Sometime Soon

twenty-five



When the doorbell rings just after seven that night, I’m startled. I’m not expecting anyone. Tiger, the brave little guy that he isn’t, leaps off my lap and dashes upstairs. I’ve just finished a dinner of potato chips and soda since I was too keyed up from my day to remember that I have no food in my house. Since I haven’t invited anyone over, it has to be either someone trying to sell me something or a neighbor wanting to borrow something. I don’t often speak to my neighbors. All the people in my development work all day and then keep to themselves in the evenings and on weekends, but when I do interact with them, I’m generally sorry. I’m still waiting for my air pump and my hammer to be returned.

I couldn’t be more surprised when I pull open the door and see Wes standing there. His dark shock of hair is gelled up, sticking in various directions, and his long skinny arms hang limply by his side. He slouches on my doorstep, dressed in an olive sweatshirt and jeans, regarding me with wary eyes. He has a heavy duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “Is Ryan here?” he asks.

I’m so shocked to see him it takes a minute to register the question and answer it. “No,” I reply, wondering why in the world he’s looking for Ryan here.

His disappointment is immediate, and he seems to sink into himself, slouching even more if that’s possible.

“Okay. Sorry to bother you,” he mumbles, starting to move away.

“Hold on.” I step outside. He stands in a half turn, waiting for me to say something. I glance over his head, trying to see if there is a car in the driveway or anyone else here with him. I spot neither. “Why are you looking for Ryan here?”

“You’re his girlfriend, right? He’s not at home, so I thought he might be here.”

“No, actually. I’m not his girlfriend. I haven’t talked to Ryan in awhile.”

He smirks, chuckling softly, and shakes his head. “Figures.”

I’m taken aback by his response. “Did you try calling him?”

“Yeah. That did occur to me before I took two buses and a train to get here.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but don’t comment on his sarcasm. “Was Ryan expecting you?”

“Yeah. He probably just forgot or something. He’d forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his neck.”

I take stock of the duffle bag and his haggard, pale complexion. “Do you want to come in? You could try calling him again from here.”

He peers past me through the open door behind me, and seems to be deciding. After a few silent beats, he answers, “Well, maybe just for a minute.” Then he follows me inside, his duffle bag scraping against the doorframe as he passes through it. “You have a cat,” he says.

Sure enough, there’s Tiger sitting on the bottom step staring up at us. “His name is Tiger.”

Wes smiles. “He actually does look like a miniature Tiger.”

I lead Wes into the kitchen where he drops his bag on the floor and looks around. My kitchen is pitiful. I have absolutely no food to offer him unless he’s interested in butter and ketchup. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks. Maybe I could just use your phone. My battery is nearly dead.” He motions to the cell phone in his hand.

“Help yourself.”

Despite his refusal, I take a glass down from the cabinet and fill it with water as he picks up the phone and dials. After a bit, he hangs up. “Still not answering,” he states flatly.

“Did you try his office?”

The expression he gives me says Do I look like an idiot?, which I take to mean that he has tried Ryan’s office.

“Why didn’t you leave him a message?” I ask.

“I’ve already left like four messages.”

I sit down at the kitchen table and motion for him to take the other chair. I place the glass of water he didn’t want there. Reluctantly he sits down, glances at me, and then greedily drinks the entire glass. Trying not to smile, I stand and refill it. After he takes a few gulps again, I wait until I have his attention and ask, “What’s going on?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you have school? What are you doing up here visiting Ryan?”

“I’m on a break,” he explains.

“A break? It’s September. School just started, and you’re already on a break?”

He nods, his eyes traveling around the room--not meeting mine.

The irony here does not escape me. The last time I saw his brother I’d implied he was lying to me, and now here I am doing the same thing to Wes. Just then his stomach rumbles, loudly. His embarrassed eyes clash with mine as he self-consciously folds his arms across his chest.

“You’re hungry,” I state, taking a mental inventory of what I might have to feed him.

“I’m fine,” he says, looking down at his still silent phone.

I realize that I can either take him to a restaurant or let him sit in my kitchen and starve while we wait for his brother to call him back. The fact is, I’m still pretty hungry myself.

“I know a great place that serves breakfast all day. You interested?” I find myself asking.

He thinks for a moment. Then he hesitantly says, “I should really get going.”

“I could drive you wherever you want afterwards.”

Wes unfolds his arms and places his hands on the tops of his thighs. I notice his hands are similar to Ryan’s, with long tapered fingers and veins, raised like a relief map, networked under his skin. “Come on,” I announce as I stand. “I happen to be starving.”

