Got a Light - Chapter 24
We're nearing the end of Frankie and Ryan's journey. Thanks as always to
mel39 for her stellar beta services,
and to 60schic for her assistance in finding the right voice.
catch up here
Chapter 24
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, my head,” I moaned out loud.
The morning sunlight shone through the crack in the shade and was hitting me right in my eyes. I closed them again, but my head still hurt. A lot. I dragged myself to a sitting position and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Jeez, even that hurt. I shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping that would help to wake me up.
I stood under the spray for what seemed like an eternity, and eventually the fog lifted enough so that I could keep my eyes open. I wrapped myself in a big towel, and sat down on the closed toilet.
What happened? I mean, I knew what happened; I met Ryan for lunch, but I don’t think I ate anything. Nope, my stomach answered with an angry growl, you didn’t. Okay, if I can’t be sure if I ate yesterday, then I definitely drank too much…without eating. Thus the major hangover.
I dressed in my comfy sweats and went downstairs, taking each step gingerly to avoid the simultaneous pounding in my head as my feet hit the steps. I pulled a bagel out of my freezer to toast, started the coffee, then sat down to recap yesterday’s events.
The only problem was I couldn’t remember that much. I remembered getting to the bar, ordering a beer, and rehearsing what I would say. Then I remembered seeing him. And I remembered a particularly long pee in the ladies’ room. Other than that, the whole trip was a blur.
As I got up to butter my bagel and pour my coffee, bits and pieces came back to me. Ryan walked me home. Why did he do that? Oh, right, ‘cause I couldn’t walk. He must have helped me inside. He was here…in my house. And he got me a glass of water. Did I even say thank you? How long was he here? What the hell did we talk about? Shit. Maybe he left a note? I didn’t see one. I went back upstairs as quickly as my body would allow and looked around. No, nothing. Maybe downstairs? I made my way back down - but there wasn’t a note there either. Damn.
I sat eating my bagel and drinking my coffee, begging the hangover gods to take pity on my soul, which should have known better, hoping to recall anything that I might have said to Ryan. I was angry, I know that. Did I yell at him?
My head hurt even more trying to force memories out. I would try a walk on the beach. Maybe the salt air would help to clear the cobwebs, and if I was lucky, maybe even help me to remember SOMETHING of what I said.
-------
Ryan had a clear schedule that day. His current project was waiting on inspections that wouldn’t be done until Monday. His original plan was to sleep in, but his night was filled with thoughts of Frankie, so it wasn’t a restful sleep, but at least he didn’t have to go to work. He was grateful for that; he had a lot on his mind, and it would have been difficult to concentrate.
He lay in bed, still reeling over what he and Frankie had discussed. She never moved. He never called. They had literally dropped each other without even realizing it, and it was all a misunderstanding; a lack of clarification. Unbelievable.
He rolled out of bed and into a shower, then dressed and went to make coffee, which he took outside. As he sipped, he remembered the last thing she said to him…
“I love you.”
It was a statement made under the influence, and he knew better than to take it seriously. But then again, didn’t you say what you really meant when you were drunk? He honestly wasn’t sure.
He knew that he loved her. That he wanted her in his life. More than anything. But it was dangerous territory. What if she didn’t want him? He wasn’t about to put himself out there again. It would hurt too much if she didn’t feel the same.
It was a nice morning. The weather report had promised bright sunshine and warmer, and amazingly they had gotten it right. For once, he had a day off with decent weather. He gazed out at his view of the water, and knew it would be a perfect morning to spend at the beach. He needed to sort out his thoughts, and could think of no better place.
--------
I put on my sunglasses to shield my still sensitive eyes from the glare before I drove to the beach. I parked and found a vacant bench to sit on to people watch until I felt a little more like myself. The beach was a popular destination that morning; lots of walkers and joggers and kite fliers and roller bladers and castle builders, all enjoying the nice weather. When I felt a little more human, I set out down the boardwalk first, planning on switching to the sand on the way back.
