I can’t get soft. That’s nice of him, but I feel like I’m missing part of this story too. Unless, his wife died, but he said he wasn’t married, so I’m still not piecing together his story.
"Wow, that’s—"
"It’s crazy, but life happens, right?"
I don’t know. All I can think about is life ending.
I get Benji hooked up, but Brett takes the leash from my hand. "Take a breather. I’ll take him for a quick walk."
Rather than argue, I comply with his suggestion and plop down on the foot bench beneath the coat hooks. I’m sure Benji will take Brett for a ride. The second he sees any hint of a living creature at this time of night, he takes off.
My point of coming home to let Benji out was to keep moving and stop my mind from spinning out of control, but now I’m staring at the wall beneath our staircase at a family portrait taken fifteen years ago. I’m looking at each set of our eyes, wishing I could feel the way I did then. Not a worry in the world and no thought that life wouldn’t continue this way forever. I would pay any amount of money to have my innocence back. I might leave the feathered bangs behind, though. In fact, I think Mom, Journey, and I would all agree on this fact. But Dad, he has a full head of red hair, which I can hardly remember. After the chemo five years ago, it grew back much thinner and left him with a thin balding pattern within a year or two.
I forgot I had my phone in my back pocket. Nor did I realize I was sitting on it, but the reminder hits me hard when I feel the vibration. I snag the device and look at the display, my heart pounding with nerves, hoping it isn’t Journey or Mom with catastrophic news.
It’s Ace.
Ace:I’m thinking about you. Do you want me to come up there for a bit and help you out?
It’s been years of waiting for this man to notice I was alive and worth hanging onto, and now he wants to pretend like he cares. I type out a quick response before he gets any spontaneous idea of purchasing an airline ticket.
Me:Thanks for thinking of me, but you don’t need to come up here. We have everything under control.
The phone rings almost immediately after I see the "read" receipt pop up beneath my last sent textmessage. I stare at his illuminated face on the display and debate whether to pick up. I need him to know this isn’t going any further, and he’s staying put. I figured regret would hit him after a day or two, but it’s not enough for me.
"Why are you calling?" I answer.
"Mel, my heart is breaking over here. I want to come be with you and at least sit by your side. I still love you and this is killing me."
"Ace, it’s—"
"He’s such a good boy," Brett announces, whipping through the front door. "Where do you keep the treats?" Brett pauses when he sees me on the phone.
"One sec," I whisper after cupping my hand over my phone.
"Oh, sorry. I’ll look in the kitchen," he whispers in return.
"Who’s that?" Ace asks. I hear anger filling his voice.
"A family friend," I respond.
My first crush. My first kiss. My first heartbreak.
"Who?" he continues.
"Brett Pearson." I doubt the name will mean anything to him.
"The guy you were head over heels for in high school?" Ace counters. This information, he can recall but taking out the trash on a Monday is way too much for his overloaded mind.
"Ace, I have to go. This is not a good time."
"I’ll call you later," he says.
"No, no. This is ... we’re over. I need you to respect my decision.”
"I will fight for you, Mel. I’m not just going to get over you."
A tightness in my throat entices me to hang up on him. I can’t deal with the stress of Ace’s lingering feelings right now. He’s in South Carolina, and he can stay there.
