Page 4 of Ward
“Are you guys like…” Her voice changes slightly, like the idea of me in a new situationship is the brief, unserious distraction that might make her feel better right now, even if only for twenty-seven seconds.
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean, not yet?”
“We’re taking things slow,” I come up with. That may not be a flat-out lie, I’m certainly dragging my own feet with him.But like magic and love, lying is also about intention. We’re not taking things slowly.We’renot anything.
“Okay, well don’t leave me hanging with any updates. I’m still your best friend.”
“I’m stillyourbest friend,” I tell her likewise.
“You’re okay over there? I miss you,” Ditra says. I know she hopes I am okay, and I know at the same time, a part of her hopes that I’m not. But I can’t go back to Texas.
“You know if you ever need to get away, you can always come stay here. Like after things settle?” I offer. “I have an extra room. And don’t you work remote? I have good internet. I miss you, too.”
“God I miss you.” Ditra’s sigh is filled with grief. Long-distance best friendships are so damn hard. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. “Thank you for answering.”
“Always. Call me again soon? I’m here.”
When I hang up with Ditra, I notice Laney has started to get quiet, and is rubbing her eyes almost vigorously with her little fists.Naptime.
I slide off all of my bracelets, so they aren’t so loud, and lay her down on a little mat that’s now a makeshift bed in my yoga room. She settles quickly, but still I put a few drops of lavender and cedarwood in the diffuser that’s also a sound machine, and then I sing her a lullaby. She’s out like a light in a matter of minutes. There isn’t a door to this room, only a curtain of beads that I step through as quietly as possible.
When I get to my living room, all of the emotion, and I meanallof it, comes pouring outof me almost all at once.Not Papa Donovan. I didn’t even ask Ditra how he died. I’m not sure I’m ready to know that yet.Papa, come back. Papa, I need you.
I’m only halfway done with my hysterical breakdown when there’s a knock at the door. Has it been an hour already?Twohours, I realize after I glance at the clock. I was having so much fun, and then so much suck, the time went by fast.
I check myself in the little mirror by the front door, but whateverthatis is so unfixable at the moment, I tear my eyes away. I don’t even smooth down my hair, there’s just no use.
I open the door to Ward standing there looking agonizingly good. I just look agonizing. He takes me in from frizzy head to bare feet, coming back up to land on my mascara-streaked eyes and lips swollen and red from crying.
“Was it really that bad?” His expression becomes one of sheer terror and he bursts right into my house, looking all around, behind doors, under pillows. “Where’s Laney, is she okay?”
“Shhhhh. She’s okay, she’s amazing. She’s not under apillow.” I almost have to laugh at the sight of this big man in my little house, going positively berserk. “She’s napping,” I say in a hushed voice.
“What happened, then?”
“I got a call from my friend Ditra. Her dad just passed away.”
He stops and looks at me from across the room. “Her dad?”
“He was practically a dad to me too.” Saying it out loud breaks me all over again, and the tears spill out freely with the dam already broken.
Ward crosses the space in fewer strides than humanly normal, and his big bear arms fall around me, drawing me right to his chest. He doesn’t just hold me as he lets me cry, he squeezes, like he could squeeze the pain from me and take it on himself if only he could. He’s so warm, so comforting. And he smells like sweetness and spice and…old house.
“Where even were you?” I ask into his chest. He loosens the squeeze enough to talk comfortably but doesn’t let go of me yet.
“Was I gone too long?” he asks.
“No…you just have a…scent.”
He chuckles warmly. “Helping a neighbor. You should see this guy’s house. Actually you shouldn’t, it’s a cluster. He’s a certified hoarder, but he needed my help.”
“With what?”
That chuckle again. It makes my cheek bounce against his chest muscles. “Curious, you are.”
“Okay, Yoda. I’m just making conversation.”
