Chapter 3 #2
After we ate, we walked around the garden and down the path through the wooded area on the property and around the pebble maze, which was supposed to be therapeutic somehow. We talked about books and movies and some of the people I’d met here at the center and about his mother’s poodle.
It was dark out, with an almost-full moon.
We’d stopped after finishing the maze, and he was smiling down on me.
His voice was warm, rich somehow, as he said, “You won’t believe how smart that dog is.
She’s got my folks completely under her paw.
If she wants something, she’ll go over and sit in front of one of them and just stare, as if she can will it to happen with the power of her mind.
They’ll go through everything she might want—to go outside, a treat, a belly rub—until they land on the one she actually wants. ”
His words had conjured up a detailed picture of that dog. I could imagine her with crystal clarity. And I laughed.
I remember that moment vividly. It’s engraved in my mind.
It was the first time I’d laughed in over two months. The first time I’d laughed since that night.
* * *
He left soon afterward. I walked with him back to the lobby and thanked him for coming by. I meant it. It was the first somewhat pleasant evening I’d had in ages.
“Is it all right if I come by next week?” he asked. His eyes were resting on my face, but then they glanced away diffidently.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’d like to, if it’s all right with you.”
“Don’t you have something better to do on a Friday evening?”
He gave me a half smile. “Not really. I’ve been out of touch from everyone for almost a year. I have to build back up my social life.”
I hadn’t even thought about that, but I realized it must be true. Going undercover the way he had must be brutal on relationships.
I’d had a lot of time to think this week, and the knowledge had coalesced over the hours we’d spent together this evening.
I knew what I was to him. A project. Something to fix.
An assuaging of guilt, no matter how irrational that guilt might be.
When he started to feel better, less guilty, more normal, then he wouldn’t keep coming around. He’d start his normal life again.
That was okay. It was natural. I could hardly resent him for it. But right now, maybe he was kind of lonely too after living such a disconnected life.
I certainly wasn’t going to refuse another evening of distraction from the reality I lived with now.
“Okay. Yeah. If you want to come next week, that’s fine. No worries if you can’t though.”
“I’ll be here.”
* * *
He came to visit me three Fridays in a row, and we always had dinner and walked around, talking about things that didn’t hurt me.
On the fourth Friday when I’d been at the center for a month, I was expecting him to come again. He’d acted like he was planning on it. He hadn’t called or texted to say differently. So at about seven that evening, I was waiting for him.
He didn’t show up.
I didn’t care if he was late, so I played a game on my phone as I waited in the lobby, but forty-five minutes later he still hadn’t shown up.
Cali walked through and saw me waiting, so she came over to where I was sitting. “Your boyfriend is late.”
I didn’t correct the “boyfriend” appellation. She’d used it once before, and she didn’t mean anything by it. She knew why I was here—what had happened to me three months ago—but she always treated me like an undamaged person.
She would have teased any other girl about the handsome man who came to visit every Friday, and so she teased me too.
I knew it was ridiculous. It was the furthest thing in the world from ever happening. I couldn’t even envision myself with a boyfriend—ever again. Plus Gideon would stop coming by once he’d worked through his irrational guilt.
Maybe he was already starting to do so. It was almost eight now, and he hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t even called.
“Something must have come up,” I said casually, smiling in the way I’d gotten good at—that conveyed a semblance of pleasantness but gave absolutely nothing away. “He’s got a stressful job.”
“I hope he didn’t have car trouble or something on the way over. It’s pretty awful out there.”
It had been raining all day, but if he’d had car trouble he would have called. If he was held up at work, he would have called. If he’d gotten sick, he would have called.
“I’m sure he’s fine. I’m going to go on up to my room to relax. Someone will let me know if he shows up?”
“Of course.”
I felt weird and shaky as I went up to my room. I sat on the side of my bed and stared at my silent phone.
I could just call him and ask if he was planning to come out tonight. That way I would know and could move on. I scrolled to his number and almost hit send.
I didn’t do it though. It wasn’t a big deal, and I wasn’t going to turn it into a big deal. There had been plenty of times in the past when friends didn’t stop by when I thought they would, and I’d always brushed it off as no big deal.
