Redemption(4)

Now I felt like an ass. “That’s horrible. What are you allergic to?”

“Do you have a cat?”

I dropped everything I’d been balancing on one arm in order to gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh my God. Please tell me you’re not allergic to cats.”

“Violently.”

“But you didn’t have a reaction while you were there?”

“The only thing I can figure out is the dander got on the back of my clothes sitting on the couch, and when I got home, it got in my bed. I just sent you a picture for proof.”

I pulled my phone away from my ear to look at what he’d sent and wheezed when I took in a huge gust of air. His eyes were swollen shut, cheeks puffy and splotchy red, and his raw nose was evidence of the number of times he’d blown it.

“Dan, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t even think about it. Cosmo isn’t super friendly with other people. Actually, he’s really anti-social, so he never made an appearance.”

“Don’t feel bad. I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to see you again. But, um, feel free to delete that text immediately.”

I laughed. “I promise. I hate to cut it short, but I have class in less than five minutes and have to go to another building to get there.”

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“Of course. I’ll call you when I finish my last lecture.”

“Talk to you soon.”

I hung up but with a pep in my step. I’d have to think of a way to apologize for Cosmo. Dan plagued my thoughts the remainder of the day. Between every lecture, every lesson, he popped into my mind. I had to remind myself to slow down. A few hours chatting on the sofa doesn’t a relationship make. Then there’s the small problem of details I intentionally left out of our conversation. I’m not the type of person who believes I owe an explanation to anyone, nor that anyone owes one to me. Our pasts are our pasts, and it’s best to leave people’s mistakes where they happened—I intentionally left mine thirteen hundred miles behind me.

Somehow, I had to find a way to learn to live again, a new me, the version I had recreated after I left Texas. I’d only been in South Carolina a few months but hadn’t made any acquaintances much less friends. I wasn’t trying to keep a distance between myself and my colleagues, but it seemed to happen naturally just the same. I’d never been terribly outgoing but had a tight group of friends since birth, until everything happened. When Matt could no longer stand the sight of me, that mentality crept into the minds of everyone else—including my best friend since conception. After that, I’ve flown solo. Just me and Cosmo.

It’s not hard to do when you teach five classes, do private music lessons, and are responsible for the university orchestra. Between those, assignments to grade, and lectures to prepare, it was easy to fill my time without anyone else around. My days remained pretty routine. They started with five miles of country roads under my feet before a shower and an almost hour drive to the University. Other than weekends, I did all of my class preparation and grading in my office to ensure I was available for students as well. I frequently didn’t get home before eight o’clock at night, then dinner, and bed. Saturdays and Sundays could get lonely, but one thing an introvert was exceptionally good at was entertaining herself. With no houses for miles, I could play my piano as late into the night as I wanted and never risked bothering anyone, or sit on my porch with a violin and give the leaves music to dance to.

My life was perfection, except for not having a single relationship to my name. There were only three phone numbers in my cell phone—my parents’, although I wasn’t sure why since I didn’t use it, my probation officer’s, and the Dean of the Music Department, Rob McKetry. Now, there was a fourth—Dan. Rob was the closest thing to a friend I had in South Carolina but only by default. When he’d interviewed me, I knew they would do a background check, and I had to be honest. There was no way to get around it, I had to tell him my story. He was the first person I’d told who hadn’t looked at me with disgust. Instead, his eyes were filled with sorrow…and pity. Maybe that was why I got the job. Maybe it was my ability to relocate quickly. Maybe it was my background in music—I’ll never know. I was grateful then, and I’m even more so now.

Rob kept me on my toes. During our interview, there had been obvious chemistry. The conversation flowed; clearly, we had similar interests, and right up to the point I’d made my confession, I would have bet money there would have been an invitation to dinner. But even after I accepted the job and started working, the offer never came. He stopped by my office daily, sometimes multiple times. Coffee frequently showed up on my desk between my first two classes along with a pastry from the Starbucks on campus. We teetered on the edge of flirting, but I refused to make the first move. I had to know he could accept my past and present as one package. His visits to my door or office chair intrigued me. I even looked forward to them, but I refused to put any stock in them until he told me they held any value.

Right on cue, after his last class of the day, Rob stuck his head in to say hello.

“You’re leaving awfully early. Got plans?”

“Dinner with a friend.” There was no other way to classify Dan at this point. I sure wasn’t going to announce I had a date…if that’s what this was.