I had avoided Samuel for the last two weeks and I intended to keep it that way moving forward. He got too close and I needed to pull back and put a stop to it. I didn’t want to confuse him or lead him on. I didn’t want love or anything that came close to it either. I took a different walking route in the neighborhood, avoided the gym and the café. Anywhere I knew he might be, I didn’t go. He must’ve been busy because despite knowing where I lived, he didn’t attempt to stop by. He only called twice but I let them go to voicemail and didn’t return either call. I settled into thinking he got the point. Until Friday night.

I answered a knock on the door at 6:33 p.m. and there he was with fresh dahlias and one of those plastic bags with a smiley face on the side synonymous with only one type of take-out food.

“Hi, I have Chinese and I feel like that’s an acceptable reason to invite me in,” he said, smiling.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I’m going to feed you,” he said.

“Look, I think you have the wrong idea,” I said as I opened the door a little wider so he could come in. He started toward the kitchen with the food that admittedly smelled heavenly.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I followed him to the kitchen and sat opposite him at the bar.

“I just think you need to understand that I’m not looking to get involved with anyone. I’m freshly divorced, I just moved here, I have a lot going on inside my own head and that’s really no good for anyone.” I exhaled.

“I see. Is it so bad that I enjoy your company?” he asked.

“Well, no, but…”

“But nothing. That’s all this has to be. Do you enjoy my company?” he asked.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Good then. It’s settled. We can be friends.”

“Umm, okay. Friends. Just friends,” I declared.

“Right,” he said as he handed me wonton soup. “I opted to get you the soup instead of the egg roll. It was a gamble I know but I rolled the dice.”

“That’s perfect. I don’t like egg rolls,” I said. It was unsettling how well he seemed to know me. Then again, perhaps it was just the many years of someone not being all that concerned about what I liked or knowing me at all. Looking back, I realized in the entire eight years we were together, Jeff never really asked what I liked or what I wanted. It was always what he liked and that was it. It was sort of sad that it only took me a couple of days with this guy to realize that. For crying out loud, he’d done more for me and been more considerate of me in these few days than Jeff had in all of our years together. That was terrifying to me.

We sat here eating, talking, and laughing for the next hour and then I got out some wine and we moved to the couch.

“Here,” he said, handing me one of the two fortune cookies.

“Oh, no, I can’t. There’s only one for me. I can’t do that,” I said.

“What do you mean?” He laughed.

“I don’t want to tell you. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You might as well tell me now because I definitely already think you’re a little crazy.” He laughed again.

“Okay, fine. I don’t like only having one fortune cookie to open. It feels too final. I need at least an option for a second one in case I don’t like the first one. It’s how I stay in control of my destiny,” I said.

“Your destiny?” He laughed. “It’s a fortune cookie, not a crystal ball. But, okay, you know what, that’s kind of cute. So I’ll tell you what. You can have mine if you don’t like yours. Deal?”

“Deal!” I said. I broke mine open, popped half of it in my mouth, and read. “You will meet many new people this year.” I rolled my eyes. “See that’s what I mean. Like what kind of fortune is that? Of course I will, I just moved,” I said.

“Fret not, my lady,” he said and handed over his cookie.

I gave him the other half of my first cookie to eat while I broke his open. “The secrets you keep, keep you,” I said, swallowing hard. “Okay, well that’s not a fortune either,” I said, dismissing it.

“Sure it is. I think those are wise words. That’s a good one,” he said. “Don’t you have secrets, Delilah?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” I returned.

“Touché. I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours,” he said.

“I don’t like this game,” I said.

“Oh, come on. It will be fun. Besides, isn’t that what friends are for? Sharing secrets?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. He was using my own words against me and I didn’t like that either. “Fine. You first.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

He quieted for a second, thinking about the secret he was about to share. I saw a crease form in the center of his forehead and realized making him my friend made him no less attractive. Tonight he was wearing his glasses. I guessed he normally wore contacts but tonight he was more relaxed, more intimately presented, if that even makes sense. He’d worn sweatpants and a v-neck t-shirt with sneakers. He had a thin jacket that he’d taken and slung over a chair in the kitchen.

