The Perfect Present

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The Perfect Present Page 6

by Larissa de Silva


  I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  She considers this. She takes another sip of her mocha, which I take as a cue to start working on my own drink. We sit there in silence for what feels like a while.

  She considers this. She takes another sip of her mocha, which I take as a cue to start working on my own drink. We sit there in silence for what feels like a while.

  “Is that why you are with me right now?”

  I practically wince at her question. I certainly didn’t expect her to be this direct. “It is. I mean, I guess that’s part of it,” I reply. There’s no point lying to her. If she’s going to ask me questions as bluntly as she wants to, then I guess I get to answer bluntly too. That seems to be the only thing that makes sense here.

  “Okay. So that’s part of it. And part of me being here is that I’m lonely,” she replies.

  I smile at her. “And that I’m the most eligible bachelor in town,” I say.

  She smiles. I think she’s finishing her mocha. “One of the most. Don’t let it go to your head, Rudy Steele. I’m sure there are other doctors around here somewhere.”

  I laugh. “Yes. I even know some of them.”

  "Great. Then maybe you could introduce me.."

  "Maybe."

  I laugh at that. We both do. After that, everything seems more relaxed. I'm having a good time with Laura. It's not great. I'm still thinking about Jess every time I close my eyes. I wish that it was her laughing in front of me.

  I can’t help but think about how beautiful she would look under these golden fairy lights. I wonder what her coffee order is now, I wonder how she drinks it. I wonder she still buys a pastry every other day with her coffee. A different pastry of course, because she wouldn’t want to get used to the same thing. She doesn’t want to be a creature of routine, and she doesn’t want to be boring. Jess likes to be surprised. Or at least used to. I don’t know she likes to be surprised anymore, and she didn’t seem that thrilled to be surprised when I told her why I had broken up with her.

  I open my eyes to look at Laura. I smile at her. She’s right, none of this is her fault, and as long as our cards are firmly face up on the table, and she has made abundantly sure of that, there is nothing wrong with enjoying a date with her. She might not be Jess, I tell myself, but I don’t need Jess.

  Just a woman. Any woman. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.

  She tells me her life story.

  She’s young, for a divorcee. Her husband was in the army and she never had children, even though she wanted them. He was deployed, and she stayed home. She had an artisanal shop of some sort, nothing big. She sold soaps and bath bombs, that kind of thing. Not many, only a few a week, but enough to allow her to leave him when he came back a changed man. She wanted to be with him still, but he didn’t want her. He cheated on her, over and over again, until she got sick of him, and decided to return home. She tells me this without a tear in her, matter-of-factly, as if she was talking to me about the weather forecast.

  “You see, Dr. Steele,” she says. “I might only be good at making soap, but in matters of the heart, I know it’s important to be a little hardened. So, it didn’t work. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t mean something else won’t work out.”

  “Right.”

  “Something with someone else,” she says, and this time, her voice takes on a reflexive tone I haven’t heard before.

  I nod. “That makes sense.”

  “See,” she says, waving her hand in front of her face. “You can have whatever you want with anyone. But he wasn’t the one. And I believe, you know, you have to work to find the one. Unless you’re extremely lucky. I think there are people like that, you know, people who are extremely lucky. I totally do. I’m not one of those, and I have to work hard to find someone. You get that, right?”

  I narrow my eyes. “I guess,” I say.

  “What do you mean, you guess?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply. “I never... I never really wanted to find anyone.”

  She quiets at that. Pales a little, even. She taps her fingers rhythmically against the porcelain cup, then tuts. “Oh, no,” she says. “You’re one of them.”

  “What?”

  “You’re one of those people,” she says. “One of the lucky ones. That’s why you’ve never had to work hard, right? Because there’s someone in your heart and you can’t get rid of them. Like an itch.”

  I smile. “I wouldn’t put it like that,” I say.

  She stares intently at me. “Fuck me,” she says. She doesn’t say it quietly, so a few people turn to look at our table. She shoos them away, gesticulating with her arms before she speaks again. “Mind your own business!”

  I stare at her.

  “Stop,” she says. “It’s not funny.”

  “Right,” I say, then smile at her. “A little funny?”

  “No, it’s not,” she says. “Look, I’m not an idiot. I understand where there’s opportunity. But I also understand something important, something that you don’t seem to be able to understand. If there’s someone stuck in your heart and you’re not able to get them out, then maybe you’re not supposed to be able to get them out. Maybe they’re meant to be there.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She scoffs. “You know, for a smart man, you’re really fucking stupid. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “A surprising amount of people.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be surprised,” she replies. “Because I’ve never seen anything more obvious in my entire life. I mean, you’re on this date, and you’re closing your eyes to fantasize about this girl.”

  My eyes get wider and I swallow. “What?”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday,” she says. “And everyone in my family is a little bit psychic.”

  “Right,” I say. There’s no point arguing with her. It’s Cassadaga, if you’re not a little bit psychic, you’re doing something wrong.

  “Oh my gosh,” she says. “It’s Jessica Hart, isn’t it?”

  I lick my lips and look away from her. I don’t want to lie to her, but telling her the truth--ugh. Maybe she is psychic. Or maybe I really am just that transparent.

