we are, and stop denying these feelings?” I beg.
I don’t want something that could be potentially so good to whisk on by, being ignored. Or to have to worry about the what ifs later on.
“I don’t want to hurt you and that’s all I’m capable of right now.”
“I doubt it. I see you, Rig. I see what you try to hide under that façade. I’ll make you a deal. You just try, and if by the end of this we don’t feel the same way about each other, then at least it was something to pass the time.” I know I’m sounding desperate at this point, but I have this feeling deep inside that is telling me not to give up on him.
“Let me get dressed. I’ll be out in a minute and we can get something together for dinner,” he says. I don’t know if he is agreeing, or just pushing my last statement aside.
Deciding to stop pushing, I give him his space and hope he can see how things could be. It might’ve taken me a while to see something good for myself, but now that I do, I’m not letting go.
After a short while he comes out, dressed in some sweats and a T-shirt, and heads into the kitchen.
“We have chicken or shrimp, which would you prefer?” he asks.
“Whatever you feel like making. Do you need some help?” I offer.
“Sure,” he says, surprising me.
He pulls some veggies from the fridge and sets them on the counter. “Can you chop these up for me?” he says, pointing to the cutting board.
“Ok. Do you have stuff to make a salad? I make the best salads,” I say, having a taste for one my grandma taught me to make when I was younger.
“Probably, what do you need for it?”
“Tomatoes, avocado, onion, and a lemon?”
He goes searching through the fridge, pulling out what I asked for. But I finish what he needs done first, then excitedly start on my salad. About twenty minutes later, we are setting the table and sitting down to eat. I can’t wait to just eat and stop worrying so much.
He shoves a forkful of my salad into his mouth. “That’s really good. I can see why you wanted that. The lemon makes it really refreshing. Good job, maybe I should let you cook more often and give myself a break.” He jokes.
“I really wouldn’t mind. It would give me something to do. You know, you don’t have to cook for me every night. I can do stuff also,” I say between bites.
“Sounds like a plan.”
When dinner is done and I have gotten everything cleaned up, I head into the tiny living room and find him watching TV.
“Is there something you want to watch?” He offers me the remote, but I don’t take it.
“Nope, anything is fine with me. I’m actually going to relax and try to get some sleep. I’m pretty exhausted today.” I pull a blanket off the back of the couch and make myself comfortable.
He goes back to whatever he is watching, and I close my eyes, stretching my legs over his lap. It doesn’t take long until I fall fast asleep, with his hand resting on top of my legs.
The day has finally come to leave this tiny cottage. Things just fell into place while being here, not having to worry who was around, or thinking I should be doing something to earn my keep.
Sadly, Rig and I haven’t gotten any closer, but we haven’t gotten any more distant, either. If this is all he is willing to put out there, then that’s what I am willing to give back.
Being on the road for almost two months now, I start wondering when this running is going to end. When we will be at a place I can call my own and never have to look back. Rig told me that since they haven’t had any movement on Steven’s end, if it continues to go that way, we will be able to settle soon. It’s an exciting feeling, mixed with the harsh reality that I will be on my own soon. Rig will end up leaving, and I will have to figure out what I’m going to do for an income.
I don’t want to be separated from him. I don’t want to be alone, but I also realize I have to do this all by myself, learn to be independent once again, learn who I really am, and run with that. Start my life.