43. Now
Now: February 20th
H is car smells exactly the way I remember it, pine and cinnamon—like Christmas. It doesn’t take long to warm up. It’s still fairly chilly out in late February, and I am fully enjoying the heated seats feature. If I ever muster up the courage to drive again, it’ll be in a car with heated seats.
“So, how much of what I said tonight did you hear?” I ask, holding my hands out in front of the heater vents. We haven’t left the parking lot yet, maybe he was just planning to sit here so we could talk and then drive me home later. I’m not sure, but even after all that’s happened between us I feel safe with him. I always have.
“All of it,” he says back.
I can feel his gaze on me and my cheeks heat.
“I was running late tonight, and then I saw you in there sharing with the group. I had no idea you’d even be here tonight, and I didn’t want to walk in and interrupt you. But I heard everything.”
I nod and fold my hands in my lap. So maybe Marvel hasn’t said anything after all. Maybe she just wanted to hear things from my side. Denver and I are both adults and can make these kinds of decisions for ourselves and she understands that. For her age, she’s really smart and mature. There’s silence between us, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It’s okay.
He continues, “I am sorry about what happened to her. I can’t even imagine losing someone I love like that.”
I glance over and our eyes meet. I don’t look away. I don’t want to.
“Yeah, me too. I loved her a lot, and I’m so sorry about what happened that day… I shouldn’t have ever run from it. I didn’t realize what had happened until weeks later when I saw the article about it in my dad’s paper. I’d been completely out of sorts, and I was having a lot of blackouts. It was a very difficult, confusing time. Denver, I never meant to destroy your family that way. I cannot tell you how truly sorry I am… For everything,” I barely manage to get out.
He surprises me by reaching across the seat and swiping a tear that has escaped down my cheek. It’s a simple gesture, but his touch is tender and gentle, and I find myself craving more of it. His finger traces a soft line down my cheek and finds a loose piece of hair that he tucks behind my ear. Who is this guy, and how can he be sitting here with me right now? Knowing what I’ve done. The pain I have caused him and his entire family. They have no idea.
“It’s in the past, Phoenix,” he says my name again.
I love the way my name sounds coming from him. I want to hear him say it again. Why did he ask me to come here and talk to him? Is he ending things once and for all? I’ve handled far worse news. But I’m also not sure how well I can handle another goodbye right now if that’s what this is .
He continues, “It happened a long time ago… I’m sorry I ran out on you. I just couldn’t be in there with you. I needed a little bit of time to process everything. It hasn’t been brought up in years. But, I am glad that you did, because there’s something I haven’t told you.”
He removes his hand from my face and takes my hand in his. I’ve never held anyone else’s hands but my mom’s… but right now, holding onto Denver’s like this, I don’t ever want to let him go.
Please, don’t let me go this time. Stay, stay, stay.
“My sister and I were twelve years apart. My mom had a nasty divorce when I was younger and they’d been separated most of my life. I have no ties whatsoever to my biological dad. She’d been dating a new guy for a while, and they were getting pretty serious. He’d talked about moving in with us. He was okay, I guess. Mom got pregnant before they got married. He ran as soon as Genny was born.”
Genny… He’d said her name the same night I’d run out of the group. Her name had been the reason I’d run in the first place. I hadn’t stayed to listen to the rest, I thought I knew enough. But I’d been too wrapped up in my pain to stay for his.
I wanted to be here for it now.
“That’s terrible…” I say and he nods. I relate to it well. All I’ve ever done is run away. Not anymore. I am done trying to escape from the things I can’t escape from.
“Mom raised us by herself most of our lives. It was all we knew, and she was a great mother. She passed five years ago from cancer. Anyway, I got married right out of high school. She was the only girl I ever fell for, and at the time, I thought she was my forever. Funny how forever can quickly shatter,” he says.
Don’t I know that truth all too well.
“On the day of that terrible snowstorm, my wife went into labor with Marvel. We barely made it to the hospital in time. Genny called after school, complaining that she was stuck at home by herself and begging me to let her come to the hospital. But I told her no. Marvel hadn’t been born yet, Genny was just eager to meet her.
“The winds had picked up on our way, and the hospital was clear across town. I knew Mom would be getting off work at five, and I’d told Genny she could sled out in the front yard while she waited for her. I hated crushing her spirits about meeting her baby niece for the first time, but Mom and Genny would get to see the baby as soon as we made it back home. It was awful telling her no at the time, but I had no idea it’d be the last thing I ever said to my baby sister.
