CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
“No. Fortunately, I guess. If there is such a thing.” He exhales a weighted breath. “But his demise was jarringly quick. It started with him forgetting a few things at first. Then blanking on major life events. Then . . . everything.”
“That had to be rough.”
“It was. My brothers and I struggled with it. Still do.”
“And how are you managing . . . with everything . . . with the lie he told you?” I don’t know how to phrase it.
“Honestly? I wish I could block it out, pretend it never happened so I could keep that idyllic image I’ve always had of him in my mind, but it did.
We’re proof of it.” He starts to say something and stops.
I give him a minute to gather his thoughts because I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it were Pop who was the one who had done this.
If his lies were the ones who tore us apart.
“We would have broken up at some point anyway. Those are the years where you find out who you really are. Besides, you were heading to college that next month with a whole new array of cute co-eds to make your way through.”
“You think so?” he asks.
“We were from two completely different worlds, Ledger. Your dad was right in that respect. It’s a long shot to think we would have lasted.”
“Hmm.” It’s all he says but I’m wondering if he’s thinking the same thing I am. Would it be able to work now?
“And what of the women who’ve broken your heart? Or rather the women whose hearts you have broken?” I chuckle. “I’m surprised you don’t have a penthouse in the city, a gorgeous and cultured wife with two-point-five kids to fill it up with laughter and love.”
His sleepy chuckle vibrates through the line. “I have the penthouse, but no wife. No kids. Not yet. Not till I’m at least thirty-eight-ish.”
“You say that like you have marriage on a schedule,” I joke.
“Not a schedule per se, but a ten-year plan, yes.”
“So, you think you can schedule when you plan on falling in love?” You didn’t schedule ours when we were teenagers. “Like it’s some task to conquer after a board meeting?” My tone is a mixture of disbelief and confusion.
Not because I’m hoping to be that person he falls in love with (well, maybe), but because it sounds so clinical coming from a man that is more than passionate in other ways.
“Look, it’s not like that. You make it sound so cold and calculating. I’m a planner. That’s what I do. I set goals and have to meet them before I can move on to the next ones. That’s all, and I have a lot of goals to check off before I want to settle down.”
“You can’t plan for love, Ledger. It’s either there, or it isn’t. And sometimes it isn’t there and then it grows into love.” My comment is a stark reminder that there is so much about him I don’t know. The boy I once knew is still there, but like me, has been changed by his life experiences.
“I don’t do well with unknowns and things I can’t control,” he says, and I can tell he’s frustrated that I’m not understanding him.
“I was always somewhat like that, but after the events of that night—the threat I thought was real—I changed. For a while, I lived in a constant state of unknown where so many things were out of my control, and the only way to take that control back was by planning.”
I try to put myself in his shoes, to understand the fear of the accusation and the constant threat of being prosecuted looming over a teenager’s head. Just like his father’s words scarred me, I know they scarred Ledger even deeper.
So I’ll give him this. I might not understand it. I don’t have to agree with it. But I have to respect it because I wasn’t there during those years. I wasn’t witness to the aftermath of his father’s cruel deception.
“So, no, love hasn’t been on my radar, Asher. I date. I see women for a bit like you do men. But I don’t tie myself down to someone with a label, if that’s what you want to know.”
“Never? You’ve never let someone get close to you?” I ask, finding it impossible to believe that a man like Ledger hasn’t been in love time and again.
“My heart was broken one time,” he says, and a small, selfish part of me hopes that he’s talking about me, while the other part is jealous of whoever it was if it isn’t.
“I don’t even think she knew how bad she broke it, but truth be told, it was pretty well shattered.
Maybe that influenced my dating decisions after?
I don’t know. But I’d really love if we could move right along and off this topic. ”
I laugh. “You started this line of conversation. Not me.”
“Hey, Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember we used to do this all the time? Talk for endless hours on the phone about anything and everything? Talk until one of us fell asleep? Talk just so we knew the other one was there?”
His words are like a warm blanket cocooning me. “We did, didn’t we?”
“Mm-hmm. And you always fell asleep first.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did.” He laughs.
“Tell me more about your meeting,” I say.
And so we talk like the years have evaporated.
There is an ease to our conversation.
A comfort that is hard to find.
And yes, I fell asleep first.