“Oh, definitely. I don’t think she owns anything that doesn’t have either a cartoon animal or some sort of inspirational quote embroidered into it.” Kate smiles at the thought of her aunt. Edna is a sixty-year-old single cat lady. Four cats and a parrot, to be exact. Living her best life, as some would say. I respect the woman.
“Sounds like Edna.” Transitioning to a back stretch, my spine cracks at least ten times as I move. I let out a groan of relief atthe sound. The travel and lack of activity over the past few days are starting to make themselves known in every inch of my body. Limbo probably wasn’t the best choice. “So, what’s up? What’s with the fate talk?”
“Well…” She chews on her thumbnail, leaning against the bathroom doorway. “With the whole Eric thing…” She trails off.
Irritation settles in my core, and I have to force myself to do one of those absurd breathing exercises my therapist taught me to do when I feel any negative emotion. I try tocentermyself. “What about it?” I ask, already knowing where this conversation is headed.
“What if the universe is trying to tell me something?” Her voice is a timid whisper.
I finish my stretch and stand, leaning against the side of the bed and crossing my arms. “What do you think it’s trying to tell you?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh, blowing a curl out of her face. Her eyes dance around the room as she fidgets with the hem of her pajama shorts and shifts on her feet. “I don’t know…never mind, it’s stupid.” Waving off the conversation, she rushes around me and the bed, grabs a blanket off the sofa, and lets herself out onto the balcony.
She leaves the door open, an invitation clearly sayingplease follow mein Kate language.
Giving her a second to herself, I turn the lights down inside then join her. The warm, sticky air is surprisingly pleasant against my face as I take the empty seat. Her face is fixed on the dark ocean as small waves slowly approach the shore and disappear. The palm trees lining the pathway from the hotel move in the wind, a small whisper of a noise mixing with the waves and lulling us into a comfortable silence. Extensive silence used to be debilitating to me, triggering involuntary memories I tried to suppress. Memories of Brennan. The helicopter. Theflames. Things I prayed could be extracted from my brain. But over time, the silence has become comforting, and the memories have faded or been replaced with happier ones.
Silence with Kate is rare, which is probably why I don’t struggle as much when she’s around. She keeps my mind busy, in all the good and happy ways, leaving no room for anything but that. Good and happy.
I wrap my arm around her, assuming she’s had enough time to process whatever is going on in her mind, and whisper, “Talk to me.”
She glances at me then back to the ocean, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “It’s silly.”
“I promise”—I take a breath—“I will only laugh a little bit.”
Elbowing me in the ribs, she settles into her chair and leans back into my hold. She fits perfectly in the crook of my arm—so perfectly that I want to barf at the mushy thoughts that consume me about it. Us, old and gray, and a little senile, with her nestled under my arthritic shoulder.
“What if the universe is trying to tell me something?” She shimmies herself deeper into my side, like a small creature nuzzling itself into its nest. “Look,” she continues, “I know you don’t like him. I don’t even know if I’ve forgiven him or not. But what…ugh. What if the universe is telling me to be open to it? To be open to something I didn’t expect?”
I rest my head against the paneled wood behind me, but I’d rather slam it through the wall to end this conversation before I fall victim to telling her tofollow her heart,like a moron. “If it was”—I pinch the bridge of my nose—“emphasis on the if…would you want to?”
She’s silent for a moment as she ponders the question, then she exhales forcefully. Her lips flutter and distract me like it’s their superpower. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“Like what?” I tug at one of her loose curls and place it behind her ear, my fingers trailing hesitantly down her neck before resting on her shoulder and squeezing gently.
“Lonely.” The admission makes her voice crack, sounding like it could break her in two as she deflates under me. “I know that’s pathetic, but I am. I’m so happy for Ellie and Benny. Emma and Steven. Even freaking Bill and Margaret.” She lets out a whine, burying her face into my chest.
Yes, Bill and Margaret are officially an item—a little too much fun punch at the Halloween party. Margaret was hysterically happy for weeks, acting like she had just won the lottery. With Bill. The man who wears a toupée to church on Sundays. I’m still wrapping my head around it.
“Like, I know I have you. I have Lola. And our kids. Life is great in almost every aspect. But at the end of the day, I’m alone. I’m ready to share my time with someone, to have that person who understands me more than anyone, who doesn’t mind just sitting at home watching reruns ofFriendsuntil we both fall asleep on the couch.”
“We do that sometimes.” It’s a laughable attempt at casually sayingpick me.
“We do.” She looks up at me, and the moonlight illuminates her face as a soft smile spreads across her face. “But you know what I mean. There’s just something about sharing a life with someone. Someone who won’t leave you for a new job or a business trip…” Trailing off again, she looks back out over the balcony, her face changing from relaxed to tense before finally landing on flat and empty. Kate doesn’t get this way often, letting her memories consume her. She’s been burned too many times in the past—by her parents, by Eric. It’s the biggest reason I’ve never pressed the idea of being more than her friend. I couldn’t risk being one of the reasons she feels the way she does.And I sure as hell won’t be lumped in with the people who have left her feeling this way. Empty.
Smoothing her hair under my chin, I tug her closer and wrap both of my arms around her. “I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. I hate that she feels this way. And selfishly, I hate it even more when I’m right here. My jaw pops from clenching so hard at the thought of it. “I don’t want you to feel this way.” I kiss the top of her head, which is normal because I’ve done it a thousand times. And then, because I have lost all control, I take a deep inhale and smell her hair. The lavender hits me like a brick, pulling a soft moan out of me like I’m taking a drag of something addicting. “Ugh, your hair is distracting.”
Giggling, Kate sits up and turns to face me. The emptiness in her eyes is gone as she smirks, tousling her hair in my direction. She flips it back and forth dramatically, like she’s auditioning for a 90’s shampoo commercial. “You’re obsessed.”
I don’t argue because maybe I am. I just shrug and settle deeper into the chair, pulling a leg over my knee.
The momentary silence is broken when she asks, “Are you lonely?”
“I don’t have time to be lonely,” I joke. It’s a partial truth. My time is split evenly between the school, the field, Kate, and the animals. Any spare time I have is spent recharging from expending so much social energy elsewhere. But the other side of that truth is…yes, I feel lonely sometimes. I’m lonely at night when my mind wanders back to the desert or to Brennan. Or when I get the once-a-quarter text check-in from my mother. More than that, I’m lonely when I’m not with Kate. I'm a miserable man when I’m not around her. Kate crosses her arms, clearly unamused by my answer, so I say, “I can be, yes.”
“Is that why you beg me to stay with you past your bedtime?” she jokes playfully.
“I do not beg.” I lift my chin like the distinguished gentleman I am. “I simply present it as an option, and you comply rather quickly.”
