by Shafer, Gina
He looks a little startled, and I don’t blame him. I look down at his hands. He must have been in the middle of taking out the trash. I’m not sure how I know this… could be because of my amazing skills of deduction, or the fact that he’s holding a trash bag.
“Hi.”
I can’t barely hear him through the glass, so I open the window. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“I just didn’t expect to see the look of death so early this morning,” he teases.
“It’s the birds again.” I say, honing in on the particularly loud one that’s perched on the side of Nick’s house.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like Henry?” He looks appalled.
“Don’t tell me you’ve named them.”
“Only one. I saved him when he was just a baby. He got trapped in some fishing line, and I cut him loose. Ever since then he stops by every now and again and demands that I sprinkle sunflower seeds for him.”
Sunflower seeds.
I’m baffled by his answer. My cheeks turn red; I’m sure of it by the hotness I feel. “Wow.”
“Unbelievable, huh? Especially when you consider I completely made up that entire story. Never met that seagull in my life,” he says, deadpan. He lifts a finger and draws an X over his heart.
I roll my eyes. “You’re an ass. And our owl doesn’t work.” I pout.
“Oh please, I’d be willing to wager I just made your morning a fraction better than if you hadn’t heard my fake story about a seagull named Henry. And maybe our owl just doesn’t want to be scary or intimidating. Like, how dare we assume he’s menacing. Maybe he just wants to chill with the gulls?”
“I’m under the impression these seagulls are just ultra gulls that have hidden robot powers, and nothing scares them.”
Just then Coconut brushes my arm. In a dangerous move, he’s teetering on the windowsill to get a view of Nick. He leans the bag in his hand against his house and comes closer, letting Coconut rub his finger through the screen.
“Looks like someone has a crush.” I say as Coconut abandons his usual composed self and throws himself down on the tiny sliver of window sill he’s balancing on. I end up having to support half his body as he offers his tummy to Nick. We’re both laughing when a knock on my door interrupts us.
“Hey, Whit,” Dad says, opening the door and stopping up short as he takes in the scene. Coconut pushes his way out of the room.
“Hey, Mr. Hadfield. How are things going?” Nick asks, breaking the awkward tension.
“Things are going well. Caroline has a doctor’s appointment today. Just checking up on how well the new meds are doing.
“I can get dressed and come with you,” I offer.
“Oh, no. It’s no bother.”
I try to hide my disappointment.
“I was actually going to ask if you wouldn’t mind running down to the hardware store to pick up something for me. The toilet in the spare bathroom has that leak. I haven’t been able to get the piece to fix it, but I wrote it down and you can just bring that into the store and they should be able to help you.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“I can come over and help fix it later, if you like.” Nick offers, and instantly my stomach swims with anticipation.
“That would be great, Nick.” Dad says, relieved. He’ll be busy with Mama most of the day.
“I’ll stop by in about an hour, Whitley. Is that cool?” Nick asks.
“Uh, yeah. Totally cool,” I say, like an adolescent girl. I’m a grown woman with a, well, almost with a career, and I’ve slept with a man before. Many men. Well, not many men, but enough that I shouldn’t be feeling all virginal. And I shouldn’t be thinking of all the men I’ve been with while my dad is standing in my doorway.
“I’ll go grab a shower.” I duck under Dad in almost the same fashion as the cat did and hide in the solitude of the bathroom. I can hear Dad and Nick wrap up their conversation, and I turn on the water to drown them out.
Soon after, Dad says through the door, “We’re heading out!” and I croak out an “Okay!”
The shadow of his feet are still visible under the door. “I’m sorry about last night.” I admit, shamefully. I can almost feel his sadness through the wood of the door. “I’ll do better.”
“I’m just glad you’re here, kid. The rest doesn’t matter.” After a beat, his footsteps move down the hall.
I shove my face under the stream of warm water to disguise the flow of my tears, and I cry.
* * *
Home from the hardware store, I drop the piece of plumbing and run to the bathroom. Nick will be here any minute.
My hair’s a mess and my face is red from the heat of the day. I splash cold water on my cheeks, then neatly gather my hair into an intricate side braid. Then, I contemplate dabbing on a little foundation and mascara. The doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts, and I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
I’m pathetic. This is the kind of shit I did when I was with David. This insecure, don’t let them see me while I’m down shit. And Nick has already proven to me that none of that matters.
I undo the braid and pull my hair back into a messy bun. I tell myself I don’t care, because I don’t. I really don’t. Then I rush to the door, because I’ve already made Nick wait a lot longer than is polite. But when I open the door, there’s no Nick. Instead, there’s a package, and as soon I bend down and check the return address, I want to vomit.
David sent me a package. It’s been weeks since I heard from him. Most of the communication between us have been ignored texts asking when I’ll be coming home. Oh, fuck me.
I inhale a calming breath and then pick up the UPS box, go inside, and kick the door shut behind me. I take it to the kitchen table and stare at it for exactly three minutes before fetching a knife from a drawer. For a moment I consider stabbing the box and throwing it away, but instead I find myself carefully slicing the tape and pulling it open.
