Page 57 of Lose You to Find Me

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Grabbing the twoplates with heated muffins on them from Elena, I head over to the corner table where Leon is waiting for me. He’s got a walking cane leaning against the wall, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and a curious expression on his face as he studies the other tables of college students having lunch.

“Here,” I say, putting his cheesecake muffin down in front of him.

Sliding into the seat across from him with my chocolate chip muffin, I set it to the side and move my water to make room for my notebook.

I’m a little scatterbrained as I search for a pen in my bag, and my neighbor notices my flustered movements. “Is everything okay?”

Pausing, I let out a tiny breath. “Not really.” Cringing internally, I grab the writing utensil from my bag and drop it back onto the floor beside my feet. “Sorry, it’s not your problem. There’s a lot going on is all.”

Leon drags his muffin closer. “I don’t suppose it’s anything I can help you with, is it?”

We’d be here all day if I started listing my problems, starting with Mom being gone again when I woke up. If I hadn’t noticed the empty wineglass with a lipstick stain on the counter or the missing slice of pizza from the box, I would have assumed she never came home. But between that and the Post-it she left on the fridge asking why she had to clean up a pee stain on the kitchen floor this morning, I knew she snuck in late before whatever meeting she had with a client this morning.

I wanted to tell her about the new addition to our household last night and get it out of the way, but maybe it’s a good thing we avoided it. Then she would ask what happened to my hand and why I looked like I had been crying. Because I had been. Not because my hand hurt, which it did, but because my heart hurt. Then I’d need to explain the argument I got in with Caleb and how he bought me a dog, which would take the conversation in an entirely new direction that would probably lead to an argument with Mom about why I need to get past my feelings.

I’m not ready for all that.

The smile I give my neighbor is genuine. “Helping me with this project is more than enough. Trust me. I asked my mom, but she wasn’t comfortable with the topic or having her business out there. Plus, she doesn’t spend a lot of time at the house anymore, so finding time to work with her on it would have been difficult.”

Leon nods in acknowledgment as he pulls the top of the muffin from the body, just like my father always does. “It must have been hard when they split.”

I’m quiet for a second. “It’s…different. But I think this is what’s best for everybody. They fought too much to make it work for the long term.”

I remember when Mrs. Applebee, Annemarie, once asked me if everything was all right when she heard the yelling match going on inside the house. I’d been staring at the front door, wondering if I should go inside and break it up after a long day of school or if I should do another lap around the neighborhood in hopes they’d be done by the time I got back.

I was twelve.

Shaking it off, I clear my throat and click my pen open. “How long were you and your wife together?”

He lets the subject change easily. “This year will be fifty-eight years together. We met at seventeen, got married at eighteen, and have been together ever since.”

“You still count them?”

His nostalgic smile grows. “Even though she’s been gone for four years now, she’ll always be with me. She was my soulmate. I still feel her presence even on the bad days.”

“How did you know she was the one? That’s a long time to be together with one person.” I made it seven years before messing it all up, yet they spentdecadestogether. “Were you ever scared?”

Those eyebrows pop up. “Of what? Losing her? Sure. Thought that was a possibility a time or two. Have you seen me? I’m no Cary Grant—that was her favorite actor. Had the biggest crush on him. But my Annemarie…shoo. She was a looker. I always thought that woman was the prettiest thing no matter what she looked like. Bedhead, bad breath, and all. Never quite understood why she fell in love with me.”

“But you never doubted it?”

The older man scratches at the white scruff on his chin. “Our relationship? Nah. I was in it with her one hundred percent, and I knew she was in it with me. That’s what love is. It’s not about giving fifty-fifty to somebody. Who wants a half-assed kind of love when you could each give it your all no matter the circumstances?”

My stomach dips as I stare at the little notes I’ve been jotting down. Had I given it my all with Caleb, or was I only ever offering him half of myself, hoping he’d meet me halfway? I didn’t even try telling him about my diagnosis. There were a few moments it’d been on the tip of my tongue when he mentioned kids, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. Then it was too late, everything had boiled over, and I couldn’t say a thing. I hadn’t given him my all, because I justified to myself that I couldn’t.

After what happened with Cody, I’d pulled back a little from Caleb, wondering if it would turn into love at all if I was willing to be with somebody else in the first place. Maybe that was the first sign that I was going to self-sabotage early on.

“Can I ask you something?” I say to Caleb, tapping the eraser of my pencil against my marked-up math homework.

He looks over from where he’s typing something on his dad’s computer. “If it’s about the trig homework, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’m pretty sure I got half of the equations wrong even though I followed the example problems she gave us.”

I stare at the assignment for a second before setting my pencil down. “It’s about what your dad said at dinner the other day. About how he knew your mom was the one the first day he met her.”

Caleb’s full attention is on me now, interest piqued. “Yeah, he’s said that for years. He always talks about the color of her lipstick and how her hair had so much hair spray he was afraid it’d ignite if she got too close to the fire they were at. What about that?”

Wetting my lips as I scrape my palms down my jeans, I say, “Do you think that sort of thing is true? My parents have never said anything like that about each other before.”

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