24
I’m running late for my doctor’s appointment when I swing the door open and spot some pretty purple tulips on my doorstep. I’m instantly filled with excitement as I quickly grab the arrangement and the accompanying note.
Just because… I had a wonderful time last night.
Love, Noah
Gorgeous, fun… and as it turns out, super sweet too.
I quickly arrange the flowers into a glass vase. I set it at the center of my kitchen table. I’m dying to drop by his place, but I’m officially late now.
I dash to the elevator, ride down to the parking garage and hop into my car.
When I finally get to my doctor’s, I’m completely flustered. I’m told by the receptionist that Dr. Peterson is running late and it’s going to be an hour wait. Typical.
Thankfully, I’ve brought my phone and my e-reader to distract myself. I settle myself in a chair, sandwiched between a small elderly woman and a large middle aged man. I grab my e-reader and delve into the book I’ve been reading on and off for the past two weeks. I’m at chapter twelve, and as hard as I try, I can’t seem to focus. My thoughts always seem to roll back to Noah; the tulips, the taste of his sweet mouth, the feel of his skin on mine. We’re getting pretty serious. It’s why I’m here at the doctor’s in fact. I’ve decided to go on the pill. If we keep going at it with nothing but a condom, we might get into trouble. We need to be safer.
The last thing I need in my life right now is a baby. I’ve just started a new job, and I’m still getting over the divorce. I still don’t quite know myself. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. And let’s face it, as wonderful as this thing between Noah and I is, it’s all about fun. It’s nothing serious. We barely know each other. I haven’t met his family and friends and I don’t even know his favorite color.
Later that night, we’re having dinner at my place again; a simple meal of chili macaroni, garlic bread and salad. I’m a decent cook, but have always been more of a baker.
Noah eats enthusiastically as he typically does. “I should make you dinner sometime,” he says. “I make a pretty good bolognese sauce.”
I perk up, excited. “Sounds great. I’d love that.” I dig into my macaroni. “We never seem to spend any time at your place.”
He shrugs. “Your place is so much nicer,” he says. “I’m not even quite settled in yet.”
He does have a point. His place is sparse and cold compared to mine. “Well, I’d very much enjoy that.”
He smiles and digs his fork into his pasta, and says no more about the subject.
* * *
Every woman remembersher sweet sixteen birthday, and I’m no exception. I didn’t have a fabulous party, I only received a few gifts, and my birthday cake was a box of donuts. Yet, I still remember every minute of it.
It fell on a Saturday which I saw as a sign from God. He loved me enough to ensure that I’d have the whole day off on my birthday. The day started with a leisurely sleep-in, that is until Nick came barging into my room. “What did you do with the laptop?” he barked. We all shared a single laptop and often bickered about it.
I rubbed my eyes open. “Nothing. I didn’t touch it. Ask Jake.”
“Fine,” he scoffed. “You guys are so fucking annoying.”
No ‘Happy Birthday, Sis.’ That was fine. I hadn’t expected any.
I wondered what was so urgent on a Saturday morning. I decided I’d rather not think about it. I wished myself a silentHappy Birthday, and buried my head in my pillow in an unsuccessful attempt to fall back asleep.
An hour later, as I was absentmindedly flipping through TV channels, Izzie bursted through the door, wrapped in a heavy winter jacket and boots, toque askew. She never knocked, just always barged in, as if she owned the place. Dad hated this. I think he hated the fact that Izzie was fearless, that he couldn’t intimidate her. If he hurled an insult at her, she’d be quick to throw one right back.
“I think those shorts are not short enough, Izzie,” he’d once said sarcastically. “Why do you go around like a little trollop? Don’t you go rubbing off on Abby now. She’s not like you. She’s a good girl.”
“Yep, she is,” she’d replied. “It’s amazing really. With a dad like you. Amazing that she turned out so great. Who knows… maybe you’re not her biological dad.”
He’d inhaled a long breath, clearly wanting to slap her like he sometimes did me. But she wasn’t his to slap, and Izzie’s father was a lot bigger than he was, as were her dozens of uncles. He knew he couldn’t do a thing.
I’d stifled a grin as we left the kitchen. “And stop looking at my shorts, you dirty old man,” she’d scoffed as we headed to my bedroom.
I still smile at the recollection. God, I miss her sometimes.
She quickly shed her jacket, and we settled on my bed. She held a paper bag, and she eagerly pulled a gift from it, grinning widely. It was wrapped in pink paper and topped with a gold bow. A pink envelope was stuck to the top. She was all smiles as I read the funny card. She’d signed it, like always.
