35. Now
Now: February 7th
H is text comes in later that evening. I’d had a great afternoon with Wendy, and she’d dropped me off back home in time for dinner. I had purchased a chicken salad sandwich from the coffee shop and stuck it in my purse for later. Gross, I know, but I knew my options would be limited at home.
Dad’s been going out more with Deb, and he’s gone most evenings. I’ve only met her in passing twice. I don’t know if he’s embarrassed to be dating at his age, or if he doesn't feel ready to bring her around me yet. Either way, as soon as he’s off work for the day he goes out. Where—I don’t have a clue, but I am happy for him.
Denver’s text is short but sweet:
Denver
I see we’ve been set up for a date by my sixteen-year-old. Hope that’s okay with you .
Of course, it is… honestly, I didn’t think I’d get a chance at another one. I’m thankful for Marvel’s interference. She’s much braver than I was at her age.
I quickly send a reply:
Me
It’ll be good to see you again. I’m looking forward to it.
I add in a happy face emoji at the end to let him know I mean it. If he knows me even a little, I hardly ever use emojis.
He doesn’t reply but instead ‘hearts’ my message. That’s good enough for me. Now, for the hard part. What in the world am I going to wear?
I settled on wearing a royal blue, silk dress shirt with a V-neck and pearl buttons. I hardly ever wear skirts because of my Spider-Girl legs, but I did remember to shave at least—thus, I make an exception and pull out the black leather skirt. Afterwards both the top and skirt will go back into Wendy’s closet, where they belong. We are not the same size, but she’s also the type that has a hard time getting rid of things, especially when it comes to clothing. She’s certain her daughters will wear her clothes someday.
Wendy drops me off at exactly six. I gawk at his house as I make my way to the door. His house is gorgeous. It’s not a large house, but it’s modern and up-to-date, unlike our home, which was built in the early 70s. We’ve had to fix a lot of things over the years, but I don’t think it could ever look anything like this. I know it’s bad to compare, and I shouldn’t—but I can’t help it.
I must still have my mouth hanging open, because Marvel giggles as she opens the door, motioning for me to come in. Part of me is shocked to see her here holding the door open for me, yet another part isn’t. It seems exactly like something she would do. She’s the kind of person who never feels like a stranger, rather she feels like someone you’ve known for a very long time. I feel comfortable around her, and that’s saying a lot.
I take my shoes off and leave them by the front door, along with my purse. I don’t know if that rule applies here or not, but it seems like the polite thing to do. Wendy’s family makes a small attempt at the shoes-at-the-door thing, but mostly they get thrown around in places that were aimed somewhat near the door.
We pass an enclosed office to the right with giant glass doors, and on the left is a small reading den. She leads me down a small hallway that opens up into the kitchen/living room. This place is incredible. I feel like I’m dining in a five-star hotel rather than someone’s house. The kitchen is no comparison to our tiny, square kitchen that barely fits our table and chairs.
Denver is standing over the stove with his back turned to us. He’s flipping something in a large pan that smells amazing. There’s a line of vegetables laid out, already chopped into neat pieces along a cutting board, on the large island table behind him. The island has full bar seating and, along the far wall, is a window that faces out front with a large, farmhouse table in front of it. I am so amazed that I think I’ve forgotten my manners. Oops.
He must realize he’s not alone in here and turns around to greet me. His hair isn’t as long as it was a month ago. It still falls in gentle waves along his face, but shorter, and the stubble on his face has grown out. I like this new look on him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight he’s even more so. Maybe it’s that we haven’t seen each other or spoken since New Year’s. I didn’t think I’d ever miss someone of the opposite sex, but I did. I really missed him.
“Hey,” I breathe out. I’m still shocked that I am standing here, in his house, with him. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but he wouldn’t have gone along with Marvel’s invite if he didn’t want me here. Right? I want to be with you. I could only hope that was still true.
“Hey Nicki… uh, wow, you look great. It’s good to see you again,” he says.
I smile and nod toward the food he’s preparing. I don’t want to be too much of a distraction.
“I don’t want you to burn anything on my account.” I joke, waving in the direction of the food on the stove.
He shakes his head and laughs. I missed that laugh. “Are you questioning my cooking skills?”
“I would never.” I cross my heart, teasing him. This is fun. This is okay so far. It feels good being here with him. I hope he feels the same way.
Marvel is standing in the doorway, smiling and laughing with us. Denver waves his daughter in and she joins us. I help her set the table while Denver finishes up. I offer to help but he waves me off, says that I’m the guest and he wants to serve me tonight. Some other time maybe I can cook for him. Yeah, maybe. I haven’t cooked for anyone in ages, including myself… but for him, I might. I won’t say no yet. It’s time I start working on saying yes more often. Starting now.
