Mark My Words Page 10

  “Do you know what you want?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “I’m thinking about the salmon.”

  The salmon had sounded good to me too, but the pasta dishes were cheaper, therefore I’d probably go with one of those.

  “Good evening.” I peered up at the man approaching our table. “I’m Trent, the Steakhouse’s sommelier.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Trent Wheelhouse?”

  His eyes widened as he studied me. “Colin Wilde?” Reaching out, he slapped me on the shoulder. “How ya been, man?”

  “Good,” I responded. “So this is what you do now, huh?” Trent had been a partier in high school. I’d heard rumors about him getting drunk every weekend. But I guess it worked out for him if he got a job working with alcohol.

  Trent’s gaze slid over to the other side of the table, and they widened further, shock evident. “Lennie Samson?”

  “Hi, Trent.” Smiling, her lashes fluttered. Man, she was stunning. I could tell Trent thought the same thing, and pride welled in my chest. Honestly, I couldn’t have planned this night better if I tried. “I’d heard that you were a sommelier, but I didn’t realize you worked here. That’s a pretty big deal.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he agreed. Looking at me, his eyebrows shot up. “So you two, huh?” He pointed back and forth between us.

  “Yep,” I answered smugly, but not too smugly, because Lennie was watching.

  Trent raised his brows in appreciation, giving me that look guys gave each other to show that they were impressed. “Well, this calls for a celebration, and I know just the bottle.” Smiling, he spun around. “I’ll be right back.”

  When he left, Lennie set her menu down. On her face she wore a pensive expression that concerned me. This was supposed to be a night of celebration.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Fidgeting, she bit her lip. “Um…I just… I kinda need to tell you something.” She leaned forward, appearing agitated, and warning signals blared in the back of my head. I desperately wanted to put the brakes on whatever she was going to say. Things had been going so well. Too well, in fact. I guess that should’ve tipped me off. Things never went this well for me.

  “Here it is.” Trent stood beside our table, holding out a bottle of wine. As he opened it, he touted off all of its stats – the kind it was: Zinfandel. Where it was from: some winery in Paso Robles. Truth is, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Mostly I was searching Lennie’s face, trying to figure out what she had been attempting to tell me a few seconds ago. But more than that, I was conjuring up a plan to keep her from saying it tonight. To keep her in celebratory mode with me.

  As Trent poured the wine into glasses, the deep purple color swirling inside, Lennie excused herself to the bathroom. Once she was out of earshot, Trent nudged me in the side. “Lennie Samson?” He said, incredulous. “How’d you manage that?”

  I bristled. “I didn’t manage anything. We just struck up a friendship, and then I asked her out.”

  He seemed to mull over my words. “Last I heard she was sick or something.”

  “Yeah, she is,” I answered quietly.

  “Oh.” His face grew serious as he took in my words. Then he shrugged. “Well, I guess it makes sense now.” He set the bottle in the middle of the table. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Enjoy your dinner.”

  My face flamed, my hands fisting at my sides. He’d said the words flippantly, as if they weren’t piercing daggers. As if they wouldn’t tear me apart. But they did. Trent thought the only reason Lennie was dating me was because she was sick. But that wasn’t true. Was it?

  When she returned, I sat up straighter, took a deep breath.

  Reaching forward, she picked up her glass. Her slender fingers folded around the stem as she lifted it to her lips. When she took a sip, deep purple stained her mouth. “Hmmm. That’s amazing,” she said.

  I relaxed a little as she continued to enjoy her wine. Her whole demeanor shifted, as if whatever was weighing her down left the minute she went to the restroom. Not bothering to question it, I picked up my own glass of wine and took a sip. I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to taste like, but it wasn’t bad. And it calmed me a little, warmed my insides.

  Pretty soon, we ordered our dinners, drank more wine and talked about fun stuff like books and life in the city. Never again did Lennie bring up whatever it was she had tried to tell me at the beginning of the evening, and eventually I forget about it altogether.

  If only I could’ve prevented the topic from ever resurfacing.