“Mom wasn’t back from work yet when I told Genny she could play in the yard. And, well, you know the rest…”
I am so ridden with guilt that, without thinking, I try jerking my hand out of his grasp, but he holds me there. He doesn’t let me run, I look up at him and his expression whispers stay.
“For years I blamed myself for what happened. If I had let her come to the hospital the day Marvel was born, maybe she’d still be here. I could have called her a cab or had a buddy from work pick her up, but I did none of those things. Instead, I’d told her to stay home and play in the yard. I’d told my sister no the day my baby girl was born, and gave her permission to do the thing that killed her. I carried that guilt with me for years. Sometimes, I still do. Yes, I was mad that someone would be careless enough to drive off. But I blamed myself more .”
I can’t help the tears that are falling now. Neither of us makes a move to wipe each other's tears, we simply let them fall. I had no idea about his daughter being born the same day his sister died, at my hands. And yet, here he is telling me that he blames himself for her accident more than he blames me. How can that even be possible?
“It’s why I became an EMT. I wasn’t able to save my sister, but I want to save others if I can. Every person that I help reminds me of her in some way. We may have been over a decade apart, but she was all I had, and she meant everything to me. Every day, I live for her. I don’t hate you, Phoenix. I was hurt, yes. I might still be if I’m being fully honest. But I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you.
“For the longest time, it was hard looking at my daughter, who was young, bright, and perfectly healthy, and not feeling this terrible guilt that maybe I didn’t deserve her. She was too good for me, and I wasn’t good enough. Here I was, twenty-four at the time, with a newborn to take care of, while grieving the loss of my sister. Those were the hardest years of my life. I started drinking, and for two years straight, I didn’t stop. I was living in a nightmare. Before long, my ex threatened divorce. I pulled my act together for my daughter, but soon realized that I was no longer in love with my wife. Our marriage and relationship wasn’t the same as it had been before. We both knew it, but she came to the realization sooner—I’m sure my drinking had been a big factor that tipped the scale.
“We did the back-and-forth thing for a while, but even that got to be too much. By the time Marvel was four and starting preschool, Evelyn left town and never came back. I hadn’t touched alcohol for two years and will never touch it again. I haven’t to this day. Marvel stayed with me full-time, but would visit her mother during the holidays. After a while, that changed and she only wanted our daughter during the summer. She’s a teacher and has summers off. I’ve only been on a few dates since my separation, and nothing has been serious. Not everyone wants a single dad with a daughter, you know?” He laughs a little at that, and it’s so good to see him smile again.
More . I want more.
I laugh a little too. I want us to be okay, but I have no idea where we stand right now. I’m letting him call the shots. I’m ready for anything, but I don’t know if he is. For all I know, he’s slowly prepping my heart for heartbreak. So much for ripping off the Band-Aid this time.
“I do,” I say softly, unsure if he’s heard me. Hoping maybe he didn’t.
He did. He wipes his own eyes with the back of his hand before touching my cheek again.
“I haven’t felt anything toward anyone for the longest time… until I met you,” he says, gently stroking my cheek.
It feels so good, and I’m tempted to lean into his hand, but I don’t. I’m sorry I met you keeps playing on repeat in my head .
Had he meant it? Does he mean everything he’s saying now?
“I would like to try and make this work if you do. But you’d have to promise me something first,” he says.
I slowly shake my head. I don’t know what he has in mind, but I don’t make promises. Promises are too easy to break. And I don’t want to break whatever he’s asking of me.
“I can’t promise you anything, Denver. I can’t promise you that I’ll be perfect and won’t screw something up. Because I’m sure that I will. I can’t promise that I’ll always show up when I’m supposed to or even be good girlfriend material, because trust me, I’m not—” He puts two fingers against my lips, shushing me.
I smile through them. What is he doing?
“I’m not asking you to promise any of those things. I’m only asking that you’ll give me another chance,” he offers. He takes his fingers away and cups my chin, tilting my head closer to his.
I can’t help but look at his lips. Full and perfect, and I want to kiss them. More than anything, I would love a second chance with him.
“I should be asking you that question. You want to give me another chance? After everything I’ve done?” I choke out, fighting tears again.
He nods, without hesitation. “Yes, after everything. I’m not perfect either. I’ve got my share of sins too. I can share all of them with you sometime, but that would take up another evening. So, what do you say, Phoenix?” he asks me again.
I do something bold. Something I’ve never done before. Something completely out of character. I place my hands on either side of his face, feeling the soft prickle of his stubble between my fingertips, and I kiss this beautiful, wonderful man. Mine. He’s mine. This isn’t the end after all. Maybe this is the precise place where we can begin again.