Forever With You (Silver State Series) (25 page)

I don’t feel like saying any of that to Les, however.  He’s a good guy, and I’m sure he’d hear me out, but some things are just easier to keep inside.  So as he fixes me with that quizzical expression, I just shrug, letting it roll off my back.  “No reason,” I reply as I stand up and set the weight back on its rack.  “Tired, I guess.”

For a split second he looks at me like he doesn’t believe me, and I’m afraid he’s going to call me on it.  The glimmer vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, though, and I exhale in relief as he looks down and begins unwrapping the tape from around his hands.

A little while later we walk out of the rec center into the quickly fading daylight and head toward our respective cars.  “Leila says she saw Tawny Read last night,” says Les.

My stomach drops like I’m on the downhill slant of a roller coaster.  Hearing someone else say her name out loud after so many weeks of repeating it in my head is enough to make me reel.  I spin around to face him, but he’s looking straight ahead as he walks.  Of course, Les was never really aware of what went on between me and Tawny – for him this is just idle chitchat.  I relax infinitesimally as I accept that he isn’t just trying to provoke me.

“Oh?” I say, pouring herculean effort into sounding normal and carefree.

“Yeah, she said she was with some guy, holding hands,” he says as he digs in his gym bag for his car keys.  “Guess it didn’t take her long, huh?  Like I said, she’s a hot little number.  If I wasn’t with Leila,
I’d
hit it.”

I stop in my tracks, and my hands clench into fists; I can feel my face reddening.  First of all because
what the hell, she’s dating someone else now?!
  And second of all because – well, I think that part goes without saying.  I have to remind myself Les means no disrespect.  He’d never actually cheat on Leila; he just likes to blow smoke up my ass.  Unfortunately for him, he has no
idea
what buttons he’s pushing with this one.

Les takes several more steps before realizing I’m no longer beside him.  He stops, and I somehow muster the strength to school my features in the split second before he turns to face me.  “You coming?” he asks.

“Um, no, you go ahead,” I say, already turning around to walk back in the other direction.  “I think I left something inside.”

“Okay, see ya, man,” he calls to me.  I lift my hand in a wave but don’t bother to look back.  I need to be alone.

Chapter 22 – Holiday

December

Tawny – Sunday, December 18, 11:00 AM

“
I
’ll miss you while we’re gone,” says Vivian as she lays her debit card down on the check our waiter dropped off a few minutes ago.

“I’ll miss you, too,” I tell her.  “Remember to call me when you have time.”

“You know it.”  She picks up her glass and downs what’s left of her orange juice.  We met for a farewell brunch this morning, since today we’re both heading home for the holidays – Dad will be here in an hour to pick me up, and Viv is catching a flight back home to Denver.  Campus feels strangely empty since most of the students have already left – finals ended a few days ago.  I’d had dinner with Aiden on Friday before he commenced the long drive back to North Vegas, claiming he prefers to drive overnight when traffic is lightest.

I’m not sure what to do about Aiden.  He told me a couple of weeks ago he loves me – which seemed really sudden and freaked me out a little.  There’s so much he doesn’t know about me still.  I didn’t say it back, and he didn’t seem to mind; he continues to say it on occasion, but we’ve never discussed that I don’t return the sentiment.  I’ve sometimes wondered whether I love Aiden, but then I think if I really did love him I wouldn’t have to just
wonder
.

Once the check is paid, we shrug into our coats and head outside to Vivian’s Volvo hatchback.  She twirls a knob to blast the heat from the vents as she pulls out of her parking space to drop me back at the dorm.  When we pull up, she leans over the center console to give me a hug.  “Tell my boy Aiden to have a Merry Christmas,” she says.  “I’m sure he’ll call you long before he calls me.”

I chuckle.  “I’ll do that.  Happy holidays, Viv.  See you in a few weeks.”

I climb out and wrap my arms around my torso, huddling into myself for warmth as I make my way up to the mostly vacant high-rise.  I just have a couple more things to toss in my suitcase before my dad gets here.

