32. ~ Char ~
CHAPTER 32
~ Char ~
C learly the wish to undo my earlier wishes hadn’t worked. James was still interested in me, and hadn’t wandered back into his own timeline or destiny or whatever it was.
Surely, it was simply a matter of time before he did, though. Estelle probably just needed a few more days to make the magic work because she was new at all of this.
I trusted the wish. And I trusted James to drift away from me.
In the meantime, was there any good reason not to hang out with him? To enjoy the sweet, tender shoots of a relationship before James forgot his interest in me, and we veered back into our separate lives again? I might only have one more day before the wish took effect. Why not make the most of it, and allow myself the distraction from reality by sinking into the adventure of such a healthy relationship?
Anyway, it hadn’t truly been much of a conscious choice. After our phone call a few nights ago, the two of us had drifted back into spending time together. We’d spent the past day and a half in his parents’ kitchen, eating Sally’s cookies. We’d fleshed out some contingency plans based on when the warehouse might be released by the police, and currently, we were putting the final touches on a website. James had even tested out the project’s online donation system by sending a hundred bucks of his own toward the park.
Was there anything more lovable than a man who was willing to jump into your projects and support you one-hundred per cent, even though the whole thing felt precipitously close to collapsing?
The scrap workers didn’t know when their next opening would be to resume the work, and it was the same with my backhoe friend—once we were allowed back onto the lots, of course. The police had no new leads or clues and were tired of me calling them every day for an update on when they’d release my property.
It had been over a week.
I was antsy and stressed about it, but sitting in the Backstrohm’s kitchen, with Sally’s unconditional adoption of me and my cookie addiction, even though I didn’t quite know how to smoothly insert myself into the Backstrohm family dynamics, I decided this was one of my top three happy places. And, yes, I was counting the museum and Peter’s in that tally.
I was enjoying it while I could and creating some sweet memories to look back on when James was gone and I was feeling down.
At eight o’clock, Sally left the kitchen, her newly adopted dog in tow for their evening walk. I was learning you could set a watch by Sally’s routine. Although this time she was muttering something about having never tried skeet shooting.
I turned to James after Sally shut the front door. “Should we try skeet shooting?”
We shared a look, then shook our heads. Yeah, hitting a flying object seemed unnecessarily difficult.
“I don’t get it. How are your parents still so happily married? They’re so…” I tried to find the words to explain the mystery of his parents’ relationship. They were routine junkies. And yet still in love. Happy. Vibrant even.
With my parents, routine had become their death. Or was their routine an indicator of a death that had occurred long before I’d been old enough to notice?
“Never mind,” I muttered. “No…it’s just… how are they still together? Don’t they get bored with the same old routine? Where’s the adventure to light up their lives? You can’t wait around for life and your partner. You have to live. And they’re just so…”
Ordinary.
Content.
Exceedingly happy.
Peacefully in love.
James was frowning at me like he didn’t understand, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. He wasn’t going to take this painful silence and transform it into mutual understanding. He was living in a different reality than I was. And not only because he didn’t seem to have a fairy godmother.
“It’s just…” I felt compelled to try and explain. “If you sit around waiting for your partner so you can go have fun, you get bored and move on. People wanted adventure and passion!”
The more I thought about it, the more worried I was for Sally and her marriage.
“They’ve been married for thirty-four years.”
“Thirty-four years,” I whispered in awe. Of course, they’d been married a long time, but I’d never stopped to figure out how many years that might be. “But…they’re so happy.” It didn’t compute. How did they not get bored with their life and relationship if it was the same all the time?
Maybe they were bored, even though they didn’t seem to be.
“How do they stay interested?” I should be embarrassed by my questions, but I was too curious. Too in need of knowing.
“They got married straight out of high school and?—”
“High school!”
“—have been inseparable ever since. They don’t even really fight.”
“That’s unbelievable, James.”
Blissfully married for that many years. How? Didn’t James see what an anomaly his parents were? Nobody could assume they’d land in a relationship like that.