There was a nice breeze and I pulled off my baseball cap to let the wind catch my hair. I knew it meant I would be dealing with major tangles, but it seemed to help in my quest to find my normal. I kept up a nice pace and when I reached the end of the boardwalk and walked down to the water, there he was. Coming toward me. I made an effort to push my hair out of my eyes and stood my ground, hoping that I hadn’t done anything really bad, like telling him to fuck off or something. What if he didn’t even talk to me? Or want to?
------------------
Ryan noticed the familiar vehicle in the parking lot. She was here…somewhere. He smiled to himself; they obviously both gravitated to the same spot when they had things on their mind. He jumped out of his truck and used the fender to stretch out his muscles a little before breaking into a run down the beach, eyes searching the sand for her familiar form. He had to say excuse me at least a few times as he bobbed and weaved through the groups of people enjoying the beautiful day. He finally reached a clear path and spotted her in the distance, heading his way.
He wondered what she remembered from yesterday. Did she remember telling him she loved him? Did she even remember he was there? He didn’t know what he would say when he reached her, but he was determined to make things right between them. He wanted her. Badly. And he was going to make sure she knew it.
-------------------
Ryan finally reached me, my feet having failed to move.
“Hey,” he said, breathing heavily from his run.
I was grateful that he spoke first, even if it was only one word.
“Hey,” I answered.
We both stood there for a moment and looked at each other. I knew I didn’t know what to say, but I needed to know what happened. So I plunged forward.
“So,” I said haltingly, “I had a little too much to drink yesterday.”
He laughed. But it wasn’t a mocking laugh; it was more like a sympathetic one.
“Yeah, I guess you did,” he answered, still smiling. “It happens.”
“And I didn’t eat first,” I admitted. “I should know better.”
He nodded.
“Well, we all make mistakes,” he said.
Another short silence followed until I broke it yet again.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said cautiously. “I kinda have a few blank spots.”
“Sure,” he offered. “What do you need to know?”
“Everything?” I admitted. “I know you helped me get home, but I don’t remember much else.”
“I can tell you all about it,” he said. “How about we find a seat somewhere?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
We walked down the beach, side by side in silence until we spotted a vacant bench in a small cove, a distance away from all the nice day celebrants. Good, I thought. This way if he tells me embarrassing things, it won’t be within earshot of strangers.
------------------
Ryan was equally happy to find the deserted bench. He hoped that a little private time would be in order after she heard what he had to say. But he refused to get ahead of himself. As much as he wanted it, she had to want it too.
-------------------------
We sat on the bench, inches from each other, both gazing out at the water. I thought maybe I should just ask questions, but then he started talking.
“By the time I got to the bar,” he began, “I think you were already on your way.”
I nodded my agreement.
“Yeah,” I confessed. “I got there early, and ordered some liquid courage.”
“I think it helped,” he continued, “’cause you started in on me pretty quickly.”
“Oh,” I said, crestfallen, “was it really bad?”
“Not really,” he said, “but you accused me of dropping you like a bad habit.”
I remembered that part now. I was really angry.
“But I told you that you dropped me by moving to L.A.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know that now,” Ryan said sadly. “I found out yesterday. We both were angry and hurt, and it turns out it was for no reason.”
I sat for a moment, completely shocked. As he was recounting the events, I was remembering.
“So anyway, you went to the bathroom after that, and when you came back, you insisted that we had more to say, but you were pretty far gone, so I offered to take you home,” he continued. “You started to object, but I think by then you knew you would have trouble getting there by yourself.”
I nodded in agreement. Now I could remember him helping me home.
“You couldn’t even find your sunglasses, and they were on your head,” he joked. “I think you were way past gone.”
I laughed out loud.
“I’ve done that before, and sober too,” I admitted. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he consoled me. “It does happen to the best of us.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t the best time,” I said sadly. “We needed to talk, and I blew it.”
“We talked,” Ryan explained, “once I got you home.”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Please continue.”
“So I got you home, and made sure you made it upstairs okay,” he went on, “and got you a glass of water.”
Again, his retelling it was bringing it all back.
“Wait,” I interrupted, “did I fall down the stairs?”
“Almost,” he said, “but I caught you.”
I now remembered his arms around me on the stairs and how good it felt.
“Anyway, we continued our discussion once you were settled,” he said.
