9. Platform Launch
NINE
PLATFORM LAUNCH
Ian
After the talk about my past as an Olympic hopeful and my work at NASA, I click on another episode.
I’m not about to start bookmarking Korean dramas anytime soon, but I will admit that this one is definitely good. Romance, humor, drama. There’s something for everyone.
When the music swells with the credits, I mute the TV, determined to ask what I didn’t before.
“And what about you?”
She blinks up at me sleepily. “Hmm?”
“Why did you want to become a romance writer?”
“Oh.” She looks surprised at the question, but not wary, so that’s a start. Though she might be too tired at the moment to think straight.
She stays snuggled into her blanket, closing her eyes.
“I always liked to make up stories. It started with me imagining where my mother went after she left. I’d imagine that she was an FBI agent, undercover, waiting to catch her man.
Only then would she come back and claim me.
Or she was living somewhere with amnesia after a car accident, and one day she’d see me walking down the street and all her memories would come flooding back. ”
My chest tightens, thinking of Trish as a child, making up stories to heal her heart. She swallows hard and takes a deep breath.
“Then I graduated to telling stories.” Her eyes open, looking a little glassy.
“My grandmother used to cluck her tongue at me all the time because I’d come home from school telling the most dramatic whoppers about what happened during my day.
” She laughs, the soft sound easing the pinch in my chest. “Once I told her my teacher was actually a secret agent for the KGB, trying to pry secrets from the minds of America’s youth.
She just smacked me upside the head and told me if the KGB was dumb enough to listen to Georgia teenagers’ tall tales, they were welcome to them.
” She plucks at the blanket tucked around her.
“To this day, my Nana is the most no-nonsense woman I’ve ever met. ”
Reaching out, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Where she is now?”
“She passed away a month after I graduated high school.”
“I’m sorry.” The words seem inadequate.
She nods. “But at least before she passed I was all signed up for community college. So she left knowing I had a plan. That probably eased her mind. Even if the plan didn’t work out in the end.” Her brows pinch close for a moment before she smooths them again, forcing a smile to her face.
I have so many questions, but I’m more afraid of scaring her off than not getting answers.
“So I like to think that both Nana and my grandfather left this Earth happy, knowing I was on the right track.”
My heart hurts for her. “Your grandfather passed away too?”
“Oh, yes. They both died within a week of each other. It would be romantic if it wasn’t so sad.”
Jesus, no wonder she doesn’t like talking about her past. Her mother left, then her grandparents died, all when she was a kid.
“What about the rest of your family?”
“Don’t have any. At least not that I know of. Mom never did tell Nana who my dad was.” She blanches, as if she hadn’t meant to admit that. Her eyes focus on the blanket.
I place one finger under her chin, tilting her head up until she’s forced to meet my eyes. “You’re pretty damn strong, you know that?”
She scoffs, trying to pull away, but I don’t let her.
“I mean it. You’re an amazing woman. I knew that at first glance, and I know it even more now.” I lean down and brush my lips across hers.
She blinks rapidly before whispering, “Thanks.”
We stare at each other, each seemingly lost in our own thoughts.
After a moment, Trish clears her throat before pulling away. “Sorry, I went off on a tangent there, didn’t I?” She lets out an awkward laugh, and I pretend not to see her swipe at her eyes. “Anyhoo, you asked about why I was a writer.”
I nod, though I have a harder time shaking off the sadness her past made me feel than she does.
Trish sits up straighter, tucking the blanket in around her as she talks.
“So when I went to college I excelled in composition and English courses.” A genuine smile lights her face.
“I even started writing stories in between my classes, using all my imaginings from when I was younger, but more detailed.” She laughs, rolling her eyes at herself.
“I thought I’d be the next Sue Monk Kidd or Joyce Carol Oates. ”
She leans her head on my shoulder, the move endearing her more to my heart.
“But as much as I enjoyed literary fiction, sometimes it left me drained. It wasn’t until a classmate gave me a romance novel to read, telling me it would change my life, that I figured out what I really wanted to write.”
She looks up, smiling at me. “I was so engrossed in the book I missed my next class.” Shaking her head, she smiles.
“But for the rest of the day, I felt happy. So I read more. And the more romance books I read, the happier I felt. And I thought, wouldn’t that be nice to make others feel this way?
