19. Now
Now: December 1st
I t’s been over a week since I’d walked out of Grieve and Grow. I’ve done my fair share of grieving, but am I continuing to grow? Because I think I’ve missed the growth part, despite being five feet, six inches. Spider-Girl. If I were a flower I’d have shriveled up a while ago. Everyone knows that flowers can’t thrive in the darkness, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I haven’t been living much differently.
Maybe I’m more of a mountain flower. I can still exist in the least likely of places and thrive in the harshest conditions.
If someone were to ask me if I was happy, and if I was answering them honestly, I’d probably say that I’m content. Which I realize isn’t the same as being happy, but I’m okay with how things currently are. Dad stays busy with his work, and I stay plenty busy with mine.
The only luxury I don’t have is a car because I don’t drive. Dad doesn’t usually seem to mind, and Wendy knows better than to bug me about it. She’s brought it up occasionally before, but the conversation always falls flat because I’m not interested. But sometimes it’s those instances where I'm reminded that someone out there still cares about me.
Cares enough to ask the hard things. The hard things I cannot ask myself. I stopped asking things a long time ago. Maybe one day I can start again.
Wendy has completed edits for my most recent novel. The past couple of weeks I’ve been pouring time into fixing certain character flaws and plot holes. She’s good at what she does, and she’s quick. I’m not her only client, but she’s always on time with her edits. The editing process can often be grueling, and she gets that, so she never pressures me too hard once my drafts are back into my hands.
I’m hoping to have this final piece in the series ready to launch by spring. I’ve taken over the study for now. I concentrate better when I’m working in here. Not much light gets in, but it gives off the illusion that you’re not really in the house at all. Like you’re in a separate space altogether and nothing from the outside world can disturb you.
Which is ridiculous because Dad is just outside the room, but I like to imagine I’m the only one here and nobody can touch me when I’m inside. It’s a safe haven. The perfect escape.
I’ve been working on edits for the last four hours straight, and my hands are starting to cramp. I’ve got a good momentum going, and I don’t want to stop. Only a few more pages to go and then I’ll take a break and eat something. My stomach is starting to protest.
My eyes are glued to the glowing screen when my phone pings with an incoming text. Wendy. It’s fine, she can wait a few more minutes. Another ping. Wendy, seriously?
When I finally look it’s not Wendy. It’s an unknown number. Which shouldn’t surprise me too much. It’s rare, but I do get spam messages from time to time. I pick up my phone to swipe and delete it when I notice the message:
Unknown
Hi, it’s Denver from G&G. Wendy gave me your number, I hope that’s okay.
Wendy did what? She asked me on Thanksgiving if I’d gotten his number and I said no. I didn’t mean that as an invitation for her to get it for me! How did she even go about doing that? You know what, it doesn’t matter. I can’t believe she did that. And yet I can. It’s exactly the thing Wendy would do. She knows me better than I know myself sometimes, and if it had been left up to me nothing would have happened. Hence, here we are and now he has my phone number. He has my phone number. I wasn’t quite sure what to think about that.
I pause, unsure of how to respond, and decide to keep it brief. I’m not a big texter. I’ve always preferred conversations to be face-to-face.
Me
Sure. That’s fine.
Denver
She reached out to me. She got my number somehow and asked if I’d be able to take you to the next group meeting since she won’t be able to.
The next meeting is three weeks away. Plenty of time to back out. Too much time allows me to overthink, which I’m already doing now. I’m not ready, and I’m not sure I ever will be. Besides, I’m not going. One and done. Check mark. Wait, why won’t she be able to take me? Surely she said something to me about this, yet it’s not ringing any bells.
A part of me wishes that she would have asked me first. Or at least allowed me the chance to see him again at the next meeting. But I haven’t exactly committed to going. I’m still on the fence about it. About everything. I know she means well so it’s hard to be mad at her, but I don’t know the guy, not really. And now he has my number. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. This is simple, I’m turning it into something far more complicated than it needs to be.
I know I should give him a chance, but I’m scared. Putting yourself out there, exposed and real, is terrifying. I’m not ready. I’m not cut out for this. This isn’t me.
I close my eyes and exhale before responding. I won’t respond in frustration. Mom always reminded me of that when I was younger. All the times I was upset with her. Especially during those times.
The other part of me can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Not that I’m interested in him or anything. I didn’t notice him wearing a wedding band, but in today’s day and age, that could mean any number of things. I can’t assume he’s single, and I can’t assume that I’d be someone he’d want to date.
He doesn’t want me. Of course not.
