Got a Light - Chapter 23
Thanks to my beta mel39 who always finds my oopses in the nick of time.
Thanks also to 60schic for the readthrough and the vote of confidence.
catch up here
Got a Light - Chapter 23
Thursday came quickly and I lay around the house after breakfast, running over in my head what I wanted to say to Ryan when I saw him. I had managed up until now to keep my cool, but there was no guarantee that I would be able to control my anger once he was in front of me. I determined to do my best to be rational; I was a grownup after all, and should be able to present my case without hysterics or tears. I should.
When it was time to get ready, I dressed quickly and headed out the door, leaving earlier than necessary, so that I could have a drink for courage before he arrived. It was close enough to walk there; that’s why I chose it.
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Ryan hurried home after a morning meeting at the latest job site to shower and change. He knew he shouldn’t show up for his lunch with Frankie not looking his best. After all, she needed to know what she gave up when she moved to L.A. He managed to work it out so that he arrived right at one o’clock. He didn’t want to appear too eager. But he was - to see her and look into her eyes; even if it was just to say good bye again.
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I got there around twelve-thirty, chose a table in the corner for privacy, sat with a view of the door and ordered a beer, knowing that it would take the edge off my nervousness. It arrived and I drank it quickly, breathing deeply in between gulps. I was considering what to say and was on my tenth or eleventh scenario and my third beer when he walked through the door.
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Ryan walked into the bar exactly at one, removed his sunglasses and stood in the doorway waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. When he was able to see clearly, there she was at a table in the corner, distracted by something on the big screen tv. He was relieved that her attention was elsewhere, because she definitely would have noticed him staring at her from afar. She looked even better than he had remembered. Maybe she had found someone to make her happy - happiness had a way of showing on a person. He took a deep breath and walked toward her.
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There he was.
I needed to keep my wits about me. He came over to the table, an unsure look on his face, and I could have melted into his arms right there. But I had a reason for meeting him, and in order for me to really move on, I needed to speak my mind without the physical attraction that was still so palpable taking over.
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“Hey,” I said, my voice slightly slowed by the alcohol.
“Hey yourself,” he answered, signaling the bartender for another for me and one for himself before pulling out the chair next to me.
He leaned in for a peck on my cheek, then pulled back, seemingly unsure of what would happen next.
A few seconds of silence followed, broken by the bartender sending over the beers. For all my bravado and rehearsing, I wasn’t sure how to begin. Fortunately, he spoke first.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.
“I’m good, and you?” I replied.
Both skirting around the elephant in the bar.
“Good,” he answered back. “Busy.”
“Me too,” I said.
Was the elephant getting bigger or was it the beer?
“How’s the new job going?” he asked.
“It’s really good,” I answered. “It’s the perfect fit for me.”
“I’m happy for you,” he said.
His tone was genuine. He cared enough to see me happy. But why didn’t he realize that he had made me happy; happier than I’d ever been before? I decided to take the plunge.
“You are?” I inquired, feigning surprise.
“Of course I am,” he answered, his tone changing to one of hurt. “Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”
I downed the rest of my beer and waved my hand for another.
“Well, you did kinda drop me like a bad habit,” I said sarcastically. I think I was already slurring a little, but I didn’t care. I had started this, and I was going to finish it.
“What are you talking about?” Ryan said, apparently surprised by my tone.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I answered as my next beer arrived and I took a large swig.
“No, I don’t,” Ryan responded, confused. “I dropped you?”
“Yeah,” I said, my temper rising at his pretense.
“Who moved to L.A. without even asking me what I thought?” he asked, his voice rising.
Now I was confused. Was it the beer? More than likely.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stated firmly. “Who moved to L.A.?”
“You did,” Ryan said, “and you didn’t even consider my feelings.”
I sat dumbfounded, unable to respond. I didn’t move to L.A.; my job is only based there. Why did he think that? I was angry and confused and drunk and had to pee really badly. I tried to stand up and fell back into my chair.
“I have to pee,” I said unceremoniously, standing slowly this time and holding onto the table.
“Let me help you,” he offered.
“NO! I’m fine,” I insisted, and weaved my way to the bathroom.
I reached the bathroom and literally fell onto the toilet for an extensive pee, all the while wondering how I was going to get up. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, then braced my hands along the stall walls and stood upright.
