Until the Last Breath

I tried not to rub the fact that I’d already said that in his face. “We can always catch it some other time or go to another theater. It’s no big deal.”

“I know you really wanted to see it,” he said after starting the car. “I’m sorry. Tonight is my first night free in I don’t know how long and I wasted it. I suck, huh?”

“No,” I said hurriedly, turning to face him as he gave a boyish smile. I knew enough to know he was always too hard on himself. “John, I swear it’s fine. Stop being the crazy man I met on the highway.” That made him laugh and I smiled, rubbing his arm. “It’s just a movie. We can find something else to do.”

He raked his fingers through his silky bed of auburn hair. “I guess so.” He gripped the steering wheel. “You hungry then?”

Just as he’d asked, my stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear. My eyes widened, embarrassment sweeping over me.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” I whined playfully. “I didn’t have much time for lunch today. I had to work. I was just going to binge on popcorn until after the movie.”

He looked confused. “They have day shifts at Capri?”

“No. I just got a job at Green Tavern as a waitress. Part-time gig.” I shrugged.

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. I wanted to save that for an in-person conversation with you.”

He gave me a warm smile and a silence swept over us. It wasn’t awkward since both of us were clearly thinking hard about what to say next.

“May I ask you something?” he finally asked.

“Sure.”

“What’s a girl like you doing with two jobs?”

“Money is a necessity, right?” I threw my hands in the air, no big deal.

“Yeah, but I mean…well, you seem really well put together. Other than that terrible car you drive around, you seem to have it made.”

“Hey, don’t judge Streeter, crazy man,” I laugh. “She gets me places.”

“Right. But I mean you seem like a nice person, great personality, smart, clearly attractive.” His face grew red when he realized what he was saying. I blushed and fought a smile. “I just mean it doesn’t seem like you should have to work so hard with so many great qualities.”

“Yeah, well, my life has always been very…complicated.”

“How so?”

“It just has.” His eyes begged for more. I couldn’t believe we were going this deep already. “Bad childhood,” I go on. “Taking on the role of a caregiver at a young age. I don’t like to be without, so I work harder to stay ahead and to always be prepared.”

“I see.” He paused. “You seem like a great girl, bad childhood or not.” His eyes flickered to mine for a brief moment before looking through the windshield, at the packed parking lot.

“I can tell you only reveal what you want people to see. You don’t want anyone to see that you have fears. Insecurities. Weaknesses. You only want people to see you as you are now—a girl who hustles and wants for nothing…all so you don’t have to go back to what you were before. I can admire that.”

My forehead creased as I stared at the profile of his face. He was spot on and it was kind of scary.

“By your stunned silence, I’m pretty close, huh?” he asked, chuckling as he met my eyes again.

“Spot on, really,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand over his forehead. “When you grow up with the same struggles, it’s not hard to see that in someone else.”

“You had a bad childhood too?” I ask.

“Yeah. It was pretty shitty.”

“I’m so sorry.”

The car was quiet again.

“You shouldn’t ignore it, ya know?” he says. “Trying to act like none of it ever happened. It will only make you miserable, trust me. It’s way better to acknowledge it, accept what happened, and move on from it.”

“Well, I think you should be a psychiatrist,” I teased him when he started the car and put it in reverse.

“Would you believe that’s what I wanted to be before I became a chef?”

“No way!”

“Yep.” He smiled, driving away from the theater and then stopping at a stop sign. “But I only wanted to become that after dealing with my own demons.” He shrugged. “I realize I’m not quite there yet. But I’ll get there.”

“I’m sure you will. It’s not an easy thing to let go of the past. It takes time. I know because I’ve been trying to heal from mine.” He nodded and smiled, driving again, toward the city.

It didn’t take long for him to pull up to a tall brick building. It wasn’t a business-y type place. These were condos.

“This is where you live?” I asked.

“Yeah. I figured if you’re hungry and since I’m a chef, I can cook for you at my place…that is, if you’re okay with that? We can always go out to eat somewhere, be in public. You know since you thought I was a serial killer once?”