This felt different because I didn’t have anything else noteworthy happening during the weeks, but I wasn’t going to blow it out of proportion.
I couldn’t stop brooding about it though.
If Gideon had been planning to come out tonight and something had kept him from doing so, he would called to let me know.
He probably just had something better come along.
He was a good-looking, virile man. Women were probably chasing him all the time.
He probably had a date tonight, and it just slipped his mind to call me.
He was under no obligation to come visit me on Friday nights. Just because he had the past three weeks didn’t mean he had to every week. It wasn’t like we had a standing appointment. He could go out and have a good time. It was probably a good thing that he did.
Trying to fix me wasn’t good for him. I knew it wasn’t good. I wasn’t his responsibility, and I couldn’t really be fixed.
I kept telling myself this as I watched some TV.
Eventually, though, I kept landing on a different explanation.
What if he hadn’t just had something better to do? What if he hadn’t just forgotten to call?
What if he was in trouble? What if something had happened?
He had a potentially dangerous job, after all. Sure, he was evidently still sitting behind a desk most of the time, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t end up in danger.
What if he was hurt… or worse?
I tried to focus on the television, and then I tried to play a mindless game on my tablet. None of it distracted me.
Eventually, at almost ten, I was lying in a fetal position on my bed, trembling helplessly as I tried to control the fear.
It was ridiculous. I shouldn’t be reacting this way. There was no reason to assume the sky was falling just because Gideon had stood me up.
I didn’t know what was happening to me, and I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t seem to control it.
Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I sat up in bed, grabbed my phone, and hit his number. As it rang, I almost hung up, suddenly afraid that he’d be with a woman and I’d be interrupting.
I was about to disconnect when his voice mail came up—his warm, familiar voice briefly telling me to leave a message.
So I did. I tried anyway.
“Hi,” I said, my voice a little wobbly. “It’s me.
Diana, I mean. I was wondering… I mean, I didn’t know if you were going to come out tonight.
I thought maybe you would, but it’s fine that you didn’t.
I just didn’t know… I mean, since you came before, I thought maybe you’d come again tonight.
But it’s fine that you didn’t. You never have to come.
I mean, I’m not expecting you to… It’s just that I’ve been nervous lately about silly things.
And I keep getting worried that something has happened to you.
Don’t interrupt your evening or anything, but if you get a chance, maybe you can send me a quick text—just to let me know you’re all right.
I’m sorry to be so paranoid. I’ll try to do better.
And it’s fine if you don’t get a chance. ”
I took a shaky breath and stared at the phone, horrified that I’d left such a mortifyingly rambling message. Then I realized I hadn’t even disconnected yet, so I quickly did.
I burrowed under a fleece throw blanket, gasping with a rising panic I couldn’t seem to control.
What if Gideon wasn’t all right?
There were so many things in the world that could hurt him. And I no longer believed that bad things could be held off by reason, or statistical probabilities, or good intentions, or anything else.
The demons could take you down—ruthlessly, without warning, without mercy.
I don’t know how much later it was, probably not even an hour, when my phone rang.
I jumped from the surprise of it and then fumbled as I connected the call and moved it up to my ear. “Gideon?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry, Diana.”
“It’s okay.” My voice sounded too thready, but I couldn’t make it sound normal. “It’s fine. You didn’t have to call.”
It was a ridiculous thing to say, but it was what I said anyway.
His voice was strange, not normal, kind of rough and tired. “I’m so sorry you were worried. I would have called earlier if I possibly could.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t fine. I scared you. I can hear it in your voice.”
“But that’s just because I’m not… I’m not… Things hit me differently now than they used to. It’s my issue. It’s not yours.”
“I was planning to come out tonight. I wanted to. But something… something came up with work and I just now got away from it. I didn’t have my phone, so I couldn’t call.”
I took a shaky breath, feeling a little better that I wasn’t being silly in thinking he would come to see me tonight or that he’d call to let me know if something normal had come up.
“Are you all right, Diana?” he asked, his voice a little more gentle.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”