Page 66 of Waiting for Tuesday

He looked exactly how I wanted to remember him. Hisface still shadowed with whiskers from the night before. Comfortable, messy… mine. Moisture filled my eyes and I nodded. “Tired.”

His mouth lifted in a slight smile, and he turned back to the road. “Me too.”

We pulled off the freeway and onto a two-lane highway. I sat up a little, forcing myself away from the cool window, realizing we’d gone farther than I ever intended to go. I cleared my throat, trying to dislodge the tight, constricting feeling around my vocal cords, but it wouldn’t go away. It was my subconscious telling me not to say anything, to keep this secret… just a little bit longer.

But I couldn’t.

I turned to face him, drawing my foot onto the seat and hugging my leg to my chest. Pastures framed both sides of the road, leaving us isolated except for the cows grazing on their lush green foliage.

I wished I’d written a letter, so I could hand it over, and he could pull over and read it on the side of the road. But I didn't have that much foresight, and deep down I knew it should come from my lips, from my heart, and not from a perfect list of words that were rehearsed so many times they lost their meaning.

We turned off to a little dirt road, and I could feel us approaching our destination. We had driven for over an hour now, and I was filled with regret that I let us get this far.

I grabbed the strand of feathers in my hair and twirled them between my fingers. “John, I?” I closed my eyes, my throat full of tears as I grasped for every bit of courage I had. “I have something I need to tell you.”

I kept my eyes shut, concentrating on the sound of gravel beneath our tires as we came to a full stop. I imagined us pulling to the side of the road, and any smile that had been there only moments ago gone from his face. I opened my eyes again and found his body turned toward me. His brows pulled together, and I knew, knew in every crevice of my heart that he already knew what I was going to say.

“I don’t know how to say this.” I clasped my hands together and twisted my fingers. “I should have told you so long ago.”

The soft purr of the engine stopped, a feeling that would normally go unnoticed, but I had to concentrate on something so the excruciating quiet didn’t tear me up inside.

TAP TAP TAP.

I jumped a foot at the sound.

Pulling in a ragged breath, I whipped around toward the window, where a little girl stood on the other side of the closed door, watching us.

“There you are!” Her head barely reached the edge of the window; her honey blonde hair was pulled into two high pigtails.

I turned back to John, my chest heavy with the words I’d left unsaid. He didn’t seem fazed by the little girl standing there. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head, telling me to continue.

“Uncle John, you’re late!” The little girl’s small voice continued, seeping into the truck and interrupting us. She was tiny and innocent, having no clue of the tension that was building inside the cab. “Hurry up, Uncle John! I've been waiting foryears!”

John rolled down the window, and I tried to calm my breaths. “I’ll be there in a minute, Shelly. Run along now, my friend has something to say.”

She frowned, her eyes meeting mine for a second before she turned around and skipped away toward a large redwood cabin thirty yards away. I recognized the house from the stories he told me about his childhood. And that’s when I noticed the other people sitting on the porch and leaning over the banister. They waved to us, causing nausea to roll through my entire body.

I turned to face him, finding him stone-faced and distant. “Where are we?” I asked almost whispering. “Is that your family out there?” My chest tightened, making each breath more painful.

He only nodded. “What did you want to tell me, Tuesday?”

I forced my gaze up to his deep reflective eyes, knowing I couldn’t possibly tell him now. Not with his entire family only feet away to witness what my words would do to him. If there was one thing I learned about John over our time together, it was that he had a heart as big as the ocean, but he didn’t like others to see it. He deserved privacy at a time like this, to not hear this news when a whole audience of people waited for us to come inside.

As hard as it was for me to play along, I needed to. Because this was my fault. I had spent four days taking his love, and when I said the words, I needed for him to be able to yell if he wanted to, to walk away and never turn back, for him to be able to cry… and I knew he wouldn’t do that here.

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and stuffed down the scream that was building in my chest. “I’m allergic to bees.” My words were tight, as though my heart was trying to hold back the words. Even though it was the truth, the lie that twisted in my gut was so painful.

His brows knit together and he shook his head slightly. “What?”

I forced a smile and nodded over my shoulder. “I saw a hive a few miles back and realized I should tell you.” I pulled my bag from the floor and took my epi-pen from its pocket. “Just in case you need it.”

He studied me a second, then leaned forward to grip the back of my neck. He pulled me closer, until our foreheads touched and our breath mingled. “You scared me.”

I closed my eyes, my skin heating from the rush of adrenaline that surged through my veins. “Why?” I whispered.

He was quiet a second before answering. “I don’t know. I saw the fear in your eyes and thought you were going to tell me something horrible.”

I swallowed back tears, knowing his fears were true. “No. Just bees.”

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