“You know, when you asked me here because you were in rough shape, I had an idea of what to expect, but when you invited me to stay for breakfast as a token of your appreciation, I thought you meant something more substantial than cereal,” Elle gripes, staring at the box of food I placed in front of her on my kitchen table. “What the fucking bloody hell is a fruit nib anyhow?”
“Fruit Nibs are what all the champions eat to kick start their mornings,” I say, sloped in the seat opposite Elle. “And they taste like a rainbow.” I ladle a spoonful of the colorful flakes into my mouth and a bit of milk dribbles down my chin.
Elle shakes her head, half-laughing. “You’re such a glamorous gal.”
I wipe my face with the collar of my shirt as I chew and then smile haughtily at Elle. “Thank you.”
Elle swirls the teabag around inside her mug by its string. “How do you even know what a rainbow tastes like? Have you ever eaten one?”
I arch an eyebrow and give her a waggish look.
Elle presses her lips together to stamp out a giggle and eyes me. “If that was some sort of gay sex innuendo, it was crass.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I’ll allow it.” She smirks and we both chuckle.
“Jesus, that was an onerous task,” Elle says.
“What was?” I chomp on more cereal.
“Getting you to perk up some.” She makes a gesture to me with her hand. “It only took an hour of my consolation and an entire package of tissues for you to stop being a hot, sniveling mess.”
“It was a travel pack of tissues, mind you,” I say. “That’s not a whole lot.”
Elle rolls her eyes. “Then it took me another hour to lug your wretched ass out of bed and into the shower and then yet another twenty or so minutes to persuade you to eat.”
I pout. “Don’t make fun. I’m depressed.”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Elle says gently. “And you’re not depressed, you’re heartbroken.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes.” Elle gazes at me reflectively. She shrugs. “But I think in some cases, it’s a two-for-one deal.”
“What if that’s my deal?”
“It’s not,” Elle says. “Trust me.”
I put my bowl on the table. “I’m sad.”
“I know and that sucks.”
“It does suck,” I say. “It’s fucking brutal.”
“Yeah! It fucking brutally sucks!” Elle commiserates.
I nod. “Exactly.”
“You’ll get through it, though.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask.
“Because, dude, you eat Fruit Nibs for breakfast, and if what you say is true, well, that makes you a champion!”
“I don’t feel champion-ish,” I mutter. “Doesn’t the champion get the girl at the end of the story?”
“Who says your story is over?”
“Um…did you not get the text messages I sent you last night, giving you the lowdown?” I ask.
“I got them alright. All fifty thousand of them.”
“Then you know the score,” I say. “Abby’s moved on.”
“Has she really?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “She’s with Jess.”
“Parks, Abby said she moved on and you just chose to accept that, right?” Elle asks.
“Right.”
“Why?” Elle prods. “Why didn’t you tell her how you feel?”
“I don’t want to cause a disruption,” I say. “It’s not my place to interfere.”
Elle tosses her head back. “Ugh!” She meets my face with a hard stare. “Do you ever wonder if maybe your fear of causing a disruption in the lives of others actually causes a disruption in yours?”
She has a point. I flounder, uncertain of what to say next. I bite my thumbnail for a second then speak. “No.”
“Okay. Follow me here,” Elle says. “Are you following me?”
“I’m following.”
“Then let us review.” Elle exhales. “Abby told you something, you chose to believe her, and now you’re a wreck because of that choice. Yes or no?”
I poke the mushy cereal that’s left in my bowl with the spoon I’m holding. Eventually, I glance at Elle. “Yes.”
“Soooo?” Elle gives me a look of anticipation.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Is this where I make a new choice? Out of love?”
Elle smiles. “It’s your story. Are you done writing it?”
Yes, it might be interfering, but after sitting on a park bench for hours with only my thoughts, I’ve decided that what hurts worse than wanting Abby and not being able to have her is keeping my truth from her.
