And OK, here’s a bit of truth for ya. The reason I make such a big deal about her birthday, and, when she lets me, Christmas, is because I want to give her the perfect gift.
Even if you know someone intimately it’s very hard to find them the perfect gift and I have yet to do it. I’ve come close a couple of times. But that one, perfect gift has always eluded me.
One of these days though, I’ll get it right.
That’s why I show up, even when she doesn’t.
The cabin was musty and had that not-lived-in smell to it when I broke in the back door last night. But it only took minutes after opening the windows for that scent to fade.
I woke up early this morning, not really knowing when Wendy might appear, if at all. Maybe she’s done with this place? Maybe she’s got someone else in her life now? Maybe she doesn’t need me anymore?
Maybe it’s always been me who needs her?
Wendy didn’t show for breakfast. Or lunch. And I was just about to start talking myself into the idea that she might not show at all when I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway. Then I didn’t know what to do.
Go outside and open her door, be the first thing she sees upon her return?
Meet her on the porch?
Let her come to me?
In the end, I take too long and when I open the door, she’s already climbing the steps with a garbage bag in her hand.
Smiling.
“Happy birthday,” I say.
She pauses on the top step. And did she always have dimples in her cheeks when she smiles?
I dunno. But she has them now.
“You look surprised,” I say.
“I mean…” She tilts her head at me, cocks it questioningly, like a dog might. “I left pretty unexpectedly last summer and when I came for Christmas, you weren’t here. So…”
“Christmas in the cabin is a thing?”
She nods. “It’s a thing.”
“Huh. I’ll make a note of that.”
She comes forward, stops in front of me. Leans up on her tiptoes, kisses my cheek, then politely pushes me out of her way so she can go inside.
Wendy Gale has never kissed me before. And now that I think about it, she never kissed Chek, either. Maybe she’s getting better at emotions?
Wendy sets her garbage bag down on the table and turns all the way around to face me, leaning against the side of the table as she crosses her arms. “But you’re here.”
“And so are you.”
“And I’m eighteen.”
I nod. “Yep. You are.”
“So what’s that mean?”
“Don’t go there,” I say. And I mean it too. She can tell because her smile drops.
“OK,” she says. “I won’t.”
“Good. Because that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here, Nick Tate?”
“I missed you, Wendy Gale. I like you. We’re friends, remember?”
“I’m the only thing you have left, right?”
And yeah. This girl hits the bullseye every time. Without fail. But I’m not gonna lie, so I nod. “Yep. You’re all I have left. And I don’t even care how that sounds, that’s not what it is. You’re all I have left because you’re the one thing I wasn’t ever gonna give up.”
This makes her laugh and turn away again. “OK.” She shakes her head as she opens the garbage bag and starts dumping birthday cards onto the table. “You’re holding on to me even though you let Lauren and Sasha go?” She’s not looking at me. She’s pushing envelopes around.
“I had to let them go. It was for their own good. But you’re better with me than without me.”
Her shuffling pauses. And I think I can detect a smile, even though I can’t see her face. It’s the way her shoulders move, ever so slightly. It’s presumptuous, but I’m right. Because she turns again and she is smiling.
“If we’re better together, why do we spend so much time apart?”
I let out a long breath. “Well. Maybe it’s time to fix that?”
This time her smile is different. So different it catches me off guard. I’m very astute at reading people, but so is she. So the two of us together are a lesson in self-control and checked emotions. But she gives it all away when she blushes and I’m immediately reminded that she is only eighteen years old.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I say quickly.
Her response comes out as a laugh. “Do you?”
I nod. “Yep. You’re thinking… what now? Who are we? Where will this go?”
Maybe she wasn’t thinking that, but she is now. And it hits because she’s back in control of her expressions, any trace of that blush totally gone now.
“And that’s OK, ya know? We can do that.”
“Do what?”
“Wonder about things. Intentions and shit like that. Or we can just be who we are.”
“Haven’t we always been who we are?”
I nod. Slowly. “That’s why I like you. I have always been me with you.”