sits on my bedside table. Brent’s name flashes on the caller ID. Perfect timing. I clear my throat and pull myself together.
“Hi,” I say forcing a cheerful tone.
“Hey there,” Brent replies. “Is this a bad time?”
“No.” I clear my throat again. My eyes shift to the closet and then back to the bed. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Oh. Okay.” Voices echo loudly in the background. “Hang on a second.”
“Sure.”
Rustling sounds come through the connection, along a few muffled voices, and then a stretch of silence.
“Sorry about that,” he starts again. “It’s hard to find a quiet place to talk in here. All the guys are getting ready.”
“Ah…testosterone.”
“Yeah, we have a little bit of it,” he chuckles. “I meant to call you earlier, but I got too busy and didn’t have a minute until just now.”
“That’s okay. No worries.”
“So,” he begins coolly. “You still up for later?”
I move my gaze once again to the mess of papers in the closet and then to the ceiling. There’s a heavy stutter in my heart for a brief second telling me that, “Yeah, I’m still up for it.”
“Good.” The timbre of his voice tells me that he’s smiling. I can almost see his expression. “It’ll be late.”
“I know. It’s fine.” There’s something simmering within in me that needs to be said. “I want to see you again.”
“I want to see you, too,” he retorts with utmost sincerity. “Just tell me where and I’ll be there.”
“When do you think you’ll be available?”
“Likely not until after eleven.”
Considering the time and the day of the week, it’s not easy to plan a meeting place, but the idea of coming here or going to his hotel will…well, could lead to something. It would lead to something.
“I’ll text you where, later. That way you’ll have the address.”
“Don’t forget”
“Oh, I won’t,” I laugh at his urgency, shifting my mood.
“I’ll call you when I’m done here and know better about the time.”
“Sounds good.” The pile of our life together calls to me and I step back into the closet. “Good luck at your game.”
“Thanks.” He clears his throat and I wait, knowing there’s more. “And Ruby?”
“Yeah?”
“I know I shouldn’t say this but...” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Really?” I stammer out while bending down to pick up our “family photo.”
“Really.” He sighs. “I’ll call you later. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Talk then.”
We hang up and I place the phone down to hold the picture with both hands. The look of adoration captured in that moment, slowly inundates me with embracing warmth. Love radiates off of the paper from Brent.
From both of us.
From all of us.
I never could have fathomed that something joining us as one, would so greatly divide us into two.
Twelve
The tall lamps reflect off of the damp, dark pavement as a light rain falls from above. It’s half past eleven in the evening. Given that it’s a Sunday, the neighborhood pedestrian and vehicle traffic is sparse. My chest tightens every time a cab approaches, thinking it may be Brent.
With the rapidly dropping temperature and the moisture in the air, I should wait inside the hot dog shop, but I’m not sure what kind of greeting I would receive. So, I endure the weather outside.
After waiting about fifteen more minutes, a cab stops at the curb on the other side of the street, letting out a passenger. Brent comes into view over the roof seconds later and the yellow vehicle takes off, speeding north of the city. He jogs across the road when there’s a break in the traffic. I straighten, pushing off of the building to meet him at the curb.
“Hey there,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. My nerves are on overdrive. Taking a stroll down memory lane this afternoon and the fact that his kiss still lingers on my lips from this morning has me
“Hi,” I say forcing a cheerful tone.
“Hey there,” Brent replies. “Is this a bad time?”
“No.” I clear my throat again. My eyes shift to the closet and then back to the bed. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Oh. Okay.” Voices echo loudly in the background. “Hang on a second.”
“Sure.”
Rustling sounds come through the connection, along a few muffled voices, and then a stretch of silence.
“Sorry about that,” he starts again. “It’s hard to find a quiet place to talk in here. All the guys are getting ready.”
“Ah…testosterone.”
“Yeah, we have a little bit of it,” he chuckles. “I meant to call you earlier, but I got too busy and didn’t have a minute until just now.”
“That’s okay. No worries.”
“So,” he begins coolly. “You still up for later?”
I move my gaze once again to the mess of papers in the closet and then to the ceiling. There’s a heavy stutter in my heart for a brief second telling me that, “Yeah, I’m still up for it.”
“Good.” The timbre of his voice tells me that he’s smiling. I can almost see his expression. “It’ll be late.”
“I know. It’s fine.” There’s something simmering within in me that needs to be said. “I want to see you again.”
“I want to see you, too,” he retorts with utmost sincerity. “Just tell me where and I’ll be there.”
“When do you think you’ll be available?”
“Likely not until after eleven.”
Considering the time and the day of the week, it’s not easy to plan a meeting place, but the idea of coming here or going to his hotel will…well, could lead to something. It would lead to something.
“I’ll text you where, later. That way you’ll have the address.”
“Don’t forget”
“Oh, I won’t,” I laugh at his urgency, shifting my mood.
“I’ll call you when I’m done here and know better about the time.”
“Sounds good.” The pile of our life together calls to me and I step back into the closet. “Good luck at your game.”
“Thanks.” He clears his throat and I wait, knowing there’s more. “And Ruby?”
“Yeah?”
“I know I shouldn’t say this but...” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Really?” I stammer out while bending down to pick up our “family photo.”
“Really.” He sighs. “I’ll call you later. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Talk then.”
We hang up and I place the phone down to hold the picture with both hands. The look of adoration captured in that moment, slowly inundates me with embracing warmth. Love radiates off of the paper from Brent.
From both of us.
From all of us.
I never could have fathomed that something joining us as one, would so greatly divide us into two.
Twelve
The tall lamps reflect off of the damp, dark pavement as a light rain falls from above. It’s half past eleven in the evening. Given that it’s a Sunday, the neighborhood pedestrian and vehicle traffic is sparse. My chest tightens every time a cab approaches, thinking it may be Brent.
With the rapidly dropping temperature and the moisture in the air, I should wait inside the hot dog shop, but I’m not sure what kind of greeting I would receive. So, I endure the weather outside.
After waiting about fifteen more minutes, a cab stops at the curb on the other side of the street, letting out a passenger. Brent comes into view over the roof seconds later and the yellow vehicle takes off, speeding north of the city. He jogs across the road when there’s a break in the traffic. I straighten, pushing off of the building to meet him at the curb.
“Hey there,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. My nerves are on overdrive. Taking a stroll down memory lane this afternoon and the fact that his kiss still lingers on my lips from this morning has me
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