Past
I COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time I’d cried, if ever, but when I went to visit my dad in the hospital and saw the way half of his body was slouched, that’s exactly what I felt like doing. He may not have been an ideal father to us, but he was always larger than life. Between seeing him all crumpled up, trying to ace all of my finals, and my job as an undergrad student helper—which consisted of everything from tutoring to helping them pick their classes—I was stressed.
This particular morning, I’d settled myself into a corner table in the coffee shop by my mom’s house, and was working on a Quantum Physics paper and trying to keep my mind off my dad’s condition, when Estelle sat down in front of me. I looked up in time to see her cross her legs and smile at me as she closed her mouth over the straw of the cup she’d been holding.
“What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” she asked.
I let out a deep breath and put my pen down. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks. The last time we’d hung out was in a crowded Chili’s. I’d gone with Victor and took a girl with me because I had no idea Estelle would be there. She hadn’t acted like she cared. She’d been talking to Mia and Jenson most of the time, but it had felt awkward to me, having her there after we’d kissed so many times . . . after I wanted more all of those times . . . and there I was with someone else. I felt relieved seeing her now, and having her talk to me as if everything was totally okay, which was something I’d feared wouldn’t happen after that night.
“You cut your hair,” I said after a beat.
“Only the front, and I’m already regretting that decision.” She brushed the long bangs out of her face.
“It looks good on you.”
“Are you meeting someone here?” she asked, looking around. She looked hesitant suddenly. I smiled, wondering if she meant the girl from Chili’s.
“Would it bother you if I was?”
Her eyes widened before her face settled into a small, thoughtful frown. “Not really.”
“Are you meeting someone here?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t. Why? I didn’t know. She was free to date whomever she wanted, but that didn’t mean I wanted to witness any of it. Her mouth turned up slowly as if she could read my thoughts. I was starting to think she could.
“Nope. I just left a terrible date.”
“Why was it terrible?” I asked, leaning in a little closer, both of my elbows on the table, as hers were.
“He talked about himself the entire time. Total jock move. All the girls want him, all the guys want to be him,” she said, mimicking a guy’s voice as she rolled her eyes. I laughed.
“That sounds pretty terrible. Why would you even give a jock the time of day?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I can think of one jock I like . . . but he’s sooo nerdy,” she said, her eyes dancing in so much amusement that I had to chuckle.
“Tell me more about this nerdy jock.”
“Well,” she started, dropping her gaze. She started using the condensation from her iced coffee to draw circles on the table as she spoke. “He’s really good looking, if you like tanned surfer dudes with long hair . . . and ridiculous dimples . . .” She looked up at me and smiled shyly in a way that made my heart stop. “He’s a really good guy, but rumor has it he’s not much into relationships.”
“It doesn’t sound like he’s good for you. You can’t base a relationship on hard abs and dimples.”
She grinned. “I didn’t say anything about hard abs.”
I shrugged. “I put two and two together. What else do you like about this nerdy jock?”
“I like how smart he is. I like the way he makes me feel when he talks to me . . . when he looks at me . . .” A blush spread over her cheeks. “When he kisses me.”
I tried to ignore the hammering in my chest. “You think pretty highly of a guy who’s not into relationships . . .”
“We all have our downfalls, and that just happens to be his,” she said, shrugging as she looked away.
“What if he was into relationships?” I don’t even know why I asked. It didn’t matter. Not only was I not into relationships, I was totally against them.
Her gaze cut to mine again. “I have it on good authority that he’s not.”
I nodded sharply and exhaled, looking away.
“Did I upset you?” she asked, her words bringing my eyes back to hers.
“No. Why?”
“You look . . . I don’t know . . . you’re acting weird.”
“I’m . . .” I ran my hands over my face. I wasn’t planning on telling her or anybody about this, but the way she looked at me with those beautiful, nurturing eyes made me want to lay it all out there for her. “My dad’s in the hospital.”
She gasped and reached for my hands. I let her take them. Hers were small and cold, but her touch warmed through me. “Again? Is he going to be okay?”
I let out a short laugh. “He had another stroke. He should be fine if he takes care of himself this time. He’s so stubborn though. He won’t quit smoking. He won’t diet or exercise. It makes me crazy.” Estelle squeezed my hands and gave me a small smile.
“He’s going to be fine. I have faith that he’ll change.”
Her words made me smile. She’d only met him once. She had no idea what he was like.
“Do you think people can change?”
Her eyes flickered between mine. She moved forward until half of her torso was over the table, closer to me. I wanted to take my hands out of hers and pull her face to mine. I wanted to kiss her and get lost in the feel of it, the way I always did. Her face stopped centimeters from mine.
“I know they can. They just have to want to,” she whispered in a breath against me.
“You have a lot of faith in people.”
She backed away, leaning back into her seat. She smiled, wide and confident, as she picked up her cup and put her lips around the straw again. “I sure do.”
You make me want to change, I didn’t say. You make me believe that I can.
The next day, at the same time, we ran into each other there again, and the following day one more time. We sat down, talked, made each other laugh, and went our separate ways after. She made me smile on days that laughter seemed impossible. She made me see hope in things I didn’t know existed. That was when she truly became my Estelle. She just didn’t know it. Hell, neither did I.