I breathe in the chilled air of dusk and release it from my lungs slowly, calmly, sure. I ring the bell affixed to Abby’s house. I wait.
Abby opens the door and her jaw slackens a little when she sees me standing there on her front porch. My heart hammers unrelentingly at the sight of her. Her beauty spellbinds me now as it always has since the first time I ever saw her…and I have to tell her.
“Parker, um, hi,” Abby says gingerly. She doesn’t step outside and she doesn’t welcome me inside. Rather, she lingers in the wooden frame of the entryway—guarded.
I smile. “Hi.”
“Is spontaneously showing up at people’s homes a habit of yours?” Abby asks, one eyebrow raised.
I purse my lips and give a slight shake of my head. “No, but I wanted to see you.”
“Okay.” Abby glances over her shoulder and moves onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. She is less than a foot away from me. It would be so easy to reach out and touch her and when her eyes come to rest on my face, I almost do. “What can I do you for?” she inquires.
“Take this.” I hand her a small box neatly wrapped in newspaper, a sparkling, silver bow atop it.
Abby peers at the package, then me. Her eyes shimmer. My breath catches. My body temperature spikes. I am completely enthralled. Those eyes.
“What is it?” she charily takes the box from me.
“Unwrap it.”
“I don’t want to.” She gives me somewhat of an embarrassed smile and my chest tightens. “The bow is too pretty.”
“You’re too pretty,” I say.
Abby smirks. “No, you.”
We both laugh. As the sound of our cheerfulness slowly begins to evaporate into August’s darkening sky, I gesture to the package again.
“C’mon. Please open it,” I say. “Pleeease.”
Abby sucks on her teeth, head tilted a bit to the left. Then she grins playfully. “Ugh. Now how can I refuse your adorableness?”
I flush. Suddenly, I’m the one grinning deliriously.
Abby giggles and with deft fingers, peels the tape off the paper. She removes the box from its wrapper leaving the bow unharmed. She eyes the wooden case in her grip and slowly lifts the lid. “Ahhh!” She shrieks happily at the sight of the stainless steel container inside. “A whiskey flask!” She turns it over in her hands. “It’s the best. I love it.” Abby looks up at me. She’s glowing. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s your belated birthday gift,” I say.
Abby gasps. “You’re kidding me?”
“I kid you not.”
“Huh. That’s uncanny,” Abby says.
“How so?”
Abby squints at me. “I did the same thing. I got you a birthday present.”
I gape. “Really?”
“Yeah. I…I know I didn’t say it earlier, but I’m genuinely sorry, too…that we missed one another’s birthdays and everything else.”
I nod. “You didn’t have to say it. I already knew.”
“Well, excuse me,” Abby says snarkily. “You must’ve failed to mention that you were psychic.”
I chuckle. “I can’t exactly go around telling you my secret powers because then they’re no longer secret powers…they’re just…plain powers.”
“You’re telling me you got paranormal skills?” Abby asks. “I’m gonna need some proof.”<
br />
“What kind of proof?”
“Tell me what I’m thinking this very second,” Abby says.
“Fine.” I press my hands to my temples. “I have to channel my inner abilities.” I hum.
Abby laughs.
I fall silent and let my limbs fall to my sides. “You’re thinking, ‘wowzers, I am madly smitten with this unusual, yet awesome woman that’s chilling on my porch’,” I say.
Abby laughs harder. “And would you be that woman?”
“I would be. Yes.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Abby asks.
“I’m trying,” I confess. “How am I doing?”
“Not bad with the flirting.” Abby wrinkles her nose. “Your telepathy is awful, though.”
“What?” I ask incredulously. “I nailed that.”
Abby smirks. “Nope. There was no nailing. Not once in my life have I ever thought, ‘wowzers’.”
“‘Wowzers’ is totally a word you’d think,” I say. “It’s such a great word.”
“It totally is and now I’ll associate it with you.”
“I’m keen on the idea of you thinking of me.” I simper.