I made my way to the sink and leaned on it for support. I checked my reflection and knew I looked more than a little wasted. Damn. I was only trying to keep myself together and I had gone too far. Ryan was still out there, waiting for me, and I hadn’t a clue what to say next.
I threw some water on my face and went back to the table where he was indeed waiting. He even stood up on my return to hold my chair for me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.
“Yep. Fine and dandy,” I chirped, trying to get through the haze that had taken over my brain.
“I’m gonna take you home,” Ryan determined.
“No, I’m fine. Besides, we didn’t eat,” I moaned.
“Yeah, I think that’s your problem,” he said. “No arguments, you’re going home.”
I wasn’t in any position to argue; I could barely stand up, and food wouldn’t help at this point. I was too far gone. He stood up and took my arm to help me up, and the electricity from his touch shot through me. I chose to ignore it the best I could. He led me to the bar, where he handed the bartender some bills, and guided me to the door. I watched him as he put his sunglasses on with one hand, and wondered what had happened to mine.
“I had sunglasses,” I said. “I don’t know what I did with them.”
He reached on top of my head and pulled them off for me.
“Here they are,” he said with a smile.
I managed a small smile back as I put them on and we went outside. We walked in silence until I finally managed to squeak out an apology.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I mean, I’m sorry I drank too much.”
“It’s okay,” he answered.
“No, it’s not,” I insisted. “I wanted to be a grownup and handle this maturely. Instead I’m drunk, and you have to help me home.”
“We can talk again,” Ryan said softly, his arm around my shoulder, guiding me toward my house.
“No, I wanna talk now,” I whined. I knew that I was acting like an idiot, but the beer had taken over.
“Okay,” he said, stifling a laugh, “we can talk now. Can you at least wait until I get you home?”
“Okay,” I sniffled.
We shuffled along until we reached my house. I walked ahead of him, pulled my keys out of my pocket, climbed the stairs, and aimed for the doorknob, only to miss and fall backwards into his arms.
He held me there for a few seconds, looking down on me with ‘that’ look; those intense blue eyes that could see inside me. I forced myself to look away as he helped steady me to my feet again.
“Here, give me those,” he offered, taking the keys and reaching around me to open the door. He pushed it open and waited for me to enter.
Ryan hesitated in the doorway. He wasn’t sure if he should go inside. After all, she didn’t ask him. But she wouldn’t make it upstairs to her bedroom without help, that he was sure of. He looked inside and there she was, leaning on the wall, having not moved more than a few steps after entering. He decided he’d stay long enough to get her to bed, and let himself out. He stepped into the front hall and shut the door behind him.
I heard the door close behind me, and turned my head to see Ryan standing there.
“I think you’re gonna need some help,” he suggested. “I’ll help you get upstairs and get you a big glass of water.”
“’K,” I acquiesced. “And then we’ll talk, right?”
“Right,” he promised with a wink. “Now let’s try those stairs. I’ll be right behind you.”
I aimed for the stairs and found the banister, only to still teeter on the first step, and true to his word, he was there to keep me from falling, hands on my waist. The sensation was familiar, and I almost let myself forget for a moment how angry and hurt I still was, but then I remembered and plunged forward, taking the rest of the steps quickly.
He followed me to the bedroom, where I lowered myself to sit on the bed, then he turned to go downstairs.
“I’m going to get you that water now,” he said. “Don’t move.”
“I don’t think I can,” I answered with a pout.
I listened to his footsteps on the stairs and thought how nice it was to have someone there with me. But I still hadn’t said what I needed to say, and I was determined to get it out.
I leaned over to untie my sneakers, only to almost fall again, and again he was there to prop me up.
“Easy there, tiger, let me help you,” he said, setting the water glass down and kneeling to untie my sneakers for me. He swung my legs up onto the bed and propped up the pillows, making sure I was comfortable. Each time he leaned in, I could catch his scent and those memories came flooding back. I pushed them down yet again.
“You okay now?” he asked softly.
“You’re not leaving,” I stated firmly. “We still have to talk.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Is it all right if I sit down?”
“Yes,” I allowed, “as long as it’s over there,” gesturing to the chair next to the bed so he couldn’t look directly at me.
“You didn’t call,” I said sadly, tears forming in my eyes. “You just stopped calling. No good byes, no explanation. You could have at least told me it was over.”
He attempted to interject, but I held my hand up to stop him.
“Please let me finish.”
“I was so excited about my job, and wanted only to share the news with you, and you weren’t even excited for me. You were so important to me, and it would have made it that much better to have you be happy for me. Instead, as soon as you heard, something changed. You changed. And then you just didn’t call.”
