I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(21)

I haven’t seen my dad since that day last summer, but he calls once in a while. I’ve noticed, though, his calls have diminished as the months have passed. I think my dad just feels guilty about all that has happened, how the daughter that still lives and breathes remains cast aside. But, like me, he fears my mother and the wrath she can deliver. I’m sure it’s just easier for him to pretend I don’t exist. My eyes water thinking about it, but it’s yet another thing I’ve come to accept.

All I can say is thank God for Father Maridale; he’s been my unexpected savior. He must have heard through the church grapevine that my new degree was in elementary education, as he offered me a job teaching first grade the very week I graduated, two days after the lunch with my father.

I suspect Father Maridale felt bad for me, seeing as I was on my own, with no job, no sister, and—for all intents and purposes—no family. Born of pity or not, I jumped at the opportunity. The only problem at the time was that school didn’t start until September. Didn’t matter. I found a job waiting tables at a placed called Pizza House within twenty-four hours.

Pizza House is a restaurant in town that everyone loves. It’s big, cheery, and bright, located in an old yellow and green frame house that’s considered a Harmony Creek landmark.

I loved the place right from the start. All the employees were friendly and welcoming and made me feel like I was a part of something. I even stayed on for a little while after school started in the fall. But juggling two jobs became a bit too much. I was tired all the time and losing focus. The kids deserved a fully functioning teacher, so I gave up Pizza House.

Money grew tight, but it was the right decision. Though I sometimes consider picking up a shift or two, particularly during the holidays when there are no classes. The manager, Nick, told me the day I left that I could come back at any time. In fact, just last week he reiterated that very same offer. I had stopped in to pick up a pizza to take home and Nick rang me up on the register.

But I’ll never go back. I know the offer was made—then and more recently—only because Nick likes me, even after our failed attempt at dating.

Nick asked me out last fall, a week after I quit. I had suspected he was attracted to me, even before he acted on it. He was always smiling and trying to find things for us to talk about. Heck, he even helped me bus tables. And the managers at Pizza House never did things like that.

The day I went in to pick up my final paycheck was the day Nick finally asked me out. He wanted to know if I’d like to see a movie with him sometime.

“Sure,” I said, “why not.”

Unfortunately, despite my agreeing to go out on a date with him, I wasn’t all that interested in starting up a relationship with Nick Mercurio.

He’s a cute guy; don’t get me wrong. Nick is very nice looking, in fact. Lots of girls like him, I witnessed him getting hit on dozens of times when I was waitressing. And no wonder. He has nice, smooth olive-toned skin, wavy black hair, and soft brown eyes. Not to mention he’s sweet as can be, at least he always was to me. But I just wasn’t feeling it with Nick. I tried and tried to like him, I did. But like many things in life, it just never took.

Nevertheless, Nick and I went out a few times. Dinners and movies, chaste kisses at the doorstep. The last time he took me out we decided to mix it up—we went to the Anchor Inn to have a few drinks. I got a little buzzed, purposely, hoping alcohol might loosen me up, make me like Nick even. Maybe Nick was hoping for the same thing, he bought me one drink after the other.

The alcohol ended up having the desired effect—to a point. I don’t think it made me genuinely like Nick, but it sure made me hang all over him, surely sending the man all sorts of mixed signals. When we left the bar we ended up in the backseat of his car, making out, hidden away in a dark corner of a lot near the bar.

I hadn’t been touched—like, really touched—in three years at the time and it felt so good to feel wanted. My need for human touch heightened my senses and made me feel drunker than I was. The more Nick touched me, the more I lost myself to lust. So when Nick’s hands slid over my breasts, I didn’t stop him. When he slowly undid the buttons on my dress until the material gaped open, I didn’t stop him. I let him trail his hands over my bra and down my stomach, watched even. And when he slid the hem of my dress up my thighs, I gasped and nodded my assent.

Everything felt good, but unfortunately nothing about Nick’s hands on me felt right. So when his knuckles brushed back and forth over my panties, waiting for my go-ahead or refusal, I may have pushed into him a little bit, maybe let his fingers linger on damp cotton for a few extra seconds, but then I did what felt right—I made him stop.

My body wanted more, much more, but my heart didn’t. And I’d been in that place before—body wanting something the heart stood indifferent to. I couldn’t go down that road again. I couldn’t continue on with someone I knew I’d never really care all that deeply for. I’d done it once before and, in that case, wrong begat wrong.

Not surprisingly, that night was my last date with Nick Mercurio. Nick drove me home in awkward silence. He knew it was the end, the end of something that never really got started. Even so, he walked me to my door and gave me a hug. He even persevered for a while longer, asking me out a few times more. But I kept making excuses and he finally gave up.

It’s just as well. I’m waiting for a man that leaves me breathless, a man who knocks me off my feet right from the beginning. He’s out there, I know it. And when the time is right our paths will cross, probably when I least expect it. I’ve always heard that’s how these things go.