  18

  Lennie changed after that night at dinner. At first it was subtle. She became a little quieter, more reserved. But then it was more obvious. She came into the coffee shop less often, stopped returning my phone calls. I wanted to ask her about it, but the words died on my lips, stuck to my tongue, got lodged in my throat. I felt them every time I swallowed. They hid between my teeth, cowered near my tonsils.

  This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me. I knew what it looked like when a woman had second thoughts. Our relationship had been too good to be true from the get-go. A fantasy come to life. Her behavior now wasn’t surprising.

  Still, I held onto the hope that I wouldn’t lose her completely. That hope had started as a minuscule thread. It was now frayed and tattered, barely hanging on, but I clutched it in between my fingers so tightly that my knuckles turned white with desperation.

  In the past, my eagerness caused girls to walk away, and I was determined not to do that this time. Therefore, I didn’t push Lennie. Instead, I gave her what she needed. If she sought me out, I was available, but only to the degree that she invited me. Sometimes it was a simple chat over coffee, or a walk in the park, or a short phone call.

  I’d taken to wooing her through books again. She enjoyed the first romance novel I’d bought her, so I picked up a couple more by that same author and left them on her doorstep. This thoughtful gesture earned me a visit one morning as I was working at the coffee shop.

  I couldn’t afford to buy her anymore books, so I grabbed a few more choose-your-own-ending novels from the box in my parents’ garage. It aroused some suspicion from Ray, though, which forced me to have a very uncomfortable conversation I would’ve rather avoided.

  I’d been getting out of family dinners as much as possible since Lennie and I started dating. It was easier that way. Then I didn’t have to dodge Mom’s leading questions, or outright lie to her when she begged me to tell her about my love life.

  About my muse.

  And I didn’t have to squirm under Ray’s intense gaze, so bright it was like the lights in an interrogation room.

  But I needed to get Lennie those books, and I knew I couldn’t show up and ask to go in the garage after declining all of Mom’s dinner invitations. Besides, it would get Mom off my back, so I figured it was killing two birds with one stone.

  And, actually, dinner wasn’t so bad. Mom kept her pestering questions to a minimum. And Ray seemed so focused on his food he barely noticed me. Also, it helped that Amelia had been sick that week. It was most likely just the flu, but I could tell my parents had been worried, and Amelia’s health status colored much of our conversation. It irked me a little, only because Amelia’s bout with the flu paled in comparison to Lennie’s cancer. But I was grateful that it took the spotlight off of me, even if only temporarily.

  Once I’d survived dinner, I asked Mom if I could retrieve more of my books from the garage. She gave me the okay, and then went to do dishes. I assumed Ray had gone into the family room to zone out to some stupid sitcom. That’s why I was shocked when he entered the garage as I was down on my knees perusing my box of old books.

  The garage was already dimly lit with only a spray of light coming from a lightbulb that hung precariously from the ceiling. But once Ray’s large frame filled the doorway leading into the house, the light was practically swallowed whole. Ray’s shadow cast over me, blanketing me in darkness.

  I shiver
ed.

  He took a few steps, his boots stomping on the concrete. Ignoring him, I continued rifling through the books. I silently hoped that he was retrieving something for Mom. Maybe she broke something while cleaning up and Ray was grabbing a tool to help her. But when he loomed over my shoulders, I knew that wasn’t the case.

  “What have you got there?” He asked the same way he used to when I was a kid and had gotten into something I shouldn’t have.

  “Just looking for something,” I answered.

  “What is it?”

  My patience was wearing thin. Sighing, I stopped searching and craned my neck, peering up at him. “Clearly, I’m looking for a book.”

  I expected him to scold me for my condescending tone, but instead he raised his eyebrows, his gaze darting to the box. “What’s your sudden interest in your old books?”

  “Just reminiscing, I guess.”

  Ray shook his head. “Cut the bullshit, Colin, and tell me what’s going on.”

  I recoiled from his harsh tone.

  “You might have your Mom fooled,” he continued. “But I know something’s up. You’re not acting normal.”