“Okay, before I start I need you to understand that I haven’t told anyone this. I mean, no one. Ever. You’ll be the first to know and probably the only one, too,” he said.

I nodded, staring intently.

“So about two years after my wife left me, I hired a private investigator to locate her. I had it in my head that I needed to make sure she was okay. And I needed to convince her to at least be in Mason’s life, even if she didn’t want to be in mine. Anyway, he does his thing for a few weeks and finds her. He reports back to me that she’s living a little south, not really too far away and that she’s got this whole new life. New job, new place to live, new man. New man! This is kind of the moment I stopped listening because I just couldn’t have imagined, you know? So the investigator sends over these photos of the two of them. They’re not high quality images but I can tell he just looks like your average guy, nothing special. Except he’s wearing a wedding ring. But she isn’t. So then I’m really confused and I asked the PI about it. He says the guy is married but spends more time with her than at home. And I can’t believe it. She leaves us behind, moves to start fresh only to be dating a married guy. I still don’t understand it even to this day. But after what he uncovered, it didn’t hurt anymore. You know? It just didn’t. I decided after that, that Mason and I were both better off without her. I was instantly over her as far as feeling anything for her was concerned,” he said, releasing a sigh.

“Oh my god, Samuel. I’m so sorry, for all of that. I can’t believe she did that to you. To Mason. I don’t think I could ever just leave like that. Especially not my child. I could never understand someone who would do that,” I said as my arm instinctively found its way around my waist.

“Yeah, well, it’s okay. Really. I have accepted it and let it go. Mason doesn’t even ask about her anymore,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”

I inhaled sharply. What on earth am I going to tell him? I sat back into the corner of the couch and thought deeply. I might as well tell someone. No one knew. I had kept it in all this time. Not even Emma knew. It might feel okay to tell someone now.

“Okay. When I was married, I got pregnant. And then I lost her. You already know that part though,” I said. I had already told him that much before but speaking it out loud again still stung. Perhaps it always would.

“Oh, Delilah...” he said.

“After the miscarriage, my husband became obsessed with trying again even though I didn’t want to. He started pushing it. He, uh, he forced me to….” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t finish saying it. I felt the dampness right underneath my eyes and looked down. I couldn’t look at him.

“Say it out loud, Delilah,” he said, encouragingly.

“He raped me.” I’d never said it out loud like that before. It felt…like a relief. Samuel didn’t say anything. He waited for me to go on. “He did it many times. Over a couple of years. I stopped fighting because it was easier,” I said, turning my face downward.

“Look at me,” he said.

I managed to turn my face up. I was partially coiled up, holding myself in place and partially leaning into him, knowing somehow my secret was safe here in this space.

“Listen to me, Delilah,” he said. “Nothing he did to you, nothing that happened to you, was your fault. None of it. Not even a little. Do you understand?”

The look in his eye was so intense I knew he was telling the truth. “Yes,” I managed.

“I just can’t believe someone would treat you like that. And someone you trusted. Someone you loved who claimed to love you. I will never understand men like him,” he said. And then he started leaning forward.

Oh my god. He’s going to try to kiss me. This cannot happen, no way. Oh, god, what do I do? Do something, Delilah!

He seemed to know what I was thinking because just as I was freaking out internally, he turned my face gently to the side and planted a kiss on my cheek. It was soft but deliberate. It lingered.

“Thank you for telling me your secret, Delilah. It’s safe with me,” he said.

“I know,” I said and smiled.

* * *

Three hours later, my eyes fluttered open and I realized we had fallen asleep on the couch together. Great. But I had to admit, it really was great. He was warm against me, my head leaning into his chest. How in the hell did we get like this? He smelled good. Oh my god, shut up. You are not helping yourself right now. Should I get up? Should I ask him to go home? I glanced at the clock and it was 2 a.m. I can’t ask him to leave right now, that would be so rude. It’s not like anything was happening. We were just sleeping. I should go back to sleep and deal with it in the morning. Obviously, we were going to need to cover no sleepovers. We were definitely not sleepover friends.