“And?”
I was eager to hear if we resolved anything.
“And,” he said slowly, “we discussed what happened. How I thought you left town and didn’t call. How you thought I just stopped calling. How neither of us realized what had happened, and how fucked up it was that we both dropped each other because we weren’t really communicating.”
He stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did I get nasty? I sometimes do that when I’m wasted. But I never really mean it. I’m usually only angry with myself.”
“No,” he said softly. “You weren’t nasty… at all.”
“So what happened?”
He paused for a minute, seemingly considering what to say or how to say it.
“You were falling asleep….,” he started.
“AND?”
“Right before you dozed off…,” he continued.
“AND?”
I couldn’t imagine what I had said then that was causing him to hesitate. What could be so awful that he couldn’t get it out?
“You said ‘I love you’.”
I looked up at him and into his eyes for the first time since he had begun.
“I did?”
“Yeah,” he said, his face crinkling into a smile, but an unsure one.
“And what did you do?” I asked. The suspense was killing me.
“I kissed you on the forehead and left,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, dejected.
“You were asleep,” he said.
I FELL ASLEEP? He must have thought I was already dreaming when I said that. I had to tell him that it was meant for him. I had to tell him. But before I could say anything, he turned to me and leaned in.
“I left because you fell asleep, but we weren’t finished,” he said, his face now close to mine.
I waited, because it seemed like he wanted to say more.
“I had more to say, but there was no point,” he continued.
I agreed.
“I didn’t remember most of this,” I admitted, “so you’re probably right.”
“So…this is what I would have said,” he started again.
I waited again, hoping against hope that he would say what I wanted…no, needed to hear.
“I’m sorry…for everything,” he said.
“Me too,” I agreed.
“I miss you,” he went on. “More than I ever thought I could miss anyone.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“Me too,” I admitted, sniffling slightly.
“I want you in my life,” he said, his blue eyes meeting mine.
“Me too,” I said again.
“And…I love you,” he said, his face full of hope.
The tears that had welled up finally found their way down my face as I leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips.
“Me too,” I whispered, kissing him again, “but you already knew that.”
mel39 for her stellar beta services,
and to 60schic for her assistance in finding the right voice.
catch up here
Chapter 24
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, my head,” I moaned out loud.
The morning sunlight shone through the crack in the shade and was hitting me right in my eyes. I closed them again, but my head still hurt. A lot. I dragged myself to a sitting position and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Jeez, even that hurt. I shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping that would help to wake me up.
I stood under the spray for what seemed like an eternity, and eventually the fog lifted enough so that I could keep my eyes open. I wrapped myself in a big towel, and sat down on the closed toilet.
What happened? I mean, I knew what happened; I met Ryan for lunch, but I don’t think I ate anything. Nope, my stomach answered with an angry growl, you didn’t. Okay, if I can’t be sure if I ate yesterday, then I definitely drank too much…without eating. Thus the major hangover.
I dressed in my comfy sweats and went downstairs, taking each step gingerly to avoid the simultaneous pounding in my head as my feet hit the steps. I pulled a bagel out of my freezer to toast, started the coffee, then sat down to recap yesterday’s events.
The only problem was I couldn’t remember that much. I remembered getting to the bar, ordering a beer, and rehearsing what I would say. Then I remembered seeing him. And I remembered a particularly long pee in the ladies’ room. Other than that, the whole trip was a blur.
As I got up to butter my bagel and pour my coffee, bits and pieces came back to me. Ryan walked me home. Why did he do that? Oh, right, ‘cause I couldn’t walk. He must have helped me inside. He was here…in my house. And he got me a glass of water. Did I even say thank you? How long was he here? What the hell did we talk about? Shit. Maybe he left a note? I didn’t see one. I went back upstairs as quickly as my body would allow and looked around. No, nothing. Maybe downstairs? I made my way back down - but there wasn’t a note there either. Damn.
I sat eating my bagel and drinking my coffee, begging the hangover gods to take pity on my soul, which should have known better, hoping to recall anything that I might have said to Ryan. I was angry, I know that. Did I yell at him?
