The Words We Leave Unspoken(4)

I think back to all the times I was nervous to tell John something big. Although, nothing seems quite as consequential as telling someone that you have cancer. That you are going to die. How does one even announce such a thing?

I remember the first time I told John that I loved him. I was a nervous wreck. I was barely a day over twenty and had never really been in love before. Not in that ceremonious way that you love when you’re old enough to make good on your dreams and your promises. When you can look into someone’s eyes and know that this could be it, this could be your future.

It wasn’t happenstance or serendipity that brought John and I together. Unless you want to call a semi-secret set-up a fateful event. It was your typical college introduction; my roommate was dating John’s roommate and both said roommates thought it would be somewhat harmonious if John and I were dating as well. Lucky for Mike and Susanne, John and I hit it off. I was a virgin until I met John. So I guess my declaration of love held a little more weight than the usual terms of endearment that college coeds toss around like coins in a fountain.

I realized it early on in our relationship but felt the need to play the cat and mouse game that so many of my friends swore by. So for weeks, I agonized over it. Said the words aloud in the mirror whenever I was alone in my room. The scenario on repeat in my head whenever I was with him. It almost slipped out a few times, but I held back, kept my secret a little while longer. Playing hard to get was not easy, especially when John had become my last conscious thought each night and the first thing I thought of each morning. But afraid of losing him, I played along.

One night as our eager hands fumbled with buttons and our kisses became more intense, I knew that I was ready to take things to the next level. We were in my dorm room. Susanne had gone home for the weekend, and knowing that we had the room to ourselves for two whole days filled me with a confidence and boldness that I had not felt before that night. Between heavy breaths, as John and I were standing in the dark, removing our clothes with nervous anticipation, I had blurted out “I love you,” and without missing a beat, John had wrapped his hand around the back of my head, pulling me closer before devouring my mouth with his own. My heart was thrumming in my chest and I feared that he didn’t feel the same way, that I had said it too soon.

But then he pulled away, tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear– an endearing gesture that would later become noteworthy, almost poetic, looked me straight in the eye and said, “I love you too, Gwen.” The way my name passed through his lips, slow and seductive, was the most beautiful thing that I had ever heard. I silently scolded myself for being so nervous, for keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself for so long, for doubting myself – doubting John.

A stray tear trails down my cheek at the memory and I wipe it away with the terrycloth sleeve of my robe. That moment feels like a lifetime ago and yet, here I am juggling that familiar fear again as if I’m still that girl. Terrified of the vulnerability that comes with just a few simple words.

Hopefully a night with Charley will be the escape I need. The pause from reality I need to gather my strength before facing John with the news.





Chapter 4





Charley


I park my car alongside the curb in front of my one-bedroom bungalow that I rent near Green Lake. It isn’t much, but it’s cute and within walking distance to all my favorite bars and restaurants. It’s home.

As I walk up the path that leads to my door, I spot Gwen sitting on the front step, lost in thought, waiting for me. It is only drizzling now, the heavy rain from earlier dissolved with the light of the day. Darkness looms, as it always does this time of year, but there’s still enough daylight to see that Gwen is soaking wet.

“Gwen? How long have you been waiting here?” I ask, glancing at my watch to confirm that it was only a few minutes after five.

She doesn’t move at the sound of my voice, not even to look up at me.

“Gwen,” I say her name louder, an unsettling feeling rising in my gut.

She looks up and immediately smiles, returning from wherever her mind was a moment before.

“Charley, you’re here,” she chimes as she stands and hugs me. I hug her back, aware of how cold she feels, how damp her overcoat is.

“You’re freezing. Come inside,” I say as I step away from her and unlock the door. We both move into my small living room. I set my purse down and begin to move magazines from the red-slipcovered sofa, placing them on the coffee table instead.

“It’s so good to see you. I missed you,” Gwen admits as she removes her coat and sits on the worn leather chair in the corner of the room.

“I was surprised to hear from you today, but I’m glad you’re here.” It’s no lie. I am excited that she’s here. She lives only an hour’s drive north, but typically I go to see her. It just makes more sense with the kids and their hectic schedules. So the idea that she’s on my own turf and that I have her all to myself, feels nice. I take off my coat and lay it across the wooden bench just inside the door.

“So what do you want to do tonight?” I ask.

“Let’s go out to dinner. I’m feeling sushi, but I’m flexible.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. My senses are on high alert and I know that something isn’t right. But I also know that she’ll tell me when she’s ready. If I have learned one thing over the years it’s that you don’t push Gwen. She does everything in her own time. I always think of her like a tightly wrapped present, beautiful on the outside, so contained and poised – perfect. But inside, something wonderful and boisterous awaits. Only a select few are privy to what’s inside, the real Gwen hidden behind all the tightly wound packaging.