Not having a choice, which I really don’t think he wants anyway, he picks up his bag and follows me out to my car.

The Waffle House is located a few minutes away, just off the highway. The salty smell of bacon fills the car as we pull into the parking lot. It’s just after dusk now, nearly fully dark as we walk across the half empty parking lot into the restaurant. The ride over was mostly silent with the radio providing the only sounds. Once we are seated across from each other in an orange pleather booth, I utter my first words since leaving the house. “The waffles are really good here. They serve them with fruit on top.”

Wes stares at the menu. Color photographs of waffles and eggs are splashed across it. I think I can hear his stomach rumble again as the waitress approaches.

I order waffles with apple topping, coffee, and a side order of bacon. The bacon aroma is too strong to resist. Wes orders waffles with strawberry topping and a chocolate shake.

“Not exactly health food,” Wes comments once the waitress leaves.

“Not exactly dinner either. More like dessert,” I smile. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

Once I’m inside the bathroom, I pull out my cell phone and search my history of received calls for Ryan’s number. When I locate it, I hit the Send button and I am not surprised to get his voicemail. I take a nervous breath before speaking. “Ryan, this is Andrea Whitman. Wes showed up at my place looking for you about an hour ago. He said he went to your place first and you weren’t there, so he took the train to my house. He has what looks like an overnight bag with him, and he says that you’re expecting him. So, I’m wondering why you’re not home and if you are actually expecting him. Anyway, we’re out getting a bite to eat right now. I get the feeling something is not right here. If neither Wes nor I hear from you, I plan to have him stay at my place. I’ll also try to make him call his parents because they’re probably worried about him. Anyway, we’ll hopefully hear from you soon.”

I end the call, hoping I didn’t ramble too much and that I sounded less flustered than I feel at having to speak to him again. If Wes has actually run away from home, I hope I’m handling this okay. During that day we spent together on the beach, the concern and compassion Ryan had for his brother was obvious. I find it hard to believe he could forget his brother was coming to visit him. I really have no idea what the situation actually is here.

When I get back to the table my coffee has arrived, and Wes’s milkshake--an overflowing glass of melting chocolate ice cream--sits in a puddle before him. He’s examining it, wondering exactly how to approach it, when I sit down across from him. I ‘m relieved that he didn’t slip away while I was gone.

“Looks good,” I comment.

He scowls at it. Then he picks up a spoon and takes a scoop from the top. “So what happened with you guys?” he asks after swallowing his first spoonful.

My coffee cup pauses on the way to my lips. “What do you mean?”

He smirks at me. “You know what I mean.”

Playing dumb isn’t going to work. “You mean your brother and I?” I sip the coffee, needing the jolt of caffeine.

“Yeah,” he replies, engrossed in the chocolate shake that’s now quickly disappearing.

“Nothing.” I shrug. I’m not going to share the details with him. “We only went out a few times.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“No, that wasn’t it.”

“He didn’t like you then?”

“I don’t know, Wes. It just didn’t work out.” I sip my coffee uncomfortably, wanting a change in subject.

“I bet he screwed it up.” His eyes meet mine over his milkshake.

I put my cup down. “Why would you say that?”

Wes shrugs. “He’s this big muck-a-muck at his new company. He’s a total brainiac. He works all the time. He’s always being sent around to talk to the money people and the customers. He was probably too busy for you, right?”

“Actually, no.” I knew he was busy, but I never got the feeling he was too busy for me. And I had no idea he was a big muck-a-muck.

Wes thinks this over. “He is a total geek. Maybe you’re not into computer nerds.”

I laugh. “Practically everyone I know is a computer nerd. That wasn’t a problem.”

Wes grins at me, enjoying his guessing game. “Was it his forgetfulness then? Like I said, if his head wasn’t attached, he’d forget it half the time. It’s like he’s always in the clouds or something. He gets all wrapped up in a technical problem and he can’t focus on anything else until he’s got it figured out. He’s always forgetting the simplest stuff.”

Wes doesn’t notice, but I’m now hanging on his every word.

“His company got him an assistant to help keep his schedule straight, but I think Ryan put her to work doing something else.”

“So, he’s really forgetful?”

Wes nods.

“He might forget plans, or be in New York but by mistake say he was in Chicago?”

He nods again slowly. “Is that what happened?”

I concentrate on my coffee cup. “I was asking hypothetically.”

His spoon clanks onto the table. “That’s it. Isn’t it? I knew Ryan screwed it up. You figured he was playing you or something, right?”

I glance up at him. “I’m not really comfortable discussing this with you, Wes.”