Abby stares at me, studiously. Her smile dwindles and her eyes glaze over as if she’s lost in reverie. I can see the muscles in her neck move when she swallows. She licks her lips. My pulse quickens.
“What?” My voice is shallow.
“You,” she says.
“What about me?”
“I want to kiss you.”
My belly flip-flops. With a single, calculated step forward, I move closer to Abby, sealing the distance between us. “Then kiss me,” I whisper. I lower my face to Abby’s and she parts her lips just enough for me to taste the sweetness of her exhale. The moment before our mouths find each other’s, Abby puts her hand on my chest, holding me in place. She edges back. She blinks, then her bright eyes look into mine.
“I’m sorry,” Abby says.
“What for?”
“We can’t kiss.” She takes another step backwards.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because we’re friends.”
“And?”
“And because…” Abby shakes her head, lips compressed. Her gaze is still locked on mine. “Because if we kiss, I will forever want to be kissing you.”
A wave of euphoria washes over me. “I’m okay with that.”
“Parker, I have a girlfriend.”
My heart collapses in on itself. I feel weak-kneed and faint. “Right.”
“You should go,” Abby says.
I’m on the cusp of aborting my mission, but I can’t. Abby deserves my honesty. “Abby, no. Wait.” I clear my throat. “There’s um…there’s another reason why I came here to see you, aside from the gift.”
Abby sighs heavily. “Which would be what?”
“To gamble.”
Abby’s brow creases. “To what?”
“You told me to gamble,” I say. “So I’m gambling.”
“For what?”
“Your heart,” I blab.
Abby’s complexion becomes pasty. Her mouth is ajar, but no sound comes out. I keep talking.
“I called you in February to tell you that I had fallen for you.” My voice is strong and steady. “I had already been falling for you when you said that you were falling for me, but I couldn’t say it then and I’m sorry.” I pause, choking up. I breathe out a rickety breath. “I feel like I’ve always been falling for you from the beginning, since I met you.” I look at her, my eyes misty and sincere. “Abby, I’m in love with you.”
Abby’s watery gaze caresses my face. “You’re lovely.” She gives me a frail smile. “Thank you for saying that.”
I flinch. “What?”
“Stay here,” Abby says. “I’m going to run upstairs and get you your present.”
What just happened? I shake my head, eyebrows narrowed. “Um. Can I come in?”
“It’s better if you don’t.” Abby turns her eyes from mine. “Jess is here, making dinner.”
I inhale. The air stings my lungs. “Oh. Alright, but—”
Abby vanishes inside the house without giving me a chance to finish my sentence, though I’m not sure what I was even going to say. I stare blankly at the door, flabbergasted. I count the seconds until her return. What feels like an eternity passes, and Abby reappears. She walks up to me and stands inches from where I stand. Her expression is inscrutable. For the space of half a breath, we are strangers again. A billow of unspeakable sadness devours me. My bottom lip quivers. I clamp my teeth together and draw my jaw back, trying to maintain a façade of stoicism.
Abby plasters a smile on her face. “Here.” She hands me a small, blue and white polka dotted gift bag, champagne-colored tissue paper spilling out of it.
I take the bag from her, but eyes don’t leave her face. “Thanks.” My voice is nearly inaudible.
Abby bestows her true smile upon me, the specks of gold in irises flash. The flash stops my heart. It’s akin, I imagine, to being struck by lightning. “Historically, the giftee thanks the gifter after the giftee sees what the gift is,” Abby explains.
“Ahh.” I try to produce a smile of my own in return. “Is that how that works?”
“It’s what I’ve been told.” Abby aims her index finger at the bag. “Go on and open your present.”
I move the tissue paper aside and reach into the bag. I extricate a felt-lined box about the size of my hand. I lift the cover off to find a watch with a thick, leather band, round face and silver dial. It’s nearly identical to the one on my wrist...only it ticks. “Wow.” I look at Abby. “It’s perfect.”
