Luke picked me up around five-thirty, but since Anthony lived in Fletcher, we didn’t get there until after six. Anthony lived in a smaller home, when you considered how many people were living in it. Anthony was one of two in his generation still living in his parent’s house. His oldest sister also lived there with her children. She was recently divorced with two kids, something that apparently troubled her Catholic grandma, who also lived in the house. Anthony’s parents made jokes about moving out and leaving them all behind. It was a real family gathering, warm and filled with rousing banter. Something utterly unfamiliar to me. Luke seemed to fit right in. There were attendees of all ages—grandmas to newborns. I settled into chatting with Anthony’s other sister, Carmela, not the divorced one. She was rocking her newborn in her arms. Our conversation, as usual, began as a comment about my hair, and then, as usual, once she realized I was a stylist, shifted to a conversation about her hair. I was trying to be in the moment and pay attention to her, but just over her shoulder, Luke was playing with Anthony’s other sister’s kids.
Someone had set up a game of cornhole. Luke and the kids weren’t the slightest bit concerned with the rules of the game. Instead, they were just throwing the bean bags and cheering or laughing, depending on where the bag landed. Luke seemed perfectly content to spend his time with them, encouraging them, advising them about how to throw better, roaring with celebration when they got the bean bag in the hole. As I peeked over Carmela’s shoulder, my first instinct was just to smile. It must have been a glowy, gooey smile because Carmela turned to see what had caught my attention.
“You’re lucky. It looks like he’d make a great dad,” she said. “Lord knows, they don’t all inherit that gene.”
At her words, the world crumbled beneath my feet. Watching him with those kids, it was crystal clear. Luke was meant to be a dad. He was so good with kids, an absolute natural. Suddenly, I could imagine him with his own children, perfection. I could see them in my mind, little toe-headed boys that grew up to have dark beards, a daughter named Molly after his mother, car seats in his truck, and tiny cowboy boots. There was no room for my broken blue-haired body in that picture because I couldn't give him those things. Luke could never truly be mine. I had to end it. I had to tell him the whole truth. Tonight. Let the chips fall where they may. In the end, it would be better that we never made love. Best to not have to remember that for the rest of my life.
The rest of the evening was garbage. I tried to be pleasant and enjoy myself, but I couldn’t seem to get beyond my own anxiety about blowing up my relationship with Luke, so I basically acted withdrawn and a little bitchy. When we pulled up in front of my house, after a long drive of one-word answers and intermittent silence, Luke said, “Maddie, what is up with you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, um, just sad I guess.” I popped open the truck door and headed for the house. Usually, he helped me get out, an excuse for us to get close. But I didn’t want to lose my nerve, so it was probably best if he didn’t touch me. He’d been spending almost every night at my place, so I wasn’t surprised he followed me.
“Is it something I did?” he asked, catching up from behind me.
“No, God, no. I just…” I didn’t want to do this on the front lawn. “Come on,” I said, pointing casually towards the front door. “Let’s talk inside.”
It took me a second to get my key out of my purse. He sidled up behind me, pressing his lips into my hair, the smell of him enveloping me like a fog. I tensed at his touch, the sadness of what I had to do screaming in my chest.
As always, he was exceptionally sensitive to my feelings. “You are mad,” he said, stepping back.
I found the keys and opened the door. “I’m not. I have to talk to you about something.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked.
“No, but I have to tell you something and it’s hard.” I dropped my purse on the kitchen table. My kitchen and living room were a pretty open floor plan. I crossed to my forest green couch and sat down. It was a good deep couch. The kind a person curls up in. I let it engulf me. He followed me into the living room and stood there, the coffee table between us. He looked nervous.
“Are you from another planet and you have to go back?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
I laughed and then I started crying. He was just too good. Too perfect. I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want to be with someone else. I didn’t want him to be with someone else. I never really knew if I wanted kids, but with Luke, I would want kids. And suddenly, I felt crushed that I was losing the children that I could never have. I sobbed, and instinctively, he ran to me, wrapped me up in his arms, and held me hard to his chest so that I could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.
“Fuck, baby. What can I do?” he asked, peppering the crown of my head with kisses.
I needed him. I wanted him. Why did this happen to me? Why wasn’t I allowed to have a future with this man?
As if he could hear my fears, he said, “Whatever it is. It will be okay. We can make it okay.” Even though he didn’t really know what he was agreeing to, I allowed myself to take a breath.
“Can you kiss me?” I asked.
He smiled, “Always.” And then his lips were on mine. He kissed me hard, trying to drive the sadness from my mind. I let him. I let him coax me with his passion, let his touch make me forget why it was so important to tell him the secret I was keeping.
I would have to tell him, eventually. Just not tonight.
11
Luke
Maddie was sitting across from me at the diner we liked to stop at after class. It was a classic 50's style diner that resembled the old train car, complete with a neon red diner sign, chrome roof, and windows all across the front. It reminded me of Nighthawks and sometimes sitting there, I pictured us, her blue hair and my cowboy hat painted into Edward Hopper’s masterpiece. Honestly, the food wasn’t great, but it was on the road from Fletcher to Conway and it had kinda become our place. We both ordered grilled cheese and French fries. I was about finished with mine but Maddie hadn’t taken more than a bite or two. She was absolutely over the moon. Tonight, she faced our class without a stitch of fabric covering her skin, and she was literally glowing with excitement.
“It was so much better than I suspected it would be,” she gushed. “I didn’t feel shame at all. I didn’t feel like anyone was staring or judging. I just felt free, ya know? Like I deserved to be looked at and appreciated.”
She did, by me. Besides that one instance where Maddie freaked out after Anthony’s family’s BBQ, everything with us had fallen into place. For me, it was a pretty insane experience. We’d been dating for a couple of months now and I only wanted her more each day. For the record, I wanted her, not just sex with her. I wanted to be with her every second of the day. My brothers were constantly teasing me for texting her and calling her and running off to be with her. She was funny and smart and just so cool. She was my favorite friend I ever had. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted sex with her too, badly. We were still maintaining our slow-moving sexual exploration policy, and I was finding it harder to control my urge to pin her up against the wall and ravage her body in the way we both craved. But, my idea to move slowly had turned out to be a stroke of genius. I thought I was going to last a few days, but instead, we’d lasted weeks, and with each day, our desire for each other increased. We were like rabbits, only without the screwing.