Something Like This (Secrets) (5 page)

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ll take the Metro.”

“It’s really no big deal. Let me give you a ride home,” he said, smiling.

“I don’t want to mess with your plans.”

“You’re not.” He put his hand on my arm. “Come on. I promise I won’t bite you.”

I felt guilty for standing him up earlier. Here was my chance to redeem myself. I couldn’t turn him down. “Well, in that case, okay, I guess I give in.”

“Good.”

We walked to his car. Part of me was thrilled and the rest was terrified. I liked him, a lot. He made me feel nervous and happy at the same time. And now I was getting into his car after blowing him off hours earlier. He hadn’t even brought it up. Goodness.

He opened the door for me. I slipped into the smooth, leather passenger seat. He went around to the driver’s door. And I inhaled and exhaled fast, wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, once he was inside the car.

“Yes, thank you.”

He inserted the key into the ignition. “So, where do you live?”

“On Eighth Street.”

“Eighth Street it is,” he said.

Down the road we went, an awkward silence in the air. My palms were sweaty and I swear I stopped breathing for a few seconds.

After what seemed like a hundred minutes, he said, “You still owe me a lunch date.”

“I’m sorry I had to cancel today.”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“Maybe, but it depends on how many manuscripts Mr. Walker wants me to take a look at.”

“You didn’t tell me you also read manuscripts for my uncle.”

“I just started.”

“Got it. About lunch tomorrow, do we have a date?”

I didn’t respond. I wanted to say
yes, of course, we do
! But the words refused to come out.

“I understand. You don’t want to go out with me, I get it.”

“It’s not that, it’s...”

“Listen, I like you. I can’t get you out of my head, which is crazy seeing as how we only met a couple of days ago. But there it is.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I knew exactly what to say, but for some stupid reason, the words stayed locked in my mouth. I wanted to say,
I like you, too. I can’t stop thinking of you, either.

“Just be honest with me.”

We turned onto Eighth Street.

“My building is at the very end of the street. It’s the blue one,” I said.

When we got to it, he paralleled parked into a spot right in front.

“Weird. There are never any parking spots.”

“Luck is on our side, I guess,” he said, putting the car in park.

I bit my lip and opened the door. “Thank you for the ride.”

He gently grabbed my arm. “Would you rather I stop asking you out? Would you rather I leave you alone?”

I turned to look at him. “Tell me the truth. I messed up your plans, didn’t I?”

“I was on my way to a book signing. One of my favorite authors is in town.”

“And you chose to bring me home, instead?”

“Yes.” He took his hand off my arm.

I sat back in the seat and let out a breath. “Why?”

“You already know the answer. I like you.”

“Is this how you are every time you meet a new girl?”

“No. This is how I am with
you
.”

“You do realize we don’t know each other at all.”

“I want to get to know you. There’s something about you, pulling me to you.”

“I admit it. I like you, too.”

“Perfect.”

“No, not perfect. The thing is. I’m not normal. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”

He laughed. “Is that all? You don’t want to go out with me because you’re not normal? No one is normal. We’re all messed up in some way or another. ”

I wanted to tell him about my father, but I couldn’t.

“One date and we’ll see how that goes, okay?” I said.

“Deal. I was planning on spending the day at my mom’s cottage down in Southern Maryland tomorrow. Go hiking, fish, that kind of stuff. Care to join me?”

“For the whole day?”

“It’s Saturday. I’ll make you lunch and dinner. We can go hiking. And it will be just you and me, in case you’re thinking I was planning on introducing you to my mom. I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Yeah, um, it’s a little late for that. But, I’m crazy enough to trust you, so yes, I’ll join you.”

“I’ll pick you up in the morning.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”

I gave it to him and then stepped out of the car. “See you tomorrow. Oh, and who were you going to see? What author?”

“Junot Diaz. Have you ever read any of his stuff?”

