The Space Between Us(77)
“Not tonight, Asher. I just got here and it’s the first time I’ve been home in a really long time. I miss my dad and I think I just want to go to sleep. Can we meet tomorrow sometime? Maybe get some coffee?”
He hesitated and I could see that he wanted to argue with me. “You’ll be fine here by yourself? Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to a hotel or something?”
I laughed a little pathetic laugh. “I just came from a hotel. I just want to go to bed, really.”
He nodded, finally accepting my decision.
“So, can we meet tomorrow afternoon then?” I asked, trying to get him to leave so I might finish my breakdown, or my laundry – whichever.
“Sure, how does three sound? There’s a little coffee shop downtown called Java Jive.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you there.”
He hesitated again. “Are you really going to meet me or are you just trying to get rid of me?” He kind of smiled, like he’s partly joking asking the question, but can tell it’s laced with the fear of the truth.
“I’ll be there.”
“Ok. I’ll see you then.” He turned and left, walked right out of my father’s house and left me wondering why I’d agreed to meet him, why I’d even come back to this house. But I shook my head at myself. I knew why. Part of me still wanted to see him, still wanted to feel the rush of my blood thrumming through my veins at the sight of him. Part of me still loved him.
Now I just had to figure out how to keep that part of me silent.
Chapter Eight
Asher
It was finally here. The day I hoped for. The day Charlie and I would get to say everything we’d never gotten to. I imagined this conversation a million times before. Sometimes, in my mind, after I would tell her everything, she would nod and understand why I made all the decisions I did. She would be open. She would listen. She would forgive. In other scenarios she would cry and tell me all the ways I destroyed her and then she would disappear again. Sometimes she would joke around with me, telling me that I’m taking it all too seriously and that she moved on years ago and I should too. Sometimes she would just walk up to me and slap me across the face and then walk away. All would be valid responses. I would take any of them. I would take whatever she gave me. I deserved whatever came my way. All I hoped for is that by telling her everything that happened, telling her how much I regret what occurred between us, would ease some of the pressure in my chest that I’ve dealt with for years. It’s a selfish endeavor, I know, but my expectations could be much higher. I could be asking the world of Charlie, expecting her to come back to me, to let me prove to her that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. But no, my need was simple – just to explain. And then to take whatever reaction she had and deal with it.
Finally, Charlie walked into the coffee shop. I sat in a far corner so she didn’t see me right away. I should have stood and greeted her. I should have waved her over. But I just couldn’t. As selfishness was the theme of the day, I took a minute to drink her in, to commit her to memory as this could very well be the last time I would get to wash my eyes over her in earnest.
She still seemed so small to me. In reality, she was small. She never grew after she turned thirteen, at least not in height. Her hips became fuller in her teen years, as did her breasts and ass, but her head never really got much higher than my shoulders. Her smallness was no surprise to me, but it did trigger the possessive feelings I always had over her. She needed to be protected, shielded, and treasured. I’d done a fantastic job of f*cking all of that up. If I didn’t know her, if she were a stranger walking into the coffee shop that day I might take a look at her and think she was attractive, that she looked confident and determined. But I knew better.
She was rail thin and although she’d always been small, she’d never been this frail. I understood she was dealing with the death of her father, but something told me that this wasn’t due to her recent loss. Her eyes were empty and her skin was ashen. She didn’t look healthy. She didn’t look happy. She looked like she needed help or someone to offer her a burger. Beyond all that, she was still beautiful. She was still my Charlie. Her eyes met mine and I gave her a weak smile, not sure if she’d picked up on the fact that I’d been watching her. She walked over to the table and I stood, wanting to take her and pull her against me, but lamely standing still and waving instead. I motioned with my hand for her to sit in the vacant chair across from me.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said, trying to sound serious, trying to convey the fact that I knew this wasn’t a social call. She tilted her head at me and smiled. I felt a little bit of my stiffness ease with the upturn of her lips.
“Honestly, I’m glad to be getting out of my dad’s house. It’s harder being there than I anticipated.” I nodded, not wanting to bring up that I’d been there many times in her absence. “I guess I just wish he’d told me what was going on. It’s like he was preparing to die. He nearly cleaned out the entire house, only leaving things that he thought I might want. There’s not one piece of junk mail, not one old newspaper, not even anything in the refrigerator to clean out.” She shook her head to herself and grew quiet.
“He didn’t want you to have to deal with everything,” I said quietly. I wasn’t sure if this was where she wanted our conversation to start, but we might as well discuss it while we were here. She brought it up, after all.