Our Last Time: A Novel (9 page)

“Okay,
just Wyatt
. I suppose I can work a shoulder-rub into my schedule,” I sighed. “You’re lucky my daughter is in your class. Way too lucky.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. I bet she’s just as sweet as you are,” he whispered the last sentence, teasing me.

“I’m actually a really nice person,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “But Annette is my angel. I’m proud to call her my daughter.”

I fed Wyatt the last of his breakfast, and opened his first carton of orange juice for him before he tipped the carton back once.

He let out a deep breath, his eyes on me. “You can tell me about her. I want you to. I might not be the brightest patient you’ve cared for, but when it comes to my students, I’m the brightest. It sucks that I can’t be involved with them now, and you can probably tell that it has affected me,” he went on.

“So, you see yourself as a good teacher?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he answered immediately. “I love being a teacher, It’s my life. My students are my life. I’m actually really glad your daughter is one of my students.”

“Okay…” I paused. “Why are you still here, then, Wyatt? You can teach in your condition,” I said slowly, my tone soft.

He drank some more of his juice at that moment. “What’s your daughter’s name?” he asked, instead of answering my question.

He found my weakness, and I hated that.

“Annette,” I smiled. I couldn’t help but smile.

He nodded, and for the first time ever, he smiled one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen.

Ever.

“Tell me about her,” he said. He was almost begging to know her. I couldn’t help myself.

I looked at Wyatt differently, so differently - ever since I told him about Annette. And I really,
really
, hated that.

Willow

In chemistry class
,
Kennedy had told me to meet him at our home around midnight. He said he had something to tell me, and that it was important - that it was
something
he couldn’t say during class.

He looked almost sad when he told me he had something to say to me, and that reminded me of what I failed to mention to him.

I said maybe to Calvin Steelton when he asked me to go on a date with him, and I felt bad that I hadn’t told Kennedy as soon as I saw him in class. I hadn’t known what he’d think of it. I felt crazy for saying maybe.

I also knew Kennedy would never think I was crazy, because he was Kennedy, my best friend. He always stood by my decisions, and I always stood by his. That was why I loved him so much.

I knew I had to tell him as soon as he got to our home. I wouldn’t be able to think clearly until I just got it off my chest. I was sitting on my bean bag, next to the dimmed lantern I turned on so I wouldn’t be surrounded by darkness.

Kennedy wouldn’t be upset. I never dated anyone, and it would surprise him that I told Calvin maybe - but he wouldn’t be upset. Hopefully he’d be
hopeful
for me.

I did really like Calvin. He was a nice guy, he was funny. He was really sweet, and I really liked the way he talked to me.

What I was looking for was Kennedy’s approval. His approval was what I needed. If he had said he hadn’t thought it was a good idea, then I’d turn Calvin down without hesitation. I would never jeopardize my friendship with Kennedy for a boy that was nothing but temporary.

If he said yes, though, I’d be unprepared. If he said I told you so, and
yes,
you should go on a date with Calvin, then I wouldn’t know what to say as a response to that.

I was afraid of the outcomes. I needed Kennedy’s ideas. His ideas would give me reassurance, I believed.

When I heard a bicycle hit the dirt, my eyes darted to the opening doorway of our home, and I waited for him to come inside.

But he hadn’t come inside.

I stood up, grabbed the lantern by the handle, and I walked, because I couldn’t wait any longer. This was torture for me.

“Kennedy?”

Creeping up close to the doorway, I heard a shuffling noise. I popped my head out to look around outside at that moment. “Kennedy?” I called for him again.

“Willow,” he said my name, out of breath. I couldn’t see him. “Will, you’re already here?” he asked faintly.

I walked out through the doorway to find him standing there. His clothes were different from earlier, he had changed them.

I don’t like the clothes he’s wearing
, was the first thought that came to my mind. He had always referred to these clothes as his unhappy clothes. Black shirt, black-creamed pants, and black Reebok sneakers.

He’d hardly ever wear them. I hadn’t remembered the last time he did.

Before I questioned his attire, I blurted the words out of my mouth, “Calvin Steelton asked me out on a date, and I told him maybe.”

I wished I asked him about his clothes first, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had it already planned in my head.

He took a small step backward, his expression confused. “Wait, what? When?” he asked softly.

“Second lunch,” I sighed. “He just sat at my table, and he was really sweet, and I just didn’t know how to say no, or if I
wanted
to say no,” I paused, mentally kicking myself in the gut.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I sounded desperate, and idiotic.

