Once Again

Chapter 7: Present Day

I've had dinner with Rhys and we successfully avoided tricky topics. It feels like we're dodging landmines in our conversations. Like any minute now we'll hit a subject that blows everything up and then we'll be upset with each other all over again. I hate it, but not as much as I dislike not having him back in my life.
I'm slowly remembering all the things I used to like about him and our friendship through texts and phone conversations. I enjoy how easy it is to talk to him. How we have the same sense of humor. How he takes a genuine interest in things I'm also interested in. How we both seem to perceive the world and others the same way. We enjoy talking about politics and religion which are topics we avoid with most other people. We don't argue over that stuff. We don't argue about much of anything unless it comes to each other.
He's invited me to his house. His kids are with his in-laws for the weekend and he wants to show me that he knows how to cook now. He used to be a terrible cook and ate the worst food combinations like ramen and ketchup growing up. I don't know how he lived this long or stayed in shape with his weird food preferences.
I was hesitant to go over to his house. It just seems so loaded. Like I'm walking into a church or...a shrine. I don't know how I'm going to feel stepping into a world I was shut out of for so long. I barely eat that day because nerves are ravaging my stomach.
I place a hand over my stomach trying to soothe it as I wait for him to open the heavy double wood doors. The house is immaculate both on the outside and inside but I knew that would be the case. I ashamedly saw the instagram pictures for years until I finally stopped torturing myself and blocked the account.
His wife had been heavily into "farmhouse"-style interior design and she picked out every detail in their gorgeous faux rustic custom built home. She didn't go to school for anything, she just seemed naturally talented at many things.
I felt like a ragged interloper coming into the pristine house and took off my shoes immediately so as not to dirty the glossy wide planked floors.
He led me back to a large open concept kitchen and even the kitchen was immaculate . I wondered what he'd think of my small green kitchen with the old cabinets that were older than us.
He's barefoot in track pants and a simple t-shirt. He's wearing a backwards baseball hat and I wonder if he remembers just how much I used to love taking those hats off his head and putting them on my own. I loved when he wore them backwards because then I could see his beautiful face unobstructed.
He's stirring something in a pan and his eyebrows are furrowed with a small pinch of his lower lip in his teeth, the face he makes when he's concentrating. How does he make it so easy to remember why I love him?
"Are you going to tell me what you're thinking?" He raises his head up looking at me with a playful smile.
I'm leaning against his island watching him across it's massiveness.
"No." I say "I don't think we're quite there yet."
A small frown crosses his face before he's wiping it away with a forced tight one. If he doesn't think I still don't know his micro-facial expressions he's fooling himself. We're denying a lot right now though just to be in each other's company.
He walks around the island and pours me a glass of white wine. He pushes it towards me. "You uh...You still like wine, right?"
"Yes" I smile "Remember when we drank that box of Franzia in your basement?"
He groans walking back towards the stove "I couldn't even hear the word wine for years after that without gagging."
I snicker "Ben and Rachel kept shoving goldfish crackers at us insisting it would soak it all up."
"My kids fucking loved those crackers when they were little and I couldn't explain to—how it made me sick just smelling them still." He recovers but the tension hangs thick.
"Rhys?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me about her."
He looks up from the stove, his eyebrows raised. He swallows thickly and leans back against the counter.
"She uh...She was great. She poured herself into anything she was interested in, as you can probably see by this house. She was like that with the kids too. She was a good mom—a great mom. She taught me how to cook. She was really good at that too. She amazed me at all the things she just seemed to effortlessly be good at." His voice shakes with a small timber of emotion and I feel my hurts for him. "I thought I found a fucking unicorn with her."
I nod, not sure what to say but letting his words sink in. "I'm um...really sorry for your loss, Rhys. Truly I am. She sounded wonderful. How are the kids doing?"
He blows out a perplexed breath "The oldest he uh...he won't talk about it. I try but he says he's fine and doesn't open up. I know he's not fine, he can't be. He was so close to her. The youngest...she's in middle school and you know how it is at that age. You can't see past your own nose. She talks about it but she's also focused on all her middle school stuff."
"I'm sorry, Rhys, I can't even imagine what this is like and the burden you have to bear being their only parent while you're grieving yourself." I say.
"I talk to a therapist, believe it or not." He cocks an eyebrow at me bringing a levity to the discussion.
"Oh really? Do they tell you how full of shit you are sometimes?" I smile.
He throws his head back in a laugh and it makes me feel warm. I miss his laugh and I forgot how good it feels to have the power to make him laugh. I used to make him laugh a lot. It was one of the things he loved about me.
"All the time." He goes back to poking at the pans.
"She uh...She would have liked you, I think. If given the chance, if I don't know...We lived in an alternate reality. You both were kind, love photography and taking care of people. I think you could have been friends. I—" he shakes his head
"What?"
"Just imagining what that would have looked like. What life could have been like." He says softly.
"Maybe" Is all I can manage to say.
It never would have happened. Not in a million years. We weren't mature enough to navigate the choppy waters of that kind of dynamic when they started dating and I was too heartbroken and worn out to make that attempt. She seemed to hate me and though the feelings weren't mutual they came to be after a while.
"So uh...so the secret to my cooking now is to just take so long with it that by the time it's ready you're half-starved and will eat anything." He cracks a smile breaking the silence.
"Give me what you got." I gesture.
He made a simple pasta carbonara with French bread, but it's good. He looks at me eagerly to see if I approve and I give him the thumbs up.
"The wine pairs perfectly with it too. Good job, Bailey."
He grins at me like a proud kid and I see a flash of the small boy I once knew.
We hangout on his back deck drinking wine and chatting for the rest of the night. I couldn't even tell you what about because that's just how our conversations go. They jump from one topic to the next often time with no clear sense of cohesiveness. I blame that on my ADHD, but he's always just followed along with me on my random trails. He never gets annoyed at my jumping around or makes me feel inadequate for it.
When he walks me to his door (after badgering and making sure I was ok to drive after the three glasses over 6 hours) he tugs lightly on a lock of my hair and gazes at me for a beat. I hold my breath because we're in a kissing position and I'm not prepared or sure I want that. His lips are flush from the wine and I know that's a telltale sign we definitely should not kiss. He pulls me in for a hug instead and this time it's not awkward. Just a genuine balm-soothing hug. A small knot unties in my chest.
"Goodnight, Rhys."
"Goodnight, Sarah." He says softly and I close the door behind me.