Chapter 21 Dan
DAN
I’ve spent many hours of my life sitting on these picnic tables behind the Dairy Barn, usually some combination of hot, sweaty, mosquito-bitten, and sticky.
I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m not much of a sweets guy.
I never have been. I came to the Dairy Barn to make sure my brothers stayed out of trouble, but I wouldn’t say I formed precious memories here.
Sitting across from Carson is different.
That’s in spite of the metric ton of ice cream she has sentenced me to. Despite all my grousing, I manage to get through about half, and I only feel a little bit like I might die.
“That was good, but the serving size was diabolical,” I say as I toss the reminder into the trash.
“Grace and I tried to take one down as a team in sixth grade, but we barely got farther than you did.”
“What were you going to do with one T-shirt?”
“Joint custody, duh,” she says. She turns to head for the car, but I make my way back toward the line. “Where are you going?”
“I told you I’d buy the T-shirt.”
“Come on, I was just kidding,” she says.
I lift an eyebrow. “I wasn’t.”
Thankfully, there’s a temporary lull, and I’m able to get the pink Dairy Barn T-shirt without too much of a wait. I throw it over my shoulder like a bar towel, then pull out my keys. “Okay, next stop,” I say.
“You mean the triple brownie delight didn’t end your night?” she asks.
“I mean, I think I’ll probably sugar crash like a toddler at a birthday party in, like, forty-five minutes, but I can power through,” I tell her, leaving out the part about how the triple brownie delight was actually really delicious and I enjoyed every bite.
Especially the ones she took off the spoon I offered her.
I focused entirely too much on her tongue, wishing I could taste her, covered in vanilla and chocolate.
It’s that thought that inspired the idea for our next destination.
“The night is young. The sun hasn’t even set yet. ”
“Okay, then. Where to?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I almost never talk about my childhood. People I met in college heard I was from a tiny town in the middle of Indiana and immediately tuned out.
Not that I minded. My years in Cardinal Springs were defined mostly by my desire to escape it.
My earliest memories are of the aching emptiness and confusion when my baby sister came home from the hospital but my mom didn’t.
After that, I remember trying not to disappear in a house full of chaos and grief until I got old enough to realize that disappearing was actually exactly what I wanted to do.
As part of a big family who experienced a big tragedy in a tiny town, I always felt like I was being watched, studied, picked apart.
My teen years were an exercise in finding places where nobody noticed me. Where nobody saw me.
And to my utter surprise, I find myself telling Carson all of this as we head down the rural highway leading out of town.
Whenever I pause, she gently asks another question, and suddenly I’m talking again.
I keep my eyes on the road and the passing cornfields, but I can practically hear her listening beside me.
And it feels good, revealing parts of myself to her.
The more I talk, the more I want her to see me.
I want to let her into every part of myself.
It’s the same feeling I get when I see something I want to sketch, my fingers itching for a pencil so I can explore it on paper.
I hear a question in that gentle-yet-confident voice of hers, and I want to talk.
“So, how did you find this place?” Carson asks as I flick my turn signal and ease off the highway and onto a dirt road that disappears into a thick patch of trees.
“I used to ride my bike out here just for the quiet and the exercise. I wasn’t as into sports as my brothers, but I definitely always felt better when I exhausted myself. It made that itch I always had under my skin calm down. I did a lot of exploring, and that’s how I found this.”
We bounce down the dirt road until it ends, my headlights hitting a thick row of trees.
Carson bounds out of the car, thrilled by the adventure.
I like that she trusts me. Leading a woman out into the woods is pretty sketchy.
I certainly hope she wouldn’t do this with the chucklefucks she’s been going on dates with, but I’m happy she’ll do it with me.
I told her this is just a pretend date, and maybe for her it is, but the way I want to be out here with her isn’t theoretical.
Being with Carson, just existing in her presence, beside her, talking to her…
I don’t know how to describe it. It’s a level of comfort I’ve never felt with anyone before.
And it’s with that thought in mind that I reach back to take her hand, leading her down the little dirt path between the trees. When her hand slips into mine, I hear the smallest gasp, but I don’t look back.
I’m afraid that if I look back, I’ll lose my nerve.
I’m afraid that if I look back, I’ll let go.