He looks me in the eye and says, “My brother is a total space cadet, but he’s not a liar or a player. I can promise you that. He actually has a real bug up his butt when it comes to lying. That’s one thing you never have to worry about with him.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “That’s his story to tell, not mine.”

His intense expression reminds me of his brother. Then our food arrives, breaking the spell.

“Geez.” Wes breathes, eyes wide, the strawberry covered mountain of waffles steaming in front of him.

My own plate is similar, except covered in cinnamon apple slices that dribble over the sides. A plate with a dozen or so greasy slices of bacon is set down beside it.

“Do you usually eat all this?” Wes asks. “Why aren’t you as big as a house?”

I can’t help but laugh. “No. I do not usually eat all this. But we could make a little wager on it.”

He glances at me over his pile of fruit. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if I finish mine first, you have to tell me the truth about what you’re doing here.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What do you mean tell you the truth?”

“I think there’s more to this than your coming up here to visit Ryan and him forgetting about it. No matter how forgetful you say he is.”

He takes the measure of both me and my waffle as he thinks it over. Finally, he comes to a decision. “I’ll take that bet. But, if you don’t finish first, you have to drop it.”

I watch him carefully. “If you promise you’re telling the truth, then I’ll assume that you take after your brother, and I’ll believe you.”

“All right,” he answers, squirming a bit in his seat. “If I finish first, I have something I want you to do.”

“What?” I ask warily.

“You have to give my brother another chance.”

I open my mouth to respond. Then close it again.

“No bet?” he prods.

I sigh. “It may not be within my control. What if your brother doesn’t want another chance with me?”

Wes smiles slyly. “You still like him, don’t you?”

I think of him kissing me in my kitchen and I feel my cheeks redden. I’m blushing in front of a fourteen-year-old. This is beyond embarrassing. “This is a silly bet,” I answer.

“I won’t take your bet if you won’t take mine.”

I swallow hard. I doubt Ryan wants me to give him another chance. I haven’t heard a peep from him since our last date. “Okay, fine. But it’s out of my control if your brother wants nothing to do with me.”

“It’s a bet then?”

“It’s a bet,” I say, eyeing my heaping plate of waffle and fruit speculatively. I generally have a hard time eating half of a waffle plate like this. What am I thinking?

And so it begins. Wes eats quickly, forking in mouthfuls. I get nervous watching him and warn him to slow down. “It doesn’t count if you barf it all up again,” I tell him. His pace relaxes a little after that. I eat more slowly, figuring this is more of marathon than a sprint.

We eye each other as we chew and swallow. “What about the bacon?” Wes asks, pointing his fork at it after he swallows a huge bite of waffle.

“You can have it if you’re still hungry when I beat you,” I taunt him.

“Big talk,” he replies, a glint in his eye.

My own bravado is quickly drowning in apple topping.

Sometime later, both Wes and I are struggling. I never want another waffle as long as I live. My stomach feels stretched beyond capacity, and Wes is easily gaining on me. He has maybe a half dozen strawberry soaked pieces left, but he’s moving more slowly now, obviously forcing it down.

When the waitress walks by, eyeing us curiously, Wes asks for a glass of water. “Me, too,” I choke out, swallowing another bit.

“You gonna give up?” Wes challenges.

I shake my head. My mouth is too dry to properly form words.

“Me neither,” he says, shoveling another forkful in. Then after gulping down his water, Wes only has one more bite to go. He makes a production of it, displaying his fork to me with a flourish, spinning it like a wand in the air, before bringing that last bite home, chewing and swallowing. With an air of finality, he lays his fork down on his empty plate and dons a satisfied smile. I immediately drop my fork and sit back.

“You’re not looking too good,” Wes states, suppressing a chuckle.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t know. You look a little green to me.”

“Bacon?” I offer sweetly, nudging the plate toward him.

A pained expression crosses his face before he quickly recovers, shakes his head, and looks away. I’m guessing he’s one bacon slice short of barfing.

“I won,” he gloats.

“Shhh, I’m concentrating on breathing and not throwing up,” I reply curtly.

Wes chuckles.

The waitress notices that we’ve stopped eating. “Can I get you anything else?”

We both shake our heads vigorously, and she strolls away.

“You and my brother,” Wes says, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Even though I lost, how about you tell truth?” I counter, slumping back further into the booth, crossing my arms over my stomach.

“The truth, huh?” Wes imitates my body language. Then he pushes his empty plate as far away from himself as he possibly can. He looks at me and takes a deep breath. “The truth is: my parents think I’m a mental case.”

“Isn’t that the definition of being fourteen?” I ask.

He nearly answers with a grin, but visibly stops himself. “They have reason to think so,” he adds seriously.

