Thirty Days: Part Two (A SwipeDate Novella)

by BT Urruela

  “No way, I love it,” she responds. “It’s great that you committed to a dream and reached it. It gives people like me some hope.”

  “Well, I wish I could say it all worked out, but I’ll likely end up teaching again myself here soon. Creative writing up at the community college.”

  “Will you still write?” she asks.

  “You know, I always thought if I ended up having to teach, I wouldn’t ever write again. For a long time, that was true. I ended up getting a job last year out of boredom, and a bit of desperation, and really hadn’t touched a computer much a few months prior anyway. I stepped away from being professor about three months ago to see if I could commit to getting some words down, but came up empty.”

  “But you’re writing again now.” She affirms our earlier conversation from Frankie’s, and I admire that she wants to get to know me better, instead of it being a one-sided conversation, as it so often seems to be.

  “I am. Yeah. And it’s quite a shock, new and nerve-wracking, but we’ll see where it leads.” I lift my mug, adding, “And here’s to that restaurant I’m certain you’ll own one day.”

  She raises her mug to meet mine, a reluctant look on her face as she takes a sip. As she lowers her coffee, she shrugs. “We’ll see. I have to make it out of P.S. 122 alive first,” she says with a laugh.

  Her phone rings and she puts a finger up as she stands and heads to the living room. I check my own phone and see that I have a few texts. Pulling them up, I spot a few from Bobby, and to my surprise, one from Megan.

  Megan: Hey!! I’m so sorry for the delay. It’s been a hell of a work week. What do you think about dinner Tuesday? My treat ;)

  I set the phone down, my eyes roaming over to Sami, who paces the living room, her phone to her ear. I look back at my cellphone and grimace as I contemplate what to do. I’m not tied down to anyone here, and I did have a spark with Megan, but there’s no doubt about the fact that Friday and Sunday have allowed me to see Sami in a brand-new light…and I’m digging the hell out of what I’m seeing. There is a combination of innocence and wonder in her that I find deliriously intriguing.

  Sounds like a date, I text back, unsure of whether it’s the right decision or not, but knowing ghosting isn’t an option. Not after our last encounter.

  Sami returns, setting her phone on the counter but remains standing.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, and she nods.

  “Yeah, just my mom. She thinks Dad has food poisoning from a new Mexican place up there. Took him into the ER and she just wanted to give me an update.”

  “Oh no, I hope he’s okay.”

  “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He knows better than to eat Mexican.” She laughs as she tosses her phone in her purse. “So, I have entirely too many assignments to grade to still be here, as much as I’d love to stay and chat more.” She smiles extra wide as if to show me her sincerity.

  “Oh, no, please, I’ve kept you long enough for one afternoon, I think.”

  She goes to speak, but hesitates, biting her lip, and taking a few moments.

  “What?” I ask, curious, as she shoulders her purse.

  “Well, I’m just hoping it won’t be another whole week until I see you next,” she says, and almost immediately her gaze falls to the floor. She turns and shuffles over to the coat rack before I can get a response in.

  “Hell no. Just let me know when you get some free time,” I say to her back as she retrieves her coat from the rack. She turns as she puts it on and smiles.

  “Hey now, mister. Who’s the man in this scenario?” She winks and sticks her tongue out at me, and I can’t help but grin.

  “Yeah, yeah, but remember, you’re talking to the guy who doesn’t work a normal nine to five at the moment. And you’ve got a lot on your hands, so I don’t wanna assume anything.”

  “Oh, so you’ll just leave it up to me then, huh?” she asks, grinning and eyeing me suspiciously.

  “You name the time and place, and I’m there.”

  “Well, I don’t know if you and your grandma wanted to grab lunch up near me, or if you’re able to, but I could sneak out and meet you on my lunch break.” She puts her hand up, her face turning red with embarrassment. “Oh, my God, ignore me. That’s your thing and I’m being all intrusive and stuff.”

  I laugh a little, finding her bashfulness quite appealing, more so than she could even realize.