Two years of my life fill the box. Photo after photo of me with plastered smiles and laughs. But when I look more closely, really study my face, I don’t look happy at all. I’m empty. I pick up a picture of the two of us. Our heads are pressed together, and we’re smiling at the camera. David had taken me out for my birthday. The only thing I can remember about the moment is how good the cheese dip was at the restaurant and how I went back by myself a week later to have some more.
Why had I done this to myself? Why did I stay with someone I knew would cheat on me? Was I punishing myself? And if so, what the hell did I think was worth two years of my life? Two years with someone who, after all that time, never realized I’d rather get cheap tacos and spend my birthday doing nothing.
A tap on the sliding glass door startles me, and I knock over the entire box, spilling the contents on the floor. Nick notices the commotion. I hold up one finger and quickly push the mess into a pile so I don’t trip on anything and then I rush to unlock the door for him.
“Had a little accident, huh?”
“Yeah. Clumsy me.” I offer a weak smile and shrug.
Nick walks over to the pile and squats. I follow him. I’m not sure why, but I don’t feel like hiding anything in this box from him. I let him look.
He gazes at the lingerie David so graciously included with the pictures, along with a small case of makeup, a pair of sandals, and a few other things I kept at his apartment. I let out a breath, laughing at the fact that after two years, only had a handful of things connected our lives together.
“I’m guessing this was urgent?” he asks, hooking a finger in the purple lace panties with a smirk.
I snatch them from his grabby little hands. Well, they aren’t little, but they are grabby, and wasn’t I just saying how I wasn’t ashamed of this box in front of Nick? My, how things change. I poke his shoulder. “You did not see that.”
“Hey, I just came over to fix a toilet.” He doesn’t look the least bit guilty.
I roll my eyes, unable to keep from smiling. “I sho
uld have called a plumber.” I pick up some of the photos and feel Nick’s hands somewhere they shouldn’t be.
Oh, but they are. They definitely are. He’s running them up my ass, oh my god. Is this really happening? His hand is gliding over a hip. Should I stop this? I don’t want to stop this. Fuck. I let out a hushed moan, and he clears his throat.
“Whitley?” he whispers, and I realize that we’re both on all fours and both his hands are helping pick up this mess. I pop up and almost scream.
Coconut is rubbing against my leg, trying to get his attention like the little brat he is. And this moment right here is it: the most embarrassing moment of my life.
Nick throws me a knowing look. “I saw nothing, like you said.”
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. “I thought… never mind.”
“This doesn’t look like you,” he says, holding up a photo of me and David at a friend’s wedding.
“What do you mean?” I take it from him to inspect it closer. He’s right. I have gained about ten pounds since then. I used to run a lot but kind of fell off that wagon after dating David a while. He didn’t like me going out on my own in the evening. He said it wasn’t safe. At the time I thought it was sweet. Now I’m not so sure.
“You’re just… not you.”
“You don’t know me.” The words slide off my tongue like some kind of poison. Why am I so hot and cold? He doesn’t let my tone affect him.
“Is that really what you think?”
“It’s what I know.”
“And you’re confident in that?”
“I would say so,” I say.
“I know you lie.”
I feel like I’ve been accused of a crime. Caught in the act, I stand. “Everybody lies,” I say as he stands and follows me.
“Not like you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You lie differently. You lie to yourself more than anyone else.”
I back up, bumping into the cabinets behind me. “I could argue that everyone lies to themselves.”
“Yeah, but not everyone lies to preserve their heart the way you do. You give yourself any excuse necessary to stay closed off and to make the choices that you do.”
“You still aren’t telling me anything that pertains only to me.”
“You like me,” he says confidently. He draws nearer, pressing close, but not close enough.
“I do not,” I lie.
“Lie.” I can feel his breath tangle with my own.
“Not a lie.” I lie again.
“Whitley, I can see through you.” He moves, his breath dancing over my ear and then down.
“No you can’t.”
“I like you,” he admits, lightly grinding against me.
“You don’t know me,” I say, opening for him.
“You said that already.”
“I—” I have nothing. My actions and words are a stark contrast to each other, and I have no excuse for it.
“You let your shield down when you look at me. I see right through it. I see you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“And yet I do.” His lips touch the skin just below my jaw. I never knew lips could be so firm and so soft at the same time.
“I don’t like it,” I admit as his mouth skates across my neck. I breathe in his scent, vanilla and cedar. My flesh tingles and shivers move up my body, starting at my toes.
“You will,” he says, moving his mouth to mine. Barely touching, not moving.
I look at his face, his expression full of mischief and lust. Care and sympathy. He doesn’t realize I see right through him too. I see it all. I’m about to tell him that when my phone rings.
“I have to get that,” I tell him, but we don’t move.
“I know,” he says.
After a moment, he slides aside. I pick up my phone from the counter and groan when I see the caller’s name.
“Is it your Dad?” he asks, and I realize how familiar I’ve become with Nick. I’ve never felt this close to someone, especially someone I haven’t known for long. I turn, showing him the screen.