  I snorted. “You mean, I’m not acting like you.” My fingers lit on the book I needed, and I yanked it out. Then I stood up, wiping dirt from my knees. “News flash, Ray, I’m not like you. I never have been.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know,” he answered gruffly. “You’ve always been strange, but right now you’re even more strange than usual.”

  I bristled at his statement. Pretending it didn’t maim me, I shoved the box back on the shelf and patted Ray on the back. “Nice talking to ya,” I said sarcastically before attempting to slide past him.

  But he grabbed my arm. “You better get your shit together, son. I’m not bailing you out a second time. No matter how much your mom begs me.”

  Angry, I tugged my arm back. I always knew it was Mom who made him help me all those years ago. She had told me he wanted to, but I knew better. Still it stung that he admitted it. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to bail me out this time.”

  “There better not be a reason to,” he snapped.

  “Chill,” I hissed. “There’s nothing going on.”

  “I really hope you’re telling the truth.” His eyes narrowed. “For your mom’s sake. She can’t survive it again.”

  Blowing out an annoyed breath, I shook my head. Then headed back inside the house, leaving Ray and his unsavory opinion of me in the garage.

  But enduring my stepdad’s hurtful words ended up being worth it once I gave the books to Lennie. She read them swiftly, and then we spent the day together discussing them. And I started to believe we had turned a corner.

  That she’d gotten past whatever issue had been plaguing her. That we could move forward with our relationship.

  But then I saw him, and all of my hopes vanished, snuffed out like a candle when the wick burned out. It was then that I knew the truth.

  19

  I never thought a simple trip to the grocery would be my undoing. But it was.

  The errand was unavoidable. I’d been putting it off for days living off of mac and cheese and frozen dinners. But even those were gone now, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t drum up a meal with the ketchup, butter and soda sitting at the back of my fridge.

  Growing up we didn’t always have a lot of money. Ray worked odd, manual labor jobs, and Mom stayed at home. But she made the food stretch, often whipping up meals with whatever food she could find in the fridge. However, I was certain even she couldn’t have made anything with what I had.

  Therefore, I sucked it up and headed to the store. It was nighttime, and the air was dark and cool. It smelled like damp asphalt as I made my way through the parking lot, my head down since I walked against the wind. It whisked over my head, causing my hair to lift from my scalp. Leaves skittered on the ground as if they’d come to life, sprouted feet. Headlights from passing cars painted my body, and their tires kicked up water from nearby puddles. It had been raining earlier, but now the rain had stopped, leaving a gentle mist in the sky.

  Shivering, I hurried forward. The cart I grabbed was slick and wet, and it took a couple of tries before my fingers successfully gripped the handle. When I got inside, I was momentarily blinded by the fluorescent lighting. I hated fluorescent lights. They made me dizzy.

  As I rounded the corner, the produce section coming into view, my front wheel started squeaking. Of course. Just my luck. Shaking my head, I blew out a breath.

  I didn’t have a list. I never did. Usually, I threw in things that sounded good. Mostly, cheap, easy meals. Frozen food, boxed pasta or rice dishes. Rarely did I venture into the produce section, but today I found myself wandering over to it. As I passed the lettuce, the spigot above it turned on, spraying the vegetables with water.

  Lennie knew a lot about nutrition. She was careful with what she ate, choosing fresh vegetables and fruits, organic meats over processed foods. We’d had discussions about it, and she’d even teased me about what she called “my bachelor diet.” I knew that she needed to be mindful of what she ate because of the cancer, but I suspected she’d been a healthy eater even before getting sick. Even when we were teenagers she ate salads in the cafeteria. And, from what I’d gleaned in our conversations, she’d always been a person who enjoyed the outdoors – hiking and bicycling.

  I could stand to care a little more about my health. Let’s face it, I wasn’t getting any younger. Besides, lately I’d been self-conscious about my body. I think it had to do with the fact that Lennie was pulling away. I was sure it had nothing to do with that night at my house, but I couldn’t help but worry that she’d changed her mind about me after feeling up my less than stellar chest. After dating guys who were buff and fit, I must have been a disappointment.

