Chapter 40 #4
She gently brushed the soft cotton towel against my eyes. “I’m still so sorry.”
“I’m OK. I’m sure I’ll get at least ten percent of my vision back soon enough.”
Her frown deepened.
That made me feel even worse. “Karla, I promise. I’m OK.”
“Are you sure?” she said, holding her hand to her chest. “Is your mouth OK? Do you want more milk? I ran out, but I can go to the corner store and get you some more milk, and—”
“Karla,” I said, placing both hands on her shoulders.
“Yes?” she breathed out, locking her eyes with mine.
“I’m OK.”
Her voice cracked slightly as her eyes grew tearful. “Swear?”
“Swear.”
The echoes of our past with those words hung in the air during our few moments of silence.
Karla smiled gently, and in turn, I thought about kissing her. I didn’t do it . . . but I thought about it. Those thoughts always used to happen when I’d look at her. It wasn’t surprising that they came back all these years later.
A few tears fell from her eyes as she released a breath.
I smiled a little. “I would wipe your tears away, but seeing as how my fingers are still probably compromised, we should keep you from having the same burning sensation that I’m experiencing.
” I took the towel in her hand and used it to dab away her tears. “Truly, I’m all right.”
Lies. All lies. I was in pain. My gut was flipping, showing signs that the spicy wings were not settling in perfectly in my gut. And I had a feeling that if I didn’t make it home soon, Karla’s bathroom might suffer.
“I’m just shocked you didn’t react to the wings at all,” I mentioned.
“Oh, this isn’t my first time. I’ve been doing it for over a year once a month for my book club.
We eat hot wings and talk about our current read.
We are hosting our next one in the bookshop at the end of the month, if you want to join.
We’re reading a thriller called Beast. If you read the book by the last Tuesday of the month, you’re free to join,” she explained.
“We meet at the bookshop at six, since the store closes early on Tuesdays.”
Even though I wanted to continue engaging in the conversation, I could tell that things were going to turn ugly fast. “I might join the club, but skip the wings,” I joked.
“But I do have a slight upset stomach . . . so maybe we should postpone the dessert and drinks?” I asked, hearing the rumbling in my gut.
Please God, let me make it back to my toilet before shitting myself on the freeway.
“Gosh, yes of course. I’m so sorry,” Karla said.
“It’s all right. Even with the burning body parts, tonight was one of the best nights I’ve had in a while.” That wasn’t a lie.
Karla walked me to the front door. That look of guilt was still sitting heavily in her eyes. “I’ll text you later to check in on you, if that’s OK?”
“More than.”
* * *
Karla: How are you recovering?
Ash: Decently. But it turns out the wings are just as hot going in as they are coming out. That was a rude awakening.
Karla: Yikes. Sorry about your butthole.
I laughed seeing the text come across my phone as I lay in bed, still sweating from the unfortunate turn of events that evening.
Ash: You should be sorrier for my bathroom.
Karla: Nothing a little potpourri can’t handle.
Ash: Karla, men don’t have potpourri. I don’t even know where women buy that stuff. But thanks for having me over. Sorry we never made it to dessert.
Karla: All the more reason for you to come back. I won’t poison you next time, I swear.
Ash: How about next Saturday? It’s my next day off.
Karla: We can make that work. Does eight work?
Ash: Perfect time for dessert. I’ll bring a new one.
Karla: Good, because I already ate half of the lemon bars. I hope you don’t have many regrets for coming over, even though I almost ripped you apart from the inside out.
Ash: No regrets.
The ellipsis popped up a few times and then disappeared. It popped up again, then disappeared once more, showing that Karla was going back and forth on what to write. She then typed once more.
Karla: Good night, Ash.
Ash: Good night.
A few minutes passed before another text message popped up on my phone from her.
Karla: Ash?
Ash: Yeah?
Karla: I missed you.
A restless stir kept hitting me. I wasn’t certain if it was from the chicken wings or from Karla’s words. Maybe a little bit of both. I texted her back with the only thing I knew I could say in response to her words—the truth.
Ash: I missed you, too.
More than she’d ever know. It wasn’t just that she wasn’t there with me over the past nine years.
It was the way her absence settled into the quiet parts of me.
It felt like a weight I couldn’t lift from my chest. I’d sit with myself sometimes and try to identify the strange ache that wasn’t sharp enough to hurt but was deep enough to stay.
Maybe that was my heart yearning for the missing piece, yearning for her. I never talked about how I’d missed her to anyone. I hardly faced that truth on my own. But missing Karla was the one thing that was consistent over the past nine years.
I would’ve missed her forever if she hadn’t come back to me.