I Love You to Death (22 page)

"Kissing!" I yelled.

Grandad only laughed as he reached in and tickled me more, making me laugh so much I dropped the spoon I was licking. I looked over at Grandma as she started laughing too and I remember her saying, "Ah Ash, you’ll be like this one day, when you meet the love of your life."

"No!" I said confidently.

"Yes you will my sweet, yes you will," Grandma said, leaning in to kiss my cheek and tickle me too.

I didn’t know what she meant by that. At the time I thought kissing was gross. It wasn’t till years later that I understood what Grandma meant and just how true her words really were.

∞

When I wake up this morning the first thought that pops into my head is of Luke. I realise once more that I’ve dreamt of him. And once again, the nightmares have stayed away. I also realise I haven’t thought of Sam. And for the first time, none of that bothers me, it’s only Luke I want to think about and dream of, and I don’t feel guilty about that anymore.

As I shower and get ready for work I’m still thinking of him, wondering what he’s doing, whether he’s at work already. His voice fills my apartment, but now I want to hear it for real, I want to hear his voice talking to me, or even better, singing to me. I want his mouth at my ear and his words flowing through me. I want to feel his arms around me again. I’m longing to see him, I crave the idea of touching him and I’m aching with wanting to kiss him. My body heats under the water at just the thought, and I have to switch off the hot just so I can cool down.

Even though I think I know how Luke feels about me and as much as I crave him, I’m still a little bit afraid. Somehow, I don’t trust that what I see happening between us, is really real. How can it be, how can I deserve it after everything I’ve done?

When I finally get to work, I walk through the door and the first thing I hear is Luke singing in the kitchen. I hear his voice as it sings only to me, even if he has no idea that’s what he’s doing. I stop for a minute, just to listen. To enjoy the sound of his voice as it floats out towards me, wraps itself around me. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine it’s his arms that are wrapping around me. A shudder runs through me and I force my eyes to open and start to make us coffee.

When I take it out to him, he looks up and smiles at me. That smile, his smile. His whole face lights up and I smile back because I just can’t stop myself. I hand him the mug and when he takes it, our fingers touch. I have to grip the mug harder just so I won’t drop it and for a minute, we both stand there, holding it together, our fingers resting on the hot cup. I force myself to breathe and let go. Force myself to say, "Morning."

He smiles again, "Morning Ash."

Another minute and we keep standing there, silently watching each other. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m not sure how much longer this can go on without something, anything happening.

Kiss me.

It’s Luke who finally does something. "Ash, we ahh…" he continues, "we have a show this weekend, it’s um…it’s kind of a big deal." His hand runs over his head again. I know now this is something he does when he’s nervous or not sure what to say. "Will you come along?"

As I stand there watching him, all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss him, what it would be like to run
my
hands over his hair. How soft would it be? What would his lips feel like, what would he taste like, if I kissed him? Whether he would kiss me back? My fingers are tingling at just the thought of touching him.

"Ash?" He says again. "Will you come and watch us?"

I nervously swallow. It feels like my throat has been pulled shut. I blink. "Yes, I will come along Luke," I force out.

He takes a sip of his coffee and I can’t help myself. I watch his mouth, his lips as he drinks, his throat as he swallows. I really want to touch his lips. With my fingers, with my tongue, with my lips.

Kiss me.

His hand reaches out. His thumb hovers just in front of my cheek and for a second I think he will.

"Thank you," he says quietly, slowly pulling his hand back. "I really want you to be there."

∞

By the time Grandma died, my Grandad had been gone nine years. I know she missed him terribly, although she did continue to live her life, never wallowing in her sadness. She still lived up in Maine in that same old farmhouse, so I didn’t see her as often as I liked, although by the time I moved to Boston it was a little easier. Sometimes, she even came down and visited me and Sam.

I used to send her flowers every year on the anniversary of his death. I can’t remember exactly when I started doing it because I was only twelve when Grandad died, but whenever it was, I know why I started it. Guilt. Even if it was subconscious to begin with, maybe there was a part of me that always knew I’d been the reason he died. I don’t know. All I do know is that I sent them to her for years before it happened.

I always used the same florist and I always sent the same flowers. Red peonies, because at the time, I thought they were beautiful, the kind of thing she would like. Years later I learnt they can represent shame, but of course, at the time I didn’t know that.

Every time I sent them to her, she would always call me to say thank you and how sweet of me to remember and that honestly I didn’t need to keep sending them.

"It’s okay Grandma," I would always say back. "I want to."

"Thank you Asha, they are as always, beautiful my sweet girl."

If nothing else, it was a small piece of joy that I could give to her on a day that would otherwise be filled with bad memories. Then one year, when I was about twenty-one and living in Boston with Sam, I sent the flowers as I usually did and I didn’t get a phone call. I remember thinking it strange she hadn’t called me, but that maybe the florist had forgotten to send them. When I called to confirm the order had gone out, I was told yes they’d been delivered and the report also said they’d been received.

That afternoon when I called Grandma, I got no answer. I called my Dad then and asked if he knew if she was away or something.

"Not that I know of Ash, I was planning on going up there in a week or so and she never mentioned she would be away. I’ll try her tomorrow if you like and let you know."

"Okay Dad, thanks, please keep me posted alright?"

"Will do Ash, love you kiddo."

"Love you too Dad."

I was at work the next day when he called me back. I remember seeing his name light up on my cell and thinking to myself
why would Dad call me and not Grandma?
I don’t know why, but seeing his name there made me think the worst and when I answered the call, that’s exactly what it was.