And yet, he did. And I was starting to believe in its possibility.
* * *
An hour later, our contingency plans for the park abandoned, James and I snuggled up on the couch in front of a British game show I’d never seen before. My week and the stress of the unknown had caught up with me and I was slumped against him, using him as a big, buff pillow, my mind happily glazed over as contestants jumped for joy only to groan minutes later when they lost whatever gains they’d made.
It felt like the story of my life right now, but in game show format.
I yawned, noting that out the window there was a faint rainbow, the earlier evening rain storm having eased off. I sat up when the episode was done, and James shook out a leg.
“Did your leg fall asleep?”
He winced. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me to move?” I asked, feeling horrible that he’d literally allowed me to inhibit the circulation in a vital limb so I’d be comfortable.
He shrugged. “You looked cozy.”
I smoothed my palms down the thighs of my jeans. Cozy. That was how I felt here, at his parents’ house. I wasn’t even sure where they were at the moment. We’d taken over the place and made ourselves at home like a couple of teenagers. Was this homey or just plain weird?
Then again, my place was always swarming with roommates, and James’s basement suite was dark, had a permanent dampness, and lacked freshly baked cookies.
“James,” I scolded, standing up, “don’t let pretty girls walk all over you.”
He gave me a sly smile that made my stomach flip. “Some pretty women are more than welcome to.”
I choked on a laugh, not sure how to respond.
“I need to go home, eat, get ready for yet another new position tomorrow morning. Maybe Tamara will make me an omelette,” I said out loud, already making a mental inventory of our fridge and what she might share with me if I timed my homecoming well.
“No.”
“No?”
“Let’s order pizza. I don’t want to go home to my gloomy basement suite and eat supper alone. Let’s keep watching trashy TV and eat. My dad will be out at poker for a few more hours, and Mom said she’s checking in on Mrs. Laven after her walk.”
In other words, we’d have privacy.
“Sweet talker.” I dropped onto the couch beside him and opened one of my favourite apps for ordering in. “Where from?”
He was already ordering on his own phone, and I leaned over to see what he was adding to his cart.
“Whoa! Wait. You forgot the pineapple on that Hawaiian pizza.”
“No, I did not because it is not Hawaiian.”
“And shrimp? Ew. No. So wrong.”
He looked up at me as if an alien had taken over my body.
“No shrimp,” I demanded. “Add pineapple.”
“No, you animal.”
“Excuse me? I’m not eating that.”
“Pick off the shrimp.”
“No. Pick off the pineapple.”
He sighed and began tapping on his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Half and half. One half good, one half for the animal I’ll be eating with.”
“Thank you.” I gave him a prim smile and then got up to grab a few plates from the kitchen. But before I could make it off the cushions, James snagged me, pulling me back against him, his arms around me, his lips nuzzling my neck.
I giggled and squirmed as his lips tickled me. He caught my earlobe in his teeth, his breath hot on my cheek. I wiggled until I was facing him and our kisses turned deep.
I’d planned sometime this week to institute and maintain some friendship boundaries, so I didn’t start doodling his name in my notebooks. The goal was to not be completely crushed when Estelle pulled all of my wishes off of James and he went back to his own state of free will again.
But this evening had been nice. Really nice. Chill and fun, even though we hadn’t done much. I didn’t want to let go of these moments. They were small, but felt so right. I liked cuddling up on the couch, and found I could think about family and marriage without getting that itching feeling in my legs. Maybe I had a dormant gene that allowed me to be a homebody like James?
If this was what a steady relationship was like, then I understood why Tamara missed it so badly. Hanging out with James felt natural and I began to think that maybe I could do this after all, while loving every second of it. The idea that I could maybe make something such as marriage work with someone like James tickled me more than the idea that unicorns might be real. Or had been. I still didn’t have a clear message from Estelle about their status. Real? Not real? Alive? Extinct? Maybe Josie knew.
I sighed in James’s arms, spent from our kissing.
