Page 40 of Adrift

I puff out half of a laugh, trying to concoct an answer to his question. “Darian’s been under a lot of stress lately. He’s also not much of a talker.” I laugh, letting him know the rest of what I’ll say is in jest. “He relies heavily on intense glaring and some jaw clenching. It wouldn’t surprise me if his facial muscles have atrophied with the lack of use.”

Liam relaxes, finally giving me a genuine smile. “Right? Like, what did I ever do to him? He really didn’t like me.”

“Don’t take it personally. I’m sure Darian’s reflection asks him the same thing.”

Liam laughs and the heavy air seems to have lifted from the car. “Is he nice to you? I mean, he’s not like that to you too, is he? It would fucking suck to have to live with someone who just glared at you all the time.”

I smile, finding the comment amusing and interesting. Does it suck to have Darian glare at me all the time? What a complicated question, but I only have one answer to it. No. In fact, I feel like his intense gaze has become a fascination, an addiction. I don’t whither under it, like I saw Liam doing. Instead, I feel empowered and emboldened.

Alive, untethered.

Liam’s question brings about the various moments over the past two weeks where I witnessed the soft sides of a man who doesn’t leave home without his heavy suit of armor.

The way he sweetly kisses his son’s temple. The colorful flowers he leaves on my doorstep. The array of new coffee pods and unhealthy snacks that magically appeared a few days after I arrived. The way he softly shushes Arman in the mornings in case I’m still sleeping.

The way his soft spoken words and raspy voice betrayed the strength he’s always projecting when he let me hold him in the kitchen.

He’s been broken, not once but twice. He’s lost people he’s given parts of his soul to, only to have lost those parts with them.

I know all of this–recognizing the quiet beast with a soft underbelly–but I’ll be damned if I stand by silently, allowing him to use his pain as an excuse for his poor behavior. We’ve all been dealt unlucky hands, and we’ve all been through our fair share of pain in life. But only we are responsible for what we do with that pain–grow from it or succumb to it.

I certainly know which way I lean.

For far too long, I allowed others to be responsible for my happiness. I let them decide who, what, and how I should be, but with the death of my sister came an inner awakening. I can’t say I wasn’t working toward that even before her death, but her passing was like a catalyst for the new me. The reenvisioned, reimagined, two-point-oh me.

It was then that I decided I’d no longer permit anyone to hurt me just because they had been hurt in the past and I looked like I’d be good target practice. Fuck no. I’d allowed it for too long and I refuse to go backward, be it for my mother or anyone else.

“No, he’s not bad. A little complicated, but who isn’t?”

Dinner with Liam is fun and easy, as if I’ve known him forever. He tells me more about his job working for the water utility company and his love for biking. Apparently, he’s taken part in several cross-country marathons and even fixes bikes on the side.

I tell him more about my love for journalism and my recent venture into photography. He’s fascinated with my blog, The Soulmate Spiel, and asks me a million questions before pulling out his phone and subscribing to it.

I honestly can’t recall the last time someone has been so attentive and sweet. And I find his boyish charm incredibly endearing. There’s a goodness about him–a wholesome guy-next-door quality–that I could see women fawning over, and I know without a shadow of doubt that whoever he ends up with will be a lucky girl.

It just won’t be me.

Why? Because clearly, even given the million wonderful qualities about this red-haired, sensitive and gentle man in front of me, my thoughts are irritatingly anchored to a man who is anything but those things. A man so unmercifully broody and immodestly good-looking that I can’t decide if I want to clip him or climb him.

So even after Liam and I finish dinner at a beautiful Italian restaurant set at the base of the mountains to take a walk around the stretch of land behind it, my thoughts trail off to the two guys who have burrowed themselves somewhere deep inside my heart.

Liam drives me back to Darian’s house, exiting the driver’s side as I get out of the passenger’s. We spent the drive back sharing our love for music. I played him a couple of my favorite songs, and he introduced me to an indie band I hadn’t heard of.

“Can I walk you to the door?” He meets my eyes with a soft smile.

“Sure.” I can’t tell if Darian is home or not. He often parks his truck in the garage and the lights inside the house are all turned off. I wonder how my little toothless monster did at the party.

“I don’t think I had a chance to tell you, and I should have.” Liam follows me as I walk up the path to the front porch.

“What’s that?” I ask over my shoulder.

“You look lovely in that dress.” He purses his lips. “You should consider wearing it on one of our walks to the park.”

I’d ordered it a few weeks ago from an online boutique I found that specializes in plus-size dresses and lingerie. And even though I had no one to wear the lingerie for, I’d decided on a whim to splurge on that too, following my live for today mantra.

“Oh, should I?” I snort. “I’m sure I’d be well-dressed to play a part in a 1960s film, pushing around a stroller, wearing my short-heeled pumps. Any other requests? Would you like me to put my hair up in a beehive, too?”

Liam gives me a sheepish grin. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

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