“You hate exercise.”
He was right about that, too. This time, the note of concern in Sam’s voice was unmistakable. “I’ll be right back,” I promised again, before leaving.
* * *
I decided to call Frederick from the South Side recycling center.
True, the recycling center was noisy. But I needed to make this call from a place of confidence and strength. I was only going to move back in with Frederick if I felt I could handle it, and if it served me. What better way to remind myself that this phone call was me taking active steps towards improving my situation than to have it while working on my art?
But by the time I’d gotten off the El stop by the recycling center, my nerves couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. I stepped into a donut shop with a flashing neon sign over the door that said fresh donuts. It was gloriously warm inside, and I was greeted by the mouthwatering smell of melting sugar.
I made my way to a table near the back, promising myself I could have a chocolate glazed donut if I made it to the other side of this phone call.
I pulled my phone from my bag, reminded myself that I could do hard things, and texted him.
Hi Frederick
It’s Cassie
Can I call you?
Frederick—a man who hated texting, and who by all accounts should have been asleep at that hour—replied immediately. Like he’d been sitting there all this time, phone in hand, waiting for me to reach out.
Yes.
I am available now if you are.
I dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Cassie?” The note of hopefulness in his warm, rich voice was unmistakable.
I ignored the corresponding twinge in my chest.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s me.”
“This is a surprise. I was worried I wouldn’t hear from you again.”
“I’m kind of surprising myself right now, too,” I admitted. “Until a few minutes ago I also thought you’d never hear from me again.”
A long pause. “What changed your mind?”
Frederick must have been with someone, because I could hear someone saying something I couldn’t quite make out over the line.
“Shut up, you imbecile,” Frederick muttered. And then, in a rush, he added, “Oh, Cassie—I apologize. That . . . wasn’t directed at you.”
I stifled a laugh in my palm. “Who’s with you right now? Reginald?”
“Who else?” He sighed. He sounded exhausted. “Regrettably.”
“I thought you hated him.”
“I do hate him.” More mumbled words from Reginald that I couldn’t quite make out, followed by his raucous laughter and a loud ow! Did Frederick hit him? The idea was so ridiculous I almost laughed again.
“I see,” I said.
“Yes,” he sighed. “Alas, my options for companionship are limited.”
I toed at the floor under my feet as a wave of irrational guilt rose up in me. The bell over the donut shop’s door chimed as a loud group of customers came inside. Their laughter filled the small space as I worked up the courage to say what was on my mind.
“So. About our situation.”
A pause. “Yes?”
I took a deep breath. “The other night, after you . . . before I ran out, you said you could give me an explanation.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to give it to me?” My heart was pounding. Was I really doing this?
His voice was quiet, guarded, when he next spoke. “I do.” And then, after another long moment, he added, “But only if you want to hear what I have to say. I will not force myself, or my story, on you.”
I took another deep breath. “I’d like to hear it.”
“Wonderful. But, may I ask what made you change your mind?”
My breath caught at the hopeful note I heard in his voice. How should I answer that? Should I tell him the truth? That I’d been thinking about him more than was probably wise since I’d moved out—enough to start doing my own research into vampires? That the letter he sent was one of the sweetest letters I’d ever received?
No. I wasn’t ready for that.
So I gave him part of the truth. “I feel bad about running out on you without giving you a chance to explain, when it was so obvious you had more to say. And I believe you, now, when you say you won’t hurt me.”
“I will never hurt you,” he said emphatically. “Never.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, unsure what to do with the emotion I heard in his voice.
“I believe you,” I said. “But I have a lot of questions.”