No Attachments
Page 23

My father was fixing my breakfast when I joined him. He looked at me warily, obviously trying gauge whether I was holding a grudge. "So, you told Nathan I was in the hospital," I stated.
"Yes," he answered, setting a plate with pancakes in front of me.
"Is he this fishing buddy of yours?" I asked as pieces of the puzzle came together. I remembered a conversation with Nathan where he told me his favorite pastimes were scuba diving and deep-sea fishing.
"Yes," he answered, sitting across from me with his own plate.
"Why didn't you tell me you were friends?" I asked, nibbling at my pancakes. I really wasn't hungry, but eating was the only thing that would help restore my body.
He sighed before answering. "I wanted to, but you seemed so closed off to the subject."
"How long has he been here?" I asked, acknowledging his comment with a small nod of my head.
"Since October."
"So he lives here now?" I asked, ignoring the fluttering in my heart.
"Yes. Are you going to see him?" he asked nonchalantly.
"No," I answered, leaving no room for argument as I forced myself to finish my breakfast.
We didn't speak about Nathan for a long time after that. Christmas came and went and January bled into February. My body went into semi-remission and the doctors put me on a regimen of medication. They were once again optimistic. I decided against counting the days down to the five-year mark this time. Instead, I measured the days in increments as my body began to recover and my hair began to grow now that I was no longer having chemo treatments. I also joined a gym and slowly began to build my body back up. Ironically, my exercise of choice turned out to be running, which of course reminded me of Nathan every time I stepped on the treadmill. When I wasn't working out, I was interning at the local hospital in the psychiatric department while I waited to get into the master's program I had applied to. My days were full as I worked to keep busy, but no matter how busy I kept myself, thoughts of Nathan were always lurking just below the surface. As my body became stronger, I didn't shove them away, knowing that soon I would see him again. I knew that he doubted my feelings for him by things my father had let slip, but in the end, I would show him just what he meant to me. I would tell him I fought the battle for him.
I should have expected fate to jerk the carpet out from under me since I seemed to be some kind of cosmic joke to it, but when it struck, I was completely unprepared. Ironically, it was me who opened the floodgates.
"How's the fishing been going?" I asked my father casually over breakfast one morning at the end of February.
"Good. Nathan can't go out as much as we'd like now that he's so busy," he said, not looking at me.
"Busy?" I asked, parched for any information about him.
"Yeah, he's been dating this girl he met over at the News Journal," he answered, looking unconcerned as he added eggs to my plate.
"Dating?" I asked, not sure I had heard him right.
"Yeah, I guess he finally got the hint that you had moved on."
"Right," I said weakly, not looking up from my plate. I should have known if I continued to push him away he would eventually get sick of waiting. I wasn't even sure I could blame him. Our whole relationship was based on the one week we had shared. It suddenly seemed completely ridiculous that anyone would wait almost six months for someone they really didn't know that well. Chances were he'd discovered what he thought was love was really nothing more than lust during a stressful time. I finished my breakfast in an agony-filled haze before excusing myself from the table.
I didn't cry as I slowly walked to my room, or when I began to get dressed or even when I pulled out his old navy blue t-shirt that I preferred to work out in.
"You okay?" my dad asked as I headed for the front door a few minutes later in my running gear.
"I'm fine," I lied. "I'm going to work out."
"Gym or the beach?" he asked.
"The beach. Why?" I asked, finally focusing on him.
"I just worry when you're running on the beach. Do you have the Mace I bought you?"
I held up my keys so he could see the travel-sized mace that was hooked to them, not mentioning the fact that I always left my keys in the car.
"Be careful," he said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I will."
My dad had suggested a different beach that he said was less crowded. I was relieved to find the parking lot was relatively empty and silently thanked my father for showing me this particular spot a few weeks back. It was ideal for running since you didn't have to worry about maneuvering around sunbathers or watching out for small children who were prone to dart in front of you. The majority of the properties that lined this beach were privately owned which kept the beach population at an all-time low. Stowing my keys beneath the driver's seat, I used the keypad on the door to lock the car behind me.