My head hurt even more trying to force memories out. I would try a walk on the beach. Maybe the salt air would help to clear the cobwebs, and if I was lucky, maybe even help me to remember SOMETHING of what I said.
-------
Ryan had a clear schedule that day. His current project was waiting on inspections that wouldn’t be done until Monday. His original plan was to sleep in, but his night was filled with thoughts of Frankie, so it wasn’t a restful sleep, but at least he didn’t have to go to work. He was grateful for that; he had a lot on his mind, and it would have been difficult to concentrate.
He lay in bed, still reeling over what he and Frankie had discussed. She never moved. He never called. They had literally dropped each other without even realizing it, and it was all a misunderstanding; a lack of clarification. Unbelievable.
He rolled out of bed and into a shower, then dressed and went to make coffee, which he took outside. As he sipped, he remembered the last thing she said to him…
“I love you.”
It was a statement made under the influence, and he knew better than to take it seriously. But then again, didn’t you say what you really meant when you were drunk? He honestly wasn’t sure.
He knew that he loved her. That he wanted her in his life. More than anything. But it was dangerous territory. What if she didn’t want him? He wasn’t about to put himself out there again. It would hurt too much if she didn’t feel the same.
It was a nice morning. The weather report had promised bright sunshine and warmer, and amazingly they had gotten it right. For once, he had a day off with decent weather. He gazed out at his view of the water, and knew it would be a perfect morning to spend at the beach. He needed to sort out his thoughts, and could think of no better place.
--------
I put on my sunglasses to shield my still sensitive eyes from the glare before I drove to the beach. I parked and found a vacant bench to sit on to people watch until I felt a little more like myself. The beach was a popular destination that morning; lots of walkers and joggers and kite fliers and roller bladers and castle builders, all enjoying the nice weather. When I felt a little more human, I set out down the boardwalk first, planning on switching to the sand on the way back.
There was a nice breeze and I pulled off my baseball cap to let the wind catch my hair. I knew it meant I would be dealing with major tangles, but it seemed to help in my quest to find my normal. I kept up a nice pace and when I reached the end of the boardwalk and walked down to the water, there he was. Coming toward me. I made an effort to push my hair out of my eyes and stood my ground, hoping that I hadn’t done anything really bad, like telling him to fuck off or something. What if he didn’t even talk to me? Or want to?
------------------
Ryan noticed the familiar vehicle in the parking lot. She was here…somewhere. He smiled to himself; they obviously both gravitated to the same spot when they had things on their mind. He jumped out of his truck and used the fender to stretch out his muscles a little before breaking into a run down the beach, eyes searching the sand for her familiar form. He had to say excuse me at least a few times as he bobbed and weaved through the groups of people enjoying the beautiful day. He finally reached a clear path and spotted her in the distance, heading his way.
He wondered what she remembered from yesterday. Did she remember telling him she loved him? Did she even remember he was there? He didn’t know what he would say when he reached her, but he was determined to make things right between them. He wanted her. Badly. And he was going to make sure she knew it.
-------------------
Ryan finally reached me, my feet having failed to move.
“Hey,” he said, breathing heavily from his run.
I was grateful that he spoke first, even if it was only one word.
“Hey,” I answered.
We both stood there for a moment and looked at each other. I knew I didn’t know what to say, but I needed to know what happened. So I plunged forward.
“So,” I said haltingly, “I had a little too much to drink yesterday.”
He laughed. But it wasn’t a mocking laugh; it was more like a sympathetic one.
“Yeah, I guess you did,” he answered, still smiling. “It happens.”
“And I didn’t eat first,” I admitted. “I should know better.”
He nodded.
“Well, we all make mistakes,” he said.
Another short silence followed until I broke it yet again.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said cautiously. “I kinda have a few blank spots.”
“Sure,” he offered. “What do you need to know?”
“Everything?” I admitted. “I know you helped me get home, but I don’t remember much else.”
“I can tell you all about it,” he said. “How about we find a seat somewhere?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
We walked down the beach, side by side in silence until we spotted a vacant bench in a small cove, a distance away from all the nice day celebrants. Good, I thought. This way if he tells me embarrassing things, it won’t be within earshot of strangers.
