like this.
And the one who wanted me like that.
I want both sides, and I wonder if I can find a way to have them without getting hurt. And without losing something as precious as our friendship.
29
Gabe
My mom’s chicken tacos are delicious, and my father insists she not lay a finger on the dishes when we’re done feasting.
“Go sit in your new porch swing, read a book, put your feet up.” He points to the wraparound deck, home to the wooden swing she loves. “I don’t want to see you in the kitchen at all, Maggie.”
She huffs, raising her hands in surrender. “If you insist.”
“I absolutely do.”
I pat my dad on the back. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make sure he doesn’t slack off in the kitchen and resort to watching baseball.”
“Like you would do,” my dad teases.
“I know you’ll both be good boys,” she says then excuses herself.
I join my father, helping him clean as we catch up on the latest news—Charlie leaving for Florida, my sister getting ready for her third kid, and, of course, Pops.
“I heard you and Arden visited Michael this morning.” There’s a leading tone to his voice as he hands me a plate to dry.
“Did Mom tell you that?”
He laughs. “Nope. Michael did. I stopped by to go for a walk with him this afternoon, and all he talked about was the two of you. I swear, he never shut up. He was quite taken by her.”
I set the plate in the cupboard. “He has good taste.”
“Indeed.” Dad clears his throat, raises his eyebrows. “You’ve never brought anyone by before. Not even Shaw or Charlie.”
“I know.”
“What’s so special about Arden?” The question is open-ended, rather than an interrogation. It’s designed for conversation.
But I’ve told him about Arden. “You know she’s special.”
“Tell me why again.”
It’s easy to go on about why she’s captured my attention. “She’s smart, and she’s loyal, and she has no problem kicking my ass in darts or bowling or puzzles. And she’s kind to other people. To all people, as a matter of fact. She makes me laugh. And she’s pretty damn straightforward.” I flash back to earlier in the parking lot, and the words we said. We skirted around the topic at first, but in the end, she was up-front with me, especially about her wishes—being friends.
“What are you going to do about all that?”
I grab another plate and run a towel across it. “That’s the issue. She’s focused on the friend zone, it seems. So what the heck can I do?”
He chuckles thoughtfully. “Keep showing her what a good friend you can be. Let her know that’s rock solid. There’s no better foundation for something serious later on than a friendship right now.”
“Is that so?”
“That is so. I should know. Your mom and I were friends first. And I wore her down.”
I laugh. “You’re relentless. Like erosion.”
“Exactly. That’s how I won her over. Like a river over rocks.” He hangs up the towel on the cupboard knob and pins me with his serious stare. “I’m not saying Arden will fall for you. She may be one of the rare women immune to your charms.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“But if you think she’s not there yet, all you can do is keep showing her you’re there for her.”
I let his advice roll around in my head as we leave the kitchen and tune into the Giants, but after a half inning, I’m restless, and my mind is elsewhere. My mind is on her. I take out my phone and open Words with Friends, returning to a game we started a few days ago.
Neither one of us has played a word for a while, so I text her first.
Gabe: How’s your night? Just had dinner with my parents. You should join us sometime soon.
That’s erosion. The good kind.
Arden: I’d love to. :)
There. Something to build on. I scan the board, hunting for a word to ladder onto. I laugh privately when I spot something I can form on the T at the end of another word.
Gabe: Does “catdoor” count as a word?
Arden: There is no universe in which “cat door” is a word. It is two words. You sneak. :)
Gabe: New words are made all the time. You never know. Let me try to play it.
And I try, but of course the game rejects me.
Gabe: Fine, you were right. But I have other words to make. TREAT.
She plays another word quickly.
Arden: WRIST.
That makes me think of one thing only. And it’s not a friendly thing.
Gabe: