CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I woke up from my short, dreamless sleep as I felt Dex’s car come to a rolling stop. We parked on the street in front of my house. Even in the dark, with leaves scattering in the wind and tossing the thin branches of our cherry trees about, it looked like the nicest place on earth.
“Home sweet home,” Dex said.
I felt awkward. Did I hug him goodbye? Shake his hand? Both seemed strangely inappropriate.
“Feels like the end of a first date, doesn’t it?” he remarked, a smirk deepening one corner of his mouth.
I blushed furiously. “Yeah, I guess.”
Amused, he opened his arms and said, “Come here.”
I leaned over and hugged him. He squeezed me very tight, grunting humorously. I squeezed back, not wanting to let go but also not wanting to give him the wrong idea. The wrong idea being that I wanted keep touching him.
Eventually I pulled away and looked to the side.
“Hey,” he whispered, as he slipped his hand under my chin and tipped it up. I had no choice to but to meet his eyes. They danced in the dark. “You OK?”
I stared at his lips, my breath deepening. The urge to kiss him grew frighteningly strong, so much it surprised me. I obviously wasn’t OK but for different reasons than he thought.
I saved face by closing my eyes and nodding. “I’m good.”
Satisfied, he let go of my chin and sat back in his seat. “Fabulous.”
I quickly opened the door and hopped out of the car before I did or said something stupid. I heard “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant” faintly playing from the speakers, which immediately reminded me of his sing-along session in the car yesterday. Felt so long ago.
I must have smiled involuntarily because he handed me my bag from behind the seat and said, “Want me to start singing again? I’ll sing you the whole CD. ‘My Life’, ‘Piano Man’, ‘She’s Always a Woman’...”
I could tell he was joking, but I secretly wanted nothing more. I swallowed hard and gave him a shy smile. “Guess this is goodbye?”
“For now,” he said. “Go and get some proper sleep and rock their fucking faces off at the meeting tomorrow. I’ll call you when I’ve got something interesting to say.”
“Sounds good. Bye, Dex.”
I was about to close the door when he stopped me. “Wait!”
He reached behind him into his bag and pulled out his newsboy cap. “Wear this tomorrow. It’ll cover up your brain hole. And you’ll look really cool.”
I took it from him, plopped it on my head and tipped the brim. “Thanks.”
He saluted me with his fingers as I shut the door.
I turned and walked towards the house, hearing the car drive off. I looked behind me, and he was gone.
I sighed, pausing at the front door to gather my thoughts, before unlocking it and returning to my old life.
***
As one can imagine, the next day turned into utter madness times a billion.
First of all, I came home to find my mother asleep in my bed, apparently waiting up for me. Thankfully, Dex had given me his cap, which covered up the wound on the back of my head, and I did not need that to freak out my mother.
Of course she bombarded me with a ton of worried-mother questions that I easily deflected by saying how badly I needed to sleep, which was true; however, it didn’t make a lick of difference in the end, considering I woke up feeling like absolute shit.
Every single bone and muscle in my body ached to high heaven. I couldn’t even bend down to tie my boots and had to opt for ballet flats. Those, coupled with a turtleneck to hide the ever-deepening bruises on my neck and Dex’s cap on my head, made me look an awful lot like Yoko Ono after all.
My choice of wardrobe was the least of my worries, though, because along with my physical pain, I was also in a state of mental shock. I was so tired and exhausted to my core that I was borderline delirious. Even forming sentences seemed to be a challenge, which did not bode well for answering the phones.
Even two Red Bulls couldn’t help my jumbled thoughts, although they did elevate my heart rate to cardiac arrest status, which doubled by the time I walked into my meeting.
But through crazy luck or the pity of the universe, I somehow not only got through the meeting with Frida and the head honcho, John Danvers, but I won them over and got the promotion.
Yeah, I know.
I can’t explain it myself except that I managed to project a very professional and enthusiastic image and even showed them some of the advertising plans I created back at the university. The position was just for a production coordinator, which was a pretty stressful and lowly job, but it was still better and more relevant to me than being stuck in reception. Plus, it paid $3 extra an hour, and I would get benefits.
I was on cloud nine for the rest of the day. Literally. All the painkillers I was popping, plus the lack of shut-eye, made me feel like I was floating away to la la land.
My position started the next Monday, which meant all this week I had to train my replacement (turns out they had the temp who subbed for me last week in mind), which in turn meant a fairly easy week for me. I could just make the other person do all the work.
Easy is what I needed. With my brain and body all jumbled I needed things to go as smoothly as possible. I wanted to put the weekend behind me more than anything and start focusing on a new path. The longer I engaged in the everyday swing of “normal” life, the more absurd the idea of being a ghost blogger became.
Plus, I hadn’t heard from Dex. I know he said he’d call if he knew something, but still; I guess a part of me hoped he would call anyway.
Later that evening, I went onto my Facebook to check his profile like the snoop I am. I found no evidence he had logged on recently, but people had written on his wall during our absence. Some guys, some girls, mostly inside jokes and potential plans. It felt weird knowing Dex had a life outside of me and the lighthouse, as egotistical and stupid as that sounds.
It only hammered home that Dex was still just a man. A befuddling man but just a man in the end. A man with a hot Wine Babe for a girlfriend, an interesting and varied job, a nice voice, a social life and a sordid past. A handsome, beguiling man whose eyes read your very soul and whose smirk held you in contempt. A man I tried my hardest to not think about.
That was easier said than done. Ada kept bringing him up around the dinner table.
“I think he looks creepy,” Ada said haughtily between petite bites of her roast. “I was starting to doubt if you’d ever come back.”
“Thanks, Ada,” I muttered, glaring at her.
“Well it would have been nice if we had had a chance to meet him,” my mom complained wistfully, “instead of having to stare at him from a distance.”
“Yes, well, I thought maybe you’d embarrass me,” I replied truthfully.
“Oh, whatever, as you would say. Why would that matter?” my mom said, exchanging a look with my father, who was silent as he normally was whenever there was food in front of him.
“Because she has the hots for him,” Ada interjected.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. I just met the guy.”
She wagged her fork at me. “I saw the way you were ogling his Facebook pictures.”
She turned to my mother. “He has a girlfriend too.”
My mouth dropped. “How do you know that?”
“Maybe I know how to use a search engine better than you can,” she answered primly.
“Perry,” my mother teased, looking at me, “you do like this man!”
“No!” I exclaimed and nearly threw down my fork.
“The lady doth protest too much.” Ada smirked.
“You don’t even know what you’re quoting there, blondie,” I shot back.
“Girls,” my dad said sternly but gently. “Let’s let Perry relax a bit. It’s not every weekend that you blow up my brother’s lighthouse.”
I couldn’t tell if my dad was actually angry, as was usually the case with him. I had, after all, blown up his brother’s lighthouse, which couldn’t be taken lightly. Even though it wasn’t really my fault, it did look that way.
However, I picked up some compassion in his voice and gave him an apologetic face.
“We’re just glad you are OK, pumpkin.” He reached over and tapped my hand. “And proud too. Let’s toast your new job, cin cin.”
I beamed despite myself and we raised our glasses of wine. Ada raised her soda with a dry expression, though I could see the tiniest hint of sisterly affection.