  “You’re completely fine. If she’s still doing well come Tuesday, I don’t see any problem with that. We could definitely make it work. It’ll really just be dependent on the state she’s in. And if I can get the nurse’s blessing.”

  “Okay, great.” She smiles nervously before taking a few steps forward and opens her arms for a hug. Our bodies press together, and I hold her to me for a moment before pulling away, but not before kissing her on her cheek. “So great spending time with you. And thanks for showing me this.” She motions to the bookshelves and traces the books with her eyes. “It really is something.”

  She heads for the door, but as she turns the knob and swings it open, I grab the sleeve of her jacket and tug it lightly. She turns, looking at my hand first, before her gaze trails up my arm and then to my lips, just as they’re coming in for hers. As she faces me, I put one hand on her waist and pull her into me. The other hand gently cradles her face as our lips dance in effortless unison. The sweet taste of her mouth and the warm feel of her body against mine sends surges of energy trailing up and down my limbs.

  Kissing Megan was something, but this…this is what kissing should feel like. This is the definition of a great first kiss. As we pull away, my eyes remain closed. I can still almost feel her lips on mine. I slowly open my eyes to see hers still closed. Her bottom lip is tight between her teeth before she lets it slip out with a sigh of contentment.

  She opens her eyes and smiles wide.

  “I’ve been waiting for that,” she says softly, leaning into my hand a bit before she gives me one more quick kiss. “I hope to see you soon, Gavin,” she adds as she turns and heads right out the door, shutting it behind her. Not another word. Not a glance. Just her presence still thick in the room, along with her scent, and my hands out as if she’s still cradled in them.

  Did she just freak?

  I eventually drop my hands and shake it off, making my way back to the kitchen and my now lukewarm cup of coffee. As I pop it into the microwave, my brain turns, going through what I may have done for her to up and run.

  Was it the kiss? Did she want me to chase after her?

  Did my breath stink?!

  I cup a hand and bring it to my mouth, huffing out a few breaths, and breathing them back in quickly through my nose.

  Nope, nothing other than coffee, but she had some too. They equal each other out.

  Pacing the living room with my mug and thoughts continuing to run, I decide a joint is in order. I bundle up, then head out to my garden and light up a half-burned joint from the ash tray. After a few puffs, the paranoia I was already feeling increases tenfold. I’m not quite sure why smoking always seems like a good idea when shit hits the fan, but it always ends up doing more harm than good.

  I retrieve my phone from my coat pocket with a numb hand, and pull up my text exchange with Sami, bypassing Megan’s first.

  Hey, is it just me or was that a weird exit, I text, holding my phone in my hand as if it’s about to be stolen. I eye it every second or so for a response. Finally, my text alert goes off and I whip my phone around to pull up her text.

  Sami: I’m soooooo sorry. I’ve literally been thinking about it the entire cab ride. I’m not sure I want to tell you the truth though.

  Me: You know, now you have to tell me.

  Sami: I wouldn’t have left…I didn’t want to.

  Me: I didn’t want you to, either.

  There’s a moment while I wait for her to text back where I wonder if I should’ve said more. If I should ask to see her sooner, or for longer, or like, right this second. Or if maybe this whole
thing is moving too fast. Or maybe I’m falling in love. Before my mind can paint our entire love story, through the marriage, kids, and inevitable divorce, the text alert quells the thought storm going on in my head.

  Sami: I’m glad we both agree. I hope to see you Tuesday! If not for lunch, maybe some other day this week. Just got home. Grading for days… Pray for me, please.

  Me: Our father, who art in heaven… eh, you don’t want me praying for ya. Might not bode well for you, but I will 100% find out about Tuesday. If not, asap is necessary. I need me some Sami time.

  Sami: You’re too sweet. Have a good evening, Gavin.

  Me: You too, Sami.

