Windmilling, Ch. 3
You text Kevin to ask him how he is when Joe doesn't kiss you goodbye again on Friday morning. You want to cry because he recognizes you today; he trusts you to be who you say you are, but he still won't tell you he loves you before you leave. The nurse tries to offer some words of comfort, but they feel empty, and you walk dazedly to your car.
Kevin's response is to call you back. "I never expected to hear from you again. It's been three weeks."
"I don't think I really planned to get in touch with you." You admit quietly, your fingers curled tightly around your steering wheel as you drive.
"But you just couldn't stay away, right?" You're not sure you like the teasing tone.
"I find you interesting."
"It's a good way to find me. You wouldn't want to join me for breakfast, would you?"
"I can't. I have to be at work in ten minutes."
"What time do you get off?"
"At noon. I usually go to Starbucks."
"Ah. Well, we could have a rendezvous there similar to our last one."
"Please don't call it that. This isn't a date."
"The word is also French for 'meeting,' you know." He points out with a smile in his voice. "I'll see you at noon."
When you walk into the cafe at 12:03, he's already waiting, and he hands you your drink. "I can't believe you remember what I ordered."
He shrugs nonchalantly. "I have a good memory. It's nice outside. Why don't we take a walk instead of sitting in here?"
You allow him to escort you outside and fall into step beside him. You enjoy walking, especially along Main Street, because most of the buildings have been standing for over 150 years. They hold a quaint charm you enjoy, and they're one of the reasons you and Joe chose to settle down in Geneva.
"You look sad." Kevin notes gently, knocking his shoulder into yours. "Anything wrong?"
"Oh..." You lift your shoulders, let them fall. "I feel bad for getting in touch with you today when I'm not in a great mood. It wasn't very nice of me." You smile apologetically.
"Is there anything I can help you with? Do you want to talk?"
"I'd rather not." You shake your head. "What do you do, like, as a profession? I forgot to ask last time we talked."
"I write for the newspaper." He taps his fingers against his cup. "Nothing big or important though. I write the announcements: engagements, weddings, obituaries. You know. The fun stuff."
A laugh slides sideways out of you. "Do you live alone?" You realize too late that it sounds as if you're propositioning him.
He either doesn't notice or doesn't comment. "Yeah, I have an apartment over on the east side of town."
"Do you ever get lonely?"
"Yeah, sometimes. But then I call some friends and go out to the bar or meet interesting people like you at Starbucks."
Your lips twitch into a smile, and you fall silent for a while, just wandering. "Joe and I used to walk through town once a week." You find yourself saying. "Usually on Saturdays. When they still had all the antique shops in here and not so many of the chain stores. We'd eat at a different restaurant each week, and he would buy me little presents when he thought I wasn't looking and surprise me with them later. It was a nice tradition. I still have all of the presents; I keep them around our bedroom."
"You talk about him as if he's dead, you know."
"Do I? I didn't realize." You sip your drink. It's only lukewarm, but you figure you just haven't been drinking it quickly enough.
"Are you lonely?"
The question is unexpected, even if he's only repeating yours, and you say "Yes" before you think about it.
He nods. "They have great lemon bars in here." He points to a small bakery on the corner. "Let's go have one. My treat." and you're grateful.
Kevin's response is to call you back. "I never expected to hear from you again. It's been three weeks."
"I don't think I really planned to get in touch with you." You admit quietly, your fingers curled tightly around your steering wheel as you drive.
"But you just couldn't stay away, right?" You're not sure you like the teasing tone.
"I find you interesting."
"It's a good way to find me. You wouldn't want to join me for breakfast, would you?"
"I can't. I have to be at work in ten minutes."
"What time do you get off?"
"At noon. I usually go to Starbucks."
"Ah. Well, we could have a rendezvous there similar to our last one."
"Please don't call it that. This isn't a date."
"The word is also French for 'meeting,' you know." He points out with a smile in his voice. "I'll see you at noon."
When you walk into the cafe at 12:03, he's already waiting, and he hands you your drink. "I can't believe you remember what I ordered."
He shrugs nonchalantly. "I have a good memory. It's nice outside. Why don't we take a walk instead of sitting in here?"
You allow him to escort you outside and fall into step beside him. You enjoy walking, especially along Main Street, because most of the buildings have been standing for over 150 years. They hold a quaint charm you enjoy, and they're one of the reasons you and Joe chose to settle down in Geneva.
"You look sad." Kevin notes gently, knocking his shoulder into yours. "Anything wrong?"
"Oh..." You lift your shoulders, let them fall. "I feel bad for getting in touch with you today when I'm not in a great mood. It wasn't very nice of me." You smile apologetically.
"Is there anything I can help you with? Do you want to talk?"
"I'd rather not." You shake your head. "What do you do, like, as a profession? I forgot to ask last time we talked."
"I write for the newspaper." He taps his fingers against his cup. "Nothing big or important though. I write the announcements: engagements, weddings, obituaries. You know. The fun stuff."
A laugh slides sideways out of you. "Do you live alone?" You realize too late that it sounds as if you're propositioning him.
He either doesn't notice or doesn't comment. "Yeah, I have an apartment over on the east side of town."
"Do you ever get lonely?"
"Yeah, sometimes. But then I call some friends and go out to the bar or meet interesting people like you at Starbucks."
Your lips twitch into a smile, and you fall silent for a while, just wandering. "Joe and I used to walk through town once a week." You find yourself saying. "Usually on Saturdays. When they still had all the antique shops in here and not so many of the chain stores. We'd eat at a different restaurant each week, and he would buy me little presents when he thought I wasn't looking and surprise me with them later. It was a nice tradition. I still have all of the presents; I keep them around our bedroom."
"You talk about him as if he's dead, you know."
"Do I? I didn't realize." You sip your drink. It's only lukewarm, but you figure you just haven't been drinking it quickly enough.
"Are you lonely?"
The question is unexpected, even if he's only repeating yours, and you say "Yes" before you think about it.
He nods. "They have great lemon bars in here." He points to a small bakery on the corner. "Let's go have one. My treat." and you're grateful.