Deception

by Ordonez, April Isabelle

  "Hi."

  "Sorry for slobbering all over your shirt."

  He smiles. "It’s okay, I was going to throw out this old thing anyway," he says with a hint of sarcasm.

  "How did you even know I was here?"

  "Your mom told me that you were here moving your things out. I thought maybe you could use some help."

  "Thanks."

  He pulls away from me and sits back, leaning up against the wall of the closet across from me. I'm left feeling sad—not because he's here, or for the uncertainty of my future, but that he pulled away. He stretches out his legs and looks around the closet. Without hesitation, I ask him the one question that I've wanted to know for the past thirteen years. "Why didn't you try to contact me after I broke up with you?"

  "What do you mean? I did. I called you, but you never answered. Then you went and blocked my calls so I couldn't anymore."

  "You called twice, on the same day that I broke up with you. And I never answered because I was still so angry with you. But I never blocked your calls. A part of me wanted you to contact me. I would’ve never blocked your number."

  "Well, when I called your cell phone the day after you broke up with me, I got a message that said that my number was blocked. I even tried calling your apartment phone and my number was blocked from that too." I shake my head, confused. "When I realized that I couldn't get in touch with you on the phone, I tried to figure out a way to get money for a plane ticket to come to California, but I didn't have that kind of money. I wanted to come and see you so badly, but I couldn't. So, I decided to write you letters. I wrote you a lot. You can't overlook those."

  "What letters?" I ask, perplexed.

  "Are you kidding? I wrote you a dozen or so letters. The first one that I mailed to the college was returned to me undeliverable. I later found out that you had dropped out for the semester and returned home, so I sent the letters there instead. Please don't tell me that you forgot about those letters."

  "Travis, I swear I never got a single letter from you. I promise," I say, surprised by what I’m hearing. He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head in disbelief. "Have you had a good life?"

  He shrugs. "It hasn’t been bad. I've had my fair share of ups and downs." I nod.

  He stands and, bending down, he extends a hand. I look up at him. He motions for me to grab it. I do. He leads me into the bedroom and, while still clasping my hand, he pulls his hand up to his chest. He reaches behind my waist with his other hand and pulls me in. "Dance with me," he says tenderly, holding his gaze on mine. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and rest my cheek against his, and we dance. When the song is over, I remove my cheek from his. “No, please, let’s dance," he whispers. So we do.

  We dance right through the next four songs, and after there are no more songs playing. We move slowly, while holding each other close, dancing to the beat of our hearts.

  He plants a kiss in my hair, and I snuggle in a bit more. "I've missed you," I confess. I can feel him nod.

  "I've missed you so much, Sweets.”

  I pull my head back and look at him. My heart starts dancing, and a smile forms on both of our faces. Travis always called me Sweets, which was his pet name for me. "You remembered."

  "How could I forget?" he responds, and then pauses. "Do you trust me?"

  I stifle a laugh. "Well, after the events from the past couple of weeks, I’m left unsure of who I can trust anymore."

  He tilts his head, looking at me. "But do you trust me?" I smile and nod. "There’s something I want to show you," he says, lowering his hand from my waist. I look at him with questioning eyes. “I can only imagine what he can show me,” my inner voice shouts. I smile and suppress a laugh.

  "What?"

  I shake my head, realizing that I was caught laughing by myself. "Nothing. What do you want to show me?" I ask, trying to redirect his attention.

  "Come with me." He takes me by the hand, and we walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He opens up the front door, leading me outside. The moment my feet step onto the porch, something catches my eye. My jaw drops open.

  "You still have it?" He nods.

  Sitting in the middle of my driveway is Travis' 1972 Cadillac Convertible that I once loved so much. Travis and his dad would spend hours in the garage restoring it. And it still looks exactly as it did back in high school. I scurry down the stairs and over to it, barely feeling my legs under me. Everything is exactly as I remember it, and it even still smells like it once did.

  "Want a ride?"

  "Yes," I exclaim. "Give me a minute."