I replayed my father's words as I made my way down the steep staircase leading to the beach below. Away from prying eyes, I stood at the shore for a moment, watching the waves crashing against the shore. The knowledge that Nathan had moved on was crippling, and I fought against the urge to sink down on the sand and weep. Instead, I did the next best thing as far as I was concerned: I took off running down the beach. I pushed myself harder than I had ever before, sprinting along, trying to escape the haunting memories. Only when my vision was threatened by black spots did I finally allow myself to slow. Placing my hands on my knees, I gasped for air, fighting to keep down my breakfast. Once I was sure I wasn't going to die due to lack of air in my lungs, I stood up straight. I was astonished at the distance I had covered after glancing back the way I had just come. Impressive or not, it didn't stop the stitch that had developed in my side. I walked slowly back toward where I had started, watching the incoming waves on the sand. It was nice to have the beach completely to myself, especially since I was a sweaty mess. My short hair was plastered to my head and my clothes were drenched in sweat.
No sooner had that thought entered my head that a lone runner appeared in the horizon. At least it was a fellow runner, who would most likely be so intent on finishing his or her own workout that the person wouldn't notice what I looked like. The gap between us narrowed and after a few minutes, I was able to make out his features. Stopping in the sand, I watched as his eyes widened with surprise when he recognized me and came to a halt.
"Hello, Nathan," I said, pleased that my voice didn't betray me by trembling.
"Ashton," he said, looking like he'd been hit by a brick. "What are you doing here?" he asked like he owned the beach beneath my feet.
"Getting my nails done," I said sarcastically, suddenly pissed that he was allowed to move on, while I was stuck in limbo. "What does it look like?" I added, indicating the sweat dripping off my body.
He looked taken aback at my sarcasm before his own face hardened. "I see. Well, I'm sorry you were forced to lay eyes on me," he said in the same voice I'd heard him use on Travis months ago. "I know you like to pretend there was never anything between us," he added, turning away.
I watched as he started to jog away as anger swirled up through me at his gall. He was the one who acted like what we had was nothing. "I think it's awfully rich for you to throw that line at me when you're the one who's moved on," I shouted at his back. His steps faltered and then stopped, but he kept his back to me. "I know asking you to wait was a ridiculous request considering we barely knew each other, but I'd hoped your feelings were the same as mine," I continued to yell as he slowly turned to me.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he yelled. "I've done nothing but wait for you. I switched jobs, sold my condo, moved across the state, all so I could be closer to you; all on the off chance that you would finally tell me the wait was over. I had to beg like some dog for scraps of information off your father. I was forced to sit idly by in some diner instead of being by your side while you almost died. I did nothing but wait for you, and then, the one time I actually get to see you, you act like I'm not even there. You treated me like some chump you had a one-night stand with who you would rather never lay eyes on again. You stomped on my heart like a heartless bitch and drove away," he yelled, closing the distance between us in angry strides before stopping right at my face. "How could you act like what we shared was nothing?" he asked before pulling me in for a rough kiss. Time stopped moving as the familiarity of his lips settled against mine. The kiss was filled with anger and hurt, but it did not stop my heart from racing with excitement. "Why?" he whispered, finally pulling back, but not loosening his grip on my shoulders.
"Because I couldn't bare for you to see me like that. I was ashamed. My hair was gone, and I was weaker than an eighty-year-old woman. I wanted to spare you the horror of what I looked like. I was scared that the passion you once felt for me would be replaced with pity. I couldn't face that. I wanted you to remember me the way I was in Woodfalls," I said as a tear escaped my overflowing eyes. "I didn't want you to see me die if the cancer beat me. It would have killed me if your last memory of me was a shell of the former person I was."
"Why didn't you call me when you started to get better?" he asked quietly as his anger melted away.
"Vanity. I wanted to have something besides a scarf covering my head," I said, self-consciously rubbing a hand over my short hair that had grown in darker than its previous shade. "I needed to feel normal," I admitted. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway. It's too late."
"Because you don't love me anymore?" he asked in a resigned voice.
