Chapter 3
Audrey
“So, how do you know Guerra?” The dreaded question arose.
Carter and I have been dancing around the elephant in the room up until now, filling the uncomfortable silence with talk about the matches we saw tonight and Carter’s own experiences within the ring.
One of the things that captivated me on the night we met in the bar was his extensive knowledge and genuine interest in mixed martial arts.
Unlike the other men in the vicinity, he didn’t approach me with pick-up lines or compliments.
Instead, he sat next to me, followed my gaze to the UFC match playing on the television, and asked, “Who’s your money on? ”
My answer sparked a light-hearted debate between us since he didn’t agree. We chatted throughout the entire match, and I jokingly said, “You owe me ten bucks,” when my choice won.
“How about I take you out on a real date, instead?” He’d replied.
I was reluctant to say yes at first, but the more we talked and the more I learned about his own training in MMA, the easier the answer became. I wish I could say I didn’t know why, but I loved a man who knew his way around the octagon.
I didn’t even consider the chance he might know Max. Didn’t consider the chance Max was still pursuing that dream.
From the short bit I saw tonight, it wasn’t a pursuit anymore. It was a thriving career. And while I was happy to see at least one of his dreams come true, the dark glint in his eyes made me worry about what else he’s attained over the years.
“We’re old friends,” I repeated my answer from earlier.
Carter shot me a quick glance. “Oh come on,” he encouraged with a small smile. “No need to be shy on the details.”
“Well, Max and his mom moved in next door when we were ten. My fathers are overly friendly, so we went over to introduce ourselves and welcome them to the neighborhood. Our parents clicked, and so did we. Since then, we’ve always been close.”
“Ah, so he’s like a brother to you?”
My nose twitched, threatening to wrinkle up at the notion. Max was a lot of things to me, but never that. “No,” I admitted. “We were friends for a long time. And then we were…“
“Lovers,” Carter finished for me when I was too embarrassed to. He gave me another quick look, this time accompanied with a knowing smile. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious.”
“I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh. “I didn’t know he was fighting tonight. And I definitely didn’t know he was going to-“
“It’s alright,” Carter said. He reached over the center dash and grabbed my hand. “You’re still next to me, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m not worried about it.” His fingers tightened around my palm. “As long as he doesn’t start any trouble, we’ll be cool.
I looked out the window to hide my weary smile. I was glad Carter was so confident in himself, but he didn’t know Max. Trouble used to be his middle name.
When we pulled up to my house, Carter parked his car on the curb a few inches from the driveway. He hurried out from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s side to open the door for me.
Hand-in-hand, we took the short walk up to the porch. Underneath the golden porch light, he wrapped his hands around my waist, pulled me close and kissed me.
His soft lips, attentive and passionate, chased away the jitters from earlier. I relaxed against his body and looped my arms around his neck.
Times like this reminded me of couples from rom-com movies. Those scenes when he’d walk her up to the door, kiss her goodnight, and leave with lingering stares between them.
Times like this made me think Carter could be good for me. From what I’ve gathered, he works as a contractor, trains in mixed martial arts in his free time, and has good manners. So far, there hasn’t been a red flag in sight.
But, I’ve been keeping him at arms length for a reason.
Dating wasn’t my main priority right now.
Hell, it was supposed to be a “fun distraction” as my friend, Gianna, called it when I first told her about him.
Then we went out on our first date and his presence suddenly became a part of my daily routine.
He calls almost every day, we hang out every other weekend, and texts fill the gaps in between.
Two months later, and I was starting to feel bad for stringing Carter along.
In moments like this, the idea of becoming more - solidifying this - crossed my mind. But in the next, he’s gone and I’m reminded of all the reasons I moved back.
Papa’s silhouette in the kitchen was the first thing I saw when I walked through the door.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup and a frown etched onto his face.
More gray has been streaking through his dark hair, and worry lines were beginning to become more prominent around his mouth.
At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up and masked the weariness with a smile. “Hey, baby girl,” he greeted me. “How was your night?”
“Good,” I said. I pecked a soft kiss at his temple and took the other open seat at the table. “It’s not going so well for Dad, though, is it?”
Papa looked down at his drink. “No,” he admitted. “The chemo from the other day is starting to hit him, and he hasn’t been…” His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, unable to admit the hard parts aloud. “But, he’s sleeping now.”
“Well, you should get some rest too.” I grabbed the handle of the mug and slid it out from his hands. “I will sip on this and help him if he needs anything.”
“Audrey,” Papa started.
“Papa,” I countered with a stern voice. “Go lay down. You’re no good to him if you’re running on fumes.”
He sighed. “This was supposed to be your night off. I thought you were going to be out late. Maybe stay over what’s-his-name’s house.”
I almost shook my head. Despite the two months of dating, we still haven’t spent a night together - and Carter still hasn’t met my parents.
Not because I don’t want him to, but because there’s so much going on with my dad’s health that I haven’t come to terms with yet.
How am I supposed to introduce someone to my sick father when I’m still struggling to process the news?
Papa and Dad put off telling me about his diagnosis because they knew what I would do.
They knew I would drop everything I was building in Philadelphia and come home.
For months, they feigned smiles over the phone, lied about the medical scars I’d seen when they came to visit, and skirted around any question about Dad’s unusual lack of energy.
They didn’t tell me until after I’d finished my residency.
And when they did, they told me not to come home.
To continue the life I was living in Philly.
But what would all of that matter if the people who gave me the opportunity to live out my dreams were suffering?
What kind of person would I be to turn my back on the people who took me in when I needed it most?
I didn’t think twice about moving back home to help take care of Dad. To be by his side during his doctor’s appointments, his treatments. To help him around the house when Papa was working late or tired. To be present in the God-awful instance this disease took Dad before he was ready.
I needed to be here.
“It’s fine, Papa,” I assured him. I jutted my chin towards the door. “Go upstairs. Try to get some sleep.”
Papa sighed. The downward curve of his lips told me he wanted to argue, but the dark bags forming under his eyes prevented him from doing so. He rose from his seat and leaned down to kiss the crown of my head.
He offered me one last weary smile before disappearing into the hallway.
I listened to the soft pad of his footsteps, tracking them up the steps and into the bedroom. While I wished he’d try to get some rest, we both knew he wasn’t.
Most nights, even the ones when I was technically on duty, he lay beside Dad and tracked each breath. With every fall of Dad’s chest, his eyes went solemn with prayers, begging for it to rise again.
Undergoing chemotherapy has taken a toll on him. The medicine made his body weak and achy. Even when he wanted to sleep, he often found himself tossing and turning or moaning in pain.
Seeing him like this, after growing up with the gentlest of giants, was hard for me. I couldn’t imagine how it must be for Papa to see the man he loved in so much agony - to wonder if he’d have to live the life he’d built without the person he’d crafted it with.
Sighing, I stood from the table and turned out the lights in the kitchen. As I trudged upstairs to my room, I pushed the dark thoughts away.
Dad was one of the strongest people I knew. He’s pulled through struggles before, and he was going to pull through now. He had to.
Out of all the pillars in my life that have come crashing down, my fathers were the ones I absolutely couldn’t afford to lose.