Page 10 of The Significance of Moving On

I sob and sniff into the receiver as I glide down onto one of the worn kitchen chairs. “I… I just…”sniff“Wanted to say thank you.”

“Hey, what happened? Tally, talk to me. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing. I’ve got lunch coming. I’ll be home in fifteen. Tell me, how’s your day been going?”

He keeps me talking the whole time. We’re still on the phone when he walks through the front door. I’ve told him everything except that I snooped. Looking onto that soulful face which never ceases to look on me with warmth and compassion, what if he thinks I’ve betrayed him? If he’d wanted to share, wouldn’t he have done it already? What if he wants me out? Shoot, I hadn’t thought of that when I called.

He’s home now, though, and deserves to know the truth. As soon as we both hang up, his arms wrap tightly around me. Casey’s hugs are like the softest, snuggliest pair of pajamas or a tuna noodle casserole, all warm and comforting. No matter the consequences, I breathe in deeply and just lay it out there. “I know why you’ve been being kind to me.” My eyes pinch shut, and muscles go ridged preparing for his kick-me-to-the-curb.

But he doesn’t. “I was going to tell you,” he says. There’s a long exhale. “Just wanted to wait for the right time, I guess. Sorry.”

Sorry?I snooped through his stuff, yet he’s apologizing tome?

“I was cleaning out the dresser.” I cry harder, my words muffled against his red, tar smeared T-shirt. “I didn’t look at anything until…”

“Hey, it’s all right.” Casey lifts my chin between his thumb and forefinger enough for me to gaze thoughtfully at his expression. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, but here we are. This just gives us something unfortunate in common.” There’s nothing but sincerity in the way he looks back at me with his sad yet hopeful eyes.

I hug him tight enough he might be in danger of oxygen loss.

“Can I make you a sandwich?” I ask. “Since you drove home on your lunch.”

“That’d be great.”

•••

Dinner is waiting when Casey gets home from work. After lunch I walked down to the store buying lasagna, cheesy-parmesan bread and salad fixings. I plated while he showered. He emerges from the bathroom in a pair of sweats drying his hair off with another beach towel, this one red Hawaiian. I just,wow. Friends shouldn’t check friends out, I know this. But I also know that I’m a hundred percent hetero woman, even if he is my friend and I’m grieving, and Casey without a shirt is, well, I just never imagined tarring roofs could lead to a body like that.What is wrong with me?His brother died. My brother died. However here I am ogling him, or more precisely, his abs and pecs and shoulders as they strain against his smooth, silken skin, skin shy of hair yet full of temptation. I’m a little mind blown in that standing, staring, speechless way.

He clears his throat and I can’t believe I’ve been caught.

“Sorry, brain fart.” I turn, shake my head and try to regain some dignity in this truly embarrassing situation.

“Happens to the best of us.” Casey smiles not even acknowledging my faux pas and drapes his towel over his shoulder, taking the plate I’m offering as he passes into the living room.

I force myself to pay attention, real close attention, to my plate because I accidentally saw his backside, anddear lord. I can’t get caught staring again.

He sits in his recliner and I take my spot on the sofa. The TV is off today. “I feel like we should talk,” he says.

Crud.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, you just surprised me, and I feel totally stupid.” The vomit of apology spews from my mouth with me unable to stop it without taking a drastic measure, which I do, shoveling the biggest bite of food imaginable into my mouth. It’s too large and I start to gag.

Casey shoots up from the chair, still holding his plate. I hold my hand out to stop him from pulling out the Heimlich maneuver, that he’s clearly itching to use.

After I’m able to swallow, I nod to give him the go-ahead to sit back down. Casey turns back to eating.

He laughs uncomfortably and chews. “I uh, actually meant that I owed you some personals, since I know a whole lot about you and all.” Then he swallows, and I’m not even grossed out. The boy talks with his mouth full and I’m okay with it.

“So,” he starts, “you found out about my brother.”

I nod again.

“Luke was older by two years—do you have any questions? I don’t want to feel like I’m giving this big history dump.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“We grew up all over the state. Luke and I, we never knew our dad, and mom just walked us into one of those kid dumping locations and said, ‘Here, they’re your problem now.’”

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