“Slow down, Will,” he said in a low tone. He took two steps forward, closer to me. “Come here,” he muttered, his arms spread apart.

He knew when I needed a hug from him.

I dropped the lantern, and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist when he walked over to me. His arms were slung over my shoulders as I pressed my cheek to his chest.

I took a deep breath.

“I meant to tell you last period,” I explained in a whisper.

“It’s okay that you didn’t,” he assured me. He pulled my hair out of the band, letting the thick mess fall around my face. He smoothed his hands over the back of my head. “Do you know him?” he asked casually, even though he knew the answer to the question. He was making this easier for me.

“Not really,” I answered honestly.

He sighed, and then exhaled sharply through his nose. “Do you want to know him?” he asked simply.

I hesitated, but then looked up until he looked down to catch my gaze. “I kind of do,” I said, looking into his eyes.

He blinked first, but then he smiled a small,
tight
smile.

I could tell he forced it, and I hated that he forced it.

“Then maybe you should tell him yes,” he whispered.

I was confused. First he wore his unhappy clothes, then he forced
a smile
, and now he was telling me I should tell Calvin yes?

I hadn’t thought this was an idea of Kennedy’s. I thought he was settling for an OK, as if I was giving him an ultimatum.

“Kennedy, I can tell you didn’t want to say that, so you didn’t mean it,” I said. My tone of voice had confusion laced with it, and I was still dealing with desperation for direction.

He was just agreeing, like he
had
to. He wasn’t giving the Kennedy advice that I needed.

“I don’t like the idea of sharing you is all, but I can’t be selfish. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to go on a date with a guy you might want to get to know. I can’t get in the way of that, Willow,” he said sternly. He tucked some hair behind my ear, and then backed away from me.

“I’ll be stalking your date if you choose to tell him yes. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, so just so you’re aware, I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on him,” he cleared his throat. “Calvin Steelton looks like a tool, though,” he muttered.

I nodded, smiling, “Yeah, he does.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but I don’t, either. I know you want me to tell you what you should do, but I can’t give you a doable route. This is all you, Will,” he told me.

I nodded. “I know that now. I just can’t keep things from you for a second, or keep you out of the loop. You’re all I’ve got, you know,” I said quietly.

“You could have anyone,” he smiled his smile.

“No one is as special as you,” I retorted. I meant it.

No one came before Kennedy. Not even my father did, or my mom. Nobody did.

He shook his head.

“It’s getting late, Will. We have school tomorrow,” he sighed deeply. “We should probably leave our home, now.”

“Not yet,” I interjected.

“Why not?” he asked. He was about to turn away, and leave.

“You said you wanted to tell me something, too, remember?” I pointed out. “You’re wearing your unhappy clothes,” I said under my breath.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking sectioned deep breaths. “I don’t remember what I was going to say,” he paused, and then opened his eyes slowly. “I’ll remember tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?” he said aloud.

He was hiding something, but there was no way I could convince him to stay if he wasn’t ready to say what he needed to say.

I nodded, sighing, “Yeah, okay.”

He stood his bike up, and then sat on the seat. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” I waved, before he rode off through the woods, beating away the stretched limbs in his path.

Willow

There was no homework
on Friday. The day I said something to Wyatt about the homework, he immediately canceled the homework scheduled for that day. At the end of that day, Annette had gotten in the car with the biggest smile on her face, and she said, “I won’t have homework on Friday’s anymore, mommy!”

It made me so happy that Annette wouldn’t have homework on Friday’s anymore.

But more than anything, I was happy Wyatt was willing to do something
that
nice for
my
daughter.

For his entire class, really - it was a generous thing for him to do. Though they deserved less homework, it had to be a giant step for Wyatt to take. I knew he was uptight, and a definite perfectionist.

As soon as I found out that Wyatt was the class’ teacher, I figured it would be a lost cause to try and get him to make changes. Especially for
me
.

This was his class that I was sticking my nose in, and I knew it would be practically impossible to convince him to schedule less homework.

I never expected it to be so easy - not until I discovered the fact that Wyatt hadn’t hated me at all, and actually
enjoyed
my presence. He just had a funny way of showing it.

I also knew that I hadn’t hated Wyatt. I never hated him.

I hated that I wanted to see his smile, and I hated that once I saw it, I hadn’t wanted to
stop
seeing it.

I had hated that I wanted to be the one who made him smile.

It was overwhelming, because
the want
hit me as soon as I saw the man. I never wanted to make a man smile since Kennedy.
The guys of the past
, as I called them - I hadn’t thought about being the one who made them smile, and when they did, I’d feel absolutely nothing.

