Page 63 of Into The Light
"So, are you asking my advice? Or just sounding off?"
See, that's what I love about Raina. She doesn’t assume things.
"Asking for advice. What do you think I should do?"
"Well, first, what do you see with him? I mean, you like him, you're attracted to him. But do you want a relationship with him? Like, a real one?"
I swallow hard. “Yeah, I think I do."
"You think?" She sets the fork down and takes my hands in hers. “You need to be sure. From what I know of Bear, he’s not someone to do casually. Neither are you, obviously. But you owe it to yourself and to him to beveryclear on what you want.” She rubs my hand with her thumbs. “It’s been a long time for you, too. Not as long as him, but a while. So just…don’t get being horny mixed up with what you do or don’t feel emotionally.”
"I don't see him every day, but nearly. He doesn't have a car or a phone, so the only way for us to connect is if I go by the shelter after work. And the days I don't see him, I…well, I miss him. All day long I think about things I want to tell him. I feel safe with him. I feel seen. And…I'm also going a little crazy. From, um…wanting him."
"You wanna climb that mountain, don't you?" She asks, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows at me.
"Yes," I whisper, covering my face with both hands. "So darned bad."
"Then I think you can probably think about changing the boundaries. But think about what those will be. Do you want to go all the way right away? Are you ready for that?" She resumes eating; Raina is a slow eater.
I consider this as I drag my last tot through ketchup. "Do I bring it up in conversation? Or just sort of…stop holding myself back and let things happen organically?"
"I mean, maybe invite him over sometime and see what happens. And then have a conversation about it."
"You're so wise, Raina,” I say. "Thank you."
She does a mock bow at the waist. "I live but to serve." She giggles, then. "You just have to share at leastsomeof the details, if and when."
"It's a deal."
The next day,Bear works late and my last client ends up hating what she asked for and I have to spend an hour past close fixing it so she's happy. Which means I'm frustrated, stressed, and hungry. By the time I clean up my station and lock up, it's after seven, I haven't eaten since noon, and I miss Bear.
I'm too out of sorts to go anywhere other than home, though—as much as I'd love to swing by the shelter and let Bear comfort me, I don't want to subject him to my poopy mood.
So I go home, nuke some leftovers, and watch reality TV in my underwear.
I think about my conversation with Raina, and decide she's right. I know I want more with Bear, and I'm pretty certain he wants more with me. But it's on me to progress things. The question is how?
Maybe instead of going for a hike on the trails like we have been lately, we walk in my neighborhood. I'll invite him in, and…see what happens.
My belly twists and my heart flips at the prospect of kissing him again. Feeling his hands on my skin. See more of him—touch him. Connect with him physically. Reach a new level of intimacy.
We've talked just about everything. He’s told me about his various foster parents and the abuse he suffered, leading him to run away. He’s told me some of the things that happened to him during his years in the gang—and I suspect for every story he tells me, there’s something far darker and more violent he’s not telling me. Which I get—he’s protecting me. I tell him about growing up in a big family. Feeling invisible as the middle child between sets of twins. About my relationship with Brennan, well, more of it, anyway. We talk about books—despite only having a GED, he’s very widely read, thanks to that librarian. He’s read biographies on various important historical figures like Lincoln, Washington, MLK Jr., Malcolm X, both Roosevelts, and Einstein. He’s read sci-fi, fantasy, mysteries, romances, literary fiction…a bit of everything.
You just have to get him talking, I discover—once we find a subject, we have long, meandering conversations that delve into religion and spirituality, social politics and regular politics—the latter of which neither of us has much stomach for—social justice issues, inequality, racism, sexism…
We know each other now. Better, at least. I know he loves Chinese food, Indian, and Italian. He hates lunch meat, brussels sprouts, and mustard. He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, and even though he’s never had alcohol issues, he chooses not to drink almost ever. He’s saving money to buy a good car—he could afford one now, but he’d rather wait longer and buy something nice that will last and not waste money on endless repairs. He’s never had social media and doesn't really understand it.
Now I’m ready for the next level. Whatever that looks like, however it unfolds, I want it with him.
The next day, Wednesday, is cloudy and overcast, the skies heavy and threatening rain. My last client cancels, which means I'm out of work by five-thirty. I go home, make sure everythingis picked up and clean, change into my favorite black leggings, my most supportive black sports bra, and a pale mauve tank top with a lightweight ivory hoodie, and head to the shelter.
Only, he's not there, and Gloria hasn't seen him—he called from Riley’s phone and said he wouldn't be in today.
Three Rivers is a small town. Everyone knows everyone. It's gotten bigger in recent years, and new people are moving in every day, it seems like, but those of us who've been born and raised here know each other. Therefore, I happen to know that Riley and Felix have been working in the Creighton Meadows neighborhood, which was intended to be the beginning of a much larger subdivision, only to be abandoned by the developer after a single street, leaving it as a weird outlier, a single street of middling-quality homes, outdated, abandoned, and in desperate need of rejuvenation. The brothers have been buying the houses, demoing them, remodeling, and selling them.
I head there on a whim. When I get to Meadowview Lane, it's after six-thirty, and the crews are all still here, Felix's guys busily hammering and sawing and whatever else in one house or working on the finishing touches inside at another, while Riley's crew handles the demolitions.
I spot Riley's truck outside a small ranch with faded green siding and a buckling roof—guys come and go in a constant stream, hauling out sections of drywall, light fixtures, and wheelbarrows full of detritus. In all the coming and going, I don't see Bear.
