Page 23 of One Night by

Chapter Fifteen

After another restless night, I’m up at the crack of dawn. I went for a run, came home, had my coffee, and took a shower in preparation for meeting up with the family.The sun is shining. It’s going to be another hot one. I slide my legs into my jean shorts and throw my tank top over my head. The phone rings, and I run into the kitchen to grab it.

Dr. Gordon’s Office flashes on the screen. Nervous, and with a shaky hand, I press the green circle.

“Hello.” I answered, “Good morning Miss. Johnson, this is Dr. Gordon. I know it's Saturday, but I didn’t want to postpone giving you your results.” I gulp down the fear as I sit down at the kitchen table.

“I appreciate you calling.” It is all I can get out before the fear gets the better of me and tears start to fall down my cheeks.

“We, as doctors, are fully aware of how frustrating it is to wait on answers, and when the file was emailed to me this morning, I couldn’t wait. Your results came back. They are negative.”

I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “It’s not cancer?” the tears begin to fall. “No, he confirms.” I sigh in relief, “thank you, Dr. Gordon. Thank you so much.” He wishes me well and reminds me to continue to follow up, and we will treat with an antibiotic and anti-inflammatory. If it doesn’t dissipate within a few weeks, they will continue to keep an eye on it.

I disconnected the call, covered my face with my hands, and thanked the Lord for the negative results. I’m not normally a praying person, but I reached out these last few weeks, and I owe whoever was listening a big thank you.

I rushed into the bathroom with a glance at my watch and washed my face. I add mascara and eyeliner with a smile staring at my reflection, and brush my hair straight.

For the first time in weeks, I feel good. The stress has diminished from being a heavy weight on my shoulders.

I slide my feet into my sneakers and grab my keys. Once the door closes behind me, I make my way down to my car and turn the engine over. I tune the station to the oldies and, sure as shit, Cherry Pie is playing. I sit listening to the words, recalling all the times Jacob has called me his Cherry Pie ever since prom night after our first kiss.

I giggle at the words:

“Swingin' on the front porch,” I dance and sing along to the words. My mood is lighter now that the doctor has given me the newest that it’s not cancer.

We spent all those summer nights in his backyard when no one else was home. All the times we could have, maybe should have hooked up. But we didn’t. We both respected our friendship too much. I continue to listen.

“Looks so good; bring a tear to your eye.”

“Swing it!” I sing along with them and throw the car in gear. I’ve waited long enough. We’ve waited long enough. I think now is our time. I’m going to throw caution to the wind and tell him how I feel, how I have always felt. I love him.

I’m healthy, and I deserve to be happy. I turn the wheel to the right, making a detour up Cedar Lane. Within two blocks, I found a parking spot across the street from the Wigwam. I slam the car into park and jump out. Glancing to the left, then right, I start running across the street, a car blares its horn, but I don’t stop. This is too important.

With a yank, I swing the heavy door open into darkness. I push the curtain aside, “Diesel?” I call out, and he comes from the back room. “What’s up, Dani?” He asks, placing a case on the bar he must be stocking for the day shift. “Where’s Jacob?” I ask, rushing through and around, searching for him.

“Dani, calm down. What’s wrong? He’s not here. He went to his house, and then he’s got plans this afternoon.” I stop in my tracks. Am I too late? Wait.

“His house?” what does he mean he went to his house? “You’ve been keeping to yourself. He didn’t want to stay on my couch anymore, so he went home.”

Confused, I place both hands on the bar, “Diesel, he doesn’t have a home. His home is with me.”

Diesel steps back, “maybe you need to tell him that then.” He says and walks towards the back, mumbling, “What the hell is wrong with these Johnson chicks,” shaking his head, walking through the swinging doors which lead to the kitchen.

“Maybe I should,” I whisper to no one in particular, staring blankly at the empty bar. I pull out my phone and start a group chat with my sisters, letting them know I’m on my way and I am okay with making the video.

With one foot in front of the other, pounding the pavement, I make my way back to my car. Once inside, I admire the photo I have set as my screensaver. The one of Jacob and me are standing proudly in front of his house before we left for prom.

I pull up his contact, press message, and type.

I’m sorry.

It’s all I have to say, and I’ll hope my stubborn ass is not too late to make things right with him.

The three dots appear, but no response.

“Fine. Be a stubborn asshole.” I chuck my phone into the cup holder and turn the car over, blasting my favorite, Lita Ford’s Kiss me Deadly song. I rock it out as I drive across town to the car show.

“Come on, pretty baby,” I scream as I pull into the lot and turn the car off.

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