  Above the vegetables, were pre-packaged salads. I grabbed a couple of them and threw them into my cart. It’s not that I was naïve enough to think that eating a couple of salads would transform my body from lanky to muscular. But it couldn’t hurt.

  Leaving the produce area, I headed down the aisles I was familiar with. Rows of boxed meals, organized neatly on the shelves. I found comfort in the order of them. Some song that was popular back when I was in high school came on, and visions of the old Lennie filled my mind. Lost in my daydream, I slowly pushed my cart down the aisle.

  It was when I was reaching for a box of macaroni and cheese that I first saw him. He stood a few feet in front of me tossing a bag of rice into a nearby cart. Then he scanned the shelf as if searching for something else. I’d never met the guy, but I knew instantly who he was. With the amount of time I’d spent studying his pictures, it felt like I did know him. That was why my face flushed the minute his head swiveled in my direction. I imagined that he knew who I was. That he knew I’d stalked his Facebook and Instagram account. That I’d coveted his life.

  But he didn’t even notice me. His gaze slid past me as he continued looking for something on the shelf. I started to wonder if I was invisible when he mumbled an “excuse me.” I moved out of his way, clutching the box of macaroni and cheese in my hand.

  What was Rob doing here? Not just here in this store, but here in this city.

  Glancing over at his cart, my stomach knotted. Fruits and veggies filled the space. It looked exactly the way I’d imagine Lennie’s cart to look if she were in this store.

  Were these groceries for her? My whole body went hot.

  He found what he was looking for and closed his fist around it. Before he could turn around and spot me gawking at him, I spun the other direction and pretended to be shopping. Behind me I heard the shuffle of his shoes on the slick linoleum, the sound of the box as he tossed it into his basket. Then I listened as he pushed his cart away from me. I noticed that his wheels worked fine. It seemed fitting. Guys like him lived a charmed existence.

  At that point, I should’ve left. I had enough food in my basket to tide me over for at least a few days. But my curiosity got the
better of me. I had to know what he was doing here. More importantly, I had to know if he was with her.

  So I followed him. I stayed a safe distance so I wouldn’t arouse suspicion. He only bought a few more items, but I took note of them. Tried to analyze if I thought they were for Lennie or not. In the end, I didn’t know.

  By the time he went to pay, I realized how silly this whole thing was. I didn’t need to follow him around to know why he was here.

  He lived in Southern California, and yet he was shopping in a grocery store in San Francisco. There could only be one reason for this. Lennie. Finally giving up, I paid for my groceries and headed outside.

  It was raining again, so I stopped under the awning to put down my hood. Raindrops pelted the awning above me, so loud it sounded like a herd of cattle stomping around. Large, black clouds rolled overhead, dark and ominous. Rob stepped out of the store and stopped next to me. I had assumed he was also putting on his hood, but I was wrong.

  Instead, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Faintly I could hear a song playing. It was one I’d heard before, but couldn’t place. Probably a popular one they played on the radio a lot. I never knew those. He pushed a button on the screen and pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, and I froze, holding my breath. “Yep, I’m leaving right now.” When he paused, I pretended to be cinching my hood. Then I fished around for my keys as if I was busy preparing myself for walking into the storm. But really I was eavesdropping. “I know. It’s really coming down. But I’ll be there shortly.” Another pause. “Okay. See ya soon, Lennie.”

  That was it. The final nail in the coffin.

  Subtly, I peered over at him. He still hadn’t noticed me, but that was okay. He’d notice me soon enough.

  20

  That night I dreamt of Sarah. Of her long, almost white hair. Of her slender fingers and dainty wrists. Of the soft spot on the back of her neck and that one blue eye that always seemed to stare at me. She called me, beckoning me over. But when I reached her she morphed before my eyes, changing like the reflection in a funhouse mirror. Tears raked down her face, her hair was matted with blood. When she opened her mouth, it stretched in a grotesque way. Daggers in the form of accusations shot from her mouth, pierced my soul.