  Running back inside the house, I grab my phone from the bedroom. Then, I get my keys and lock the front door behind me. He stands with the passenger door open, waiting for me. He looks so good next to this car, and memories of us immediately overtake me.

  Sitting down, I feel the stitched leather seat, I run my fingers on the dashboard, and I lay my head back on the headrest while Travis gets in behind the wheel. He turns the key in the ignition and the car comes to life.

  “This is so exciting," I announce, giddy. He smiles.

  Turning up the music, we drive through the neighborhood and the city. We get onto the highway and drive. I find myself lost in the moment, in the music, and in time. He pulls up, turning the engine off. Suddenly, everything looks familiar. I look over at him. "What are we doing here?" He doesn't say anything, he simply smiles.

  He gets out, and then walks over to my side, opening my door. Reaching out his hand for me, I hesitate, but then take it in mine. I get out and he leads me to the front door of the Love Shack. When we walk in, it looks as if as the place is empty until someone appears from the kitchen.

  "Good morning, Mr. Cashman," the gentleman says.

  "They know you by name here?" I whisper.

  "They better," Travis says. "I'm their boss." Someone bring me the paddles because it feels like my heart just went into cardiac arrest…again.

  "What?" I question, in shock.

  "This place is mine. I own it," he says, with a glimmer of a grin.

  "Do you realize that I recently found this place? I love this place." He nods, but doesn't say anything. "Travis, really, I'm not kidding. I love this place. I was here three times in one week after I discovered it."

  He cocks an eyebrow and takes my hand, leading me to the patio. He pulls out a chair at the table, and motions for me to sit. He sits across from me, still not letting go of my hand. "You sat right there.”

  "What?"

  "The time I saw you here, you were sitting right in that chair."

  Surprised by his words, I cover my mouth with my hand. "You saw me here?"

  His eyes light up. "You were here with someone—a friend, I'm assuming. It was the same day that you kicked me out of your office. I drove back here after you gave me the boot," he says, with a sly grin. "It wasn't an hour later that I hear Lisa Ann ask the bartender for a red raspberry martini with Chambord. I immediately came out from the kitchen. We don't get that request often, and I've always remembered that was how you drank your martinis. Every time someone orders it, I always look to see who it is, hoping that it might be you, but it never was, until last Tuesday when I saw you sitting here. It felt surreal to me. I've always wanted to see you here, but never thought I would."

  The bartender comes over. "With Chambord, ma'am," he says, setting a red raspberry martini in front of me. He then places a beer in front of Travis.

  "Can I buy you a drink?" Travis asks, smiling at me. The butterflies return, and they flutter harder than ever.

  "I thought you went to college for engineering?" I ask, trying to redirect my attention and calm the fluttering.

  "Hmm, yeah I did. But I only stayed at Yale through two weeks of the second semester of my freshman year. I was flunking out of my classes because, well, I wasn't going to class. After you broke up with me, I spent the entire day in bed and the night partying. I stopped caring about what I was there for. I decided that I didn't want to be there a
nymore. Because I didn’t care to find a job, I didn’t have any money, so the nights of partying stopped and I lost interest in everything. My parents got some money to pay for a plane ticket and I returned home. I helped my dad out in his shop for a while, but that didn't provide me with much money so I decided to get a job tending bar. I started to enjoy it—I liked the nightlife and the people. I started to save up to move out of my parents' house. I ended up getting my own place a few months later. Then, I decided that I wanted to save up to get my own bar. I came across this place five years ago. It was vacant, but I fell in love with it instantly. I decided to buy it right away, outright. Over the years, I invested more and more into it, refurbishing it. I think I'm satisfied with how it is right now," he says, nodding and looking around.

  "That's so remarkable, Travis," I say, squeezing his hand that's still clasping mine.

