in each of my hands.

  Abby’s looking at me, a charmed smile plays on her lips. Uncharacteristically, I wink at her and her smile stretches. I internally rejoice. When I reach the table, I offer Abby one of the drinks.

  “Your coffee,” I say to her. “With a splash of milk and sugar.”

  Abby sits up in her chair and takes the mug from me by its handle. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You certainly showed me,” Abby says.

  “Good and now you know.” I get settled in my seat.

  “True story.” She glances down at the liquid in her cup then up at me. “And you remembered.”

  I eye Abby quizzically. “About?”

  “How I like my coffee,” she says.

  “Of course I remember.” I put my cup on the table. “You’re sort of unforgettable.”

  Abby’s cheeks tinge with pink. “You too.” She blows on the beverage before sampling it. She swallows slowly then trains her gaze on me. “It’s perfect.”

  You’re perfect. “I’m glad,” I say. “So, I think your grandmother’s going to fit in awesomely at The Center.”

  Abby smiles. “Yeah. Nana’s a sprightly old broad.” She chuckles. “I thought it would be beneficial for her health—to get out of the house more, especially since most of her friends aren’t as…able-bodied as she is.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I say. “A large percentage of our participants joined for similar reasons.”

  Abby nods. “How long have you worked there?”

  I press my index finger against my bottom lip, ponderously. “Four years and eight months.”