Me
Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t think I’ll be going. Thanks anyway.
Denver
It’s no problem. You don’t live far from me.
She also gave him my address. Now she’s gone too far. But I suppose if she expects him to pick me up, he has to know where I live. This is getting out of hand quickly. Instead of responding, I do something even crazier. I call him .
He answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
I’m taken back by how rich and deep his voice is. Rich like the sticky, sweet syrup on Mom’s homemade pancakes.
I can’t recall a single time I’ve called a man other than my dad on the phone. How pathetic.
“Sorry, I don’t like to text. Talking is easier for me,” I say, a little embarrassed about calling him without asking first. He might be at work for all I know, I have no idea what he does. My cheeks flush, and I’m tempted to end the call. Overthinking as usual.
I can almost feel him smiling on his end. His voice is cheerful and light. “Hey, no problem at all. Me too actually. I realize it’s still a little ways off, but she just wanted to make sure you had a way to get there.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, she tends to do that kind of thing. She’s a good friend. I’ll let you know if I plan to go or not.”
“Not that it matters or anything, but I don’t attend the full year. Just through February,” he reminds me once again.
February. Why that month? Out of all the months in a year, why that one? If only he knew… but he has no reason to. Because his story isn’t the same as mine. Sure, I’m curious to know more about him, but at the same time, I know better than to push someone before they are ready to share something. If he wants to elaborate, he will.
“That’s right. I remember,” I say, flatly. Not that I don’t care, because I do. I’m not sure how to read him yet. I don’t know if he wants me to ask the hard things like Wendy does, or if he’d rather I ask him something else, or nothing at all. I called him after all.
“Can I ask you something?” he suddenly blurts out.
That depends. Does he want to know my full name or does he assume that it’s Nicki? Does he want to know why I blacked out at my own book signing? Why I bolted out of my first night of group? Why I’d come in the first place?
“Maybe,” I offer instead.
“Why don’t you drive? If you don’t mind me asking. You don’t have to tell me, I was just curious.”
Oh, that.
“I… I’m just not comfortable with it.” There’s more that I could say, there always is, hanging on the tip of my tongue ready to gush out like a waterfall. But I don’t let it. Not this time. Possibly not ever. He wouldn’t understand. Nobody would.
He must sense the awkward pause on my end because he quickly moves on. “That’s okay. It can be tricky navigating some of these roads around here. I’m a full-time EMT, and this time of year can be especially dangerous.”
Yes, it certainly can be. So, he’s an EMT. He saves lives for a living, I just write about lives being changed for the better. He’s handsome, fit, and from what I can tell, he seems like a great dad to his teenage daughter. Yep, way out of my league. Maybe I should ask him more about her instead. I’m sure she’s way more interesting than my lack of experience driving a vehicle.
“Wow, yeah I can only imagine. Uh, that’s a tough job. Is that ever tough on your daughter, Marvel?” I ask, remembering her unique name.
“It is tough, but so rewarding. If you let me take you to our next group meeting I can tell you more about why I decided to become one. And yeah, sometimes it can be hard on her, but she gets it. She understands its importance and the sacrifice that comes with the job.”
Is he bribing me with his life story so he can take me to the meeting? It’s only a ten-minute drive. He may not have asked for my number, but is this a strange way of him asking me out? I’m probably reading way too much into this. I don’t have experience in this area. I should probably get back to writing or find something to eat.
“Well, Denver, it’s been nice talking to you, but I’ve got to go. I’ll, uh, let you know what I decide.” Even though I’d already made up my mind a while ago .
He laughs softly into the phone. Please, stop. I’m not going to let his charm sway me into saying yes. Will I? Maybe. No. Definitely not. Only Wendy has that kind of hold over me, and I’m trying to break that spell.
“Sounds perfect, Nicki. Is it okay to call you again sometime?” he asks.
My cheeks flush at his question. He said my name again. Is he flirting with me?
“Oh, yes. Of course.”
“Great,” he says.
“Good,” I say.
“Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Am I supposed to hang up first or is he?
“See you,” he says.
“I haven’t said yes yet,” I say, making a light joke.
“Oh, right,” he says.
“Well, then,” I say.
“You can hang up, you know,” he jokes back.
“Yes, right, of course. I was about to do that.”
“Right.” He laughs.
“Right.” I laugh back.
I finally hang up the phone. What in the world just happened? Did I really spend the last half hour talking to a man over the phone? Yes, I think I did. Wendy is going to flip that her plan may have worked. What am I getting myself into?