To guarantee them a happy ending. To brighten people’s days. ”
She looks at me conspiratorially. “Three months later I finished my first book.”
“You amaze me, you know.”
Blinking she pulls back. “Me?”
Sitting up, I don’t even try and act cool, just drop my arm around her, pulling her to me. “Yes, you. You’ve been through a lot. And one day I hope you can tell me all of it.” She squirms, shifting on the floor. I tug her closer. “But even knowing as little as I do, you amaze me.”
I can’t see her face from this position, but I hear her scoff. “It’s not like I’m putting men in space.”
With my other hand, I tip her chin up, catching her eyes. “No. You’re helping people right here on Earth. From what I saw on Amazon about Audrey Cole, thousands of people feel happy every day because of you.”
“You looked up Audrey Cole on Amazon?” Her smile helps me breathe easier.
“Of course.”
Silence falls again. And though Trish looks comfortable with it, I can’t help but feel ashamed. Here is this woman, obviously afraid of something yet spilling secrets to me, and I haven’t even come clean to her about my problem.
“One more episode?” she asks, gesturing to the screen.
“I’m claustrophobic.”
“What?”
“I’m terrified of small spaces.” I swallow hard. “That’s why I can never be an astronaut.”
“Oh. So that’s what you meant by ‘now’ earlier when I asked if solving puzzles is why you work at NASA.”
I nod, the pain of saying out loud that I can never realize my dream harder than I thought.
Her body jerks, realization dawning. “And that’s why you freaked out in my trailer!”
I nod again.
“You idiot.” She smacks my chest with the back of her hand, making my imaginary pain real. “I thought you thought you were too good for my trailer.”
I turn my whole body toward her. “Of course not. I would never think that.”
“Don’t ‘of course not’ me, mister. How could you not tell me?” She hits me again.
I wince. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Why is it embarrassing?” She throws up her delicate hands, looking exasperated. “Lots of people are claustrophobic. It’s like the peanut allergy of fears. Totally common.”
I’d expected her anger toward me for not telling her sooner, but I wasn’t expecting understanding. My father never gave me that.
She rests one of her hands on my arm. “Have you seen anyone about it?”
I frown at her hand, wondering how she went from surprised to angry and now caring so quickly.
“You know, a therapist?” she prods.
“I’m not sure.” I run a hand down the back of my neck, my father’s words reverberating inside my head.
Telling me my claustrophobia means I’m weak.
A quitter. I know that he’s wrong. I know that I don’t need to be embarrassed.
But I am. “But… I might need to. I’m up for a promotion at work, and it requires international travel. ”
“Oh.” More realization. “The plane.”
“Yeah.” I scoff, turning and leaning my head back on the couch. “The plane.” I feel drained. “I need to fly to the German Aerospace Center in Cologne.”
Shifting, Trish pulls herself up straight, grabbing her phone from beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking up therapists in the area.” She taps away at her phone. “We’ll figure this out, don’t worry.”
For once, the use of the royal we doesn’t bother me. Maybe because it’s not my father using it. But more probable is that it’s Trish saying it about us. Acting like we’re a team. Like we’re together.
I put my hand over her hers holding the phone. “Okay.” My voice is suddenly as calm as I feel. “We’ll figure this out.” I pluck the phone from her and toss it on the couch cushion behind me. “But first, how about one more episode?” I pick up the TV remote, clicking the play button.
A slow but wide smile lights up Trish’s small face when I look down at her, snuggling in next to me. “Ye,” she answers, her Korean pronunciation wavering.
It’s perfect.
Trish
Warm and cozy, I snuggle deeper into the pillow and blanket fort.
It isn’t until my backside rubs up against a lead pipe that I remember Ian and I are no longer laid out in front of the TV.
The last thing I remember before sleep took me is a piggyback ride upstairs to my room, followed by a kiss on my forehead.
It was sweet, the perfect ending to what could’ve been an awkward night.
After confessing about being claustrophobic, he could’ve tried to press me for more information about myself, but he didn’t.
I ended up telling him way more than I had planned anyhow. I think we both did.
But it felt right giving him a part of myself I’ve held back for so long. It felt good.
Even better than the morning wood pitched up against my rear end.
“Ian?”
“Hmm?” His arm, which is draped over me, tucks me tighter against him.