As I ride the elevator up to the sixth floor, I think back on my conversation with Vivian.  She always asks me a lot of questions about my relationship with Aiden.  I can tell she’s curious about how serious things are getting between the two of us, and honestly I wouldn’t have any qualms divulging that information if only I knew myself.  Our physical relationship has progressed some, albeit slowly – we still haven’t been past second base.  It’s obvious Aiden wants to go further, and I can’t really explain what’s holding me back from indulging him.  I can’t exactly blame it on my lack of experience like I could have six months ago – although I’m pretty sure that’s Aiden’s assumption.  For some reason, every time we reach a certain point and things start getting hot and heavy, it’s like hitting a brick wall I can’t get past.  Sometimes I try to force my way through that barrier, but other times I give up too easily, figuring I’ll just turn into an old maid who pines for “the one who got away.”

Kyle – Wednesday, December 21, 9:00 AM

I
t’s nice being able to use the weight room at the rec center when no one else is here – no waiting to use the machines, no macho dude soaked in sweat, trying to bench more than he can handle.  I take my time working the room, relishing the burn in my muscles as I lift and press and pull.

I round out my routine with sit-ups down on the mat.  As I crunch up and down, I think through the rest of my day.  I’d rushed home as soon as I finished my last final on Thursday last week so I could spend time with my grandparents and take Donna to one of her chemotherapy infusions.  Knowing how much work I have to do before I’m officially accepted into the journalism program next semester, though, I drove back on Sunday with promises to return the following weekend before Christmas.  So far this week I’ve filled my days with working on my web portfolio and working out at the gym.  It’s been therapeutic at times, but in a way having all this time alone has been anything but helpful.  Far too frequently I find myself trapped inside my own head.

I met up with Macary right before semester exams started.  Before our conversation, last I’d heard she was thinking of trying to go back to Italy to finish her study abroad program.  While we were at dinner, she let me know that wasn’t the case.  After declaring her intent to stay stateside, she’d smiled encouragingly, and we’d lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.  It felt like she was inviting me to walk through an open door – a door that seemed pretty goddamn appealing six months ago.  Only now I’m not sure I like the thoughts what might be looming on the other side of it.

I hate the thought of hurting her.  Macary is an amazing woman, and more than one of our friends has commented on how well matched we seem to be in terms of our quirks and interests.  What happened between us the night before she left for Italy last semester had undeniably opened a question in both our minds – the proverbial “what if.” 
What if
she wasn’t leaving? 
What if
circumstances were different?

So yeah, a part of me feels it would be foolish
not
to give it a shot with her.  It’s just that the whole thing seems tainted in a way.  Try as I may, I can’t force from my mind the way Tawny Read’s face had fallen when she noticed the way I greeted Macary all those months ago.  I know I should get over it – obviously whatever Tawny and I had is over and done with.  I just wish it was that easy.

Tawny – Thursday, December 22, 3:30 PM

I
drop Becca off at her parents’ house after lunch and decide to go for a drive.  It feels good to be back behind the wheel of my old Civic – I haven’t driven in so long, it seems almost unreal.  Besides, I need some time just for myself.  I love my parents, but neither of them is all that great at giving me my space, and Rhiannon hasn’t yet come home to help serve as a buffer.  I can hardly believe I survived an entire year living here after high school – I guess at that point I hadn’t yet learned to cherish my independence.

I weave aimlessly through the streets, my brain on auto-pilot as I navigate a roadmap of my childhood.  I feel calm in my disconnectedness, my thoughts pleasantly fuzzy.  As I near a certain neighborhood, however, my body seems to grasp the significance before my mind has a chance to catch up.  I question the building velocity of my heartbeat until I realize I’m only a couple blocks away from Kyle’s grandparents’ house.  Unable to stop myself, I ease the car forward through two more stop signs until I’m right outside it.  It’s a simple brick house with blue shutters, and it has a pickup truck parked in the driveway; I don’t see a Jeep. 
Wonder if he’s here…

I’m still sitting there when, to my horror, the front door opens.  My breath quickens, then slows when I notice it’s Donna.  She’s clearly lost some weight – her face is gaunt, her eyes sunken.  She’s wearing a knitted hat over what I’m sure is a bald head.  Forgetting all about my anxiety, my heart fills with caring for this woman I barely know.  Though she may be several decades older than I am, as I gaze into her lined face it’s almost possible to see my fourteen year old self reflected back at me.  It moves me to the point of wanting to leap out of the car and gather her in my now-much-stronger arms.

