Page 56 of Until Next Time
I sit on the edge of my desk, positioning myself right in front of her. I grab her arms gently, and hunch down slightly to look at her head on.
“Birdie, there’s absolutely nothing weird about it. And I’m really fucking sorry that I’m the asshole that is telling you this, but I can’t let that guy get away with treating you that way. This is your decision, and it fucking made my blood boil listening to him question you and then have the nerve to think he deserves you like that. Because he doesn’t. And I know this is off base for me to say, but since I’ve been on a roll lately with saying shit I shouldn’t, your virginity is actually so attractive. It just goes to show how confident you are, and how intentional with your life you are.”
She just looks at me, her eyes looking misty, and suddenly, she falls into me. She’s wrapped in my arms, her head is just under my chin, and I can feel her body relax in my embrace.
I lean down and plant a kiss on the top of her head, and I hear her let out a soft whimper. I keep my lips in her hair, and bringmy hand to the back of her head and run my fingers through a few strands there.
She pulls back just enough to look up at me.
“Thank you.” Her voice soft, and broken.
I look into those eyes and pull her back into my chest.
“You’re precious to me, Birdie Banks. Everything about you is special.” I say, not hoping for any personal gain. I just need her to know that she’s something to behold and not something that can be reduced down to a game or something to be played.
We stand in that embrace for a few more minutes and then she pulls away, wiping at her eyes and giving me a forced laugh, like she’s trying to make light of the situation and everything that just transpired.
“I’m sorry about all of this.” She gestures between us.
“The only thing I’m sorry about is ever letting Max anywhere near you. This is all my fault.”
“Don’t be. A lesson learned is never a waste.” She gives me a tight lipped smile and slowly paces towards the door of my office. Before she walks out, she just looks back again—
“You’re special too, Dawsen.” She leaves before I can say anything.
35
Birdie
What an eventful afternoon.
I finished the mural at Southbound, I told Max to ‘fuck off’ in so many words, and I cried into Dawsen’s t-shirt for a solid five minutes. So, I’ve made no significant progress in my journey from my pathetic, jobless existence, especially because I’m jobless once again.
I cleaned up all the painting supplies at the winery and loaded them into the back of my car. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could and to not see Dawsen again. My mind is just out of control from this day, and I needed to just make a quick escape. I gave Greg and Savannah a hug goodbye and told them I’d see them sometime soon, and Greg handed me a bottle of wine as a parting gift.
I’m about to pull open my driver’s side door when I see a flower wedged into the handle. A simple daisy that has beenplucked from a small plant that’s just a few feet away lining the sidewalk.
Dawsen.
I smile, bring it to my nose to inhale the fresh scent. I look at it, and as beautiful as it is, it makes me sad. It makes my heart ache for something I want so bad, and then it makes me so mad. Mad because I feel like I’m being strung along. Like I’m being teased and taunted. And confused. Confused because one day I’m pining after a man I believe has only ever seen me as his best friend’s little sister, and then the next day I’m pining after that same man but it turns out he’s pining after me too. Confused because he’s refusing to do anything about it. Confused becausewhy not.
Without another thought, I slide into my car and toss the daisy onto the floorboard of the passenger seat. Under different circumstances, I would have taken that daisy home with the utmost care. I would have pressed it in between the pages of books to flatten it, then I would later display it in a frame because to me, small things have always been the big things to me. But I don’t want to be strung along, and I don’t want to be made a fool of anymore. So that tiny little flower will not take up anymore space in my life.
I reach for my seat belt and buckle myself in for the short drive to Nook & Novel.
I desperately need to escape to my happy place.
I walk in and Mira isn’t at the register and I see some empty chairs near the magazine racks. I walk over and settle into one of the oversized armchairs.
I pull out a receipt from my coffee earlier this week and a pen and begin scribbling something on the backside.
There’s two forms of torture. The torture of not knowing, and the torture of knowing. There’s one thing I’m certain of—knowing hurts worse.
- Until Next Time. (or not)
I sit in the chair, with my purse in my lap as I stare at the receipt with my scribbled feelings across it. I slide the receipt into my pocket so I’ll remember to deposit it into the post box out front. Then I open my text thread with Casey.
Me: I broke things off with Max. I don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to let you know. I miss you.
