Scabs
When I was a little girl, I had a bad habit of picking at my scabs. There was something so satisfying about peeling back that dry patch of skin from my flesh then watching it as the open wound filled with pus and began the healing process again. My mother would fuss at me, saying that my picking was going to cause scarring. She was right, of course. I have several scars on my knees where I’d scraped them from falling off my bike and refused to leave them alone. But I was convinced it was necessary for the healing process.
I’ve carried that belief with me into adulthood, only now those scabs are more of the emotional variety. I’m always scratching at old wounds, one in particular. It’s my way of checking to see if the wound still bleeds. Only when it stops bleeding will I know it’s healed.
As I stare at a picture of Paul looking lovingly at his daughter, tears streaming down my face, I wonder if it will ever stop hurting. It’s been seventeen years, you would think I would be over it by now. What is an appropriate amount of time to get over something that completely changed you? Is it even possible?
Perhaps some wounds aren’t meant to heal, remaining to serve as a reminder of the things we’ve survived. I’d like to think that those scars are proof of our strengths, not our weaknesses.
Still, when I think of Paul and the things that happened, I feel anything but strong. And then there’s Ashland, her actions reflect how broken Jim left her. I don’t want to be like that, I don’t want Paul to win.
After I close out the webpage, I reach for the banquet invitation sitting on my desk, and trace over the gold lettering with my finger. It arrived a couple days ago, and I’ve been debating back and forth on what to do. I hate going to these things alone. Normally, I’d drag Cat along with me. But seeing as she still isn’t speaking to me…
My heart seizes in my chest at the thought. I can’t stand her being so upset with me. We’ve never fought like this before. I honestly believed that she would take a day or two to calm down then she would call or come by and we would work everything out. That hasn’t happened.
I’ve considered being the bigger person and reaching out to her, but I couldn’t figure out how to even begin the conversation. Do I tell her that I’m sorry for not telling her about Steven? Because that would be a lie. I did what I thought was best, and given the chance to do it over, I’m not sure I’d do things any differently. Do I tell her that I don’t have feelings for Steven? That too would be a lie, one that I would surely choke on. Do I promise to never see him again? That isn’t a promise I’m sure I could keep.
Instead, I pick up my phone and dial Levi’s number. I’m not sure how or when he became someone I feel I can turn to in my times of need, but he has, and he’s risen to every occasion.
He answers on the first ring. “What’s up, gorgeous?”
“Do you own a suit?”
He chuckles. “No, can’t say that I do. There isn’t much of a cause for one in my life. Why do you ask?”
“I have this work banquet I’m expected to attend, and I don’t want to go alone.”
“Lori Stevens, are you asking me to prom?” Levi mocks.
“No, asshole. I’m asking you to save me from having to converse with a bunch of pretentious fogies all night.”
“When is this blessed event?”
“On the fifteenth.”
“That’s not much notice, I’m afraid I already have plans.”
“Fuck.”
“You know who you could call, though? Steven.”
I groan. “We’ve talked about this, you know that isn’t an option.”
“I heard through the grapevine that he called Cat trying to patch things over.”
My heart turns to stone, dropping into my stomach. “What do you mean? He’s trying to win her back?”
He sighs dramatically. “And you call me daft. No, he called trying to explain things to her.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” I sneer. “What happened?”
“She hung up on him. You want to know why?”
“You’re being a dick.”
He snorts. “He admitted that he has feelings for you.”
My stomach flips, stealing my breath, and my head spins from the lack of oxygen. “He did? Like what kind of feelings?”
“He said he was falling in love with you, and she told him that she would never give you permission to be with him then hung up on him.”
My blood heats. “Permission?”
“Yep. Pretty fucked up if you ask me. She’s the one who cheated, and you’d think if she was really your friend, she would want to give you a chance at happiness too.”
He’s goading me, and I know it. He wants me to be angry enough at Cat that I’ll call Steven. But damn if it isn’t working anyway.
The rain has been pounding hard since I started my shift this morning, which always makes for a long day. I’ve dealt with three accidents and given four speeding tickets. I can’t wait to get home and get these wet boots off my feet. After the week I’ve had, I think a couple beers might be in order too.
As I pull onto my street, I’m surprised to see a car in my driveway, even more shocked once I realize it’s Lori’s Audi. She’s blocked every attempt I’ve made at contact, and after Cat’s response to my efforts to mend things, I was feeling increasingly certain that all hope was lost.
My body is buzzing with nervous anticipation as I park at the end of the drive, my eager eyes searching for her as I rush out of my truck. She’s not in her car, instead I spot her standing on my front porch. My feet can’t seem to move fast enough as I hurry over to her, the grin on my face most likely making me look like a cartoon character.
She’s standing on the top step as I make it to the porch. There’s only two steps separating her from me, though any space feels massive. She looks down at me with a shy smile on her face. It reminds me of that first day in the coffee shop, and my heart swells in my chest.
“Hi,” I say, climbing onto the first step.
Color fills her cheeks. “Hello.”
I move to the second step, leaving only one step between us. “It’s so good to see you.”
She nods in agreement, her throat bobbing as she swallows and wets her lips. “You too.”
We stand there silent for a moment, so close yet so far away from each other, our eyes locked, until the rain begins to blow on to the porch. She moves back to make room for me as I take that final step.
“Do you want to come inside?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t stay, I just wanted to apologize face-to-face.”
“Apologize?” My eyebrows bunch as I point to myself. “To me?”
“I’ve been a little unfair to you during this…” she pauses, waving her hands as if to conjure the right words, then she sighs and shrugs in defeat, “shit storm.”
I laugh, and she bites down on her lip to keep from doing the same. “Well, you don’t need my forgiveness, but you shall have it anyway. Even though it was me who started the shit storm in the first place.”
She waves in front of her face and shakes her head. “We all played our roles. I should’ve told her the truth to begin with.”
I want to ask her exactly what the truth is and if her truth is anything like mine. Instead, I give her a warm smile and brush a damp piece of stray hair out of her face. “Is that the only reason you came here?”
Her eyes fall to the ground as she shakes her head. When they lift to meet my gaze again, they’re filled with uncertainty. “I also came here because I need to ask a favor of you.”
“A favor?” I smirk, knowing there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. “Color me intrigued.”
She presses her lips together, trying to hide her own amusement and sighs. “There’s this banquet on the fifteenth I’m expected to attend for work…” she pauses, her eyes shifting to the car passing by. She tucks her hands in her back pockets before bringing her gaze to me again. “Cat normally goes with me, but…” She shrugs. “And the thought of going alone is—”
“If I go with you, will you consider it a date?” I interject.
She sucks in a breath as her eyes widen, the color on her cheeks deepening as she chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. What would the night look like if it was a date?”
“Well, I would pick you up, maybe bring you some flowers. I’d want to open doors for you and pull out your chair. If the night calls for it, I might hold your hand or put my arm around you. And, at the end of the night…” I take a step, closing the gap between us, standing close enough that I can feel her panting breaths, “there’s a good possibility I’ll want to kiss you.”
She wets her lips, rubbing them together as she clears her throat. “I suppose I can handle that.”
“Then it looks like you’ve got yourself a date.”