“Now you can thank me.” Abby smirks.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Abby says. “I noticed that yours is broken. I thought it might be nice for you to have one you can actually use.”
I nod. “Yeah. It died and I hadn’t gotten around to replacing it yet.” I glance at the watch then at Abby. “When did you notice?”
Abby shrugs. “Our first date,” she says. “Every date.”
Marry me? “Best gift ever.”
“Then you’ll wear it?” Abby asks.
“Of course I’ll wear it.”
“Good. This way you’ll never have bad timing again.”
“What?” I ask. “When has my timing ever been bad?”
“Tonight.”
We’re both quiet.
Abby gestures with her thumb to the door in back of her. “I should get in there. Jess is expecting me.”
Ow. “Are you happy with her?”
Abby gives me a pained look. “Don’t ask me that.”
“Why?”
“Parker—”
“I get it,” I say. “I’m late, but I’m here. I showed up. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“No. Not anymore!” Abby stares up at the sky, shakes her head then levels her eyes to mine. “Maybe it would’ve months ago, all those Wednesday nights I waited for you at Juice like some foolish romantic. I was delusional, duping myself into thinking you’d come for me, but that’s not what happened.”
My hand grabs onto my stomach as if I’d sustained a blow there. I feel my mouth hanging open. I feel the oncoming sob stuck in my throat. “You waited for me?”
“Yes, I waited for you, Parker.” Abby balls up her fists. “I thought you felt about me the way I felt about you.”
“I did—I do,” I stammer. “I do feel that way about you.”
“I didn’t know that then.”
“But you know now,” I say.
“Now is not our time.”
“When is our time?”
“I don’t know.” Abby frowns. “It could be that we missed it.”
“Why can’t this be our time?” I ask pleadingly. “It’s all in the choices we make. We can choose for this to be our time. Abby, I choose you.”
The corners of Abby’s mouth turn downward. “Once, I wished on a star to hear you say that.” She
pressed her lips together, her head slowly moves up and down. “But wishes are for people who believe in love at first sight and other frivolous notions.”
“Since when are you a non-believer?”
“Since I learned that believing is just asking to be disappointed,” Abby says.
“Well, I believe in those things. I believe because of you. Because as inexplicable as it is, we have this organic connection. That’s why I choose you.”
Abby bows her head. “And I’ve chosen to move on,” she says in a hushed tone. “Please go.”
I wince as the whole of me shatters on the inside. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s what I’m asking of you.”
“Abby, I’m scared, too,” I say. “We can be scared together.”
“Who said I was scared?”
“We’re all scared.”
“Please go,” Abby repeats.
Does she mean permanently? Panic rips through me. “From your life?”
Abby folds her arms over her chest and stares at me sharply with wet eyes that mirror my own. “From my porch.”
“Alright. I’m going.” I begin to back away. “Can I say one more thing?”
“What?” Abby asks.
“If you decide to take a chance on me, I won’t disappoint you.” I wave goodbye, turn, and make my way down the stairs. I listen for her to call out my name. She doesn’t. My feet land on the pavement. I’m still listening for her to ask me to stay. She doesn’t. Unwillingly, I leave.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I spent Sunday at the laundromat. In between watching my clothes spin around in the dryer, and reading the latest posts from my favorite blogsite, The Lesbian Paiges, on my tablet, I’d go across the street to The Bean to refill my coffee thermos…and to look for Abby. Somewhere in the secret corner of my mind, where my fantasies dwell, I had this vision that I’d be leaving the café just as she’d be coming in or vice versa and we’d collide. I’d ask her to be my girl and she’d say yes. It could happen, but it didn’t. After four cups of coffee, three loads of laundry and no sightings of Abby, I laid that whimsical scenario to rest and went home.
Later that evening as I stared absentmindedly at my frozen meal cooking in the microwave, my phone rang. My heart leapt. I pulled the cell from my jeans pocket with such zeal, I almost dropped it. When I saw my supervisor’s name on the screen, my hope, however fleeting, perished.
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