  He raises my hand to his mouth and kisses it gently. "Thanks." I feel like someone turned up the heat. I become flush and melt in my chair. He stands, tugging on my hand. "Come with me." Walking in front of me, he leads me inside. He stops in front of a wall filled with pictures. Unclasping our hands, he stretches his arm around my shoulder. With his other hand, he points to a picture directly in the center of all the others.

  I gasp, and put my hand over my mouth. I stare directly at a picture of me and Travis sitting on a rock, and kissing. It's from one of our hiking trips. I remember the moment well. We took that picture right after he gave me my promise ring. "That's us."

  "Yeah. That used to be my favorite memory."

  I look up at the words above the pictures that read: Soul Mates. A tear runs down my cheek. While I rest my head on his shoulder, his last words sink in. I raise my head and look at him. "It used to be your favorite memory, but it's not anymore?"

  "I now have a new favorite; this here, right now." I try to catch my breath, while more tears form. He squeezes my arm and pulls me closer. "I’m really going to have to trash this shirt now," he quips, and then kisses my forehead.

  Chapter Ten

  Wednesday

  April 24, 2013

  10:23 a.m.

  "All right, Amy. I think we got all the grays covered," Tracy says, wrapping the foil around the last strands of hair. "Now it's time to sit under the dryer for a bit."

  Going over to the dryer, I sit. While scrolling through my work email on my phone, it dings with a new text message. When I see it's from Travis, I begin to feel giddy.

  Travis: Hi

  I close my eyes and imagine his voice. We spent yesterday texting back and forth. It appears the awkwardness that we felt the first couple of times seeing each other has subsided because we can't seem to get enough of each other. I haven't felt like this in so long. It feels good.

  Me: Hi

  Travis: What are you doing?

  Me: At the salon, getting my natural highlights colored.

  Travis: Why would you color them? Gray highlights are hot!

  My eyes widen, sensing that he's flirting: Why couldn't you have told me that before I got my head covered in foil?☺

  Travis: It's okay. It has to grow out eventually. ☺

  I'm completely flush, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact I'm sitting under a hot hairdryer.

  Travis: What time is your mom's appointment?

  Me: It's at 11:30. I'm nervous.

  My mom has a doctor's appointment, and the doctor requested that her kids accompany her. He has some things he'd like to go over with us. I'm nervous and scared to hear what he has to say. Over the past couple days, her voice has become hoarser and she's been coughing a lot. I'm trying hard to be strong for her, but it's difficult to see her go through this.

  Travis: Everything will be fine. Can you text me when you get out of the appointment?

  Me: I hope you're right. Sure, I'll text you. Are you at work today?

  Travis: Yeah. Here until 1:30. Then I’m picking Amanda up from school.

  Tracy comes over to check on my hair. "You look like you're up to something," she says when she sees me grinning from ear to ear.

  "No," I say, shaking my head and trying to hide my smile.

  "Are you talking to Travis?"

  "Maybe," I say, biting down on my lower lip.

  "Keep that smile on you, girl, I like it," she says, walking away.

  Me, to Travis: Can I confess something to you?

  Travis: Now, I'm the one that’s nervous.

  Me: So you don't want to hear what I have to say?

  Travis: Ah, okay, give it to me.

  I type out: I know that I went thirteen years without seeing you, and I saw you two days ago, but am I completely crazy if I miss you already?

  My finger hovers over the Send button, unsure if I'm crossing a line that I probably shouldn't. I might end up scaring him away, but I can't help it. I haven't been able to focus at all since I left him on Monday. Before I convince myself to press Send, another text comes through.

  Travis: Did you want to confess that you don't want to talk to me anymore? Because you sure are silent right now.

  I press Send, and close my eyes. “Please don't take it the wrong way. Please don't get scared,” I mutter under my breath. It feels like a lifetime goes by before my phone dings.

  Travis: Sorry, it took me a while to catch up to my heart. It jumped out of my chest and started sprinting to San Fran. I miss you so much, Sweets.

  I let out a huge sigh of relief, pressing the phone against my chest, letting all of his words speak directly to my heart.

  Tracy comes over again. “Sorry but your sexting time is over,” she announces. I pout and text Travis.

