“Fine,” I grumble.
He lies on his mechanic creeper and rolls under the red, you guessed it, Ford.
“I’m sure your percentage of Fords you work on to Chevys is probably, two percent Chevy to ninety-eight percent Ford. Am I right?”
“You know I’m not going to answer that. You are just trying to get fuel to feed the fire for your ongoing battle of Ford versus Chevrolet at Jackson’s. Which, hey, we missed you Friday.”
“I know, man. I was with Romi. See, I thought we really had something going. Then bam! One shitty day of back to back calls and she’s gone.” And there I go again, pacing the floor.
I thought we were heading in the right direction. I thought we could actually turn the fake nonsense into something real and concrete. I thought a lot of stupid shit because apparently, I thought wrong.
He rolls out from under the car, and I stop pacing to see what he’s doing. “Look, I could tell you that it will all work out and just give it some time, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. I’ve never loved anyone like that before. My love life is non-existent and looks like it will be that way until little man graduates high school. So, I’m sorry, Clay. This is out of my league.” He said those unhelpful words and rolls back under. The only word that stuck out to me was love.
“What the fuck are you talking about, loved anyone or love life?” I pace again.
“Yeah, Clay, think about it. Why would I say that four letter word that is probably one of the most powerful emotional words in the English language? It can make you feel happy or sad, give you such a high that you feel overjoyed, or make you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.”
“Alright, Mr. Philosopher, your wise talk is not helping. What are you saying? Get to the point.”
“Are you happy or sad right now?” he asks as he rolls back out from underneath to look at me again.
“Sad.”
His fingers link together, and he rest them on his abs. “Are you overjoyed or does your heart feel like it’s been ripped out and stomped on?”
“I feel like shit. I want to go to her and tell her that, tell her something to make her understand that not one of those animals died because of her. I can’t believe I am about to say this, but it’s the deepest truth. I would give it all up to be with her, man.”
“There you have it. My work here is done,” the bastard says and rolls under the car.
“What?”
“Dude, you are in fucking love with Romi. Get it through your pea size brain.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Now what?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” he says through the car’s engine.
“Some help you are. I’ll talk to you later.” I walk out of the shop feeling relieved, scared, anxious but still sad because I don’t know what to do and will have to quickly figure it out. One thing is for sure. I work too damn much, and it’s time for that to change.
With determination in my step, I drive back to the office and make a few phone calls on my way.
Of course, as soon as I walk in my sister is asking questions.
“What are you doing back? I thought you went to Dallas.”
“Not now, Hanna. I’m in a hurry,” I dismissively say and walk past her and through the door to my office in the back of the clinic.
She follows me; I expected none the less. “Your always in a hurry, that’s nothing new.”
“I really am. Now, have you seen my briefcase?”
She leans into the small office space and points to my briefcase that’s slotted between the desk and the filing cabinet. “Oh, so it’s that kind of meeting, a serious one. Should I be nervous?”
“Not at all. I setup an appointment on the other side of Dallas, and if I don’t leave now, I will catch the traffic and not make it there in time.” I pass her in the hall and shoot out the front door with her hot on my tail.
“Be careful. Don’t worry about a thing here. I got it covered, just like always!” she yells, the last part a little sarcastically. This meeting will be just as good for me as it will be for her.
“Later, sis!” I wave my arm out of the window and honk to say goodbye.
The drive is mentally challenging. Not because of bad traffic, but because my brain is going a million miles a minute. Thoughts of what I’m about to do will impact my life forever. Thoughts of whether Romi will take me back. Thoughts on what the future can hold with her in it, or the dreaded thoughts of what it would be like without her.
Damn, is this what she feels like every trip she takes to and from Heartville. Having so much time to think is exhausting. Not to mention that I’m sure the long drive back to her house got her thinking of all the bad things that I told her had happened the day before at work. I just need to prove to her and make her see that I am focused. I’m focused on my job, and I’m focused on her. I can fully do them both, and I will be fucking amazing at it. Helping animals is my passion, and I love the quick thrill it brings, but Romi is my world, and that kind of love is everlasting. It’s not just a short burst of adrenaline. It’s the slow burn down deep in my soul, a flame that doesn’t extinguish. Yes, I love Romi, and I can’t even imagine life without her in it.
I made it to my destination with a few minutes to spare, so I take a moment to just breathe and get my head on straight.
Romi and I’ve talked or texted every day since we ran into each other in Heartville a few weeks back and to go for a day without any form of communication is unnerving. I have to have a little of something. Any small bit to give me a sign that there is hope. No matter if that sign comes or not, today’s meeting still has to happen. I need it for me, and it will only be an added benefit for those around me that I love and care for.
Clay: Thinking of you.
I continue to stare at the screen to see if the oh so important four-letter word, “read,” flashes. It doesn’t take long, it pops up and the three dots appear. My heart starts to beat faster and harder in anticipation of what she will say, or not say. It’s still too early to tell, but at least she read the message and knows I’m here.
Romi: Thanks.
One word, yet it’s a positive sign, a beacon of hope, a bone thrown to the dog.
My fingers fly over the phone’s keypad, taking that small gesture and monopolizing it to its fullest by typing out all of the things I want to tell her. Then I freeze, pause to think a second, and delete it all. This time I type out a shorter sentence about how I am here for her and will be waiting. My fingers freeze again. She won’t want to hear that; it will just push her further away. So, I hit the back-arrow button to delete it all once again. “Fucking hell!” I scream to my empty truck and let my head fall back to the head rest to think.
Clay: Miss you.
Romi: Miss you, too.
20
Table set to perfection, proper attire, fabric napkin in lap and all the other boxes checked off as well for having a casual family dinner at the Caldwell house.
Not even two bites in and they start pushing their agenda. I really should learn to eat before coming to these so-called family dinners. Nothing will change until I get engaged, since I am at the ripe age to do so, or that is what they think anyway.