Page 23 of Be My Reason

Me:First of all, his name is Michael. And it wasn’t OUR week together—it was Emma’s and my week together. B

Nate:Purely semantics. I take it you didn’t tell him then. It was great to see you. I have thought about you a lot and I wish things could have been different. I want to say I’m sorry for so many things. Things that happened a long time ago. Things I can’t talk about. Just know that I am sorry. N

Why couldn’t he have said this last week?What is it about guys and their inability to communicate?

Me:I appreciate you saying that. Doesn’t change things though. B

Nate:Wish it could. Wish you would give me the opportunity to try. I’ll throw away my old bed post and you could be the ONLY notch in the new one. N

Words.Just words. I’m not sure why he would want to waste his time on someone who is so far away when he clearly has many willing candidates all around him. I decide not to acknowledge his last text and start to clean up for the day. Thankfully, he does not text me back. But that doesn’t keep me from checking my phone every few minutes.

~~ ~

A few days have passed since Nate texted me.I guess he has lost interest since I didn’t show any. Emma grilled me on the whole texting scene with him and she thinks I handled it appropriately which is good because if she knows anything, it’s how to handle men.

I am out to dinner with Emma when my phone chirps.

Nate:You know, it is customary in this country to thank the giver of gifts. I assume you got them? N

Well, this is just great.Now I have to show Emma the text because she won’t let it go, and then she will want to know all about the flowers and food he sent that I never told her about. So I confess everything. Then the conversation takes a turn that I didn’t expect. “Well, why haven’t you told Michael?” she asks.

Shoot.Why haven’t I told him? Because of that Karma bitch? Because I feel guilty even looking in another man’s direction? Because if I admit deep down inside, I do still harbor those feelings even if common sense tells me it’s only because he was my first?

“Because I don’t want to cause problems where there aren’t any, Emma.Nate is not an issue. I love Michael. End of story. There is no reason to upset Michael.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Emma or myself.

She doesn’t push the subject and I don’t respond to Nate’s text.

~ ~ ~

It’s Friday night.Emma is on a date with Graham. Okay, not a real date as she is, in fact, in the next room and he is still in Raleigh. It’s a Skype date, but she thinks it is real so I’ll go along. So here I am, alone. Alone because Michael is at the hospital. Again. So I’m sitting at home trying to figure out what slasher movie to watch. Emma is more a romantic-comedy type of girl. Not me, give me the blood, guts and gore every time. I will never get tired of yelling at the television because someone in the movie is stupid enough to go somewhere alone. My phone chirps.

Nate:Most people say that Friday the 13this better than Nightmare on Elm Street because it is just too unbelievable that people can die in their dreams. Your thoughts? N

What?How in the hell?I look over my shoulder and around the room. My phone chirps again before I can respond.

Nate:If I assume correctly, Emma is in the next room to you, as Graham is to me, leaving us high and dry for the evening. Are you still into scary movies? N

Oh, he is good.What, did he tape record our entire high school encounter?

Me:First, how do you know I’m not sitting here with Michael? Second, why are you not gallivanting around looking for your next conquest? B

Nate:Gallivanting? You’re quite the wordsmith. I heard Emma talking about you being homealone. And I don’t . . . gallivant . . . anymore. I bought a new bedpost. N

Whoa!I decide not to touch that with a ten-foot pole but, instead, play nice and since I’m so bored, we put in the same movie and occasionally text about how stupid the characters are.

When the movie is over and I’m ready for bed I text him one last time.

Me:Off to bed. Plz don’t comment on that. P.S. Thanks for the flowers . . . and stuff. B

Nate:You are most welcome for the flowers . . . and stuff. Sleep well, beautiful. N

Well, crap. I read his text again.That text right there—that is why I have to end this . . . thing. Whatever this is. He can’t call me beautiful. He can’t make references to his bed and me. I have to tell Michael.

~~ ~

Sitting in the shop after Monday morning’s rush I think back on the weekend I spent with Michael.The rare weekend that he actually got forty-eight hours in a row away from the hospital. The perfect weekend with the perfect guy. I really didn’t think it was going to turn out that way. I had decided to lay it all out there. Well, almost all. There may have been a few minor details I left out. But, for the most part, I was completely honest, telling him about how uncomfortable I was with Nate and how he is a womanizer and that yes, we slow danced once but only because everyone else was and that no, we did not kiss.

Technically, it’s the truth. I even said that he had somehow gotten my number and had texted me and that I would show him the texts if he wanted.Of course, he said he didn’t need to see the texts. He said that he trusts me completely and that if I wanted someone else, I would be with someone else and that he knows I would never leave him for someone like Nate, a cheater who abandoned a young girl and ruined a marriage. Once a cheater, always a cheater, he said.

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