Page 12 of Back to Me

I imagine his smile and the small dimple denting his left cheek, just like his sister’s. Giggling, I remember the way he had destroyed our kitchen simply by baking a batch of cookies. Those thoughts are suddenly masked by the image of him standing in front of me, his plain white t-shirt, stretched across his chest and abs, covered in cookie dough. The way his straight brown hair fell across his forehead.

Our conversation falls silent.

Imagining the way his skin would feel pressed against mine, I struggle to come up with a reply.

“By the way, I’m sorry,” he says.

I wait for him to elaborate on what he’s apologizing for, but when another minute passes, I finally choke out, “Sorry for what?

He takes a deep breath in, slowly releasing it in one long drag. “Eating all the cookies. There won’t be any left when you get home.”

I laugh out loud, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. I look around the gallery, hoping Allison hadn’t heard me from her office.

I perk up, adjusting myself in my seat, excitement flooding my veins.

“Oh my God, you at them all?” Clutching my stomach, I lift my finger and wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes.

When my laughing subsides, I take a deep breath. He’s become silent and glancing at the phone, I check to make sure I didn’t lose his call. Bringing it back to my ear, I can hear his hushed breaths echo through the receiver. Tapping my pen against my desk, I wait for his response. But instead of him elaborating on his morning sugar rush, his next few words nearly cause my throat to close.

“Actually, I’m more sorry about the way I reacted earlier when your towel fell,” he says softly, “I shouldn’t have turned away from you.”

My body stops, and my heart freezes. I drop my pen and place my hand over my heart, feeling it thrash against the warm skin of my palm.

“What do you mean, Graham?” My voice is shaky, and I swallow, remembering never to read too much into Graham’s words.

His heavy breaths continue to echo through the phone and travel through my ear, landing in my throat. His footsteps have now stopped, and the air thickens as I wait to hear his voice once again.

“I’m going to be late. I should go,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll call you after I’m done.”

Our phone call abruptly ends. Slowly, I place my phone back on the receiver. I’m stiff as if frozen in time, and it takes everything in me to move my body a single inch.

I should be used to this by now. I’ve trained and prepared myself for these moments, the ones where Graham walks the tightrope. Only this time, I think I’m the one who’s slipped, falling to the infinite unknown.

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