"Of course not, idiot," I said as a fresh wave anger flared up inside me again. "Because my father told me that you met someone else," I said, jerking my shoulders from his grasp.
"Charles told you…" he asked incredulously before throwing back his head with laughter.
"What the hell is so funny about my father telling me?" I snapped, fighting the urge to slap the grin off his face.
"You're father is a born matchmaker."
"Are you trying to tell me he's the one who set you up?" I asked, feeling the sting of betrayal. "He told me you met her at work."
"Your father didn't set just me up, he set you up too," he said softly, taking my hand in his.
"You're not seeing someone?" I asked as understanding dawned on me.
He shook his head. "Sweets, the only one I want to see is standing in front of me."
"My father set us up. Is that how you knew I'd be here today?" I asked, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together.
"No, but he knows I run here every day."
"That's why he pushed me to come here. No wonder he was so nosy this morning," I mused. "You're not bike riding with some chick from work?" I repeated, sagging in relief.
He laughed again. "You're the only one I want to bike with, sweetheart," he said, pulling me too him and resting his lips against mine.
Our lips melded together, filled with tenderness and promises of no anger or hurt. The past was forgotten as we lost ourselves in each other's arms, rediscovering what had brought us together in the first place.
"By the way, your hair is sexy as hell," he whispered in my ear. "Should we let Charles know we found each other, or should we make him squirm?"
"Well, I am still pissed that he lied to me this morning, but on the other hand, it made me face the music. I kept pushing back when I was going to contact you. First, it was after the chemo. Then it was once I went into remission, and then I changed it to when I no longer resembled a bald baby. Truthfully, I think I was just afraid to face you. I was scared that it wouldn't be like it was. Everything happened so quickly before. All the decisions we made were dictated by lust. I was afraid that once we faced reality, that same passion would no longer be there in light of real-life problems."
"That's love, sweetheart. We take the good and the bad.
"This time I want us to take it slow. Really get to know each other and make sure what we share is real. This time, I want to be nothing but attached," I whispered as our lips sealed together.
Epilogue
"I can't believe you're leaving me."
"Dad, you've known for the last two months that I'd be moving out today," I said, hauling a heavy box down the hall which was proving difficult since Wilma was rubbing against my ankles. "Besides, this isn't the first time I've left home," I said, swiping a bead of sweat off my forehead.
"Yeah, but not hundreds of miles away," he griped, watching me place the box near my suitcase.
"Dad, you know it's not permanent. We'll only be in Woodfalls for the summer," I said for what felt like the hundredth time.
"If I knew he would repay me for playing matchmaker by taking my baby away, I would have rethought my plans," he mumbled as the doorbell rang. "There's the traitor now," he complained as I hurried to the front door.
"Hi," I said, throwing open the front door.
"Hi yourself, beautiful," Nathan said, pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss.
"How's the old man?" he asked, pulling back.
"Grumpy as hell. Do you have his ticket?" I asked.
"Right here," he said, holding up the plane ticket we'd decided to purchase for my father so he could fly to Woodfalls to come see us in July.
"Dad, we have a surprise for you," I said, coming back into the formal living room with the plane ticket in hand.
"Let me guess, you've decided to make the move permanent," he said sarcastically, glaring at Nathan.
"Daddy," I sighed. "Don't be a grouch. We bought you a ticket to come see us in Woodfalls in July. So now you can wipe the scowl from your face."
"You did?" he asked, breaking into a wide grin. "I thought maybe you two wanted to get away from me."
"Oh, Dad," I said, throwing my arms around him. "That's not why we're going to Woodfalls," I said as Nathan chuckled lightly behind me. I pulled away from my dad so I could glare at Nathan, but failed miserably when he winked at me. My insides still liquefied from his wink. Judging by the wicked grin on his face, he was well aware of that fact.
"Let's go," he said abruptly, grabbing my box off the floor and heading out to his Range Rover. I followed behind with Wilma in my arms while my dad dragged along my two suitcases. I placed Wilma next to her new best friend, Fred, on the blanket Nathan had spread across the backseat. "You two be good," I said, petting each of them.