Ryan just sat there in disbelief. Did she really expect him to be happy when it meant she was leaving him? For a JOB?
“You were the first guy in a long time that I even considered letting into my life. You showed me how to live again, and I thought we had something really special. When you didn’t call, it hurt. A lot. How could you do something like that?”
Ryan was angry. What about him? What about the fact that she was eager and willing to choose a job instead of him? She needed to know what he felt, how what happened affected him. She thought she was the one that got hurt? He took a few deep breaths to collect himself before answering.
“So,” he said, “first of all, I didn’t drop you. You dropped me. You took a job in Los Angeles without even a thought for me or our relationship. When I realized that I didn’t matter enough to you to even consider how I would feel about you moving away, I didn’t bother to call. Why would I?”
I sat upright, my head still spinning.
“What? Moving away? Who’s moving?”
“You are….were,” he said. “You took a job in L.A. and you moved there.”
“No, I didn’t,” I corrected. “I didn’t leave. The job is a telecommute. I only go to L.A. once a month!”
“Wait,” he said, “you never moved to L.A.?”
“Nope, been right here. Except for the monthly meetings. Then I go for a few days, and come right back home.”
“Wow,” he said.
“You thought I moved?”
“Yeah. I thought that what we had didn’t matter that much to you, so you left,” Ryan admitted. “Maybe if you had told me.”
“I thought you knew,” I replied sadly, sliding down on the bed to lie down flat. “You should have known that I wouldn’t leave you.”
Ryan sat in the chair, head down, his brain trying to absorb what Frankie had just told him. If he had known, or she had known, this would never have happened. Would they still be together? He stood up and stretched, then looked over at Frankie. Her eyes were practically closed. He pulled the covers up over her, and leaned in, giving her a light kiss on her forehead.
“Bye,” he whispered.
“I love you,” I murmured, tugging the covers up around my neck.
Ryan stood there for a few seconds watching her as she slept. Was it the alcohol talking, or did she really mean that? He knew he loved her. Seeing her again had reminded him how much. But she was wasted; she probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. He walked softly down the stairs, out the door and back to the bar where his truck was. He had no idea what happened next.
Thanks also to 60schic for the readthrough and the vote of confidence.
catch up here
Got a Light - Chapter 23
Thursday came quickly and I lay around the house after breakfast, running over in my head what I wanted to say to Ryan when I saw him. I had managed up until now to keep my cool, but there was no guarantee that I would be able to control my anger once he was in front of me. I determined to do my best to be rational; I was a grownup after all, and should be able to present my case without hysterics or tears. I should.
When it was time to get ready, I dressed quickly and headed out the door, leaving earlier than necessary, so that I could have a drink for courage before he arrived. It was close enough to walk there; that’s why I chose it.
=======================================
Ryan hurried home after a morning meeting at the latest job site to shower and change. He knew he shouldn’t show up for his lunch with Frankie not looking his best. After all, she needed to know what she gave up when she moved to L.A. He managed to work it out so that he arrived right at one o’clock. He didn’t want to appear too eager. But he was - to see her and look into her eyes; even if it was just to say good bye again.
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I got there around twelve-thirty, chose a table in the corner for privacy, sat with a view of the door and ordered a beer, knowing that it would take the edge off my nervousness. It arrived and I drank it quickly, breathing deeply in between gulps. I was considering what to say and was on my tenth or eleventh scenario and my third beer when he walked through the door.
=======================================
Ryan walked into the bar exactly at one, removed his sunglasses and stood in the doorway waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. When he was able to see clearly, there she was at a table in the corner, distracted by something on the big screen tv. He was relieved that her attention was elsewhere, because she definitely would have noticed him staring at her from afar. She looked even better than he had remembered. Maybe she had found someone to make her happy - happiness had a way of showing on a person. He took a deep breath and walked toward her.
====================================
There he was.
I needed to keep my wits about me. He came over to the table, an unsure look on his face, and I could have melted into his arms right there. But I had a reason for meeting him, and in order for me to really move on, I needed to speak my mind without the physical attraction that was still so palpable taking over.
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“Hey,” I said, my voice slightly slowed by the alcohol.
“Hey yourself,” he answered, signaling the bartender for another for me and one for himself before pulling out the chair next to me.
He leaned in for a peck on my cheek, then pulled back, seemingly unsure of what would happen next.
