Page 72 of It Couldn't Be You
I told himI didn’t know what I wanted back then…as if I knew now. The windshield wipers swished back and forth as my heart pounded. I didn’t want to get out of his truck and drive home, shivering to the bone all alone. I knew that much.
I crashed through deep puddles, barreling on fast and wild, away from what I wanted. Whatever that was. I wasn’t sure. But I knew what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to leave.But did it even matter?Because I did.
Itook a steaming hot shower and crawled into bed early, but I tossed and turned until I wound up switching on my lamp. I wrapped up in my white quilt and trudged out to the living room, deciding to sit by the glass door that looked onto my balcony. I watched the rain splash hard on my outdoor metal chairs and cars splashing through the puddled streets. I watched lightning crash across the sky.
I kept hearing Gabe’s voice in my mind like a skipping track.
I had my phone on the floor beside me, so I grabbed it and impulsively pressed his number.I should ask him what everything means. What had he meant? What had today meant?
I should explain what happened last time. I’d been a fool to think it would just be forgotten, swept up with the past two years like a silly miscommunication or mishap. Like it wouldn’t matter. Like it didn’t mean something.
“Hello?” he said groggily into the phone.
I hung up. Within seconds, he called me back.
“Are we in high school again?” he asked.
“Hi,” I said like I’d been caught.
“Why did you call just to hang up?” His voice tenderly teasing.
“Oh, yeah, that…” I buried my face in the quilt.
“You know, it’s not the 90s, right? We have caller ID. The call your crush and hang up thing doesn’t work anymore.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, crush. I called but then immediately felt bad that it was so late. I was hoping your phone was on silent.”
“What were you calling about, anyway?”
“I was wanting to…”Ask what you’ve been meaning with all your little remarks. Ask why you orchestrated running into me on Valentine’s Day. Talk about that time we kissed on my birthday, the time we danced on New Year’s Eve, and this persistent, pulling thing between us.
I went with, “Check on your cast. Is it okay after being stuck in the rain?”
“Yeah, I was able to salvage it all. I feel a lot more comfortable now. I rewrapped it.”
“Okay, good.”
It was quiet. Sometimes there simply becomes too much to talk about. You just remain silent because you become buried underneath all there is to say, unable to decide where to even begin.
“Em, you just left without saying goodbye,” he started.
“I was a little bit embarrassed,” I said. “It was like self-defense.”
“You didn’t need to be embarrassed, though. Of course, I want to hold your hand. Any touch from you is definitely wanted, trust me,” he assured me. “I just was trying to think through everything. You didn’t really give me much time to do that.”
“What a bad decision it was to just bolt set in a little too late while I was driving home.” I closed my eyes.
It was quiet again. The rain was letting up outside my window. I had a billion things I could say. He had a billion things I feared he would say.
Heck, I could ask him about “Any touch from you is definitely wanted.”
I heard him clear his throat and, before he could speak, the part of me that ran away only hours ago quickly interrupted him saying, “You know, I always watchWhen Harry Met Sallyon Valentine’s Day and I didn’t get to today.”
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize you had this Valentine’s tradition.”
“I do. It started with my mom and me. She’d always have her little date or whatever with Dad, but she’d always find time to curl up with me and watch Meg Ryan fall in love.”
“Wow. Well, that’s really cute. I never knew that.”