I’m so lost in my thoughts, I scarcely notice she’s moving toward me – that is until she catches my eye and gives me a smile and a wave.  My cheeks flush as I meekly wave back.  I push the button to roll down the window as she finishes her descent to the foot of the driveway, shivering as the cold air seeps in.

“Tawny Read?” she says, a kind smile on her face.

“Hi, Mrs. Freeman.  I’m sorry… I was just driving past and saw you coming out.” 
Not precisely the truth, but close enough
.

“It’s nice to see you, dear,” she says.  “Would you like to come inside?”

I open my mouth to thank her and tell her no, but I stop when I realize I actually
do
want to go inside.  Not for Kyle either – but for Donna.  Because I want her to realize the same thing that just occurred to me – that we’re more alike than she may think.

“I can come in for a little bit,” I tell her.  I think she’s a little surprised I’m taking her up on her offer, but she doesn’t recant.  I pull forward a bit and park next to the curb.  Donna retrieves the mail from the mailbox as I climb out of the front seat and walk around to meet her.

I freeze up a little right before we cross the threshold into the house, but Donna doesn’t seem to notice; she goes immediately to the kitchen and begins pouring two cups of coffee.  I linger awkwardly in the entryway until she hands me a mug and waves me into the living room.

“There’s cream and sugar if you need it,” she says as she folds her thin frame into a corner of the sofa.  “I like my coffee sweet, but this kind is best without anything in it – it’s called bananas foster.  Kyle orders it for me online.”

Her mouth shifts into a smile as she thinks of her grandson, while I’m forced to take another calming gulp of air to still my insides.  “Is he home for the holidays?” I ask casually as I sit beside her and begin to blow on the hot liquid.

“He will be on Saturday,” she says.  “He had to finish some projects for school.”

I nod, squirming a bit as I think about just how little this woman knows of my history with Kyle.  Of course, it’s best that way.  I take a sip of my coffee and realize she’s right – it tastes heavenly just by itself.

“So,” I say, clearing my throat.  “What does today feel like?”

Donna shifts in her seat and gives me a knowing smile.  “It’s interesting you asked it like that – most people just say, ‘How are you feeling?.’  I keep forgetting you know exactly what it’s like – every day is different, some better, some worse.  Today is a good day, though.”  She winks as she grins at me over the rim of her coffee cup.

I nod.  “I’m sure you live for the good days.  I know I did.”

Donna brightens a little as a thought seems to occur to her.  “Stay here – I’d like to show you something.”  She sets down her mug and, with some effort, hoists herself from the couch.  I refrain from holding out a supporting hand, knowing she’ll ask for my help if she needs it.  Once she’s standing, I watch as she disappears down the short hallway to the right.  While she’s gone I gaze around at my surroundings.  The house is very homey.  An artificial Christmas tree stands in the corner strung with colored lights and tinsel and decorated with a number of ornaments, many of which look handmade.  Every surface in the room is covered with framed photos, most of them of Kyle.  A smile touches my lips as I notice the progression of school pictures on the fireplace mantel.  I pick up a heavy frame on the end table next to me – the photo in it is of Kyle as a little boy, maybe five or six.  He’s standing next to a pond, holding up a little silver fish and grinning in elated pride.  He’s so adorable with his little tanned arms and legs, rounded belly and gap-toothed smile.

I’m startled when Donna comes back in the room holding a carton just slightly larger than a shoebox.  I replace the photo on the table as I wait to see what’s inside.  She resumes her seat next to me and lifts the top off the box.  At first I think there’s some sort of animal stowed inside, but as she lifts the object I realize it’s a wig of rich brown hair.  She plucks off her knitted cap and stretches on the wig, then tousles the hair at the front to frame her forehead.

“What do you think?!” she says excitedly as she turns to me.  I can’t help giggling as I take in her childlike joy.  The wig looks nothing like her hair did before it fell out, but it still suits her in a way I hadn’t expected.