I had devoured every single word of Junot Diaz’s short story collection,
Drown.
Every single word. I carried it around with me and would read passages from it when I was waiting for the bus, on the bus, on the Metro, waiting to see the doctor, dentist, hairdresser, wherever I went, Mr. Diaz went with me.

“I love him. I think I may have read
Drown
a million times.”

“Me too. This is so cool,” he said.

“What is?”

“That we already have something in common.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. Once we spend a whole day together we may decide we can’t stand each other and our love of Junot’s books won’t save us.”

“Doubt it.”

“You’re an optimist, huh?”

“Card-carrying member,” he said.

“Me, I stopped being an optimist a long time ago.”

“Never too late to regain your membership.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You have to keep showing up. No matter what’s thrown at you, just keep showing up.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not.”

Yeah, well, he probably lived a pretty charmed life. What did he know about getting knocked down so hard, you felt as if every bone in your body was broken and no matter how hard you reached for something to grab a hold of so you could pull yourself up, all you could reach was cold and empty air? There he was, in his BMW, with his perfectly cut hair, giving me advice about showing up for life. I had been showing up since the day I was born, but life, well the moment I showed up at her door she decided she was done accepting new members and slammed the door in my face. So, instead, I turned and sought limbo’s acceptance. Now, he, on the other hand, welcomed me with open arms. Lost souls belong in limbo.

Sighing, I said, “Anyway, see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” he said and drove off.

I held my hands to my chest and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of me. What I was getting into. But right at that moment as I stood on the sidewalk, a slight breeze in the air, I knew I was happy. And I would hold onto that feeling for as long as I could, because once I hit the pillow and closed my eyes to sleep, my demons would creep back and invite me to dance. And I’d go with them, fully aware that despite my wanting to run away, they still had a hold on me. They still reminded me that I was a horrible, horrible person—a person who would let her own father live on the street.

***

I
t was Saturday morning. My cell phone alarm went off at exactly 6 a.m. I admit it, I was definitely excited
and
nervous about spending the day with Reece and I wanted to get up, shower, get dressed, and have breakfast before I got cold feet and crawled back under my bed covers. As it was, intent on reminding me that my father was homeless and that I still had not worked up the courage to talk to him, my demons had kept me awake for most of the night. I was running on adrenaline, for sure.

After taking a quick shower, I rummaged through my closet for something to wear. Reece had only seen me in my work clothes and I was most certainly not going to wear a pencil skirt, a blouse and heels for a day of fishing and hiking in Southern Maryland. Realizing that I had the most boring wardrobe in all the continents, I decided on a pair of long shorts and a black T-shirt. Once I was dressed, I pulled my hair back in a crazy, tight ponytail, applied a hint of pink lipstick and darted to the kitchen for some coffee.

I was immediately met with the aroma of coffee. And standing in the middle of the room was a smiling, perky, ready-to-take-over-the-world Grace. It was too late for me to make a run for it. I was caught.

“What are you doing up so early?” I asked, stealing a look at the clock on the stove.

Grace licked her lips. “The real question is why are
you
up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning? I don’t think Lisa and I have ever seen you out of your room earlier than noon on the weekends, yet here you are,” she shot a glance at the clock, “at 6:30.”

I walked over to the coffee machine. If Grace was going to interrogate me, I’d need caffeine first.

She reached into the cupboard and handed me a mug. “So...are you going to tell me what’s going on? Lisa told me you met some guy named Reece and that you’re practically in love with him, even though you won’t admit it.”

“For the love of all things that are good, may I have a few sips of my coffee before you turn on the heat lamp?”

She pinched her chin. “Sure, that’s not an unreasonable request. Go ahead, sip away and then, you and I are chatting. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be surprised if I don’t show up.”

“I’m not worried. We’ll find out what’s going on with you sooner or later,” she said, smiling and dancing out of the kitchen.