Our pizza arrived, and we snuggled, eating our respective halves before burrowing in for more TV.
“James?”
“Hm?” His arm was heavy on my shoulders, but it was pleasant, like a weight securing me against strong winds.
This was another rare moment of quiet. Of calm. Of being happy exactly where I was. Not thinking about the next thing. Not itching to get moving or questioning what it all meant. I just loved being here. Nothing to say, nothing to tell. No big story or grand adventure. Just…being.
I didn’t want to dive into what I was feeling or not feeling. I didn’t want to pick it apart or understand it. I only wanted to enjoy this moment with him and to no longer be afraid.
“Thanks,” I said, pulling his arm tighter around me.
He kissed my cheek, saying nothing, simply holding me tight like he knew exactly what I’d warred against, and that right now, all of my internal weapons had been set aside.
I think this might be contentment.
Two hours later, feeling sleepy from the coziness of our cuddles, I sat up, stretching out my torso.
James didn’t have to work in the morning, but I did. I still had Tuesday onward to grind through. A wash of guilty soot coated my mood, familiar and bitter as reality sank back in. I turned to James. “You know that if I could fix your life, I would.”
I’d wished long and hard about James, asking Estelle to let him slip out of my life, and out of this mess. Untouched. Unscathed. Like we’d just been two bingo balls that had briefly bumped into each other in the space-time continuum. For a few days, I’d thought it had worked. But clearly, it hadn’t.
As I sat here, the week pressing on me, the yearning to spend every moment of it with James, I mentally begged for her help. I couldn’t say no to this man, and that meant I couldn’t protect him from the shrapnel of my life. I needed her to put the wedge between us that was supposed to be there. The one that would be there if I hadn’t made a big wish for him to like me back.
She needed to fix this. Now.
Even though it would crush me.
I put my face in my hands for a moment, elbows on knees.
Why couldn’t I just have this? This evening had been bliss. Such a reprieve.
But this wasn’t real. My boyfriend was under a spell.
James finally spoke, reminding me that I’d spoken earlier. “There’s nothing wrong with my life.”
He was frowning at me, the line between his brows a deepening canyon.
“I only meant that I bring chaos, and I ruin everything by?—”
He leaned in, placing his mouth over mine to shut me up.
His lips were like a Peter’s milkshake on a hot summer’s day; that first hit of cold on the back of your dry throat, an instant reprieve from all the crappy things in your life.
I sighed at the sweet sensation of his lips against mine, and then we found our rhythm, the syncing of our souls or something equally poetic and I was gone. Mind blank, my hands zipping up the hard plains of pecs in front of me.
Better. Than. Fantasy.
Every time. How was that even possible?
Was this some sort of ever-intensifying, unbreakable magic spell?
His arms were strong around me, his body perfectly bigger than mine. He clutched me to him with a strength that had a delicious touch of the possibility that he could crush me in the most wonderful way.
He pulled away, whispering, “Maybe I like chaos.”
What was he talking about? I grabbed a handful of blond locks and dragged his lips back to mine, demanding more.
Oh, I was the chaos.
I opened my mouth, breaking contact, sputtering words between hungry kisses. “You don’t. Nobody does. Except me.” I thought about it. I liked chaos, didn’t I?
Change and unexpected adventures.
Was that chaos?
His lips were a firm pressure, my soul a shower of fireworks and sparks as he lit me up from the inside out.
Actually, no. I didn’t like chaos. Not really.
“Okay,” I said between urgent kisses, my hands under his shirt, feeling the delicious heat of his skin. “Not chaos. Adventure. Change. The unexpected. Pleasant surprises.”
He shushed me, and pulled me into his lap, tipping us horizontally onto the couch, our lips a rodeo of passion.
These kisses meant business. If anything, we seemed to be falling closer rather than drifting further away from each other.
The reversal spell I’d requested was definitely not working.
* * *
At home that night, I wept, aware that none of what I’d felt tonight had been truly real.
It was merely what I’d wished for.
Nothing more.
Nothing real.