Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for. She’s vulnerable and soft. Yes, she’s been hurt and broken, but I don’t need to fix her. There’s a lot of determination in her small frame, and I have no doubt she’ll mend her own heart without relying on others to perform the task. After spending five hours with her, I just hope I can be there for the journey.
She asks about my work, and though she asks all the right questions, she seems distant. I’m not surprised. It’s been a rough day for both of us. As we eat, I see lights of a happier life spark from within her. She’s had a good life with a few bumps.
When our plates are cleared, panic rises. I don’t want this to end. How can I justifiably keep her near me longer, though? I’m ready for this day to end, but I’m definitely not ready to let her go.
She breaks my train of thought. “Today has been one of the longest days of my life. I’m so ready for it to be over.”
“I was just thinking the exact opposite.”
“Really?” she asks as she rubs her hand over her stomach.
I shrug. “Yeah, there’s been some, um, sad parts, but you’ve made it a lot better.”
Her eyes are a bit glassy from the alcohol, but she’s held her liquor well. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“Do people treat you poorly?”
“You tend to answer questions with a question. Did you know you do that?”
“It’s a distraction technique. It’s also a bad habit I fall back on when I find someone so fascinating that I need to know more.”
She smiles with a giggle. “Now that’s a someone I’d like to hear more about.”
“Maybe one day.”
“All right. One day then.”
I buy dinner without any fight for the tab this time. She’s wearing down, tired. Lifting her coat from the back of her chair, I stand to assist.
Out on the sidewalk, she seems more serious and even a little sad. “Thank you for today. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She pauses to choose her words carefully. “It was bearable, better, with you there. Thank you.” Leaning up, she wraps her arms around my neck in a full embrace, an embrace shared between people who are more than mere acquaintances. But I don’t argue because it feels real. I’m hoping we are, too.
Feeling her soft hair against my cheek, I slide my arms around her. At this moment, the death of my aunt hits my heart, making it ache, and I feel my body shake from the loss. Grace was the last person I hugged—the last person who hugged me before Charlie.
She now holds me with the knowledge that this isn’t just for her. I feel the warmth of her inner sunshine against me, soothing me from the outside.
“I guess it’s been a longer day than I thought,” I say.
She sighs, mirroring my own emotions, then peeks over my shoulder and down the street. I turn my head just enough to see the taxi she’s eyeing. Stepping back from her, I wave my arm to signal it over. As it pulls to the curb, I look at her, expecting the typical awkwardness present between two people in a new relationship or getting to know each other, but it’s not there.
“Thank you for going with me.” I stumble over my words, feeling the end coming too fast. “I’d like to hang out again sometime.”
“When’s your next funeral?” A small smile flickers across her mouth, but it doesn’t hold.
I laugh. She’s clever. “Maybe we could hit a wedding next time.”
It’s her turn to laugh now. “Yeah, maybe something lighter would be a nice change.” She asks the next question like she’s wanted to all day. “Are you going to see Rachel again?” Her face reveals her doubts, but she doesn’t show signs of regret for asking.
I like that.
I chuckle to myself. “You’re asking me instead of your friend?”
“We’re friends, right?”
“Yes, I guess we are.” I angle my head, trying to figure her out, but it’s a wasted effort. I imagine I could spend a year straight with her and still not understand everything going on in her head. “We decided we were better as friends. She didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask.” Embarrassment colors her cheeks, or maybe it’s the alcohol. “I didn’t ask her on purpose.”
Interesting. “Why not?”
She lifts her eyes up to meet mine, and I can feel her hesitation to say too much, though she doesn’t seem to hold back. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer. She’s usually so open with how her dates go, but with you, she didn’t say anything.”
Her words don’t relieve me. They stress me. She’s seeking the truth from me, but I don’t know if she’ll believe it when she hears it.