  I hold the phone in my hand for a moment, staring at the screen, a wide smile on my face I hadn’t even realized was there. Finally pocketing the phone, I spark the joint back up to kill it before I make my way back inside, back to the writing cave, and back to work with a new eagerness I haven’t felt in the longest time. So long, it all feels fresh and new again, like it’s my first time putting words to paper; the first time I realized the possibilities were endless, and that my words could matter and make a difference.

  There comes a point, when I first realize I’m truly into someone, when it becomes all too real. The persistent thought of them pops up randomly at every opportunity, whether I’m doing mundane house chores, or working, or grabbing some grub somewhere in town. Sami has now inarguably taken on that role. She breaches my thoughts without a moment’s notice; her effervescent smile flashing back at me, indulging in the memory of her perfect kiss, and the smell that clings to a room in the best way.

  My date yesterday, a brief frozen yogurt stop with a sweet orthodontist named Crystal, was a painful test in mental endurance. I could still smell Sami in my loft as I was getting ready, and as the yogurt date played out, my mind was trapped in the events of the evening before, to the woman who has come to impress the hell out of me. So much so, that as I stroll through Brookdale’s front doors, I’m not sure if I want Jackie to give this a go or shut it down. I’m genuinely nervous as shit to see her again, as half of me is worried I’m going to fuck this up—I am a pessimist, after all—and the other half is worried I’m too interested already. I have a guard up for a reason. I have to protect this beaten-up, love-torn, heart, and God knows if I were asked a couple weeks ago if I were ready to move on from Joanne, I would’ve said fuck no. So what makes today, what makes now, any different?

  As Jackie sees me, her brow furrows in concern.

  “What’s wrong with you, baby?” she asks, spreading her arms for me to hug her.

  I bask in her warm, familial embrace before she lets me go and puts both hands on my cheeks. She looks me in the eyes, reading me.

  “What’s wrong?” she repeats.

  “Nothing, nothing.” I wave her off. “Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”

  She quirks an eyebrow and sighs.

  “Okay,” she says. “You better tell me if there is.” She goes to turn, but I reach out for her.

  “Uh, Jackie, I did have a question. I was hoping to take Grandma out to lunch today…maybe meet up with a friend. How’s she doing? Do you think that would be alright?”

  Jackie nods, creases showing on her chin as she contemplates the idea. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Let’s go get her up and moving and see how she takes it.” She turns and heads to the room, and I follow behind. Grandma is sitting up in bed watching TV when we pop our heads in. Though, it’s acting more as background noise. She looks good as her eyes flit from the window to us as we approach. She smiles faintly as we have our usual reintroduction.

  “Miss Gracie, Gavin here wants to take you out for lunch, his treat. What do you think?” she asks, but before the words escape her mouth, Grandma is beaming and nodding her head excitedly.

  “Yes, yes, that would be marvelous. I want to see outside,” Grandma says in her usual rasp. “I want to see the leaves and the trees. I’m hungry, too,” she adds.

  “Then it’s a date,” I say with a wide smile as I place a hand on her blanket-covered foot. Let’s get you in something a bit more weather-appropriate. It’s quite cold out!”

  Sami sounded far more excited on the phone than I had anticipated when I let her know Grandma was up for lunch. She let me know the name of a place near the Bronx, some hole-in-the-wall Indian place she loves, which obviously worked just fine for me. Grabbing a knapsack from Jackie, just in case Grandma wasn’t feeling the Indian (and some antacid, in case she was), we take a cab to the Bronx. After paying the cabbie, and getting Grandma situated in her chair, I scan The New Delhi, a dingy little spot, much like the street around it. I shrug, pushing Grandma toward the entrance and before I can get to it, the door swings open.

  “Hey!” Sami exclaims, holding the door open, a smile stretched across her face. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, her clothes scream I teach at an elementary school, and yet, here I am, finding it hard to remember anything other than the smile on this face. A few words or phrases would be nice.

  “Hi,” I finally manage to say, just as the wheelchair meets the doorframe.

  Sami leans down toward Grandma and asks, “And how are you today, Gracie?” She glances up at me and sees me shaking my head from side to side.