A few seconds of silence followed, broken by the bartender sending over the beers. For all my bravado and rehearsing, I wasn’t sure how to begin. Fortunately, he spoke first.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.
“I’m good, and you?” I replied.
Both skirting around the elephant in the bar.
“Good,” he answered back. “Busy.”
“Me too,” I said.
Was the elephant getting bigger or was it the beer?
“How’s the new job going?” he asked.
“It’s really good,” I answered. “It’s the perfect fit for me.”
“I’m happy for you,” he said.
His tone was genuine. He cared enough to see me happy. But why didn’t he realize that he had made me happy; happier than I’d ever been before? I decided to take the plunge.
“You are?” I inquired, feigning surprise.
“Of course I am,” he answered, his tone changing to one of hurt. “Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”
I downed the rest of my beer and waved my hand for another.
“Well, you did kinda drop me like a bad habit,” I said sarcastically. I think I was already slurring a little, but I didn’t care. I had started this, and I was going to finish it.
“What are you talking about?” Ryan said, apparently surprised by my tone.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I answered as my next beer arrived and I took a large swig.
“No, I don’t,” Ryan responded, confused. “I dropped you?”
“Yeah,” I said, my temper rising at his pretense.
“Who moved to L.A. without even asking me what I thought?” he asked, his voice rising.
Now I was confused. Was it the beer? More than likely.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stated firmly. “Who moved to L.A.?”
“You did,” Ryan said, “and you didn’t even consider my feelings.”
I sat dumbfounded, unable to respond. I didn’t move to L.A.; my job is only based there. Why did he think that? I was angry and confused and drunk and had to pee really badly. I tried to stand up and fell back into my chair.
“I have to pee,” I said unceremoniously, standing slowly this time and holding onto the table.
“Let me help you,” he offered.
“NO! I’m fine,” I insisted, and weaved my way to the bathroom.
I reached the bathroom and literally fell onto the toilet for an extensive pee, all the while wondering how I was going to get up. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, then braced my hands along the stall walls and stood upright.
I made my way to the sink and leaned on it for support. I checked my reflection and knew I looked more than a little wasted. Damn. I was only trying to keep myself together and I had gone too far. Ryan was still out there, waiting for me, and I hadn’t a clue what to say next.
I threw some water on my face and went back to the table where he was indeed waiting. He even stood up on my return to hold my chair for me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.
“Yep. Fine and dandy,” I chirped, trying to get through the haze that had taken over my brain.
“I’m gonna take you home,” Ryan determined.
“No, I’m fine. Besides, we didn’t eat,” I moaned.
“Yeah, I think that’s your problem,” he said. “No arguments, you’re going home.”
I wasn’t in any position to argue; I could barely stand up, and food wouldn’t help at this point. I was too far gone. He stood up and took my arm to help me up, and the electricity from his touch shot through me. I chose to ignore it the best I could. He led me to the bar, where he handed the bartender some bills, and guided me to the door. I watched him as he put his sunglasses on with one hand, and wondered what had happened to mine.
“I had sunglasses,” I said. “I don’t know what I did with them.”
He reached on top of my head and pulled them off for me.
“Here they are,” he said with a smile.
I managed a small smile back as I put them on and we went outside. We walked in silence until I finally managed to squeak out an apology.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I mean, I’m sorry I drank too much.”
“It’s okay,” he answered.
“No, it’s not,” I insisted. “I wanted to be a grownup and handle this maturely. Instead I’m drunk, and you have to help me home.”
“We can talk again,” Ryan said softly, his arm around my shoulder, guiding me toward my house.
“No, I wanna talk now,” I whined. I knew that I was acting like an idiot, but the beer had taken over.
“Okay,” he said, stifling a laugh, “we can talk now. Can you at least wait until I get you home?”
“Okay,” I sniffled.
We shuffled along until we reached my house. I walked ahead of him, pulled my keys out of my pocket, climbed the stairs, and aimed for the doorknob, only to miss and fall backwards into his arms.
He held me there for a few seconds, looking down on me with ‘that’ look; those intense blue eyes that could see inside me. I forced myself to look away as he helped steady me to my feet again.
“Here, give me those,” he offered, taking the keys and reaching around me to open the door. He pushed it open and waited for me to enter.