------------------
Ryan was equally happy to find the deserted bench. He hoped that a little private time would be in order after she heard what he had to say. But he refused to get ahead of himself. As much as he wanted it, she had to want it too.
-------------------------
We sat on the bench, inches from each other, both gazing out at the water. I thought maybe I should just ask questions, but then he started talking.
“By the time I got to the bar,” he began, “I think you were already on your way.”
I nodded my agreement.
“Yeah,” I confessed. “I got there early, and ordered some liquid courage.”
“I think it helped,” he continued, “’cause you started in on me pretty quickly.”
“Oh,” I said, crestfallen, “was it really bad?”
“Not really,” he said, “but you accused me of dropping you like a bad habit.”
I remembered that part now. I was really angry.
“But I told you that you dropped me by moving to L.A.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know that now,” Ryan said sadly. “I found out yesterday. We both were angry and hurt, and it turns out it was for no reason.”
I sat for a moment, completely shocked. As he was recounting the events, I was remembering.
“So anyway, you went to the bathroom after that, and when you came back, you insisted that we had more to say, but you were pretty far gone, so I offered to take you home,” he continued. “You started to object, but I think by then you knew you would have trouble getting there by yourself.”
I nodded in agreement. Now I could remember him helping me home.
“You couldn’t even find your sunglasses, and they were on your head,” he joked. “I think you were way past gone.”
I laughed out loud.
“I’ve done that before, and sober too,” I admitted. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he consoled me. “It does happen to the best of us.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t the best time,” I said sadly. “We needed to talk, and I blew it.”
“We talked,” Ryan explained, “once I got you home.”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Please continue.”
“So I got you home, and made sure you made it upstairs okay,” he went on, “and got you a glass of water.”
Again, his retelling it was bringing it all back.
“Wait,” I interrupted, “did I fall down the stairs?”
“Almost,” he said, “but I caught you.”
I now remembered his arms around me on the stairs and how good it felt.
“Anyway, we continued our discussion once you were settled,” he said.
“And?”
I was eager to hear if we resolved anything.
“And,” he said slowly, “we discussed what happened. How I thought you left town and didn’t call. How you thought I just stopped calling. How neither of us realized what had happened, and how fucked up it was that we both dropped each other because we weren’t really communicating.”
He stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did I get nasty? I sometimes do that when I’m wasted. But I never really mean it. I’m usually only angry with myself.”
“No,” he said softly. “You weren’t nasty… at all.”
“So what happened?”
He paused for a minute, seemingly considering what to say or how to say it.
“You were falling asleep….,” he started.
“AND?”
“Right before you dozed off…,” he continued.
“AND?”
I couldn’t imagine what I had said then that was causing him to hesitate. What could be so awful that he couldn’t get it out?
“You said ‘I love you’.”
I looked up at him and into his eyes for the first time since he had begun.
“I did?”
“Yeah,” he said, his face crinkling into a smile, but an unsure one.
“And what did you do?” I asked. The suspense was killing me.
“I kissed you on the forehead and left,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, dejected.
“You were asleep,” he said.
I FELL ASLEEP? He must have thought I was already dreaming when I said that. I had to tell him that it was meant for him. I had to tell him. But before I could say anything, he turned to me and leaned in.
“I left because you fell asleep, but we weren’t finished,” he said, his face now close to mine.
I waited, because it seemed like he wanted to say more.
“I had more to say, but there was no point,” he continued.
I agreed.
“I didn’t remember most of this,” I admitted, “so you’re probably right.”
“So…this is what I would have said,” he started again.
I waited again, hoping against hope that he would say what I wanted…no, needed to hear.
“I’m sorry…for everything,” he said.
“Me too,” I agreed.
“I miss you,” he went on. “More than I ever thought I could miss anyone.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“Me too,” I admitted, sniffling slightly.
“I want you in my life,” he said, his blue eyes meeting mine.
“Me too,” I said again.
“And…I love you,” he said, his face full of hope.
The tears that had welled up finally found their way down my face as I leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips.
“Me too,” I whispered, kissing him again, “but you already knew that.”