Page 105 of Tiny Fractures
“How is Cat?” Shane asks me as we work.
“Good, I think. I haven’t seen her in”—I stop to look at my watch—“about eight hours now.”
Shane chuckles. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you guys, like, right in the middle of something when I called.”
“Yeah, actually, you did,” I admit.
Shane takes on a guilty expression. “I figured as much. You sounded… breathless,” he says, and chuckles again. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t feel bad. We get interrupted all the time. Story of our lives. We never get anywhere; it’s like the universe is against us,” I muse, thinking about all the times when it felt like Cat and I finally had the chance to explore each other, just to be interrupted by her mom, or Vada, or a phone. “But then again, maybe it’s the universe telling me to slow down. I don’t think Cat’s ready,” I say more to myself than Shane.
He stops in his tracks. “What do you mean she’s not ready? Are you telling me you guys haven’t had sex yet?” Shane asks, his eyebrows raised in surprise. I shake my head at him. Shane is the only person I talk about these things with, and only because he has a way of getting them out of me or already knows. For example, he always had a knack for figuring out if I hooked up with a girl and he would ask me about it, and I could never figure out where he got the info in the first place. “Oh,” he says, concern edged into his face. “Why not?”
I start sweeping the floor. “You mean aside from everybody and their mother interrupting us?” I say sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood, and he nods. I take a moment to answer before I stop to face him, deciding to confide in my best friend. “I know she’s never had sex before, so I just want to take it slow, you know. I want to make sure it’s what she wants. I’m in deep with her, Shay,” I confess, the weight of my feelings for Cat sinking into my chest.
“Do you love her?” he asks, searching my face.
I nod slowly as the realization of it threatens to crush me. What did Shakespeare write? These violent delights have violent ends, or something like that? “Yeah, I do.”
“But that’s a good thing, right?” I can tell he’s trying to understand the sudden shift in my mood.
“I’m scared of fucking it up. I’m scared of not being good enough for her. I don’t want to hurt her, Shay.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “She told me about her ex today and it made me want to hunt this asshole down,” I growl.
“What happened with her ex?”
I give Shane a brief summary without disclosing details, not wanting to divulge Cat’s secret when she only just trusted me enough to tell me today. But I need to unburden myself and relieve the anger that courses through my body when I think about some random guy laying a hand on Cat.
Shane pats my back. “You’re a good guy, Ran, which is exactly why I know you won’t hurt her; you’re not going to fuck this up. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: trust that Cat will tell you what she needs. Stop overthinking your relationship with her and just feel it. You deserve this. You deserve to be in love with her and you deserve to be loved.”
“Okay, I wasn’t aware that you were my personal therapist.” I have a hard time believing anything he just told me, especially this last part about deserving to be loved. I’ve grown up believing the complete opposite, being shown over and over that I don’t deserve good things, that I’m not good enough.
“I just think you need to hear these things sometimes,” Shane says matter-of-factly before he walks away.
I continue sweeping the floor, replaying Cat’s story in my head and feeling the urge to be with her right now, even just to hold her and be in her presence.
“Alright, man. Looks like this was the last of it,” Shane finally announces half an hour later, slapping a dirty rag into the sink, wiping his hands on the apron securely tied around his waist, and looking around the deserted restaurant. “Thanks for jumping in today. I know you had plans to spend the evening with Cat. You’re a good friend.”
I shrug. “No worries. I know you would have done the same for me.”
I set the stack of menus neatly on top of the bar, take off my ballcap, and comb my fingers through my hair. I check the clock over the large mirror by the bar. It’s 2:50 a.m. and my body aches with fatigue. I stretch my arms over my head, and my neck and back crack gratefully.
“Are you up for heading to the gym in the morning?” Shane asks, grabbing his keys and locking the door to the little office located just to the right of the counter.
“I don’t know. I think I need a rest day or something.” I grab my own car keys and wallet and shove them back in my pockets, then put my ball cap back on my head. “How about Saturday?” I ask, hoping he’ll agree to skip the gym tomorrow because, man, I really need some sleep. “I’m not sure I can handle another four-hour night, honestly.”
He nods. “Yeah, me neither. Okay, Saturday sounds good.”
He turns off the lights while I head to the front door and hold it open for him. He shuts it tightly behind us and locks the deadbolt in place before we head to our cars. We say good night and drive off in different directions.
***
It only takes me ten minutes to get home, and I notice Vada’s little Ford Focus parked on the curb in front of my house. She’s obviously spending the night with Steve and probably told her dad she’s actually over at Cat’s. My thoughts immediately wander to Cat, and I yearn for her—to be near her, to kiss her, feel her body against mine. I’m a little frustrated at how abruptly our afternoon ended. What I wouldn’t give to get to spend the night with her again. I would suggest she tell her mom that she’s spending the night at Vada’s when, really, she’d be spending it with me, but I don’t want to pressure her into something she’s not ready for, and I would feel fucking shitty if I made her lie for me.
I back up into the driveway next to Steve’s Challenger and get out of the car, locking it manually. I decide to trudge up the front steps rather than make my way through the garage so as not make too much noise. Inside the house, I kick off my shoes and stash them neatly in the shoe closet just to the left of the staircase. I make a pit stop in the kitchen where I fill up a glass with cold water and chug the cool liquid while listening to the quiet of the house before deciding if it’s safe to head upstairs. It’s a habit I formed when Vada started randomly sleeping over toward the end of last year—I listen hard to make sure I don’t interrupt anything. If I hear Steve and Vada upstairs, I either leave the house and walk Onyx—who is always down for a nighttime stroll—or I end up passing out on the couch downstairs. But it’s quiet tonight—probably because it’s past 3 a.m.—and I decide it’s safe to go upstairs. I’m relieved because I can feel my energy waning quickly and I want nothing more than to lie down and pass the fuck out. I’m not even sure I have enough left in me to get undressed as I drag myself up the stairs.
When I round the corner, I notice that my bedroom door is closed but don’t think much of it. Turning the knob, I open the door enough to slip into my room and close it quietly behind me. It’s pitch-black in my room. The shades are drawn and the bathroom door is closed—another sign that Vada is sleeping over; privacy reasons. I toss my ballcap in the corner and sit down on the edge of my bed to take off my socks—I hate sleeping with socks on.
“Hi!” Cat’s soft, sleepy voice startles me, and I turn my head toward where her voice is coming from. I can sense her on my bed behind me but not see her; the darkness has rendered me momentarily blind. I feel her sit up and scoot closer to me, so I close my useless eyes, letting my other senses take over as she glides her hand up my back and around my shoulder to my chest before her soft lips graze my neck. I let my head fall to the side, enjoying her nearness as she trails kisses down onto my shoulder.