My Skylar

I needed to say whatever it took to keep the peace while my head got sorted out. “I’m sorry. It’s just the stress of starting the business. I’ll try not to let it show in front of other people like that.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’ve been so busy with work and hadn’t realized it was getting to you like that. I know I’m tough to live with sometimes. I’ll try to be more understanding of the stress you’re under.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Speaking of stress, let’s go home, get into bed and relieve some of it. I know just the way to make you feel better. You’ll see.”

Unfortunately, that night, as Kevin made love to me, the only thing I saw was Mitch.

***

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Mitch came over. We had exchanged cell phone numbers, and he told me to call him if I ever needed anything. The temptation to contact him was ever present, but I couldn’t come up with an excuse.

It was a Wednesday night and Kevin was in Virginia when a text came in.

Did you know stalkers deliver food now? Are you hungry?

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought of seeing him.

Skylar: How did you know I was alone?

Mitch: I remembered you saying he goes away on business every other week. I have it marked on my calendar.

Skylar: That’s very stalkerish of you.

Mitch: I’m perfecting my craft.

Skylar: Apparently.

Mitch: Would you prefer to go out to eat?

My hands were on the keypad, but I wasn’t sure what to type. He must have sensed my apprehension when he didn’t wait for my response.

Mitch: I’m not asking you on a date. I know you’re engaged. Don’t worry. I respect that. I just want to spend time with you.

Why did it disappoint me that he wasn’t asking me on a date? I was sick in the head and suddenly felt guilty. Kevin.

For all I knew, Mitch might have been involved with someone, too. We never actually discussed that.

Despite all of the logical reasons why this was a bad idea, the need to see him again was overwhelming.

Skylar: Pick me up at 8. What should I wear?

Mitch: Casual. I’ll be wearing all black as usual.

Skylar: Don’t forget your binoculars, creeper.

Mitch: ;-)

***

When the bell rang, my legs shook in anticipation as I walked to the door and opened it.

He lifted his hand up. “Hi.”

His smile nearly melted me, and I had the urge to run my tongue along his perfect teeth. This wasn’t a good start.

“Hi,” I whispered. Any promise I had made myself to view him platonically tonight had gone down the tubes the second our eyes met. “I’ll get my coat.”

Calm down, Skylar.

Mitch was wearing dark jeans and a gray ribbed sweater that clung to his muscles. His wet hair was messy in the best way, and he smelled like the same musky cologne I remembered sniffing all over my body after our one night together in Lake George. I hated being reminded of that right now. The muscles in between my legs clenched, and I wasn’t even touching him.

He’d brought the same Corvette that was broken down last time.

I joked, “I see you fixed the stalker mobile.”

“Yeah…that plan backfired, right?” He laughed and the familiar sound momentarily took me back to a place in time I never wanted to leave.

“Good one,” I said.

“Seriously, I’m grateful it broke down. I’d be sitting out here in the cold tonight watching you instead of taking you out to dinner.”

“Do you mind if I drive it?”

“Sure.” He threw me the keys.

“How do you drive Henry around with no backseat?”

“I have a Ford F150. This car is just a hobby. It’s older. I got a good deal on it and fixed it up.”

When I turned the engine on, Every Breath You Take by The Police was playing. “Ah, the stalker’s anthem, I see.”

“I dug up my old c.d. just for you.”

I shook my head and pulled out onto the street.

“Where are we going anyway?” I asked.

“I thought maybe you’d want to hit Bev’s.”

Bev’s was my absolute favorite diner. It was closer to the neighborhood where my mother lived. We’d gone there quite a bit before he left for college, so we had a lot of good memories at that restaurant. The menu was massive, and it was a 24-hour place, so you could order breakfast for dinner or vice versa.

Once on the freeway, I decided to have a little fun. Before I knew it, I was going 90 with the windows down.

Mitch yelled through the vibrating wind. “Whoa, take it easy. We’re in no rush.”

My hair was blowing around as I shouted the first thing that came to mind, “This from the guy who came in his pants.”

My leg stiffened when he smacked it playfully. “You little shit. Thanks for remembering that…of all things.” The quick contact of his hand on my thigh had given me goosebumps. I hated that I wanted him to do it again.

We laughed a lot during that ride. By the time we got to Bev’s, I was sure my hair looked like a bird’s nest. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve been driving around in a car with the window down going 90.”

“Hideous?”

“You are so hideous,” he said with an expression on his face that told me he was thinking the opposite as his eyes lingered on mine.

“I’m starving,” I said as I opened the car door, slamming it unintentionally hard.

“Easy now.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous all of a sudden.”

“Nervous…why?”

“It’s weird being back here with you.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Bells jingled as we entered the diner. The nostalgic smell of freshly baked pie and coffee was the first thing that hit me. Nancy, a longtime waitress, brought us to a booth in the corner. “I haven’t seen you kids in ages.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time,” Mitch said.

She looked down at my ring finger as she handed me a menu. “Congratulations, you two. What a rock! I always knew you would end up getting married.”

She walked away faster than we could respond. The smile on Mitch’s face had disappeared, and he was now staring at my ring, looking more upset than I had seen him since we reconnected.

I moved my hand to my lap out of sight. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said abruptly.

I needed to change the subject stat. “Do you know what you want?”

Without looking down at the menu, he said, “Yes.” His eyes never left mine. I looked at the ceiling, feeling suddenly shy because it seemed like he wasn’t talking about the food.