Denver cooks rib-eye steaks, Caesar salad, and roasted vegetables. I’m not a vegetarian, but I don’t eat a ton of meat. I would choose a McDonald’s cheeseburger off the dollar menu before I’d go out and buy myself a nice steak. But Denver has cooked them to perfection. He has come up with his own spice rub that is amazing. Everything is delicious. And to top it all off, he made the cheesecake for dessert. Who does that? I used to love baking, but I haven’t even attempted cheesecake. I have never met anyone else who has owned up to that, it’s impressive.
I ate way too much tonight, but I was too polite to turn anything down, and to be honest, I couldn’t get enough. If I didn’t think it’d be rude, I’d ask if he could make me a to-go plate after I leave tonight. There are plenty of leftovers, but I don’t ask either of them that.
I thought dinner might have felt awkward. Our last conversation hadn’t exactly been great, and I’d probably said some things I shouldn’t have said. But tonight has felt anything but awkward. Both Denver and Marvel have made me feel like I belong here. As though I come here every Friday night, rather than being here for the first time.
We are in the middle of discussing plans for Valentine’s Day when his phone rings. He apologizes and excuses himself from the kitchen. He returns a moment later with a look in his eyes that says Stay.
He’s on call tonight, like he is often for his job as an EMT, and he has to go. It’s urgent, but that’s all he can say. I get it and wave him off. I’m sad to see him go already, but he says he thinks he should be back in an hour or so if I don’t mind waiting for him to return. He leaves it up to me and doesn’t pressure me either way. He’s never pressured me about anything, and I love that about him. I know this sounds crazy, but I think I might actually love him.
I decide to hang out with Marvel for a bit. She’s seriously the sweetest kid, or rather teenager, I’ve ever met. I haven’t met many, but still. She’s great. She offers me a tour of the rest of the house. She briefly opens the door to Denver’s room, and I’m positive that I blush as I peek inside. It smells exactly like him.
There’s a guest bathroom in between her room and her dad’s, with the guest room right across the hall. Next, she shows me her room. Her room is decorated in pink. Her walls are a faded pink, and her bedsheets are a brighter shade. She has a large, white desk in the corner with one of those big, fuzzy swivel chairs. The largest wall has a giant built-in-sized bookshelf that looks custom-made. I’d bet anything Denver made this for her. It’s amazing. He’s amazing. I wish he were here.
We opt for watching a movie in their living room to pass the time. I keep checking my phone to see if he’s texted me, but the only new messages I have are from Wendy, checking in on me. I send her a quick smiley emoji (my second one of the day, what’s gotten into me?) and a thumbs up. Things have been great so far. I’m glad I came tonight.
Since I was deprived of my share of superhero movies, Marvel decided to pick the movie she was named after, Marvel.
When the credits roll I am left in awe. I cannot believe I’ve never watched superhero movies. It was amazing and all these years I’ve missed out. I can’t wait to watch another one sometime. Maybe next time can be with him.
It’s a little later than I’d originally told Wendy, so I shoot her a text asking if she can come pick me up. She replies instantly that she will be here in twenty minutes. I feel bad for not waiting longer for Denver, but it’s already after ten and I’m fading. He can call or text me tomorrow.
I’m not much of a hugger, but I hug Marvel and thank her for the wonderful evening. It truly was a night to remember, and I hope it can happen again real soon. She smiles and thanks me for coming. I put my shoes back on and bend down to grab my purse. As I’m bringing it up to my shoulder it knocks something off the long table by the front entrance. I look down and see that it’s a picture. A picture that is now lying at my feet, cracked. Oh, no.
I quickly bend down to grab it, careful not to cut my hand along the glass. I apologize to Marvel but she’s quick to reassure me that it’s not a big deal, it’s just a frame and can be replaced. I’m carefully placing it back on the table when I notice something strangely familiar about it.
I look more closely at the image. There’s a man in the picture that I can only assume to be a younger version of Denver, and he has his arms around a girl. She’s got pink rosy cheeks and her hair is almost the color of snow. It's so white. So blonde and beautiful, just like Marvel’s. I’ve always thought there was something familiar about Marvel, but I could never put my finger on it, until now.
I hesitate, and my voice comes out shaky when I ask her, “W-wh-who is that? In the picture?”
Marvel comes around me to get a closer look. I don’t turn around to see her expression, but I get this awful sinking feeling in my gut. Dread.
“Oh, that was Denver’s little sister. She died when he was younger… It was an accident… a bad snowstorm… they didn’t even see her?—”
I don’t hear anything else. I had no idea she was somebody’s sister. I had no idea it was his sister. Oh, my god. I sink to the floor, numb.
I can’t hear anything she is saying to me. All I see is white snow falling all around me. It doesn’t stop falling. My entire body goes rigid, and I’m frozen to this spot in the middle of her foyer. I thought I could run forever from this terrible thing… but it’s found me once again. And this time I cannot run.