  “Both,” she says.

  I blanch a little until she points to her head.

  “Psychic, remember?” she says. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but maybe you guys are soulmates. Maybe that’s why you’re here.”

  “I don’t--”

  “What? Believe in soulmates?” she asks. “Don’t be foolish. You don’t have to believe in something for it to be real.”

  I blink at her. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “Dumb,” she says, smiling at me. “All those years of an education, and still stupid.”

  I laugh a little. “I don’t know if I should take this in stride. You seem to take great pleasure in insulting me.”

  “I don’t, believe it or not,” she replies. “I guess I just don’t feel like there’s any need for you to miss out.”

  I look at her for a long time. I think she means it, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s right. If I am missing out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JESS

  Kim is right. I deserve a chance to be happy. And, honestly, we were just kids. We were only ever just kids around each other. I don’t know if it’ll ever go further than that, but I think I need to give myself the chance. Rudy is here, he’s finally in reach again, and last time, I just didn’t tell him what I wanted.

  So he was an idiot about it, but he was a teenage boy. We were both kids. Of course he was going to be an idiot about it. I was also an idiot about it, because I hadn’t told him how I felt about him. I wasn’t going to be an idiot anymore. I was going to tell him the truth. It wasn’t going to cost me anything, except a little pride, and it wasn’t like I had an excess of that left. After all, he had found me inside my parents’ porch, literally inside of it, because my leg had fallen through
the rotted wood and he had been the one to save me.

  And he had saved me, after all, whether I liked it or not. He had broken through the wood, pulled me out, and even carried me across the threshold later, like a freakin’ princess. That was the worst part, or maybe the most disconcerting part, that I had felt like a princess, loved and treasured, even though I hardly knew him now.

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t get to know him. He probably still had the same sweet, kind heart that I knew. I was almost certain that he did, but I needed to find out.

  My parents were still not home. I left them a note on the kitchen counter, telling them I was feeling a lot better, and I was going to go for a walk. None of those things were lies, except the fact that my walk was directly next door was conveniently left out of the note. I didn’t want my mom to know, not until I was ready to talk about it, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Not until I spoke to Rudy at least.

  It was kind of a pain to get to his house, because I had to go down a wobbly ramp and my leg was still not fully recovered, and it took me a few more minutes than it normally would to make my way to his house. Stepping on the grass was surprisingly uncomfortable and I didn’t see his car sitting outside, but he could have always parked in the back, and I wouldn’t be able to see him from where I was.

  I drag myself up the steps on his porch and knock quietly on the door. I close my eyes, trying to listen for any sound, but I don’t hear anything. I wait a few seconds, then knock hard again. “Hello?” I ask.

  There’s no response. Sighing, I take my phone out of my back pocket and look through my contact list. I realize that Rudy isn’t in my contact list and he isn’t even part of my friends’ list in any social media, so it isn’t like I’m going to be able to call and ask him where he is, or if he’s asleep, to call and ask him to come to the door. I tell myself I should’ve asked for his phone number.

  I knock on the door again, putting my ear to it. I know it’s kind of hopeless, and he likely won’t be there, but I knock hard that last time. “Hello?”

  Nothing. He’s definitely not there, and I have no idea where he might be. I sigh, defeated. I’m about to see if I can find some scrap paper to leave him a note with when I spot the mailman’s boxy car, stopping in front of Rudy’s mailbox.

  “Miss Hart!” he says to me.

  “Gregory!” I reply, smiling at him. He’s wearing his blue uniform and tight shorts. He has definitely aged, but the man is eternal. Other than his now grey thinning hair, he looks exactly the same. “How are you doing?”

  “Busy, Miss Hart,” he says. “You know the holidays. They always take it out of me.”

  “Well, you look like you’re very in shape.”

  He laughs a little. “I keep having to walk to different mailboxes, and sometimes, the path is treacherous.”

  I smile back at him. “I don’t doubt it,” I say.

  He smiles at me, then looks me up and down. “Are you okay, Miss Hart?”

  I cock my head. “I’m fine. Why?”

  He doesn’t answer for a second. “You just look a little unsteady on your feet,” he says. “That’s all.”

  “Oh, I hurt myself,” I say. “It’s nothing serious. You’ll see the ramp at my mom and dad’s house, though. They clearly need to rebuild their porch. The hole I created was spectacular, but then Rudy came in with a hammer, and now everything is pointed wood and splinters. Don’t worry, I don’t think it affected the mailbox.”

  “Good to know,” he says. “I would offer you a ride, but...”

  “I get it, no civilians in the mail car,” I say. “Anyway, I’m probably going to go back home. Looks like he isn’t here.”

  “If you’re looking for Mr. Steele, you might have better luck at Haven,” he replies, then furrows his brow. “Dr. Steele is only staying here for a few hours at a time, since his daddy moved out.”

  I cock my head, a little confused. Rudy wasn’t particularly forthcoming about his dad, but I didn’t think he had left the house to Rudy. Maybe he doesn’t even live in Cassadaga anymore, I thought. “Rudy’s dad moved out?”