There were things that Wyatt did that I loved, and the one thing that changed my outlook on him entirely was when he asked to know who Annette was.

I loved that he wanted to know, because he was the only man that had ever
asked
to know.

Another was when he made immediate changes once I asked him to. My heart did a flip inside my chest when Annette had told me she wouldn’t have homework on Friday’s anymore.

The last that came to mind - was whenever he’d smile.

I hated that I started loving things about Wyatt, but then again, there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Now it was Monday, and very early in the morning. I was waiting for Annette to call me in the bathroom, so I could wash her hair for her. I was sitting cross-legged on my small bed that I had pushed in the corner of my bedroom.

I was already wearing my scrubs for the day. They were tan-colored, and animated lions and lionesses scattered the outfit from shoulder to ankle.

I eventually heard Annette swish the shower curtain open a little so she could stick her head out, and she yelled, “Mommy, I need you now!”

I had gotten up quickly, because her tone was a little bit more urgent than usual. “Is something wrong, baby, or do you just need me to wash your hair?” I asked, once I was standing in the steamy bathroom.

She popped her head out again. “I tried washing it by myself, but I don’t know if I did it right, and I have shampoo in my eyes and it hurts,” she rambled.

I opened the curtain a little. “Okay. Stand there, and lean your head back,” I instructed, and she did.

We did this every day, and it was starting to frustrate Annette that she had a hard time shampooing her own hair - but she had
a lot
of hair. My parents had nicknamed her Rapunzel ever since her hair started growing, because her hair grew abnormally fast, and she was absolutely terrified of haircuts.

She had pretty dirty blonde hair, though, and she knew that. Her hair stopped just below her bottom. She was also short for her age.

Annette was a gorgeous person, and her hair was part of who she was. I also hadn’t minded washing my daughter’s hair. I’d
never
mind washing it.

She’d tried washing her hair in the past, but she always complained about it not turning out as shiny, or as silky as it would be if I washed it for her. I hadn’t seen much of a difference, but I wasn’t complaining.

Annette was a lot like Kennedy, and I was starting to love that more and more each day - though it did scare me a little.

Her way was the only way, unless she had to make exceptions for me. She was incredibly smart, and she’d get frustrated if she’d have a hard time with something. She had ideas, though they were ideas of an eight year-old girl. She had big blue eyes that spoke a thousand words all on their own. Her smile was always real, and it was always there for me to see. A lot like Kennedy, Annette also lived in the moment and had a good time.

She caught a lot of my genes, too, but she was lucky to turn out as pretty as she was.

She was short like me; our faces were shaped the same, and her hair was the same color as mine, though it was a lot prettier.

I finished washing Annette’s hair, and she got out of the shower to get dressed for school. I sat back down on my bed, put my socks and nurse shoes on, and then went into the kitchen so I could prepare our bowls of cereal.

Caitlyn was still asleep at this time. She woke up late, usually, because she was a night owl and spent a lot of time writing at night. She could do that, because she was self-employed.

Annette came out of her bedroom wearing a white floral dress that stopped just below her knees, and she was wearing white sandals that closed over her toes.

She was such a girl.

Annette had a few pairs of pants, but she’d only wear them when she had no other choice. If it was cold enough outside, I’d have to make her. Her argument would usually be a simple pout, or she’d stomp her feet as she walked back to her room to change.

She made me smile every day.

“I want you to blow dry my hair, mommy, but then aunt Catie will wake up and get mad,” she told me, and we sat down next to each other at the buffet counter in the kitchen to eat our breakfast.

She still had her hair wrapped in a towel, which was unusual.

“I’ll blow dry it, sweetie. Aunt Catie can go back to sleep if she wakes up,” I told her.

She smiled at that, and then said, “Okay.”

Caitlyn would get a gut-punch if she woke up mad.

We finished eating our cereal, and Annette got another cup of orange juice before we went into the bathroom to blow dry her hair.

Annette had gotten a second cup of orange juice, and it reminded me of Wyatt.

After blow drying Annette’s hair, I hadn’t heard any faint cuss words coming from Caitlyn’s bedroom, so I assumed she was still sound asleep.

“Time to head out,” I told Annette, and she nodded.

She grabbed her backpack as I hoisted my workbag over my shoulder.

9:03a.m.

The morning wasn’t
very enticing. It was the usual, with just some minor changes. Annette went to school with a hint of a brighter smile, because she liked that I blow dried her hair, and she liked that she hadn’t had homework to turn in.

