CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I was never so relieved to be done with customers for the day. Mali had asked me to take a walk-in after that confusing session with Kael. I don’t know if it was my general distraction or if it was the client, but nothing I did was good enough for her. The pressure was too light, then it was too heavy. The room was too cold. Could she have two blankets—but when they made her feet too hot, could I take one away? And could I please blow out the candle because the fragrance was giving her a headache?
And though the session felt like a test from the universe, she could do little to keep me from thinking about Kael. My mood had improved and my imagination started to invent a sympathetic story about this woman. I made every accommodation and even tried to rationalize her behavior: was she overworked or in a shitty marriage? Maybe this was the only time when she could let her anger out. Better me than her kids, or family, or even herself. I started feeling sorry for her; everyone has a bad day. Even when she said my nails needed to be clipped . . . but then she left without giving me a tip and I may have flipped her off as she walked out the door.
The new client Mali gave me for one o’clock was okay, thank goodness. The walk-in after that was fine, too—a pretty young woman from the yoga studio the next block over. Her skin was soft and she fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down, no tense muscles to work out.
I was happy to call it a day and to be heading home. Thank God. Mali had offered me some ibuprofen, and that helped turn down the volume in my throbbing head. But I still felt like complete crap. I was anxious and annoyed and nothing was helping. All I could think of was flopping down in bed with the blinds drawn and the covers over my head. After a full day of appointments and such an emotionally turbulent week, I craved darkness and quiet.
I walked along the alley and as I rounded the corner to my house, I saw him waiting for me on the porch. My biggest problem and biggest relief wrapped up and delivered directly to my front door.
Kael.
He seemed distracted by something, sitting there with AirPods in and a faraway look in his eyes. He was so in his own world, he almost didn’t see me approach.
“Did you come for a refund?” I asked, trying to keep it light. I wasn’t at all bothered that he was there. I wasn’t nervous. No, I wasn’t. Nope. Not at all. I was cool. I hadn’t let him get to me, not the way he thought he did. Not me.
“No refund,” he said, shaking his head. “I think we should finish our conversation.”
“Oh? And which conversation is that?” I was playing it coy and he knew it. Cat and mouse.
“About last night.” He waved a hand between us.
“We definitely finished that conversation. Drama-free friends, remember?”
“But did we finish it?” He paused, then said quietly, “It felt like you wanted something more.”
“What?” I laughed at that. “We’re not dating. We don’t even have each other’s phone numbers,” I said through a forced, fake laugh, reminding myself and him.
Kael pulled his phone out and mine started to vibrate in my pocket. The familiar 706 area code appeared with a number I didn’t recognize.
“I got yours from your boss.” He smiled. “I think she has a sweet spot for me.”
I was shocked that Mali would do such a thing. “Mali doesn’t have a sweet spot for anyone! And that’s illegal.”
“Technically, yes.”
“Well, anyway, illegal or not, we’re definitely not dating, that was my point.” I backpedaled, sort of wishing I had let it go and moved on.
“Agreed. But what do people who are dating actually do? I mean, besides sex, obviously.”
I shrugged. “They run errands together. They pick each other up from doctor’s appointments and airports. They grocery-shop. And do things to make each other’s lives easier,” I explained, acknowledging to myself that we were already slipping into these domesticated routines.
Kael held an orange in his hand. It was a big orange, but small in his hand, with the little Sunkist sticker still on it. He was massaging it gently with his thumb, but hadn’t broken into the peel yet.
“Have you never dated anyone?” I was curious.
“Yeah, I’ve dated. It was enough to last me a lifetime.”
“Oh, that much?” I asked, trying not to sound as alarmed as that news made me feel.
He responded quickly. “The Army and dating don’t go well together.”
“So you’re telling me you never considered getting married? Everyone else does it.”
“That’s hardly the reason to tie my life to someone else’s. Getting married has to be about more than easy benefits and a better paycheck. It means something more to me.”
“Good point.” At least we were on the same page when it came to the casual marriages around us. “So did you stop dating when you enlisted?”
“No. I never truly started. I always knew I was going into the Army, so there wasn’t a point. Why even consider it until I’m out? What about you? Why are you so against it?”
I picked at the weeds by my legs. The way he said Why even consider it pressed against my stomach. No matter how consuming my thoughts of Kael had become, it was obvious that he was temporary in my life: getting out of the Army, and probably leaving soon to go back to his hometown, no roots to keep him here. Everything I knew about him confirmed that I likely wouldn’t see him again.
“It’s not that I’m against dating. I just haven’t met anyone whose company I like more than my own.”
Kael smiled, his fingers toying with the sticker on the orange in his hands. I reached for a dandelion. I didn’t want to blow it yet.
“I don’t mean it in a narcissistic way, but in an I-don’t-want-to-share-my-playlists-and-Netflix-account-with-just-anyone way.”
“The ultimate commitment,” he teased.
“It really is.” I was laughing, but I meant what I said.
I didn’t want to bend who I was, or what I listened to, or what I liked to watch, for someone else. It wasn’t a fear of commitment, it was about compromising who I was and what I believed. I saw firsthand what making those compromises did to people and knew I would never, ever allow that to happen, no matter how I felt about the person. The most any ex had changed about me was Brien’s encouraging me to read self-help books. Some made sense, and others were filled with toxic positivity that made me feel like shit about myself and where I was in life. I’m still on the fence about pop-psych, but I hope one day I might find the right book.
We both were quiet, roaming around the insides of our own heads. At the moment, mine looked like a vandalized art gallery, and I wondered what Kael was seeing in his.
“Is it the loss of control you’re worried about?” Kael asked.
Whoa. Is he calling me out?
My reaction caused him to raise his hands in defense and continue in a lower voice. “I’m asking because if you found the right person, they wouldn’t change you. They would have a part in making you into a better person, right? Isn’t that what love is?”
I chewed his words for a minute before I responded. The dandelion danced as I started to spin it between my fingers.