From my conversation with Ryan on the beach, I have a feeling I know what Wes is going to tell me, but I remain silent, watching him, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I get a decent allowance,” he begins. “I can buy anything I want with it. Well, within reason. But I don’t. I steal it instead. Basically, because I can. I’m pretty good at it.” He watches me for my reaction.

This is what I’d been expecting. So, my reaction is minimal. “Are you good at anything else?”

He looks as though he wants more outrage on my part. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you. I don’t think it makes you a mental case though.”

He looks away. “Okay, maybe I do it to get attention.”

“Does it get you attention?”

He turns back to me, angry now. “Hardly, they threatened to send me away to boarding school.”

“So you ran away?” I surmise.

“I didn’t run away. I ran to Ryan. Only Ryan isn’t anywhere to be found.”

“Your parents must be pretty worried about you.”

“I doubt it. They probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone.”

I see his defeated expression, and I sit up straighter. My stomach does not appreciate the movement.

“If you’re going to barf, don’t do it here okay? Try to make it to the bathroom.” He eyes me nervously.

When the waitress passes the next time, I ask her for the check. Once she’s gone, I turn back to him. “You know you have to call your parents and tell them where you are.”

He blinks at me. His mouth is a tense, straight line. Then he turns away, saying nothing. When the check arrives, my cell phone rings inside my bag. I grab it, and I’m relieved to recognize the number.

“Is Wes still with you?” Ryan asks after I say hello.

“Yes, he is.” My eyes meet Wes’s and his widen, realizing I’m referring to him.

“Thank god. I just checked my phone and heard these frantic messages from my dad and from Wes. I was completely panicked until I listened to the last message from you.”

“Where are you?” I ask.

“I’m at a customer site in Manhattan, but I’m going to get on the next plane back. Can you keep Wes for a while longer?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Andrea. I’m really sorry about this. I’d better call my dad and let him know. I don’t know what that kid was thinking.”

“No need to apologize. We’re fine.” It’s Ryan I mouth to Wes.

“How did he know to call you?” Wes whispers, before realizing that I must have called his brother and narrowing his eyes at me. “Is he mad?” Wes next asks.

I shrug, unsure.

“I won’t be back until late,” Ryan continues. “I might not be able to get to your place until after midnight or so depending on the flights,” he says. His voice is apologetic again.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re just going to go back to my house and try to digest our dinners.” I wink at Wes.

“What?” Ryan asks.

“Nothing. We’ll be fine. Really. Don’t worry about the time.”

“Can I talk to Wes for a second?”

I hand my phone over to a reluctant Wes. I can only hear his end of the conversation, but he seems to be explaining how he ended up with me and why. I listen while he relates the boarding school threat to Ryan. Then Ryan talks for a long stretch while Wes listens and nods. Finally, Wes tells his brother good-bye, ends the call, and hands the phone back to me. Wes looks marginally better now. He picks up his own phone and examines it. “It’s dead. He tried to call me first.”

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He nods. “Ryan said I can stay with him until everything gets straightened out. He’s going to talk to my dad about it.”

“You’re lucky to have him.”

“I guess,” he shrugs.

When we get back to my place, we tiredly sit on the couch and watch television. I let Wes control the remote.

“It’s all Law and Order all the time,” he grumbles flipping past the ubiquitous television show that seems to be on nearly every channel. “What’s with your cat?”

I look over and see Tiger perched beside Wes on the couch armrest, staring at him. “You’re new. He’s curious.”

“Well, he’s freaking me out.”

“He might smell you, too.”

“No way,” Wes cries moving toward me, away from the armrest.

After more channel surfing, Wes finally lands on The Learning Channel and a show about renovating and reselling houses.

When the doorbell rings sometime later, I startle awake. Beside me, Wes is rubbing his eyes, indicating that he has just woken up as well. The clock on the wall reads after one in the morning.

“I think we just slept together,” Wes comments with a lopsided grin.

Shaking my head at him, I stand and try to smooth my hair and wrinkled shirt. The mirror I pass on the way to the door illustrates that it was a wasted effort. I have dark circles under my eyes, and despite my lame attempt at fixing it, my hair is a tousled mess.

Wes traipses behind me, peering over my shoulder as I open the door. There he is, looking nearly as tired and rumpled as I do. Only somehow, it looks good on him. He has on faded jeans that ride low on his hips and a blue long sleeve T-shirt. His dark hair is waving in all directions. When his eyes meet mine, I feel as though I’ve been punched in the stomach.

“Hi,” he says wearily, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Hi.” I smile and then step back to reveal Wes.