Ryan hesitated in the doorway. He wasn’t sure if he should go inside. After all, she didn’t ask him. But she wouldn’t make it upstairs to her bedroom without help, that he was sure of. He looked inside and there she was, leaning on the wall, having not moved more than a few steps after entering. He decided he’d stay long enough to get her to bed, and let himself out. He stepped into the front hall and shut the door behind him.
I heard the door close behind me, and turned my head to see Ryan standing there.
“I think you’re gonna need some help,” he suggested. “I’ll help you get upstairs and get you a big glass of water.”
“’K,” I acquiesced. “And then we’ll talk, right?”
“Right,” he promised with a wink. “Now let’s try those stairs. I’ll be right behind you.”
I aimed for the stairs and found the banister, only to still teeter on the first step, and true to his word, he was there to keep me from falling, hands on my waist. The sensation was familiar, and I almost let myself forget for a moment how angry and hurt I still was, but then I remembered and plunged forward, taking the rest of the steps quickly.
He followed me to the bedroom, where I lowered myself to sit on the bed, then he turned to go downstairs.
“I’m going to get you that water now,” he said. “Don’t move.”
“I don’t think I can,” I answered with a pout.
I listened to his footsteps on the stairs and thought how nice it was to have someone there with me. But I still hadn’t said what I needed to say, and I was determined to get it out.
I leaned over to untie my sneakers, only to almost fall again, and again he was there to prop me up.
“Easy there, tiger, let me help you,” he said, setting the water glass down and kneeling to untie my sneakers for me. He swung my legs up onto the bed and propped up the pillows, making sure I was comfortable. Each time he leaned in, I could catch his scent and those memories came flooding back. I pushed them down yet again.
“You okay now?” he asked softly.
“You’re not leaving,” I stated firmly. “We still have to talk.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Is it all right if I sit down?”
“Yes,” I allowed, “as long as it’s over there,” gesturing to the chair next to the bed so he couldn’t look directly at me.
“You didn’t call,” I said sadly, tears forming in my eyes. “You just stopped calling. No good byes, no explanation. You could have at least told me it was over.”
He attempted to interject, but I held my hand up to stop him.
“Please let me finish.”
“I was so excited about my job, and wanted only to share the news with you, and you weren’t even excited for me. You were so important to me, and it would have made it that much better to have you be happy for me. Instead, as soon as you heard, something changed. You changed. And then you just didn’t call.”
Ryan just sat there in disbelief. Did she really expect him to be happy when it meant she was leaving him? For a JOB?
“You were the first guy in a long time that I even considered letting into my life. You showed me how to live again, and I thought we had something really special. When you didn’t call, it hurt. A lot. How could you do something like that?”
Ryan was angry. What about him? What about the fact that she was eager and willing to choose a job instead of him? She needed to know what he felt, how what happened affected him. She thought she was the one that got hurt? He took a few deep breaths to collect himself before answering.
“So,” he said, “first of all, I didn’t drop you. You dropped me. You took a job in Los Angeles without even a thought for me or our relationship. When I realized that I didn’t matter enough to you to even consider how I would feel about you moving away, I didn’t bother to call. Why would I?”
I sat upright, my head still spinning.
“What? Moving away? Who’s moving?”
“You are….were,” he said. “You took a job in L.A. and you moved there.”
“No, I didn’t,” I corrected. “I didn’t leave. The job is a telecommute. I only go to L.A. once a month!”
“Wait,” he said, “you never moved to L.A.?”
“Nope, been right here. Except for the monthly meetings. Then I go for a few days, and come right back home.”
“Wow,” he said.
“You thought I moved?”
“Yeah. I thought that what we had didn’t matter that much to you, so you left,” Ryan admitted. “Maybe if you had told me.”
“I thought you knew,” I replied sadly, sliding down on the bed to lie down flat. “You should have known that I wouldn’t leave you.”
Ryan sat in the chair, head down, his brain trying to absorb what Frankie had just told him. If he had known, or she had known, this would never have happened. Would they still be together? He stood up and stretched, then looked over at Frankie. Her eyes were practically closed. He pulled the covers up over her, and leaned in, giving her a light kiss on her forehead.
“Bye,” he whispered.
“I love you,” I murmured, tugging the covers up around my neck.
Ryan stood there for a few seconds watching her as she slept. Was it the alcohol talking, or did she really mean that? He knew he loved her. Seeing her again had reminded him how much. But she was wasted; she probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. He walked softly down the stairs, out the door and back to the bar where his truck was. He had no idea what happened next.