Page 51 of I Love My Mistake
“What does your father do now?”
“Lives in regret,” I say, maybe quicker than I should have. “Oops. Sorry, Dad,” I call to the direction of the west.
“Not on the best of terms, huh? Yeah. I wasn’t either.” A cloud descends on him. “But then he died before I was able to fix that.”
“I’m so sorry! How?”
He says, with difficulty, “Car accident. Two years ago.”
“Oh no.” I reach out and slide my arm through his and hold it there as we walk. “You had no chance to say goodbye.”
“No. I didn’t. My mom’s devastated. It’ll take time, I guess.”
We walk on, my arm through his. After a few steps I confide, “My mom died, too.”
He looks over. “So you know, then.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “No one prepares you for it. And no one gets it until they go through it themselves.”
“No, they really don’t. They say things like, they’re in a better place. I hate that more than anything else.”
“Me, too. It doesn’t help.”
“Because it makes you feel selfish for thinking the better place is still alive so I can tell him I love him.”
Understanding twists grief throughout me. “I wish I could see her just once more. I’d tell her how well I’m doing now. How much I miss her. How much I love her and can’t believe I have to grow old without her.”
He nods and leans so that my arm falls and he takes my hand in his, to hold it, our fingers entwining like hair in a braid. He pulls our hands up to his lips and kisses them in a comforting way, like he’s done it a million times. The charge I feel from this little kiss is intense. I'm thrown by its sweet intimacy. As we walk, and he looks at the sights, I realize that I can’t remember the last time I walked down a street holding hands. It’s been three years since I’ve been in a relationship and my casual sex-buddies and I don’t hold hands because we don’t go places together. It would make things confusing.
But this doesn’t feel confusing. It feels… right.
I take a deep breath and say, “I’m going to ask you something crazy. Are you ready?”
He glances to me with a warm smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I take in a dramatic breath, the importance of what I’m about to say barely hidden behind a nervous smile. “Okay. Here goes. Oh God… this is hard. Okay…”
He squeezes my hand once, his eyes dancing. “Just say it.”
“I’m trying! Okay. Would you… like to come back to my place and see… my heart?” I used the word heart on purpose as a joke, but it sounds weird and scary, not funny at all.
“You sure?” The way he looks at me, feels like he is going to kiss me. I want him to. I really want him to.
I get very still. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He takes my other hand, now holding both. We stand facing each other and the chemistry is through the roof as I look up into his eyes.
“I’d love that. Thank you for trusting me with this. Wow. I’m going to be the first one to see your work.”
I feel like a teenager, my heart racing. “I have to tell you…”
“What?”
“You looking at me like that? It makes me feel good.”
He laughs, brings both my hands up and kisses them. The butterflies have taken over my insides and are having a party of grandiose proportions. I think he’s waiting to kiss me, waiting for the right moment. The suspense is killing me!
I whisper, “Umm…will you call a cab for us?”