  He smiles at me. “My lips are sealed, Miss Hart,” he replies. “Have a good day. Say hello to your momma and daddy for me, alright?”

  “Will do, Gregory,” I reply. “Say hello to Hilda?”

  “Yes, Miss Hart,” he replies. He finishes stuffing the envelopes he has in his hand in the mailbox and flashes me a smile. “Feel better soon, y’hear?”

  “Yes,” I reply. I think about what he says as he gets into his car and drives away. Haven... there’s only one place called Haven in town, as far as I know, and it’s our only hospice. Rudy did say that he was now specializing in end-of-life care, so it makes sense that he would be at work.

  I wobble back to my parents’ house, grab my mom’s car’s keys, and leave her another note telling them I’ve gone into town and that I have taken her car.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve driven in Cassadaga--actually, it’s been a long time since I’ve driven full stop--so it takes me a little while to get my bearings, but I don’t need the GPS to tell me where Haven Hospice is. It’s near the medical plaza, where they took my x-rays. It’s only been a few hours, and now it’s night time, and I’m still dealing with jet lag, but it feels like I’ve been here for days on end.

  I stop by what used to be Rudy’s favorite donut shop, wonder if he still eats donuts, and get him a dozen. Even if he doesn’t like them, I’m sure the nurses at the hospice are going to appreciate them.

  Haven isn’t far from Rudy’s house and it’s practically across the street from Donna’s Donuts. The parking lot is mostly completely empty. I look for Rudy’s car, but I don’t see it. He’s probably parked in the back, where doctors and other healthcare practitioners can park. I don’t have to walk far because almost every single parking space appears to be empty.

  The automatic doors open immediately and a woman wearing purple scrubs and her black hair up in a bun approaches me. “Hi, sweetie,” she says. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I say, smiling at her. “Thank you.”

  “Who are you here to see?”

  “Dr. Steele,” I say. “Dr. Rudy Steele. I understand he must be at work, and he’s probably really busy, but can you just let him know that Jess Hart came to see him?”

  She cocks her head, her eyes narrow. “Are you talking about Dr. Rudy Steele?”

  “Yes,” I respond. “Just let him know...”

  “Dr. Steele doesn’t work here, sweetie,” she replies.

  “Oh?”

  Her expression softens. “He does come here a lot,” she says. “You can leave the donuts and I’ll make sure they go to him.”

  I smile at her. “Thank you,” I say as I look down at her nametag. “That would be very nice, Natalie.”

  “Of course,” she says. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Jess Hart,” I reply. “Thank you so much.”

  I hand her the donuts and turn around to leave. She’s smiling at me, and when I turn around to leave, I’m smiling too. A little confused, but smiling. If Rudy isn’t here because he works here, then...

  My thoughts are interrupted the moment I step outside. Rudy is there, standing in front of the electric doors, staring at me. His arms are crossed over his chest, his brow is furrowed, and he looks like he’s ready to lunge at me.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Rudy,” I say. I’ve just glanced at the clock above the reception desk before turning around and know it’s a little past nine o’clock. “I--”

  “What?” he repeats, gesticulating as he does so.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I came to bring you donuts, okay?”

  He shakes his head, glaring at me. “Excuse me?”

  “I came to bring you donuts,” I reply, my voice quieter than I want it to be.

  “You came to bring me donuts,” he repeats. He clearly doesn’t believe me.

  “Yes,” I say.
“From Donna’s Donuts, you know, your favorite--”

  It doesn’t work. His expression doesn’t soften at all. He seems less impressed than he did before. “Why did you come to bring me donuts here?”

  “Because,” I reply, making my voice quiet so that the nurses won’t hear me. I know we’re outside the doors, but I know that Dr. Rudy Steele is going to attract a lot of attention. I know this town well enough to know that gossip has already spread--I don’t know if it’s about me being here or if it has nothing to do with that, but it has definitely already spread.

  He wrinkles his nose. “Because why, Jess?”

  “Because,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “I didn’t want to leave things the way they were, okay?”

  He doesn’t say a thing.

  “I--there was something I never told you growing up,” I say. “Something I think I need to tell you now.”

  He considers this for a second. His expression softens before he speaks. “Okay,” he says. “But why are you here?”

  “Someone told me I could find you here,” I say. “And you said something about your specialty being end-of-life care, so I thought this was where you were working.”

  He doesn’t answer, he just looks away from me, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Right,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Listen, I didn’t mean to be a stalker or anything,” I say. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to speak to you, and when I tried to go to your house, you weren’t there. I--”

  He cocks his head. “You walked to my house?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “How else was I going to get there?”

  He tuts. “Jess, you’re not supposed to be on your feet.”

  “Well, I wanted to make it up to you,” I reply.

  He smiles at me, and if I’m not mistaken, he looks a little tearful.

  “Go sit in your car for a minute,” he says. “I’ll be right out.”

  I do as I’m told, but I watch as he goes inside. He looks at me over his shoulder, gives me a shaky smile, and then starts talking to Natalie, the nurse who spoke to me.

  I don’t stay and watch. I don’t want to invade his privacy. It already feels like I did too much by coming here, like he’s upset because I’ve shown up.

 

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