I lay here in the silence for a moment, smelling him and thinking. I couldn’t get that last text off my mind. I had thought about it every day since I received it. Not because it was particularly profound or revealing. Not because it wasn’t true or I didn’t already know it. But because it was terrifying to think someone was watching me this closely. For the life of me, I didn’t understand it. I had run so many scenarios in my head. Was Jeff watching me and just fucking with me? That sounded like something he would do. He’d grown to enjoy inflicting me with pain, though I hadn’t figured out why. Granted, before it was physical pain, but really what kind of leap was psychological pain from there? Not much, I ventured to guess.

What did the mystery texter know anyway? How would they know he’s right for me? It’s probably just someone’s idea of a sick joke. I just sort of wish they were done joking now. I looked up at him. He looked peaceful and content. Suddenly I became very aware that his right arm was down and around the left side of me. And his warmth against me was everything I wanted and everything I was resisting right now. Just as I was thinking these intense things, he shifted and shuffled and everything was bumpy for a moment until it settled back down but his eyes were open and he was looking down at me.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hi,” he said.

“You should know that it’s more or less the middle of the night and we should both be sleeping,” I said.

“So why aren’t we?” he asked.

“Well. Once I woke up, I was very aware that we had fallen asleep together on my couch and I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Um, according to the clock, about thirty minutes,” I said.

“You should go back to sleep. Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that, especially at this hour,” I said. Jesus Christ. Why the hell do I literally say the exact opposite of what I’m thinking every single time?!

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. We are only friends after all,” he teased.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” I said rather flatly.

Samuel smiled the sort of smile that would’ve made me weak in the knees a long time ago before those parts of me died. I’m glad I could still recognize it though. Perhaps one day the want for it would be in me again. He gently pulled me in, sort of hugging me with the arm that was around me. And I didn’t know how I was feeling. Was he too close? Was this too much? If I was being completely honest with myself, the answer was both yes and no.

“Delilah?” he said.

“Yes?”

“Will you go somewhere with me?” he asked.

“Right now? It’s 2:30 a.m.,” I said.

“It’s not far,” he said.

I thought about it for a moment and then agreed to it. We sat up slowly. He led me out the front door by my hand and we started walking down the road toward a grouping of trees. I had never gone this way before but he was right. It was very close. We came to a small gap and he walked me onto a small path. A few steps later, we were standing on the most adorable little bridge that was built over a small stream. There was a lamp post close enough that it casted a soft light on us. I stood here, looking down into the ripples and smiling. Samuel reached up overhead and plucked a leaf from the overhanging branch.

“I come here sometimes to think. Not many people know about it, so it’s quiet most of the time. I stand here and throw leaves in and watch the water carry them away,” he said.

“It’s lovely, Samuel,” I said, smiling at him.

“I thought you might like it. I figured I could share it with you.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you did.” I elbowed him in the side. We stood here taking turns throwing leaves in.

“You know, life is sort of like this,” he said, tossing another leaf in.

“Like what?” I asked.

“You’re a leaf, and you just get thrown into the rapids. And who knows if you’ll make it out and down the stream.”

I threw a leaf in and it got stuck on a rock.

“See,” he said.

I studied the leaf for a moment to see if it would free itself. “Well, sometimes you just need a helping hand,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. I walked down the bridge and around to the edge of the stream. I took a stick and poked at my leaf until it was freed and continued down the stream. I looked back up at him.

“I see,” he said, smiling back at me.

“Even if the leaf doesn’t know they need help,” I said.

He nodded.

I walked back around and up the bridge next to him. I leaned into him. “Thank you for sharing your space. It means a lot to me that you would do that,” I said.

“Of course.”

We fell silent and I started to shiver a bit.

“Let’s head back,” he said.

So we walked back down the path toward my house. When we got to the front door, he stopped. I turned back toward him.

“Maybe I should go home,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Oh. Well, it’s really late. You can stay here if you want,” I said, biting my lip.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to stay if you don’t want me to,” he said.

“I do.” Ughhhh. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“Okay, then. I’ll stay, Delilah,” he whispered.

And he did. We walked back into the living room and resumed our previous positions back on the couch. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep nestled into his chest. It was the best sleep I’d gotten since I moved here.