I was at work the next day when he called me back. I remember seeing his name light up on my cell and thinking to myself why would Dad call me and not Grandma? I don’t know why, but seeing his name there made me think the worst and when I answered the call, that’s exactly what it was.
I don’t remember everything Dad said except that he hadn’t been able to reach Grandma and he’d called her friend Marge and asked if she knew what was going on, whether Grandma was away. Marge had said no, she’d seen her the previous morning and everything was as normal. It was after that, my Dad got worried. He called the police and asked them to go and check on her. Apparently when they arrived Grandma was inside, collapsed on the floor. She was already dead by then and there was nothing the police or the paramedics could do when they got there. Nobody knew what had happened; I think initially they thought it was a heart attack.
It was only once they got to the hospital that they discovered she’d had an anaphylactic reaction. They found the cause, a wasp sting. We never even knew she was allergic to them, I don’t ever remember her saying anything about it, maybe even she didn’t realise. But when Dad arrived in Maine at her house all he found was a vase of spilled flowers on the floor, right next to where her body had been found.
It didn’t take much to work out where the wasp had come from and it took even less for me to work out whose fault it was.
I know I said I was a tiny bit happy at her now being reunited with my Grandad, but it still didn’t make the pain at what I’d done any easier to bear. After all, I’d been the reason they were separated in the first place. Being the reason why they were now together didn’t make that any more excusable.
∞
When I walk into work today, I find Luke out the front making coffee. When he looks up at me and smiles, it literally stops me in my tracks. All at once my stomach feels like it’s full of all those damn butterflies again, and they’re all simultaneously trying to escape. My heart is racing and my skin feels like it’s on fire. It shocks me, this sudden complicated reaction I have to a simple smile.
"Coffee Ash?" he asks.
I can’t talk. I literally can’t move.
"Ash?" he asks looking up at me. "Would you like a coffee?"
I shake my head, trying to get my brain to work. "Yeah thanks," I finally stammer out. "Ah, why are you making me coffee?"
He smiles again and now my stomach feels like it’s falling. I feel like I’m falling or floating or maybe even flying.
"I don’t know," he says shrugging. "Just thought I would make you coffee for a change."
He places a mug on the counter for me, stirring in a sugar. He’s made it black, just like his.
Oh shit I think to myself as though I’m seeing all of this for the very first time. It’s true. I really like him. I really do like him. And he knows, I know that he knows. God he knows how I drink my coffee now, that I drink it like he does. He knows, he knows everything.
"Can I make you some breakfast?" he asks me.
Does he not realise I’m standing here mute, dumbstruck, completely blown away by my sudden realisation? Does he not see what I’m thinking, how I feel about him now? His offer of food makes me think back to our little taste test the other day. Something hot flashes through me and I wonder if I can even remain standing at this point.
"Ash?" he asks again, coming over to me. "Is everything alright?"
He’s standing right in front of me now and all I can think is I want to kiss you so badly. I look up at him and force my brain to start working. "Yeah sorry, day dreaming," I say, attempting a smile and at the same time, wondering why I can’t just lean in and kiss him.
And then, smiling back at me, Luke reaches out his hand and I watch as he runs it over my hair, curling strands of it around his finger.
Kiss me.
His eyes are very dark now. They’re watching his fingers as he gently winds my hair around them. It looks as if he isn’t in control of his own hand, as if even he’s trying to work out what it’s doing. I’m watching his eyes and I’m positive he can hear my heart, which is racing, pounding inside my chest now.
Kiss me.
His eyes move to mine. We stand there just staring at each other, waiting for one of us to move.
Waiting.
Waiting for one of us to do something.
Kiss me.
He moves a tiny bit closer towards me and I feel my heart beat increase even more as I seem to unconsciously lean towards him. My stomach has fallen to the floor, my hands are shaking at my sides and my eyes drop to his mouth, focus on his lips. Both of us lean a fraction closer.
Kiss me. Please.
The phone ringing is what breaks us apart, shattering the tense silence that’s holding us in place, unable to move away from each other, but somehow unable to move that last bit closer together. Both of us turn to the counter.
"I should get that," I say, my words strained, breathless.