I coughed. “I think I’m gonna get the pastrami on rye.”

“You always get that.”

“Yeah…but I haven’t had one as good as this one in five years.”

“I know how that feels,” he said under his breath, looking down. When he looked at me again, he said, “It doesn’t seem like that long, does it?”

“No.”

Nancy came back. “What would you like?”

Mitch gestured for me to start.

“I’ll have the pastrami on rye and a Diet Coke.”

He continued to look at me while he said, “Bacon cheeseburger with extra ketchup and a Sprite.”

“You got it,” Nancy said as she took our menus.

An awkward silence ensued after she left. Having no menu to hide behind left me feeling suddenly na**d under the weight of his stare. He looked so handsome, and I worried he could see the want all over my face. As he licked his lips, I imagined running my fingers through his hair and pulling him toward me into a kiss. Someone needed to notify my body that this wasn’t a date and that it was inappropriate to be having these thoughts while engaged to another man.

I looked down at his tattooed knuckles to distract myself from the glare of his hypnotic eyes. I was afraid to ask what the letters stood for. Then, my eyes traveled up to the neck tattoo peeking out from the top of his sweater. It was some sort of tribal or Celtic marking. I felt guilty for wanting to lick it in a line up to his mouth. I hated myself for all of these feelings and started fidgeting, causing our legs to collide under the table.

“Sorry,” I said.

He ignored me and crossed his arms. “Why do you let him call you Sky?”

“He doesn’t know I hate it.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“He started calling me Sky from the very beginning. When I first met him, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to be Skylar anymore back then.”

He momentarily shut his eyes. “Tell me about that…about your time in Maryland.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Over the next several minutes, I explained as best as I could, how bad my mental state was when I left and how I met Kevin soon after but that it took a while for us to actually get together. He nodded in silence as I recalled the past five years. He clung to each and every word as if he didn’t want to miss any part of it.

When our food arrived, I wanted to lighten the mood. I couldn’t eat unless something changed. “What kinds of foods does Henry like?”

“Unfortunately, he’s very picky. He’ll only eat chicken nuggets, McDonald’s fries and mac and cheese easily. It has to be certain nuggets, too, like the dinosaur ones and only Kraft macaroni. Everything else is a struggle. I make him protein shakes for nutrients, mixing peanut butter and some fruit with almond milk. He’ll drink those, but I can’t get him to pick up a fruit or a vegetable on his own.”

“That’s typical of kids with autism, right? Food texture issues?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

“I was looking up autism online after you told me about Henry.”

He stopped chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Wow…that’s…thank you…for doing that.”

“I don’t like being ignorant. I hadn’t thought about autism all that much before and never knew anyone affected by it. But now, I do. So…I want to understand.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at me. “You said something last time about volunteering at the hospital?”

“Yeah. I visit kids who are sick with cancer and try to cheer them up. I’m basically a—”

“Candy striper!” He laughed and pointed at me. “Oh my God. You—Skylar Seymour—have become one of those broads you used to tell me annoyed the crap out of you when you were sick.”

“Yes…yes, except I’m a progressive striper. I’m the cool one. I don’t blow smoke up their asses and try to make them feel like they should be happy when they’re not. I give them what they need and let them know it’s okay to be angry. I spruce up their rooms and bring them stuff they want, like candy cigarettes…”

“You’re giving a kid with cancer cigarettes?”

“Candy cigarettes! One little boy wanted those. So, I got them for him. My job is to do whatever it takes to make them happy. That’s what I’m there for.”

“They’re lucky.”

“Lucky? Not quite…”

“No, I mean…they’re lucky because they have you. Anyone who’s been lucky enough to have you in their lives has been blessed.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I just hope Kevin knows how lucky he is.” He took a sip of his Sprite. He looked hesitant to say something and began playing with his straw before looking up at me. “Are you happy?”

I was silent because I honestly didn’t know how to answer that. Happy wasn’t the right word. Safe, maybe. In some ways, that might have been more important to me after everything I’d been through. With Kevin, I felt secure, albeit not 100-percent fulfilled. With Mitch, I had been truly happy in every way at one time, only to have it all implode.

He continued through my silence. “Look, Skylar, I meant it when I said I respect your situation. I want us to be friends again and won’t try to interfere in your relationship. If you’re genuinely happy, I would never impose on that.”

He looked out the window and seemed to be lost in thought. Silverware clinked all around us while I stared at his reflection and wondered what he was really thinking. Why did it suddenly disappoint me that he wasn’t begging me to break up with Kevin or that he wasn’t trying to fight for me?

Instead of answering his earlier question, I simply said, “I appreciate that.”

Mitch opened one of the ketchup packets and began to squeeze it into his mouth. It was a habit he had since childhood.

“You still do that?”

“Yup,” he said, opening another one.

The image of his mouth sucking hard on the plastic triggered an unintentional flashback of those same lips doing the very same thing when he went down on me. The muscles between my legs contracted as I imagined him doing it to me right then and there, remembering all too clearly how amazing it had felt. Kevin never did it, and I hadn’t missed it…until now.

“Actually, that’s kind of gross,” I said. “Can you stop?”

***

Mitch took the driver’s seat on the way home from Bev’s.

“Did your mom tell you I built an addition on my mother’s house? Well, technically, it’s my house now that she lives with Fred.”

“No. She didn’t.”