I don’t remember everything Dad said except that he hadn’t been able to reach Grandma and he’d called her friend Marge and asked if she knew what was going on, whether Grandma was away. Marge had said no, she’d seen her the previous morning and everything was as normal. It was after that, my Dad got worried. He called the police and asked them to go and check on her. Apparently when they arrived Grandma was inside, collapsed on the floor. She was already dead by then and there was nothing the police or the paramedics could do when they got there. Nobody knew what had happened; I think initially they thought it was a heart attack.

It was only once they got to the hospital that they discovered she’d had an anaphylactic reaction. They found the cause, a wasp sting. We never even knew she was allergic to them, I don’t ever remember her saying anything about it, maybe even she didn’t realise. But when Dad arrived in Maine at her house all he found was a vase of spilled flowers on the floor, right next to where her body had been found.

It didn’t take much to work out where the wasp had come from and it took even less for me to work out whose fault it was.

I know I said I was a tiny bit happy at her now being reunited with my Grandad, but it still didn’t make the pain at what I’d done any easier to bear. After all, I’d been the reason they were separated in the first place. Being the reason why they were now together didn’t make that any more excusable.

∞

When I walk into work today, I find Luke out the front making coffee. When he looks up at me and smiles, it literally stops me in my tracks. All at once my stomach feels like it’s full of all those damn butterflies again, and they’re all simultaneously trying to escape. My heart is racing and my skin feels like it’s on fire. It shocks me, this sudden complicated reaction I have to a simple smile.

"Coffee Ash?" he asks.

I can’t talk. I literally can’t move.

"Ash?" he asks looking up at me. "Would you like a coffee?"

I shake my head, trying to get my brain to work. "Yeah thanks," I finally stammer out. "Ah, why are you making me coffee?"

He smiles again and now my stomach feels like it’s falling. I feel like I’m falling or floating or maybe even flying.

"I don’t know," he says shrugging. "Just thought I would make you coffee for a change."

He places a mug on the counter for me, stirring in a sugar. He’s made it black, just like his.

Oh shit
I think to myself as though I’m seeing all of this for the very first time. It’s true. I really like him. I really do like him. And he knows, I know that he knows. God he knows how I drink my coffee now, that I drink it like he does. He knows, he knows everything.

"Can I make you some breakfast?" he asks me.

Does he not realise I’m standing here mute, dumbstruck, completely blown away by my sudden realisation? Does he not see what I’m thinking, how I feel about him now? His offer of food makes me think back to our little taste test the other day. Something hot flashes through me and I wonder if I can even remain standing at this point.

"Ash?" he asks again, coming over to me. "Is everything alright?"

He’s standing right in front of me now and all I can think is
I want to kiss you so badly
. I look up at him and force my brain to start working. "Yeah sorry, day dreaming," I say, attempting a smile and at the same time, wondering why I can’t just lean in and kiss him.

And then, smiling back at me, Luke reaches out his hand and I watch as he runs it over my hair, curling strands of it around his finger.

Kiss me.

His eyes are very dark now. They’re watching his fingers as he gently winds my hair around them. It looks as if he isn’t in control of his own hand, as if even he’s trying to work out what it’s doing. I’m watching his eyes and I’m positive he can hear my heart, which is racing, pounding inside my chest now.

Kiss me.

His eyes move to mine. We stand there just staring at each other, waiting for one of us to move.

Waiting.

Waiting for one of us to do something.

Kiss me.

He moves a tiny bit closer towards me and I feel my heart beat increase even more as I seem to unconsciously lean towards him. My stomach has fallen to the floor, my hands are shaking at my sides and my eyes drop to his mouth, focus on his lips. Both of us lean a fraction closer.

Kiss me. Please.

The phone ringing is what breaks us apart, shattering the tense silence that’s holding us in place, unable to move away from each other, but somehow unable to move that last bit closer together. Both of us turn to the counter.

"I should get that," I say, my words strained, breathless.

"Yeah," he agrees softly, his voice catching.

It keeps ringing and he slowly pulls his fingers from my hair, gently running them down my cheek as he does. A shiver runs down my spine in response and I want to lean into his touch. Luke doesn’t move away, just keeps watching me, a tiny smile on his face and I have to force myself to look away, force myself to walk over and answer the phone. My fingers are still shaking when I pick up the receiver, but whoever was calling is now gone.

∞

I had mixed feelings about Grandma’s funeral. Dad, Seth, Lara, Sam and I travelled together up to Maine to say goodbye to her. We were all upset, my Dad especially, but we were also in some small way, happy or something. Somehow it made it easier knowing she was now with Grandad again, the man who was the love of her life and we could all only smile at that thought. Plus it was a rare occasion I was with my family, with the four people I loved more than anything. I think that car ride up there was the last time I ever got to experience that.

In typical Grandma fashion, she’d taken care of everything. Planned her own funeral right down to the last detail, including the red peonies she wanted for it. The same flowers I would send her year after year.

"So typical of her," Dad said, a smile on his face. "She always did have to make sure everything was how she wanted it."

"Were these her favourites?" Lara asked, smelling the huge bunches of them that had just been delivered.

"I don’t know," Dad said. "I didn’t think she had a favourite."

I wanted to tell them no, they were the reason she was dead in the first place. That they were the flowers I used to send her every year because of my own guilt. But this year when I sent them to her, I’d also caused her death. I don’t know why Dad hadn’t put it all together, he’d seen the flowers that were spilt on the floor when he’d first come up here.

But it was Sam who spoke. It was Sam who said, "Yeah, she loved them." He smiled at me, pulling me into a hug where he whispered only to me, "It’s not your fault babe, you know that."

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him even closer. I wanted to believe him, I really did. I didn’t say anything though, just smiled when he kissed me on the cheek and pressed against him as he put his mouth to my ear. Kissed his lips when he whispered that he loved me, he would always love me. I finally understood what Grandma had been talking about all those years ago.