Chapter Thirteen #3
He turns and looks into my eyes. The blue in his eyes catches the light. “Okay,” he sighs, looking away.
Standing there together, I read the note quietly to myself while Martin watches intently.
The note reads:
“From the bottom of my heart, I’m so sorry.
I had a family emergency. Someday I hope to be able to explain the details, but until then, I’m pleading for you to trust me.
I’m so sorry. I never took into consideration what would happen to us if I couldn’t be there for you. And I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry.
I enjoyed our time together on our digital date. I’m hoping you did too.
If you are still willing, I have a new challenge for you. If you need some time, I will understand.”
And it’s signed, “M.”
“A family emergency!” I declare to the room, then whisper the words again to myself.
“Is that what it says?” Martin asks, but doesn’t attempt to peer at the note. He never takes his eyes off of my face.
“He had a family emergency. He can’t explain right now, but someday he hopes to. I hope everything is all right.”
I look up to see Martin, his eyes beginning to glisten like he’s holding back tears. He takes a sideways step backwards and turns his head away, brushing his eyelid with the back of his hand.
“Are you okay?” I drop the note to my side and step closer to Martin, trying to see his face. “Martin?”
He inhales sharply. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m really glad for you.” He looks at me again, his eyes still swimming.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He exhales with a sigh and then begins gesturing with one hand, searching for words. “Do you…?” He freezes mid-sentence and can’t self-correct.
Rather than speak, I try to read his face, but he’s already turned away again.
He breathes a jagged breath, then laughs and says over his shoulder, “You seem to be so comfortable with this guy.”
When I speak, my voice becomes fragile despite my best efforts: “I’m treasuring the moment, Martin. Ichi-go…”
“Ichi-e,” we say together as he turns, the seedling of a smile on his face.
“That’s what you taught me,” I say, smiling bigger. Martin’s smile grows slowly, which seems to make the glossiness of his eyes worse. He tries to blink it away, his chin curling inward.
Wiping his face with the back of his hand again, he locks eyes with me. “Has there ever been another guy you’ve ever thought about in this way?”
My mind spirals. I thought I had a handle on the my-secret-person-is-a-guy thing, but the question is a gut punch. “You mean Matthew?” I blurt. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and the minute I say it, it feels wrong.
His face lurches, like I’ve crossed a line. He tries to recover. “Um…”
“Matthew and I had brunch once.” There’s an unwanted defensiveness in my tone which I try to correct, “It was nothing, really. We just went to breakfast together.” The words come out softer, but seem to chill the air around us.
Martin looks long at me, unblinking. I find myself wondering what he wishes I would say. What did he expect my answer to be?
What do I wish he would say?
The thought echoes through the room around me, deafening.
“I’m just trying to figure things out,” I finally say so the echoing stops. “I’m just taking each moment in as it comes, and trying to make sense of it as it does. I really don’t have all the answers.”
He looks at the floor. “Do you think there ever could be another guy you’d feel this way about?” The toe of his shoe makes small circles in the carpet, which he studies intently.
“You mean besides my secret person?”
The carpet circle grows bigger. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t speak. Then finally he whispers: “Yeah.”
“Martin, I haven’t even met this guy yet.” My breath feels heavy, like I want to chuckle, but the timing is all wrong. “I don’t even know this man.”
“But you trust him?” He looks up at me.
Trust? Where did that come from? I search the deep shadows of Martin’s eyes for answers. “I trust that he had a family emergency.” My words are almost a whisper, and I pause a moment to let myself hear them.
Martin stares at me for a moment before he finally breathes. “This guy is lucky to have you,” he says, tipping one corner of his mouth into a tight smile, his eyes flicker.
I look away, holding up the note again as an anchor for my listless eyes. “There’s another task. Another adventure if I’m up for it,” I tell him, softly.
“Are you up for it?” The words are clear and direct.
I look up from the note. “I am.”
Martin smiles back at me, an open-mouth smile expressing a joy that doesn’t seem to correspond to the words either of us have said. I try to match his smile, but can’t. His joy lingers for a long time before either of us speak.
“Well,” I say, folding the note, trying to tuck it back into the envelope until the torn edges stop me, “We should go. I’m starving.”
“Yeah,” Martin says, turning and grabbing the bag of recycling. “We should go. I have an idea of a new place to try.”
I latch the door behind us. Martin leads the way with the bag of recycling, and I can’t help but think that I’m the lucky one.