Her words stung. Right at that moment, I wished I could gather all truth seekers and hide them in a closet. Okay, I know I’m coming across as a bit paranoid, but I’m terrified of my roommates finding out about my father. Here’s the truth. Yes, I’m ashamed of myself for not helping him, for not letting him know who I am, for running away from him. But, I’m also ashamed of
him
. He abandoned me without even saying goodbye. And now, he lives on the streets. I love him, but I also hate him for leaving me—and for becoming homeless.

I decided to tell Grace about my date with Reece, only because I couldn’t take keeping any more secrets. I had to be honest about
something
.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the living room. Grace was on the couch, feet resting on the ottoman, her fingers busy changing channels with the clicker. She was a news junkie and couldn’t help flipping through channels because she was terrified of missing any breaking news.

“Seriously, how many times are you going to re-hash the same story? Enough already!” she screamed at the TV. Then she put down the clicker and turned to me. “I may need to become a reporter.”

I plopped on the couch next to her. “Either that, or stop watching the news so much.”

“That’s not likely to happen,” she said, winking.

“So, how’s work, anyway? How’s the senator? How’s the novel you’re working on?” I took a chance at changing the subject and focusing on her.

“Please, don’t even try it.”

“Try what?”

She sighed. “You’re stalling.” She sighed again. “Work is good. The senator whose name you can never remember is good. My novel is good. And before you ask me what it’s about, I’ll tell you. It’s a political thriller.” She inhaled and released a long breath as if she had just finished given a speech and needed to take a break to gather her thoughts.

“It could be about zombies, and vampires, and other creatures,” I said, remembering my conversation with Reece about his novel.

“Ha! Very funny.” She grabbed a throw blanket which was sitting right next to her. Covering herself with it, she said, “All right, your turn. Why are you up so early?’

“Can you at least turn down the volume?” I rubbed my eyes.

She pointed the clicker at the TV. “There. Done. Now spill.”

I exhaled. “I have a date.” Too late, I spoke the words.

She jumped off the couch. “What? With Reece? I should wake Lisa. She should know this.”

“Calm down.” I grabbed her arm and forced her back onto the couch. Why, oh why, did I tell her? Oh, yeah, honesty, that’s right. I wanted,
needed
to be honest about something.

“So, is he coming here? And why so early?” Her eyes were beaming.

I exhaled again. “Yes, he's coming here. He’s taking me to his parents’ cabin in Southern Maryland."

“Southern Maryland? Where the hell is that? Oh my God, he’s planning on killing you.”

“Don't be stupid. Southern Maryland, is well, south of D.C. His mom has a house in Calvert County.” Truth was, I had never been to Southern Maryland, although I did know it was still pretty rural. Some restaurants in D.C. prided themselves in only serving fresh and organic vegetables grown on Southern Maryland farms.

Frowning, she said, “Okay, whatever, so you’re spending the day with a stranger in a cabin, God knows where.”

“Yep, sounds about right,” I said with a smirk.

“Is he at least hot?”

I cleared my throat and then bit my lip. 

“Well?”

“Very hot,” I said.

“I think I'm jealous. When is he coming? I want to meet this mysterious hottie.”

Reece hadn’t said when he would be picking me up. All he had said was that he would pick me up in the morning. I was beginning to feel a bit dumb for waking up so early.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she stood and made for the kitchen. “I'm getting another cup of coffee. Want one?”

I was glad she couldn’t see me blushing. Here I was, waiting for my Prince Charming to appear, and I didn’t even know when he would be arriving. Wait—had I really referred to Reece as my Prince Charming? That would be a yes.

I stood to look at the time on the stove clock. It was now 7:30.

“He'll probably call me before he comes,” I said.

“Why didn’t you both agree on a time when he asked you out? That’s what normal people would have done,” she said, pouring the last of the coffee into her mug.

“Yeah, well, who says I’m normal?” I am anything but normal. Hell, I’m so abnormal that I almost come full circle, back to the normal starting point.

Making her way back into the living room, she said, “Yep, you’re pretty much a weirdo. Okay, well, what say you and I watch the news together until Mr. Hottie calls or gets here, because if you think I’m going to miss out on meeting him...”