“You okay?” Ryan asks him, stepping through the doorway.

Wes nods. “Andrea tried to kill me with waffles, and then we slept together.”

Not surprisingly, Ryan seems confused and slightly dismayed.

I glare at Wes. “That’s what I get for feeding you dinner, and then giving you control of the remote.”

Wes is wearing a huge smile, seeming completely unconcerned about the worry he has caused his family tonight.

“Get your stuff,” Ryan tells his brother, in no mood for humor. Then he turns to me. “Thanks again. I’m really sorry about this.”

“Please don’t apologize. I’m just glad that he found me and that he’s okay.”

Once we’re alone, I’m very aware of Ryan’s nearness as we stand together in the entryway waiting for Wes. Now is my chance to say something, to apologize for suspecting him of lying. “Your dad must have been relieved to hear from you,” I offer instead.

Ryan’s eyes are dark and weary when looks down at me. “He was. Then he was mad as hell.”

“Well, Wes is a really good kid. I hope everything gets sorted out.”

“Me, too.”

“How’s business?” I ask, still working up to my apology.

“Busy.”

“That’s good, right?” I ask hopefully.

“Right.” He smiles, but it seems forced.

I’m beginning to wonder what’s taking Wes so long. Then he appears in the hallway. “Can I use your bathroom?” he asks.

“Of course.”

He shoots me a meaningful look before disappearing.

It’s obvious that Ryan is no way interested in me or in anything I have to say, but I can still apologize to him, and it’s now or never. “Um Ryan,” I begin, fumbling for the words, my stomach doing flip-flops. Why is this so hard? Because he’s being completely monosyllabic and standoffish. I take a deep breath.

“I know this is awkward,” he says. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

The rest of my sentence gets stuck in my throat. He can’t wait to leave. Does he really despise me? What did I do that was so terrible? It wasn’t unreasonable for me to question him after he contradicted himself. Where does he get off still being angry at me? I take another breath. I’m not going to say anything that I’ll regret later. In fact, I decide that I’m going to be the bigger person and continue with my apology. I’ve had too good a day today to let it end on a bad note.

“Ryan,” I begin again, and watch as he seems to reluctantly turn to me again. I clear my throat. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for implying that you were lying to me about your business trip.”

He just stares at me.

Nervously, I continue. “I should have given you the benefit of the doubt rather than sounding like I was accusing you. I can’t really explain why I was so suspicious. Maybe I watch too much Lifetime Television, or maybe I’ve just seen too many of my friends being deceived by their boyfriends. I mean my friend, Katie, the one who called that night, she told her fiancé she was pregnant, and then he left her. Can you believe that?”

But I don’t give him time to respond as I hurry on, not quite making eye contact with him. “Meanwhile, he’d been lying to her about wanting to get married, and he was calling this friend of ours behind her back. It was just awful, and that’s what was going on when you told me you had been in New York and later said it was Chicago. So, I guess I was just in this suspicious mindset, and I’m sorry. I wanted you to know that.” I take a shaky breath and dare to meet his eyes. I’m surprised to see that his look has softened. It almost appears tender. I blink up at him, and I don’t know what to think.

Finally, a smallest of smiles tugs at his lips. “You don’t have to be sorry, Andrea.” This time he’s the one who takes a breath before continuing. “I completely overreacted when you asked about my trip. And then I turned around and accused you of lying about your phone call. I’m the one who’s sorry, and I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. In fact, I kind of figured that you did.”

I shake my head. “I never hated you.”

His smile forms more fully as he takes a step forward, bringing him closer to me. “I’m really glad.” Then he reaches out his hand to mine and grasps it.

“Finally,” Wes interrupts.

Ryan’s hand fully engulfs mine when he turns toward his brother. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Hardly. You’re not that interesting.” Wes deadpans as he tries to stifle a huge yawn.

“All right.” Ryan slowly releases my hand and takes the duffle bag that Wes is struggling with. He shoulders it effortlessly. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks for the waffles,” Wes calls as he breezes past me, giving me a thumbs up before heading down the walkway.

“So your friend’s fiancé really broke up with her after he found out she was pregnant?” Ryan pauses and asks before heading down the walkway. His scowl makes his opinion obvious.

I nod.

He shakes his head. Then he drops the duffle bag and takes two long strides back to me. This time he takes both my hands in his and captures my eyes with his own. “I want to see you again. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I answer, my voice sounding breathless as tingles ride up my arm. I know he feels it too when he squeezes my hands, and his already intense eyes seem to caress me.

When Wes pointedly clears his throat, Ryan flashes a dazzling smile at me before turning and walking away.