Page 46 of Stirred Up

Knowing I’ll regret it later, I plunge my fork into what’s left of my beloved turtle cheesecake. My eyes close, delighting in the cool and creamy sweetness.

Brady hates caramel, so I always make sure I have one with cherry topping for him…

Stop it!

Slamming the licked clean fork down on the counter, sick of myself, I almost don’t pick out the knock on my door from the sound of my own admonishment. Another knock echoes and I twist back to stare at the door, painfully aware I’m in no way ready to greet visitors. One look around the room says my home isn’t either.

I wonder if I can hire Kathy to at least pull my apartment back together when my pity party ends.

Smoothing my tousled hair, I duck to catch my reflection in the small mirror by the door. Oh hell! I grab abaseball cap from the rack and as I’m about to shove it on to cover my mess, I stop. It’s Brady’s cap. He must have left it here…God knows when.

My fingers run over the brim and before I can stop myself, I fling it across the room and grab a thick wool cap instead. Who cares if I look like an escaped mental patient? I’m feeling a little mental.

One more peek in the mirror, wiping my face, I open the door.

There’s nobody there. I poke my head further out, looking left then right and nothing.Thank God.I’d gear up to scream at the neighborhood kids for ding-dong ditching if there wasn’t an enormous box at my feet.

I didn’t order anything, let alone something in a box bigger than me! With a series of grunts and shoves, I finally manage to maneuver the monstrosity inside and rip into it. When that gets me nowhere, I run to the kitchen and grab the scissors, then try again.

I cut the last strap and fall back at the same time the box flies open, revealing the one thing I can’t bear.

Holy—I am a piece of—shit.

There on my floor, wrapped in thin foam paper, is theoutline of a surfboard. Crawling over, I pull away the packaging and run my fingers over the smooth polished wood with a pink hue, my favorite color. At the top right side is a huge white lily, my middle name, under that “My Moe” in fancy black script.

I glance up at the hook where my keys hang. The keychain he brought me from California, a hint I never realized.He had a surfboard made for me.

Fighting back the tears, I prop the unbelievable gift against the wall, making room to clean up the box mess when I spot the card taped to the bottom side.

My hands tremble as I open it, the gravity hitting me full force—these will be the only words I’ve heard from Brady in over a week.

Can’t wait to get you on the water with me!

Love always,

Brady

The floodgates burst wide open and fat crocodile tears roll down my cheeks, a bittersweet mixture of happiness, love, regret and loneliness. I leap up from the mushy puddle I’ve become on the floor and grab my phone.

I don’t hesitate, my fingers typing in a flurry ofanxiousness.

Me: I got the surfboard. Thank u so much! I love it! When can we go?

Each minute that ticks by without a response cuts a little deeper into my soul and I sink down into the couch. He ordered it before everything went to shit, but now it’s here, and I pray it serves as a reminder to us both of what we are and how badly we need to get back there.

Finally my phone dings, just as I was beginning to think I really had lost him forever. Hope, that amazing, beautiful swell of my heart, brings a smile to my lips.

Brady: I’m glad u like it. You’re welcome. Find someone to enjoy it with.

The phone drops from my fingers. I don’t want to learn to surf with “someone.” I want to go with the wonderful man, my friend, who bought it for me! The longer I sit staring at my knees tucked up against my chest, the angrier I grow. At the situation, at myself, at Brady for being so damn stubborn.

I snatch the phone back up and pound the keys.

Me: If u didn’t want to take me why’d u buy it?

This time he answers back right away. I know him,despite what he thinks, I do! He was just waiting, fingers poised, itching for a comeback.

Brady: Things change. U called the shots. GTG.

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