“For some reason, I don’t think Cal is the marrying type.” I laugh.
Helen walks to the ledge and sits on it. “Trust me, the worst thing you could do with Cal is assume.” She turns her attention away from me to the sky.
I wonder what she means, but I don’t question her any further. I almost feel as though I’d be going into territory Cal wouldn’t want me to. The sun settling on the horizon is amazing.
“Would you like a piece?” she says, offering up the pack of Winterfresh.
“Thanks.” I guess you have to keep gum when you smoke. I look up and see Helen staring at me, so I look away quickly.
“Lauren, I’m going to share something with you.”
My stomach drops at her sudden change of tone.
“I don’t know how you feel about Cal. From what I can tell, you really like him. From what Dexter tells me, he really cares about you. I’ve known Cal for so long—he’s like a brother to me. I’m going to tell you this, something I wish someone had told me so I didn’t have to learn it the hard way. Dexter is a very complicated person, and so is Cal. There are going to be times when you won’t know what his problem is, but for there to be any hope for you two to have a meaningful relationship, you need to fully accept that. You’re going to have to accept him for who he is—all of him—even the part that you may never know…”
She breaks her serious expression, and the whimsical grin from earlier returns. “Who knows—maybe Cal isn’t like Dexter. Maybe he’ll be a lot more open with you than Dex is with me. It doesn’t bother me at all. Frankly, the less I know, the better, but some people can’t handle that.”
Her gaze is intense and makes me uncomfortable. Suddenly, I feel as if I’m on trial. I clear my throat.
“It’s getting chilly out here; I’m going to go inside.” She stands.
“I think I’m going to stay out here little while longer,” I tell her.
“Okay, I’m going downstairs. Luc should have arrived by now. I’m going to see how he’s doing. The kitchen is on the first floor, far left. You’ll see it as soon as you get there,” she explains.
I nod.
“Well, that’s where I’ll be. If you want a jacket, we have some in the closet in the room we went through to get here. Just grab one.”
“I’m fine. I just want to soak this all in, if you don’t mind.”
“I understand completely. Come down when you get ready, or wander wherever you want to go in the house. Make yourself at home—just don’t get lost.” She laughs before leaving.
The sun has fully set, and the sky is black with the stars and candles lighting my space. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting out here. I’ve been trying to analyze and justify the words Helen so kindly shared with me. I want to make light of the heavy words hidden behind her whimsical, sarcastic demeanor.
They scare me, and I don’t know why. I’ve been with Cal for five months and my feelings have grown stronger every day I’m with him, but I haven’t thought about marriage. Sure, I’ve fantasized about it but not taken it seriously. I can’t see myself married to a man who has a world full of secrets. I’m just being silly. There’s no way I’d marry Cal if I felt as if I didn’t know him. That just wouldn’t happen. Besides, Dexter and Cal are two different people, even if what she said is true. Or maybe she’s looking for something that isn’t there or trying to scare me off.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I feel a warm hand slip up the back of my shirt. I turn to see Cal smiling at me. He sits beside me and pulls me onto his lap.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, searching my eyes.
“Nothing. Why?” His body heat surrounds me, and I realize how cold I am.
“Well, I come out here expecting some kind of welcome, and you sit here in a daze. You didn’t even realize I was here. I’m a little insulted.” He smirks.
“Just daydreaming…” I say, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Liar.” He laughs but drops the subject. “How long have you been out here?” He wraps his jacket over my shoulders.
I smile thankfully. “About half an hour.” Well, more like an hour and a half.
“How’d you like Helen?” he asks.
“She’s nice,” I say before kissing him softly.
“Nice? Helen isn’t nice; she intimidates, manipulates, and frustrates. And that’s when she likes you.” He laughs, amused.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Then why did you leave me with her?”
“I knew you could handle it.” He glides his lips across my neck then brushes them across my lips. “So what’d she say about me?” he mumbles. He’s such a tease sometimes.
“Other than you’re a ruthless playboy who breaks hundreds of girls’ hearts? Nothing much,” I kid before giving in to his teasing and entangling his lips with mine. I pull away to catch my breath and look into his eyes.
“What?” he asks.
Maybe Helen was just manipulating me, as he said earlier. Maybe she’s wrong; she has to be.
“Nothing.” I smile.
May 11th 2011
May 11th, 2011
I wonder if it’s too late to turn things around, if I’ve accepted the way things are for too long. Is it too late for him to break the hard mold he’s created around himself? He says he wants me to accept him for who he is, but how can I do that when I’d be settling for a person I can never fully know? Accepting him this way would turn me into a doormat. I-I can’t, can I?
I take a deep breath and finish placing the last item into my suitcase and grab my keys from the dresser. I glance in the mirror, assessing my appearance. My face is tired. Even after showering and applying a bit of makeup, my eyes are still puffy from crying all night. I don’t want to give up on him—on us—but he has to see that I’m serious. Yes, I told him to go, and I wanted him to go at that moment, but the root of the problem is that he’s so far away from me. Now he is, both literally and figuratively.
I slip on the pair of Chuck Taylors that are older than my marriage but are more comfortable than the five-inch heeled boots I wore here. These are more suited to the wide-legged jeans and T-shirt I’m wearing.
I grab my bag and the handle on my suitcase and drag it downstairs and into the kitchen, where Raven is sitting with a cup of tea in hand. She smiles as I enter, her eyes drifting to the bag on my shoulder.
“Let me get you some tea,” she says quickly.
I start to protest but realize it’s easier to just accept it.
“I thought you’d sleep later,” she says, pouring me a cup.
I set my bag on the floor and take a seat across from her. “No. I wanted to get an early start.” I take the cup as she offers.
“On what?” she asks before taking a seat next to me.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re going back home?”
“No,” I say after taking a sip of tea. “I’m going to stay with a friend in Chicago for a while—until I decide what I’m going to do.”