DC:You better. Now SLEEP, LG.
I reply with double hearts and a shaka sign, then text Nathan. It’s three thirty and he’ll leave work soon.
Me:Got home late and fell asleep when the power was out. I know you’re working but call me when you wake up tomorrow. I need to figure out where to get my car fixed. Good night. Love you.
I cringe at how I ended the message. Habit. Thanks to Sam, I say it to most people I’m close to. Nathan hasn’t said it in weeks, but I don’t want my frustration to dictate my attitude.
Love is a choice, not a feeling, right?
He shouldn’t say it if he doesn’t mean it, but being clear about his feelings was one of the things that drew me to him.
I stare at my phone screen until it goes dark, remembering the first time he said the words.
He was sincere. I know he was.
The Crappie Branch Sweet Pea Festival hosts live music, food trucks, and carnival rides every weekend in April before Johnson City steals the spotlight all summer.
Nathan wanted to go but hadn’t mentioned it ahead of time, so I went home to change while he stayed to chat with Dave. “Go ahead. I always keep a change of clothes in my car. I’ll meet you there.”
Once I got to the festival, I’d wandered awkwardly around the edge of the crowd for a few minutes before someone grabbed my arm.
“Ah-HA! Caught you!”
“Holy crap!” I gasped, hands over my heart as if to hold it in.
Nathan laughed. “Who’d you expect?” He gave my arm a squeeze and kissed my cheek before handing me a largeStyrofoam cup and nodded toward a table. “Wait here. I’ll get some food.”
He didn’t ask what I wanted, but since he cooked for me at work, I figured he could guess. Jitters from the jump scare were slowly replaced by butterflies as I took in Nathan’s aviator glasses and warm smile.
Minutes later he brought over a paper boat of fried spiral potatoes and a handful of napkins. “I figured we’d share. Festival food’s expensive, and my hands were full.”
No nacho cheese. No bacon. Just salty potatoes.
“Sure. I could’ve helped, but this looks good.” I took the lid off the cup and took a sip, trying not to react to the bitter despair that is the flavor of unsweetened tea and cheese-less food.
“I knew you didn’t drink anything with sugar,” he said proudly.
He was close. I don’t like syrupy regular soda. I do prefer my tea sweet if that’s what I’m drinking. I’m still Southern.
But I’d never complain. He was so thoughtful.
“You don’t like cheese or bacon?” I didn’t want to sound picky, but I was genuinely curious.
He made a disgusted face before smiling. “No pig for me. And that stuff was definitely not cheese. Trust me. We’ll both live longer this way.”
Okay, sure, but also sadder.
I took a few bites while he told me about his new promotion. “You won’t believe this. I’ve already been offered a shift manager position. At this rate, I’ll be able to quit Pop’s and pay off my school loans in a few months. My past is almost behind me. And I think my future is right here.” He tapped my nose with a grin.
“Wow! That’s the second promotion since you started!” I’d never seen anyone make such big strides so quickly.
He made some horrible decisions at eighteen, but don’t we all? He lost his golf scholarship when he was busted forunderage drinking and failed some classes. Loans and fines from the one year he was away at school forced him to take the second job at Pop’s, where he’d worked during high school. “All those mistakes eventually led me to you, so I guess it was all part of the plan,” he used to say.
He was upfront about his shortcomings, and the determination to turn his life around was inspiring. His fathomless mocha eyes and perfect olive skin didn’t scare me off either.
He reached for my hand after wiping his on a napkin. “It’s because of you. You’re my angel. God knew what I needed to change my life. My family says you’re an answered prayer.”
My face warmed, embarrassed at his words. “I love that. But you’re the one doing the work. I’m so proud of you.”
