Killing Me Softly(A Broken Souls Series)

He closes his Kindle case and looks at me sheepishly. “Actually, I left and headed back to the dorms, but something told me you might need to talk, so I came back.”

“What were you going to do if I didn’t come out?”

“Possibly run out of gas. No, seriously, I was going to wait another hour, if you hadn’t come out, I was going to go home. Let’s go have coffee.”

In less than three minutes, my stress has rolled off my shoulders. Spending time with Tate, talking, was going to be a much needed therapy. “I might stick to decaf, but yeah. I’ll meet you at Waffle Shack.”

The windows of Waffle Shack are fogged over. They usually keep the place at artic cold. Tonight is no different. We pick a booth at the back of the restaurant, the furthest from an air vent. Our waitress comes over and tells us the paper place-mat on the table is our menu and asked what we would like to drink. We both order decaf.

“Is everything okay with your dad?” Tate asks and reaches across the table for my hand.

“Yes…” pause, “No. You’ll never want to see me again if I tell you,” I shake my head trying to clear away that thought.

“Whatever is wrong with your dad, is no reflection on you. If you’re married, that might deter me away.”

“Might?”

“You’re a hot tamale, it would be hard not to duel a husband for your heart.”

I laugh and he smiles at me. “What kind of book were you reading? Duel? You’re funny.”

“In all seriousness, talk to me. I won’t judge you, I promise.” His pale blue eyes melt my defenses down.

I let out a sigh and decide to spill my guts. “I told you that my mom left when I was thirteen, I didn’t tell you why. My dad worked for a large advertising firm in downtown Oklahoma City. He had gone to a convention and I’m not sure what happened, but he ended up losing his job and unable to get another one. We lived a comfortable life. We lived in a nice neighborhood, had new clothes, and we took regular camping trips. I was ten or eleven when he lost his job. Mom was thirty, she had me when she was nineteen. She took on two jobs but she had never gone to college and didn’t have a degree. She worked for Sonic and a place in the mall. We moved out of our house and moved into the house I live in now. I guess my mom wanted more, so she left. Since I was the only one at home, I started to realize my dad was different. Before I knew it, he was labeled as mentally ill.” The waitress comes over with a basket of biscuits and jelly. Carbs and coffee, heaven.

Tate sits back in his seat, his hand pulled away and he’s shaking his head. I knew not to say anything. My one shot of having a real boyfriend, someone I could confide in, gone in two minutes. This is it, he’s going to walk away. Better now, before things got too deep. I’m so glad I didn’t have sex with him.

“God, Holland, you’ve been through so much. You’ve carried this by yourself? I’m sure Sam isn’t any help. I’m so sorry you’ve had to grow up so fast. At the same time, it makes me understand why you’re so mature. No matter what happens between us, I’ll be here for you. You have no idea how bad I want to gather you in my arms and run away to protect you from this drama.” He leaned forward and took both of my hands in his. They’re warm against my frozen fingers. For once, I was wrong. I didn’t scare him away.

I shrug my shoulders, I’d never sat down and thought about how it all happened. What was it that got my dad fired? “That isn’t all. My best friend, her name was Andy. She died in a car accident last Labor Day weekend.” There, I said it out loud. “It was her mom that I went to see last weekend.”

Tate pulled my hand, forcing me to stand up and he tugged me down onto his lap. “I have no idea what to say, but I’ll tell you this, you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. At nineteen, you’ve seen more than many people twice your age.” His arms around me tighten and the edge of the table digs into my ribcage, but I don’t care. We might look silly, right now, it isn’t my problem.

Don’t cry.

“Tell me about her. You must have been a good friend to her for her mom to want you to visit.”

I don’t check to see if anyone is staring at us. It isn’t as though there’s tons of people here to judge us. “Andy and I met in middle school. Kids are cruel and Andy stood up for me. She was privileged and had the best parents a kid could want. In her head, we weren’t different. When she died, a part of me was ripped away. Her mom and I went through her things last weekend, which was tough. They want me to have all of her things. At first, I was against it, but a strange sense of calmness comes over me when I use her things. Instead of pain, it brings back memories. The outfit I have on tonight was hers. I was with her when she bought it, and that day was a typical Andy day. She had little contests with herself to buy the first thing she tries on, regardless of how it looks on her. Most of the time, she picks the right things, other times, I had to shake my head back and forth and laugh.” I stop for a minute to work out the need to cry.

“That’s terrible. Do you ever dream about her? When my grandpa died, I had dreams about him almost every night. He would say things to encourage me to stay good. I only dream about him now and then.”

A couple who came in a few minutes ago, look at us like we’re crazy. “Yes, I dream about her all the time. It’s always like a visit, we talk and then a train comes and we say good-bye all over again.”

Tate’s hand massages my back, the human contact is almost too much. Andy was a hugger with the obsessive need to hug over everything. She would hug if something was wrong, if something was right, when you walked in the door, when you walked out the door. I gave her a two hug a day limit. She paid me back with a long marathon hug. Those are the things that leave a void in my heart.

“It sounds like you were more than friends, you were family.”

Unable to swallow the lump in my throat, I nod in agreement. The tears threaten to spring a leak, but once they fall, the flood gates won’t be able to hold me back.

“I better get home. Thank you for tonight,” I whisper to him. “I wasn’t sure what you would do when you found out how broken I am.”

“You’re not broken, and even if you are, I’m here to mend your broken soul. Holland, I know this sounds crazy, but I have this incredible pull to you. If I can see you tomorrow,” he looks at his watch, “actually later today, text me and let me know. My friend Don and his wife are having a cookout and invited me plus one. I’d like you to be my plus one.”

“I’ll text you,” I say. “Good night, Tate.”

“Good night, Holland.” He drops a twenty on the table for our coffee and biscuits and we walk out into the humid night.

***

GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL! CAN YOU GO WITH ME TONIGHT? I MISS YOU ALREADY. 7:05 am

SEVEN ISN’T REALLY SLEEPING IN. I’M GOING TO THE HOSPITAL TO TALK TO HIS DOCTOR. YOU CAN PICK ME UP THERE AT SIX. YOU MISS ME? 9:12 am

I DO MISS YOU. 7 IS LATE IF YOU’RE USED TO GETTING UP AT 4:30. I WILL SEE YOU AT SIX. DRESS IS CASUAL TONIGHT. I HOPE YOU LIKE SMORES. 9:13 am

SMORES? I LOVE SMORES! BFF 4 EVER. 9:15 am

BFF 4 EVER! WOOT! 9:16 am

GOTTA GO TTYL 9:17 am

SEE YOU AT SIX. 9:17 am

Thankfully, I showered before bed last night. One day I’ll learn to dry my hair before going to sleep. The mirror agrees.