31. Now
Now: February 1st
W e’d hung around long past our reservation that night. We’d ordered dessert after our meal, and on our way home he surprised me with a midnight-boat tour. I’d been to this lake before, it was one of our favorite places to camp in the summer. We’d rent canoes or kayaks and fish for hours. Dad always fished, Mom and I would sit on the boat with our books and read until the sun was starting to set and it was time to cook dinner over our campfire. We called them “day-camps” because we never stayed overnight. We’d get there first thing in the morning, and then drive back home late, long after the sun had set. I’m not sure why we did it that way, but it was our family tradition.
Sally’s in the Park had been one of Mom’s favorite places. It’s one of those hidden gems that, unless you ventured out to the state park, which we often did, you would never know it’s there. There are newer restaurants in the park now of course, but this quaint little diner that overlooks the lake will always be a favorite place of mine. One of my favorite memories is of the three of us sitting outside facing the water and the mountains beyond, feeding french fries to the chipmunks. They would eat right out of your palm!
I remember almost everything about the place vividly, but I don’t remember this boat ride. I wonder if it’s something new. But then again we’d never stayed the night here. Maybe this had always existed, and I was only discovering it now. It was so long ago.
The boat ride was wonderful. There was live music, probably the type my dad would have enjoyed. It complimented the gentle rocking back and forth of the boat and calmed down my nerves. Because I was plenty nervous.
For it being a cold winter night in Colorado, the sky was clear and the boat was kept warm. We mostly stayed inside. There were a few other couples on the boat with us, and some seemed like newlyweds. Yet we seemed to fit right in among them. Denver held my hand and even danced with me during a slower song. He held me close enough that he couldn’t see the dark pink color that had spread across my cheeks.
Several times we were asked if we wanted to order drinks, but I don't drink. I tried it once when I was in college and couldn’t stand the taste, so I never touched it again. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d ever seen Mom or Dad ever drink either.
I’m not sure if Denver would have normally declined alcohol on New Year's Eve, but he did. He politely declined each time they passed by, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had anything to do with it.
Promptly as the clock struck twelve, fireworks erupted from a distance. I’d never seen such a miraculous sight. Blossoms of yellows and bursts of oranges, reds, and neon purples illuminated the entire night sky right above the tallest mountain peaks. It was breathtaking. I couldn’t believe I was seeing it for the first time. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Afterward, we headed back home, mostly in silence. I wasn’t used to staying up this late anymore. I woke up early most mornings and worked all day, usually through dinner. By nine or ten at the latest, I was ready for bed. We didn’t make it back to my house until after one a.m.
When he pulled up to my house, I didn’t get out of his car right away. Even though I don’t watch many movies, I’m not dumb. I knew what was supposed to happen when the guy dropped off the girl after their first official date. I’ve written about this scene in many of my novels. I know the part well, yet have never personally lived it.
I’m exhausted from the fun evening, but it’s more than that. I’m afraid of what will happen next. Terrified actually. I hadn’t thought this part through. Sure, we’ve talked on the phone and this isn’t the first time we’ve gone out together… but it feels like the first time. Tonight was different. Tonight was special. I felt it, and I think he did too.
I want to be with you.
Yet, I can’t leave his car. It’s silly, I realize. I’m acting like a lovesick teenager, but maybe in a way, I am. I’ve never experienced anything like this before, so I have nothing to base it on. No pros or cons lists this time. Ground zero. The starting point.
“Nicki…” he eases gently.
I’m staring out my window at my house. I know Dad didn’t wait up for me. I don’t remember the last time we even watched the NYC ball drop on live TV. The porch light is on and so is the tiny light above our kitchen sink. Mom’s kitchen sink.
I can’t look at him though. It’s been a great evening, and I should just get out and go. I’m making this super awkward, yet I don’t seem to remember how to move. I need a push or a shove, an invisible force. Something. I’m frozen in place.
“Denver…” I whisper without looking over my shoulder. That is until I feel the heat from his palm resting on my shoulder, gently easing it towards him. He wants me to look at him. He wants to meet my eyes. I won’t run away this time, I will choose to stay. Stay, stay, stay, pleads my heart .
I slowly turn in my seat and face him. His eyes look as tired as mine feel, yet he’s smiling at me. Slow and steady.
“What are you worried about?” he asks.
He’s like Wendy, cutting to the chase. No small talk, just straight to it. Okay. We’re doing this.
“Everything,” I admit. And it’s the truth.
“Okay…” he starts. Pauses. Turning over my one-word response. But he doesn’t run, he stays.
“Like what? Tell me one thing,” he tries again.
“Um…” I pause briefly, I hate being put on the spot. I like to have time to think something through. But then that typically leads to second-guessing, which I’m trying not to do right now.
“Okay,” I begin again. I take a deep breath in. “Well, I guess it’s the fact that I’m so new to this. And I mean, it honestly has nothing to do with you or anything. Seriously… you’re great.” I laugh, but his expression doesn’t match mine. He’s studying me. Figuring out where exactly I’m heading with this.
I continue, “Well… I’m not great at relationships. I mean in general. I suck at them, actually. Wendy is my best friend, but she’s also my editor and agent. Besides her and my dad, that’s pretty much it.
“Like that book signing event. I never do anything like that, and being around people makes me so anxious I want to throw up or pass out—and sometimes I do both. But it just wasn’t me. You see, I shouldn’t have even been there that day, Denver. It was Wendy’s idea—not her fault—but it hadn’t been mine. And then I met you and your wonderful daughter… but you deserve someone better than me. Someone that doesn’t suck at relationships with people. Someone that doesn’t faint in public, run out of grief meetings, or try to escape the moment it gets hard.”
I’m out of breath at this point. I can’t stop myself. I’m on a roll now, and I can’t slow down. I’m a train at full speed. Denver doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, he listens. Listens as I steamroll any chance of us ever working this out. I’m doing what I do best .
“I know you asked me to name one thing. But that’s impossible. Because with me there are a million and one things. And you…” my voice breaks, “don’t even know the half of it.”
Before he can say a word or try to stop me, I throw off my seatbelt and bolt out of his car. My feet have somehow become unglued and are in full escape mode now. I can’t be sure if he’s yelling my name, trying to get me to turn back around. I can’t hear anything over the beating of my heart and my frantic breaths. I hate what I’m doing to him. He doesn’t deserve this, but he also deserves better than someone like me. I know that for a fact.
I don’t look back. I know if I do I’ll be filled with regret instead of this adrenaline fire that’s blazing hot within me. One look and he will extinguish every single flame. One by one. But I can’t let him. I won’t.
Goodbye, Denver.
An entire month goes by. It’s February first now. The one month out of the entire year that I wish could be skipped or forgotten. Unfortunately, I can do neither of those things. Denver does try to call me several times, but each time I let it go to voicemail. I know I’m being cold, I’ve allowed my heart to turn back into stone. I did the very thing I said I would not do. But it’s been done, and I can’t change it now.
Eventually, all attempts at communication halt. He doesn’t text, call, or even show up at my door. He’s simply gone . As though he were never here to begin with. And it’s only then, in those empty days without him, that I start to wonder if I was the one making a huge mistake.