  “Who are you?” Grandma asks, looking up at Sami inquisitively.

  “Grace, this is my friend, Sami. I told her all about you and she was just dying to meet you. Is it okay if she has lunch with us?”

  Grandma’s eyes roll back forward and she shrugs.

  “Fine by me,” she mutters. “All I know is I’m not paying.” She cackles away as I push her through the door.

  “Sorry,” Sami whispers from behind me.

  I turn slightly, still holding on to the wheelchair, and reply, “Please, no. I’m the one who should be sorry. I should’ve reminded you ahead of time.”

  “I’m right in the corner over here.” She motions toward a large table near the rear of the restaurant, which doesn’t look as bad as the outside would indicate. It’s certainly cleaner than I expected. “Back in the corner and out of the way.”

  When we reach the table, Sami pulls a chair out of the way so I can position Grandma by the table, and says, “I’m so glad you two could join me.”

  As we take our own seats, me by Grandma and Sami in the corner, I nod toward the beer on the table.

  “You little rebel,” I say with a wink.

  She shrugs, a slanted smile on her face. “Not even. That was there when I sat down.”

  “Likely story,” I joke, grabbing a menu and spreading it open in front of Grandma. Just as I do, a waiter approaches, and the first thing he does is grab the bottle.

  “Sorry about that. Didn’t see it there,” he says, giving the bottle a shake before he slips it into his apron pocket and takes out a pad and pen. “Can I get your drink orders?”

  “Water for me,” Sami says.

  I throw up two fingers. “Two for us as well, and a beer for me…Sierra Nevada, please.”

  “Coming right up,” he says, pocketing his pen and notepad before scampering off.

  “I’m envious of your beer,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The kids today.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Just their normal, angelic selves.” Her eyes trail to Grandma, who is busy observing the brightly colored walls and decor in the restaurant. “How are you, Grace?” she asks, raising her volume a bit to compete with the light lunch crowd and noisy kitchen staff.

  “It’s so cold out,” she says, shivering a little.

  “It is. Winter will be here before you know it, but at least we’ll have some beautiful snow.”

  Grandma smiles and nods. “Yes, snow. I love snow.”

  I grimace, dropping my head in my hands dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Hey, what would Christmas be without snow?” Sami asks, and I immediately put my pointer up, ready to state my defense.

  “I’ll have you know,” I subtly motion
to my grandma, “you-know-who and gramps had my brother and I down one Christmas. Fort Myers. They used to go every year, for something like forty years, and it was the only one I ever got to spend with them. The only one they could ever afford. And I’ll tell you what, Christmas lights on palm trees is pretty damn incredible…so is playing on the beach in December.”

  “But did you miss the snow on Christmas Day?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.

  “I had sand. And sunshine.”

  “You missed it, didn’t you?” She gives me knowing look.

  “Ugh, okay, I did. A little bit. But I was a kid. I promise you, I wouldn’t miss it these days.

  “I’d bet against you,” she says, shrugging, as our waters come.

  “Oh shoot, Gran—Grace, do you know what you want?”

  “None of this,” she responds, waving her hand over the spread-out menu. I close it up and pass it off to the waiter.

  “No problem. I’ve got a sandwich in the backpack for you. Bologna and cheese. Your favorite.”

  “I’ll have curried lamb and a few extra pieces of naan,” Sami says, and the server nods, jotting it down. He looks to me and I motion toward Sami.

  “I’ll have the same exact thing. Thanks.” The waiter departs and I stand, unzipping the backpack hooked onto the wheelchair. I pull out a Ziploc container and a few extra napkins, and place it in front of my grandma, who claps her hands with delight.

  “Dig in, Grace,” I say, and as I go to sit back down, I notice a large purple gift bag on the table where it once was empty. “What’s that?” I ask, settling into my seat.

  “Just a little something I picked up for your…for Grace.”

  My eyes trail to Grandma, my mouth in an O.

  “Oh, did you hear that, Grace? Sami brought you a present!”