When It's Love (11 page)

I dry my nose and eyes and then look at Henry. We’re sitting across from each other at my table, and his eyes are so full of kindness. I know he really wants to help me, but I can’t tell him what’s going on. If he knew who I really am and what my father did, it would change everything. And I am sure Dr. and Mrs. Hart do not want someone with my history at their Christmas dinner table. I have to choke back my sobs as I think that. No matter what you do in life, you can never change where you came from. I should go somewhere far away after graduation. Maybe California or Texas. I could have clean start. No one would ever have to know I’m from Michigan. No one would ever know I have the same surname as my mother and my maternal grandparents. There would be no questions about my father. I would just be Sydney Morrison from Anywhere U.S.A. I could even change my name to Christina Watts or Mila Gomez. I like the idea of running away from this life and starting a new one. Unless Professor Sparling and I become serious there is nothing keeping me here after graduation. And it’s way too early to think Professor Sparling wants anything serious, or if he even wants anything that’s real, not virtual. Henry wants to go travel in Europe next year, so he won’t be around. It dawns on me that I want to graduate and run away. If my father stays out of my life for one more semester, I’ll be free. California here I come …

The ring of the doorbell jolts me out of my thoughts. Henry opens the door and the Harts’ driver, Connor, is standing there with a giant picnic basket. Thank God it’s only him. He looks down in politeness to avoid staring at my tear stained face. “Jerry sent this over for you,” he says.

Henry thanks Connor, closes the door and puts the basket on the table. He starts to unpack it. The first thing he pulls out is a white tablecloth. “You must be kidding,” I say with a half smile.

“Only the nicest for you, Miss Sydney,” Henry says. He moves the basket, spreads out the tablecloth that’s way too big for my puny table, grabs a few plates from my cupboard, and begins to take out the food. Jerry has made us two long ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches on French baguettes. He has also sent us a big batch of his homemade sweet potato chips and a dozen of his super-duper chocolate chip cookies. Henry knows I love those cookies and every time I visit Ottawa Estate he asks Jerry to send some out. Best of all, there’s a thermos of coffee. I could really use caffeine right now.

Henry sees me eyeing the cookies. “First the sandwiches,” he declares. “Then we shall feast on cookies!”

I break into a smile and it feels good, like some of the tension is lifting. With the food in front of me, I also realize how hungry I am. I bite into the sandwich and it’s delicious. The bread is fresh and buttery and I am so grateful that Henry is taking care of me like this. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

After I finish my sandwich Henry pours me a cup of coffee. “You ready for cookies now?” he asks.

“Soon!” I’m too full to eat anything else right now. The food has given me some of my strength back. I get up, walk to the bathroom sink, and splash some water onto my face. I look in the mirror and my reflection startles me. My eyes are red-rimmed from crying and surrounded by dark circles of exhaustion. “I think I’m going to go ahead and take that shower we were talking about earlier,” I call to Henry.

I close the bathroom door, undress, and step into a stream of hot water. I let the water run over me for several minutes before I wash my hair. If only I could wash away the fear Jake has planted in me. Please, please, please let Jake be wrong about my father. I scrub my skin vigorously over and over again until it’s red and raw and the process calms me, as if I’ve done something to deal with a situation where there’s nothing I can do.

After my shower I wrap myself in a pink towel and open the door. Henry, sitting at the table and texting, looks up. “Sydney,” he says. His eyes open wide and he looks startled. Then he looks me up and down the way he looked at Marina in Oui, but instead of the jokey attitude, he’s all intensity. I freeze in place under his gaze. Henry suddenly shakes his head as if he’s swishing away a dream. “You cold, Syd?” he asks.

If Henry were my boyfriend this would be a perfect moment. I would drop my towel, and he would scoop me into his arms, lie with me on my futon, and make love to me so passionately that I’d forget everything else that has happened today. I would live only in the moment of his body against mine, with his lips clinging to mine, his hands traveling the length of my naked body and taking rest stops to stroke me in all the right places. But this is far from the case and I realize I that I have to control myself now. I’m getting carried away with my train of thought, and I’m becoming aroused. How could I possibly be thinking of making love to anyone, let alone Henry, my best friend, at a time like this? It’s ridiculous and inappropriate. It must be some form of self-preservation, I reason. I’m focusing on good things. That’s the only way to keep going. I can’t allow myself to drop everything and lament about my father. I turn my thoughts back to Henry.

“Yeah, I’m cold, Henry,” I say.

Henry goes to the bathroom and gets another towel. He puts it on my head and starts to towel dry my long hair, giving my head a rough massage.

“Better?” he asks after a few minutes of coarse rubbing.

“Yes,” I say as my teeth chatter

Henry pulls me into big embrace. “We can’t let you stay cold like this,” he says. My heart begins to race. What is he doing? What if my towel falls off? I kind of want it to drop.

“Henry,” I whisper.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “I’m just warming you up.”

Henry holds me for a minute, resting his chin on the top of my head before he pulls away and turns to my closet. He takes out a gray sweatshirt (no surprise there) and tosses it my way. “I’ll let you get your under thingies out by yourself,” he says with a smile.

I grab my clothes, disappointed that I’ve been released from Henry’s comforting arms. I step into the bathroom to get dressed, and when I come out in the gray sweatshirt and black leggings, the table is set with cookies and coffee. Despite the chill I’ve still got from my wet hair, I feel warm inside. Henry has turned the most horrible day into a nice one. He has made me feel truly cared for, and even a little more than that.

“So listen up, cutie,” Henry says. “Now that you’ve calmed down and eaten, you have to start talking. I need to know what Jake said to you if I’m going to be able to help you. You can’t keep me in the dark. We’re too close for that.” I look at his sandy blonde hair falling to just above his eyebrows. His blue eyes have the sparkle of someone who loves life. He seems too good and pure to hear a story like mine. Though my heart aches to share with him, I can’t.

