discover a text message from Brent. Opening it up, I immediately acknowledge the hour it was sent, around two this morning while I was sleeping. I must have been so exhausted that I never even heard the alert.
Brent: Change of plans. We lost, and the season is over. I’ll come to you. We’ll talk tomorrow. Hope you are sleeping well.
A guilty joy develops as I read the words a few more times. His season is over, and that means we can see each other without a forty-eight hour expiration. We can be together. It’s all I want.
I tuck the phone into my coat pocket and open the door. I need to get on the train soon, so I don’t miss my class. Entering the hallway, I turn the dead bolt and then walk to the end of the hall before quickly descending the steps. At the first landing, my shoulder brushes with another tenant on the way up as I hurry to exit the building.
“Whoa,” he says, grabbing around my waist.
My head snaps, meeting a pair of bright, magnetic eyes and a mischievous grin.
The world stops like a dream, but this isn’t a dream.
This is real. Fatigue echoes underneath his radiating joy.
“What are you…how?”
“I couldn’t wait.” Brent’s face relaxes, and he wraps his other arm behind my back, pressing our bodies flush together, our winter coats touching. “I hope you don’t mind.”
THIRTEEN
Just past three in the afternoon, I ride aboard the train back to my apartment. My stop is getting close, so I stand to wait near the doors.
Surrealism has encompassed my day, which has gone by in much of a blur. Brent’s arrival this morning was beyond unexpected and more than surprising, but I still had commitments to attend to.
After the initial shock set in and we held each other briefly, I needed to be on my way. I walked him to my apartment, listening to him tell me about his rash decision to catch the red-eye flight the moment the game ended. He rushed home, packed a few things, and barely got on the plane in time for it to take off. Once he appeared to be settled and he assured me he would be fine, I gave him a key and told him to make himself at home and that I would be back as soon as possible.
Thoughts of skipping my classes crossed my mind, but I couldn’t with the quarter quickly coming to a close, and I had a paper due. The day went by slowly as I counted every minute in a daze, still in shock that he was here and waiting for me at my house.
Our time apart is over.
The train slows, my stop is announced, and the doors open just as the car comes to a rest. With an energetic step, I exit onto the platform and descend the stairs to the sidewalk below. I only have to walk six blocks, and I am home in so many ways.
About a block away from the station, my phone rings in my pocket. Excitedly, I grab it, thinking it’s Brent, only to be disappointed by Cody’s name and image flashing on the screen. Sighing, I answer the call, knowing a conversation will have to happen soon anyhow. I’m supposed to be driving to his house in a few days.
“Hi, Cody,” I say, slowing my pace to hear him better. “What’s up?”
“Well, nice to talk to you, too,” he jokes. “So much for niceties.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease. “Are we going to start being nice to each other now?”
“Hey, I’m always nice.”
“Okay, if you say so.” I turn off the main thoroughfare filled with many passing cars and onto a quieter side street. “So, what’s up?” I ask again, completely avoiding the impending conversation.
“Shauna wants to know if you want to bring a dessert or an appetizer and if you are coming up on Wednesday night.”
“Actually…” This is it. “I don’t think I’m going to come at all.”
“And why not? What do you have going on that’s so important on Thanksgiving?”
It’s a fair question since my life has been pretty boring and predictable for the last few years.
“Well, I kind of have company,” I say, skirting around the full truth, “from out of
Brent: Change of plans. We lost, and the season is over. I’ll come to you. We’ll talk tomorrow. Hope you are sleeping well.
A guilty joy develops as I read the words a few more times. His season is over, and that means we can see each other without a forty-eight hour expiration. We can be together. It’s all I want.
I tuck the phone into my coat pocket and open the door. I need to get on the train soon, so I don’t miss my class. Entering the hallway, I turn the dead bolt and then walk to the end of the hall before quickly descending the steps. At the first landing, my shoulder brushes with another tenant on the way up as I hurry to exit the building.
“Whoa,” he says, grabbing around my waist.
My head snaps, meeting a pair of bright, magnetic eyes and a mischievous grin.
The world stops like a dream, but this isn’t a dream.
This is real. Fatigue echoes underneath his radiating joy.
“What are you…how?”
“I couldn’t wait.” Brent’s face relaxes, and he wraps his other arm behind my back, pressing our bodies flush together, our winter coats touching. “I hope you don’t mind.”
THIRTEEN
Just past three in the afternoon, I ride aboard the train back to my apartment. My stop is getting close, so I stand to wait near the doors.
Surrealism has encompassed my day, which has gone by in much of a blur. Brent’s arrival this morning was beyond unexpected and more than surprising, but I still had commitments to attend to.
After the initial shock set in and we held each other briefly, I needed to be on my way. I walked him to my apartment, listening to him tell me about his rash decision to catch the red-eye flight the moment the game ended. He rushed home, packed a few things, and barely got on the plane in time for it to take off. Once he appeared to be settled and he assured me he would be fine, I gave him a key and told him to make himself at home and that I would be back as soon as possible.
Thoughts of skipping my classes crossed my mind, but I couldn’t with the quarter quickly coming to a close, and I had a paper due. The day went by slowly as I counted every minute in a daze, still in shock that he was here and waiting for me at my house.
Our time apart is over.
The train slows, my stop is announced, and the doors open just as the car comes to a rest. With an energetic step, I exit onto the platform and descend the stairs to the sidewalk below. I only have to walk six blocks, and I am home in so many ways.
About a block away from the station, my phone rings in my pocket. Excitedly, I grab it, thinking it’s Brent, only to be disappointed by Cody’s name and image flashing on the screen. Sighing, I answer the call, knowing a conversation will have to happen soon anyhow. I’m supposed to be driving to his house in a few days.
“Hi, Cody,” I say, slowing my pace to hear him better. “What’s up?”
“Well, nice to talk to you, too,” he jokes. “So much for niceties.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease. “Are we going to start being nice to each other now?”
“Hey, I’m always nice.”
“Okay, if you say so.” I turn off the main thoroughfare filled with many passing cars and onto a quieter side street. “So, what’s up?” I ask again, completely avoiding the impending conversation.
“Shauna wants to know if you want to bring a dessert or an appetizer and if you are coming up on Wednesday night.”
“Actually…” This is it. “I don’t think I’m going to come at all.”
“And why not? What do you have going on that’s so important on Thanksgiving?”
It’s a fair question since my life has been pretty boring and predictable for the last few years.
“Well, I kind of have company,” I say, skirting around the full truth, “from out of