“That’s all right, hot stuff. Maybe next time,” she said, looking me over before turning around and leaving.
“Why’d you hit me?” I asked.
“I don’t want to dance with her.”
“I would’ve loved to see it. You would’ve made her night,” I said.
“If I’m going to dance with anyone, it will be you.”
“Not tonight and to this music. Someday, maybe,” I said.
“Why? I want to dance and grind on you.”
I began to fidget. “I’ve never been a good dancer.”
“I’ll teach you,” he said.
Fuck.I hated dancing. I was the awkward person unsure of how to move my arms and legs. They always seemed to go in opposite directions.
We shared a pitcher of beer, and my eyes grew heavy. We said our good-byes and headed back to the house to go to sleep.
The next morning, his mother took us to breakfast. Afterward, a woman I didn’t know stopped us outside and said, “Honey, you don’t know how lucky you are. When my husband was alive, he looked at me exactly how he looks at you. He adores you.”
Her words struck me in a profound way. I never analyzed how Kayden looked at me. His friends and family said he looked happier than he had in a long time. I guess I brought joy into his life, but he’d done the same for me. A breath of fresh hair, the fun I’d missed, Kayden represented everything I’d searched for in my life but hadn’t found until now.
There were so many variables, so many things that could go wrong in this long-distance relationship. I worried he would meet another woman who lived close by and wouldn’t want me anymore. If that happened, though, the whore would have to see my name running down his leg and be reminded of me if he strayed.
It was a long drive back to the airport. We planned to see each other in a few weeks, when he returned to Florida. He said it would be best if I dropped him at Departures instead of walking him in. Tears formed in my eyes at the thought of saying good-bye. I would probably turn into a crying mess if I went inside and dragged the good-bye out any longer.
The moment had arrived—he turned to me and kissed me with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my neck. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks and onto his fingers.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered on my lips.
“I’m trying not to. I can’t help it. I’m going to miss you terribly,” I said through my tears.
“I love you,” he said as he placed his forehead against mine.
We sat there for a minute, neither of us wanting to move.
“I love you, too,” I whispered against his lips.
He pulled away and reached for the door handle. I couldn’t let that be last time I touched him or smelled him. I jumped out of the car, walking to the trunk. He grabbed his bags, placing them on the ground lightly, and turned to me. I instantly hugged him—clutched him like a lifeline. Maybe I should hold him hostage. He would have to be the one to walk away. I couldn’t do it. He kissed me again with promises of a future, and I returned it with longing. A kiss could convey so many words without a sound.
I hated saying good-bye. Even more, I hated not knowing how long it would be before I’d see him again. Driving home, I felt lonely.
Kayden: I miss you already.
The tears were still streaming down my cheeks as I realized I would arrive home to an empty bedroom, and even sadder, an empty bed.
He boarded the plane before I pulled into the driveway. I went inside and tried to make myself busy until he called me. That evening ended just like the others had when we were apart. It made my room a little less lonely to see his face and hear his voice.
19
Sophia
Time Apart
That night, I drifted off to sleep while Skyping with him, even though I tried to stay awake as long as possible. When I woke the next morning, I could see his face on the screen. I watched him for a couple minutes before his alarm blared and he stretched, rolling onto his back.