“David?”
I laugh, forgetting he doesn’t know my ex’s name. I point to the scattered things on the floor and then see understanding in his eyes.
He smirks. “Let me talk to him.”
I shake my head. “No way!”
“Why? I’ll be good.” He grins wide, setting off his dimples.
“Ugh. You’re too distracting.” He laughs and steps back as I finally answer the phone.
“Whitley, I just got an email that the package I sent was delivered. Did you get it?” he asks. The sound of his voice almost makes me ill.
“I did.”
“And?”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask, making eye contact with Nick. As soon as I do, he walks toward me. Oh, shit.
“I want you to realize what we’re throwing away.”
“I— I don’t….”
Nick is pressing me against the cabinets again, lifting me onto the counter, moving into the space between my legs. Hang up. He mouths.
I shoot him a questioning look, and he repeats himself. When I don’t take immediate action, he runs his tongue from my collarbone to my neck, and I die a little inside. I ache. Badly. Holy shit.
“Are you listening to me?” David asks.
I wasn’t and he’d been talking for a while. “I have to go.” I end the call, turning to Nick. “Why—?”
“We have work to do,” Nick exclaims and shoves away from me, leaving me a quivering hot mess as he scoops up the plumbing part and heads to the bathroom.
What in the hell?
I hop down, pick up the remainder of my life with David, and dump all of it in the trash. When I join Nick in the bathroom, he’s already gotten to work.
He’s not getting off that easy. “What was that about?” I ask, leaning lean against the doorframe.
“Your eyes are dead in those photos.” He’s taking apart the back of the toilet.
“Well—“ He lifts his head and his piercing gaze gives me pause.
“They’re not dead when you look at your parents, and they’re not fucking dead when you look at me,” he says as if that’s the end of that, leaving me speechless.
The sad part is he’s right. I was not living. My best friend had just gotten married and had twins, and I was alone. I was compromising with a man and a lifestyle that wasn’t what I really wanted just so I had something to do.
“You’re right,” I say. This gains his attention again. “But this… us. I don’t think I’m whole enough to start handing out pieces of my heart.”
“I’m not asking you to give me a piece, Whitley,” he says.
“Then what are you asking?”
Nick thinks for a moment. “I don’t know what I’m asking. It’s obvious our lives are not in the places we’d like them to be. You’re dealing with your Mom’s illness, and my situation with my sister is tumultuous at best. There are other things in our lives that deserve our full attention.”
“So, we shouldn’t start anything,” I offer.
“No, we probably shouldn’t.”
“I—“
“But I have to be honest Whitley. I lose control when it comes to you, and I have no fucking idea how to fix that,” he says.
“I don’t either,” I admit.
“And I don’t want to stop coming around.”
“I don’t want you to either,” I say.
“Then I wont,” he says and I nod.
I don’t argue with Nick anymore, because there’s no point. I like him. Fuck, do I like him. And I can’t hide it from him. He knows how I feel and what I’m dealing with. He even knows we can’t get as involved right now. And yet here he is, fixing my parents’ toilet like it’s something he does every single day. Like he didn’t just break me and fix me at the same time.
I leave him to work and start lunch, hoping that busying myself will help me
gain a little composure.
And then I laugh, because never in my life have I wished for my parents to come home when I’ve been alone with a man I have feelings for.
Sobbing.
Is that what I hear?
I jackknife up in bed like I’ve heard a gunshot. It’s been a few days since the incident with Nick, and everything has been going okay with my mom. But this noise and this feeling in the pit of my stomach have me scared.
Is Mom okay?
I get up and follow the sound until I find her, hunched over on the floor by the back door. She’s nearly hysterical, and I’m afraid to touch her.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” I whisper.
“I couldn’t get it,” is all I can make out through her blubbering. She looks cramped and is hysterical. What the hell do I do? I’ve never been so terrified in my life.
“Mama, did you fall down?” I rest a hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t get up!” she wails.
My eyes burn as I call for Dad. I’m afraid to move her; the state she’s in, I might not be able to do it alone. She wails harder.
Suddenly Dad appears beside me. “How long has she been out here?”
“I don’t know.”
“It would be best if you called 911, okay? We don’t know what she got into or how long she’s been here, and she could have an injury. Can you do that?”
I nod and run for my phone. I make the call and explain the situation, and they tell me they’re coming. I stay on the phone with them as Dad finally gets Mom into a calmer state.
Once the paramedics arrive, she stops fighting completely. I think the shock and exhaustion finally wear her out. The lights and sirens disturb the neighborhood. Dad gets into the back of the ambulance with her. I want to scream at all the people walking out of their houses to watch. I feel violent, I feel sick, but I just stand here as the paramedics tell me which hospital they’re taking my parents to. I nod and they tell me Dad will be there waiting for me.
I glance at him, and my world crumbles. Under the bright lights in the ambulance, he is ashen, and I’ve never seen him so shrouded in fear. The one man in my life I’ve always believed isn’t afraid of anything. My knees nearly buckle.