On Purpose

~21~

His house was a pleasant sight, resembling my own with its three bedrooms and one bathroom. The exterior was adorned with a white fence, while the front yard boasted an array of colorful flowers, likely planted by his wife.
The house stood as the third white house adjacent to a blue one. A small swing with chime bells hung on the porch near the entrance.
I remarked, "Nice place," attempting to initiate a conversation. The car ride here had been filled with silence, as he had given me no warning. Therefore, I assumed I could freely say or do anything without repercussions, as there was no prior notice of meeting his wife.
He ignored me and opened the door. The interior was equally pleasant, though it carried the scent of perfume and cookies.
"Finally!" A female voice exclaimed from a room I hadn't noticed. Within seconds, a woman appeared in the doorway. She had short, unstyled hair and wore a blue apron with cat patterns. Her long-sleeved shirt, a vibrant yellow with white stripes, blended together along with black shorts.
"Honey, this is my childhood friend, the one I've told you about," he introduced. She smiled and approached me, ignoring my extended hand I didn't hesitate to offer her, but she opted for a hug instead.
"It's so nice to finally meet you, Olly, right?" she said when she broke the hug, but keeping her hands on my shoulders as she scanned me intently.
"Oliver, but you can call me Olly, I don't mind," I replied. It seemed that almost every guy named Oliver had the nickname Olly, or else it was considered peculiar to me.
She glanced at Kyle, then at me, and lowered her arms.
"Well, Oliver, my name is Heaven, and I'm delighted to meet you."
"Yeah, same here," I responded, feeling nervous and uncomfortable. It was as if I were dating Kyle and meeting his mother. Was this how Isabelle felt when she met my dad? Poor Miss. Purpose.
"Well, come on in. I'm making Kyle's favorite," Heaven said. I took off my shoes and looked at Kyle, who showed no facial expression. It was as if he had reverted to being a teenager who no longer cared about anything.
"And what's that?" I asked as Kyle and I followed her into the kitchen.
"Fish and chips."
I glanced at Kyle again, my face questioning.
"Heaven was born in London, but she lost most of her accent when she moved to America."
I nodded in understanding when he finished explaining. Heaven looked at me and handed me a spoon.
"Would you please put this in the drawer to the left of the sink?"
I nodded and proceeded to open the drawer. Inside, I found spoons, butter knives, and forks.
I carefully placed the spoon with the others and closed the drawer. As I turned around, I noticed Kyle enjoying a fry while Heaven vigorously shook a zip lock bag filled with flour.
"So, are you married, Oliver?" She directed the question at me, but her gaze remained fixed on the bag of flour she was shaking.
"Heaven." Kyle interjected, but I laughed, indicating that it was alright.
"No, I am not."
"That's a shame. Is there any girl you're dating?... or guy?"
At that moment, I wished Kyle would scold her for her peculiar question, but he remained silent. So, I responded, "Umm, a guy?"
"Yeah, you have to ask nowadays." She concluded with a little giggle, causing me to glance at Kyle. He was still engrossed in his fries, completely oblivious to his wife's probing questions that made me feel uneasy.
"Well, no. I'm into women."
"So, you're not currently dating someone? Perhaps you have a crush?"
I wanted to tell her to mind her own business and stay out of mine, but I couldn't do that, especially with Kyle present in the room.
I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms. I should have been more careful with my choice of words, but I blurted out, "Yeah, her name is Isabelle." I felt a slight recoil at my response. I couldn't retract my words; they were out there. She processed them, as did Kyle and myself. And then, she reacted to those foolish words I uttered.
"Cool, are you two dating?"
"No, umm, it's complicated." I silently scolded myself, wanting to tell her to stop asking questions.
I realized where I was-in Kyle's house, in his kitchen, with his wife-discussing my love life.
Last night, when I thought about Taco Bell and leaving Isabelle behind, I would have never imagined finding myself in this situation.
"Hey, call her, ask her to come over for dinner." Heaven stopped shaking the bag and smiled brightly at me. I had my answer, locked, sealed, and ready to be shipped. But I couldn't say that one word. No, I couldn't say it.
"She works late tonight, and when she finishes, she'll be too exhausted," I explained.
"Really? Where does she work?" she asked, frowning.
"Um, the library," I replied.
She furrowed her eyebrows. "It's Monday, I don't think the library is open today."
Shit.
"She has two-"
"Dude, just call her," Kyle interrupted with a sigh. He had been sighing a lot since he arrived at my door.
In the end, I sent Isabelle a quick text, asking her to meet me at my place at nine.
No response yet.
I put my phone back in my pocket and smiled.
"Well, what did she say?" Heaven asked as she added raw fish to the bag of flour.
"She hasn't replied yet."
"Okay, let us know, will you?"
I nodded and gave her a small smile. She watched me for a moment too long before she resumed shaking the bag, this time with the raw fish.
As she did that, I rolled up my jacket sleeves and approached her. "Do you need any help?"
"Yes, can you cut more potatoes? Mr. Taste Tester here keeps eating all the fries," she said.
I chuckled, washed my hands, and sat at the table. She brought me a bag of potatoes, a knife, and a bowl before returning to fry the fish.
I reached for the knife, its metal gleaming in the light. I glanced up and met Kyle's intense gaze. He watched, glaring at me. His stare sent shivers down my spine. A chill that made my hands tremble as I held the knife to the oddly shaped potato. I couldn't stop looking into those eyes, a fire burning within them, filled with hatred and anger.
I was about to excuse myself when my phone rang. I didn't hesitate to jump up from the table, clutching my phone in one hand and the knife in the other.
"Excuse me," I said, absentmindedly taking the knife with me outside and answering the call from Isabelle.
"Hello?" I called out.
"I don't know if I should shout or scream," she said.
I sighed, relieved to hear her voice. It felt as if I had reunited with someone I hadn't seen in years. It was like listening to a song that transported me back to a joyful time in my childhood. Words cannot adequately express the immense happiness I felt upon hearing her voice.
My heart momentarily ceased beating as I listened to her repeatedly call out to me, inquiring if I could hear her.
"Yes," I replied, "I can hear you." And from the day I parted ways with her at Taco Bell, leaving her alone, bewildered, cold, I hadn't cried since, but just the sound of her voice caused me to break down in tears.