The Space Between Us(90)

“All right, here’s a question.” She wriggled in her seat as she sat up straight, obviously pleased with her first round question. “When we were in tenth grade, Robbie Wallis called me a tease because I wouldn’t go out on a date with him. The next day his tires were slashed. Did you do it?”

“Of course I did it,” I laughed. “You knew I did that.”

“No! You would never tell me! You said ignorance was the best bet.”

“I thought the answer was obvious.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Ok, my turn.” I looked her in the eyes, grateful that she wasn’t turning away from me, wasn’t shying away from the contact as she had so many times since she’d been back. “Do you have a boyfriend back in New York?”

“No.” She answered very quickly. My eyebrows shot up before I had the chance to stop them. I couldn’t imagine her living in a city like New York and not being snatched up. Her answer didn’t sit right with me.

“Why not?” I asked, wanting more information.

“No, no, no. That’s not how this works. It’s my turn to ask a question.” She took another moment to formulate her question and then asked, “Why did you go to see my father so often?” My answer came without hesitation.

“He was my only link to you. He was the only way I could feel close to you. He never spoke about you and I gathered that was because you didn’t want him to, but he never turned me away either. We spent a lot of time together and eventually he became more than your father to me, more than the man who lived down the street from me during my childhood.” I paused, thinking about Charles and some of the conversations we had, how he gave me priceless advice and help all through college and law school. “It started out as a relationship I needed to feel like you were still a part of my life, but at some point he became my friend.” I looked down at my glass and decided to drink even though I’d answered the question. I welcomed the slight sting as the rum coated my throat, and gloried in the warmth that spread through my stomach. “I think,” I continued carefully. “I think he needed me too. I know you spoke on the phone with him often, but I think he used me to feel close to you as well.”

Charlie reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry Asher. It never occurred to me that you were hurting over his death. I’ve been really selfish lately. I’m so sorry.” I flipped my hand over and linked my fingers with her and gave her a smile. She smiled back but pulled her hand away. That hurt.

“My turn,” I said right before I took another drink. “Who was the last person you dated?”

“His name was David.” She said his name coldly. I couldn’t pick up on any emotion attached to his name. “Who was the last person you dated?” She asked.

“Define dated.” I quipped.

“Someone you would consider your girlfriend.”

“So you’re asking who my last girlfriend was?”

“Exactly.”

“You.” I said the word without taking my eyes off hers, and took a shot of tequila while I held her gaze. Her eyes grew wide when she took in what I’d said.

“Me?”

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s been thirteen years, Asher. Surely you’ve been with someone between then and now.”

“That’s not what you asked me. You asked who my last girlfriend was. It was you.” She was quiet as she considered what I’d said. Then she shook her head and looked down at her hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the miscarriage?” Her eyes snapped back to me. She reached for a shot glass and my hand shot out, stopping her, my eyes pleading with her. I needed to hear why she kept that from me. “Bit,” I whispered. “Please.” She shook off my hand and took the shot. I watched as she put the empty shot glass back on the table, her eyes finding mine. The sorrow in her eyes matched the disappointment I felt. I wanted her to let me in so desperately, but I didn’t know if I would ever be able to break her open. “Your turn.”

“Did you tell your parents about the babies?” Her question caught me off guard, but I answered her.

“Yes. That same night we all had dinner.”

“How did they take it?” She asked with sadness in her eyes.

I took in a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer her without hurting her. “At first my mom was upset that I didn’t tell her when it happened. It didn’t feel right to lie to her anymore, so I told her everything. I told her what I had said to you, and that you had pretty much left, and I thought it was over. My dad didn’t say much, just that he understood where I was coming from. Both he and my mom told me that they would have supported me and that everyone makes mistakes.” I paused and watched her take in my words. She unconsciously took her hand and brought her hair forward so it rested over her shoulder. A black, shiny waterfall of silky hair fell down to her waist. The contrast of the dark hair against her olive skin was stunning. I cleared my throat, catching myself staring at her.

“In the end I think my mother was more upset that you hadn’t told her. She didn’t understand why you left so suddenly. None of us do. Why’d you run away?”

“Asher, I don’t want to talk about it. Trust me, it will do neither of us any good to re-hash our past.”