  Me: Sorry, I have to go. Tracy is pulling me back into reality. Gotta go check out my new hair and then head to the doctor. Text you later?

  Travis: I'll be waiting.

  "You’re bitten by the love bug," Tracy says, pushing me on the shoulder teasingly.

  I scrunch up my face and close my eyes. "I know.”

  "I sure love it.”

  • • • •

  I pick my mom up at her house and we drive to the doctor's office. She appears as nervous as I am. My brother and sister are both there waiting for us. After sitting a bit in the waiting room, we’re lead into Dr. Bridestone's office. He explains that my mom's cancer is terminal because it's spread to other organs and her bones throughout her body, and it's spreading quite fast. He says that she will soon need around the clock care, and he suggests that she consider checking into a facility if it's not possible to get her a nurse at home. The expression on my mom’s face tells me that she doesn’t want to go to a facility, and I know she wants to be at home.

  "My mom has dedicated her life to taking care of her family. There is no way that she will be placed in a facility. We will get her the care that she needs," I chime in, knowing that my brother and sister both agree. We spoke about it yesterday and we decided that she will stay at home.

  My mom squeezes my hand and mouths, “thank you,” through tear-stained eyes.

  Dr. Bridestone stresses that she will always need someone by her side, even at night, because if she should start coughing, she may need assistance. I feel numb listening to him speak so casually about it while she sits there. I know he does this countless times, but I don't, and it's my mom he's speaking of.

  We walk out of the doctor's office and I'm choking back tears. "That was hard," I state to my brother, while my mom walks ahead, holding onto my sister's arm.

  "It was. I deal with this stuff every day as a doctor, but it certainly never feels like this," he responds, putting his arm around me and squeezing.

  "She's gotten worse over the past couple of days."

  "I can tell by seeing how she looks today," he remarks, shaking his head in sadness. "Damn, cancer."

  We get her back home and up to her bedroom to rest. Drew, Marla, and I sit in the living room and we make a plan that one of us will be with her at all times. "I bet Aunt Jackie would want to help too. I'll call her to
day," Marla says. Aunt Jackie is my mom's only sister and they’re really close.

  My phone rings. I look down to see that it's Julie. "Hi Julie."

  "Hi Amy. I'm sorry to bother you. I know that you’re busy, but there's a gentleman by the name of Joseph Greenbach who called here. He said that he needs to meet with you sometime today. Something about a contract? Do you want me to ask what exactly it is that he needs?"

  "Joseph Greenbach?"

  "Yeah. He said he's an attorney."

  Immediately I recall who Mr. Greenbach is. He's my father's attorney friend, who drew up the contract between my dad and Rich. "Oh, yes, I know who he is. Did he say what time he could meet?"

  "He said any time after one o’clock."

  "I really don't want to do this today, but fine. Schedule him in for two-thirty," I say, feeling disgusted for even having to deal with this.

  "Amy, you've been with mom so much the past few days, you need a break. I'll stay with her today. You get some work done and get a good night's rest," Marla advises when I get off the phone.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Don't even think twice, Amy. Mom is lucky to have you here with her. I know you have work to get done, and you haven't slept in days. I will stay with her tonight."

  "Thank you."

  Before leaving, my brother agrees to come by tomorrow to stay with our mom for the day. And I'll stay with her overnight.

  I text Travis when I get to work.

  Me: Appointment went as well as it could. She's home resting. The doctor recommends someone be with her at all times so my brother, sister and I are taking shifts.

  My phone rings seconds after I press Send. It’s Travis calling. "Hi.”

  There's a brief pause before he responds. "Hi. Sorry it took me a bit to respond, I was trying to catch my breath."

  "What are you doing that you need to catch your breath?"

  "Nothing. I'm listening to your voice." Yup, he did it to me again. I'm completely melting in my chair.

  "Have you been listening to my thoughts?" I shoot back. He doesn't say anything but I can feel him smiling through the phone.