“It really wasn’t a big deal,” I say and bite into a gooey cookie. The butter, vanilla, and chocolate flavors are so delicious. “I wasn’t ready for his news and I overreacted. That’s all.”

“So what did he say?” Henry presses me for details.

I inhale deeply and pause before I let out my breath. “He said he got his girlfriend pregnant and he’s going to marry her.”

Henry looks stunned and taken aback. “But …” he stops and just stares at me. “I thought you were long over Jake,” he says. “Why would that news make you cry and faint? I don’t understand.”

I can’t explain that it was really about my father, so all I do is look down and shrug.

“It kind of pulled the rug out from under my feet,” I say. “Seeing Jake took me back to another time and I panicked. I swear to you that my fainting had nothing to do with Jake’s marriage plans. It was about other stuff from the past.”

“What stuff?” Henry asks angrily. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I can’t,” I say quietly.

“Sure,” Henry says, his tone now cold and harsh. “If this is how you’re going to be, I’m out of here.” He grabs his coat and picks up the picnic basket. “If you change your mind about talking, you know how to find me.”

“Henry, don’t go,” I beg. I’m sorry I can’t say more.” The last thing I want to do is hurt Henry, but I can’t clarify anything without telling him the truth about my identity. “Please understand, Henry. Please. Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Maybe,” Henry says. “But not in this case. You’re hiding something that torments you. And you expect me to be your best friend, but not have a clue about what’s going on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. For a second my eyes meet Henry’s and I think he might soften, but instead he turns to leave without even saying
ciao
. I’m left flabbergasted, staring at the remains of our picnic. I look over at my cats, sitting there on the futon without a care in the world. Lucky them. I take a few steps over, slide into the bed next to them and close my eyes. I have to take a nap because I am too drained to do anything else. I don’t even have the energy to check my email to see if Professor Sparling has replied. Who would have ever guessed I’d be too tired for that? But it’s not just physical exhaustion. It’s the massive mishmash of information my brain needs to process. Each thing on its own is overwhelming: Professor Sparling, Jake’s news about Angelina, Jake’s news about my father, and Henry … How am I supposed to process the vast amount of emotional matter that’s been thrown at me all within a few days’ time? Right now I’m just shutting out everything that has to do with Jake’s visit. I allow part of my mind to continue to completely obsess over Professor Sparling. And another part keeps drifting back to the way it felt to be nearly naked in Henry’s arms. What if my towel had fallen off? What would have happened? This is one of those moments when it would be nice to have someone other than a cat to talk to. It’s true, my cats are great listeners, but I know the advice they’d give me: eat a fresh can of tuna, take a nap in a cardboard box, and all will be good. Frankly, I’m too drained to think or talk about anything now, and I am certainly not in the mood for tuna! I pull off my clothes and slip on a white button down sleep shirt, styled like a men’s shirt with loose collar. I’m so exhausted I can barely close the buttons.

I awake disoriented. I have no idea what time or day it is until I rub the sleep out of my eyes and see the remains of the “picnic” on my table. The almost dark sky tells me it must be close to 5:00 p.m. The days are so short at Christmastime. I can’t believe I’ve slept away the entire afternoon. My cats seemed very pleased that I’ve done so. “I’m just like you two today,” I say as I stroke each of them a few times. They both roll over for belly rubs and I oblige. I start thinking about Henry’s departure and while I can understand his frustration with me, I don’t understand why he left. Could he be that furious at me for hiding something from him? He’s always known I have secrets, so why was he so dramatic today? Why the cold, angry departure? Clearly, it has something to do with Jake. Henry doesn’t believe me that my feelings for Jake are long gone. But, it makes no sense for Henry to be jealous. Jake was the light of my dark past, but the past is the past and even if I wanted to have more with Jake, I couldn’t. He’s on his way to being a husband and a father. His wife to be, Angelina, is pretty and nice. I’m sure they’ll be happy together. The last thing I’m going to do is try to throw myself back into Jake’s life. He, Angelina, and their baby-to-be deserve happiness. So, really, Henry has nothing to be jealous of where Jake’s concerned. If he were going to be jealous of someone it should be Professor Sparling, who is the only man I’ve fantasized about in years. But I’m getting carried away again with my thoughts about Henry. I remind myself that Henry has zero reason to be jealous of any man in my life. He and I are not a couple. We’ve never even talked about getting together. We have always and only been best friends. We just don’t think about each other in that way.

Shit. That’s all I have to say about my situation. I don’t know what to do with myself. I have to stop worrying about Henry now and concentrate on finding out if Jake’s information about my father is true. If it is, does my mother know? Why does this have to be happening now, of all times, when I’m in the middle of the most erotic adventure of my life with Professor Sparling? The last thing I want to do is deal with the past when I’m finally enjoying the present. But, today perfectly demonstrated that I must face the fact that my past will never be behind me. No matter where I go or how much I try to ignore it, my past will always be with me because it’s in my blood. My mind circles back to Henry, and how much I don’t want to explain my shame to him. I don’t want to go there. I just want him to come back and keep me company. I can’t stop myself from grabbing my phone and texting Henry. I hate the idea that he’s upset with me.
Want to hang?
I write.

He replies right away.
Can’t. Date.

Henry is going on a date right before Christmas? No one is even in town. I’m not surprised at how disappointed I am that he isn’t coming over tonight. I’m in the mood to cuddle up and watch a movie. There are chocolate chip cookies waiting to be eaten and I don’t want to eat them alone.

If your date is boring, stop by after.