I had a boring drive to work. I hadn’t liked much music that was playing on the radio, so I turned it off, and endured the silence.

Now I was on the second floor again for my every-week-day shift - but a tinged buzz rippled through me, like I was
excited
to be here for once.

I exchanged a co-worker nod with Denise, and then turned my head towards room
209
’s door.

I actually smiled at those numbers for the first time.

“Any folders for me to take on?” I asked Denise, my tone casual. I was still looking at the numbers that were traced on the door in front of me.

“You’re clear for now,” she answered. I believed she was smiling, amused, but I hadn’t turned my head to acknowledge the possibility.

After getting Wyatt’s food ready on a tray, I slowly walked towards his room.

I knocked once, and he actually said the words, “Come in,” for the first time.

I hadn’t known why I loved that he said those words.

Come in.

They were simple words that most patients usually said when the nurse would knock on their door.

It was just that voice, I guessed, and who that voice belonged to.

I entered slowly, but then my eyes took him in all at once. I pushed the door closed with my ass, my eyes never leaving
those
eyes.

I was starting to love Wyatt’s eyes, too.

Brown and silver.

Lots of brown. Just enough silver.

“Morning, Willow,” he greeted.

He really wasn’t mean anymore, and I loved that.

He was smiling, too, and his smile made me grin. Like, I was just
too happy
about seeing his smile this early in the day.

“Morning,” I said softly. I placed his tray over his thighs, but he was looking at my face instead of his eggs. He was expectant.

Regretfully, I darted my eyes toward his, and we just stared for a second. Eye contact and all.

Without another word, I sat down on the bed and started feeding him.

He was happy about this.

This whole situation with Wyatt was like a large foreign family living in my brain, taking up most of my thoughts in an indefinable way.

“How was your weekend?” he asked between bites.

I paused, fork midair. “Good. I went to the park with Annette,” I said. “Thanks, by the way. I can’t remember if I thanked you or not,” I smiled.

He blinked, like he was trying to read further into the fact that I had actually thanked him for something, or maybe that I smiled like a nice person as I said it.

In all actuality, I really was a nice person. I just hadn’t tolerated pushovers. I used to think Wyatt was a pushover. I hadn’t today. Maybe he was still a pushover, and I was just starting to tolerate it.

“For no more homework on Friday’s,” I clarified.

He nodded, slowly. “She’ll only have homework on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s,” he said, like it was no big deal to him.

He finished chewing his egg, and he studied me.

He had taken a sip of his orange juice.

She’ll only have homework on Tuesday’s and Thursdays.

There was something about that sentence that was a complete turn-on to me, and that Wyatt was who said it. He had taken another sip of his orange juice, and then put the carton down on the tray. He was still studying me.

I hadn’t known what came over me.

I grabbed the back of his neck, and I kissed him.

I kissed him hard, and my hip bumped the edge of his tray
hard
, then the tray fell on the ground on the opposite side of Wyatt’s bed.

His eggs were on the floor.

He hadn’t cared. I hadn’t cared.

He seemed to like the taste of my mouth more than he liked the taste of his eggs.

His one hand was in my hair, now.

He was kissing me back. Oh, dear God - was he kissing me back.

My hands were on his shoulders, and my breasts were suffocating, pressed up against his chest. My stethoscope was imprinting us, but I couldn’t find the coherency to take it off.

We were making out. I was making out with Wyatt.

His one hand was roaming, down to my waist, now.

I was pretty sure he growled -
or
maybe that was just the way Wyatt moaned?

I wanted him to keep doing it.

“Willow,” he mumbled; his voice was hoarse against my lips. He was still kissing me as he spoke, “It’s just homework.”

Shut up, Wyatt,
I thought.

It was so much more than just homework, to me. It felt like everything.

He seemed to forget his argument, because he wrapped his one arm around me, and held me to him so damn tightly I ran out of breath.

His mouth dominated mine, like he was making up for all the rude things he had ever said or done.

He felt really nice, now.

He made sounds when I touched him, so I kept touching him.

I ran my hands through his dark hair, just so I could mess it up for the first time. He probably wouldn’t like that I was messing it up, because he was a perfectionist and liked looking perfect, but I couldn’t help it.

He groaned into my mouth like he was heated, yet also a bit frustrated.

“Stop messing my hair up, Willow,” he murmured. His voice was deep, and mysterious, and one-hundred percent Wyatt.

Wyatt’s voice was really nice, too.