That Spark

HERE

I look over my shoulder one last time, waving and blowing kisses to Buttons in Dean's arms, who is standing out on the front porch.

I am already half-way down the driveway, hoping for Hayden to babble something or to beckon to me.

I really don't want to hit the streets all alone . . . .

But as far as Dean is concerned, 'Andrea'; my friend from high school who has 'recently moved here' is 'accompanying' me on my day out. Andrea doesn't exist, of course; not since last night and not outside my head. Active imagination, remember?

But what Dean doesn't know won't hurt him.

That is, if my lack of company would hurt him.

But in hindsight, I think I prefer no other's company.

I sigh again in contradiction, as Hayden only fists and unfists her fingers toward me, and then giggles. I blow one last kiss, looking at Dean, before setting off down the street.

Dean also thinks that I am supposed to meet Andrea and that she would be driving us.

But I really feel like walking it.

A day out . . .

I cannot remember the last time I went out; even before Hayden was born. Wanderlust was something obscurely lacking in my blood.

I like staying at home with Hayden. If it really started to get to me, then I would take a trip for something important; like to the grocery store and that was barely once a month.

And that was many months ago.

Most recently, I've had no time to even realize that I'm bored thanks to my thinking spree.

I sigh again, eyeing a twenty-something couple; but definitely younger to Dean and I, walk past with a realtor on their tail, holding hands.

Ah. Young love. Looking for a new house to start a family.

I remember; just three years ago when Dean and I were looking for one . . .

We followed the realtor through the unfurnished house that we now call our home, with a wedge wide enough to drive a truck in between us.

'The master bath you'll find, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan if you follow me, to be a result of smart planning and smarter construction. It allows the maximum amount of natural light inside with not a shaft out of place . . .'

That was when I had lost Mr. Jenkins. Because Dean had laced his fingers with mine and pulled me closer to himself, pointing to the toilet paper tail sticking out of Mr. Jenkins' trousers.

I cupped my mouth when giggles threatened to burst through, and Dean buried his lips into my ear, hushing me repeatedly. I could feel the smile he was trying to hide in my hair.

'Tell him.' I mouthed when he pulled away, but Dean blatantly shook his head.

'Hm . . .' We heard Mr. Jenkins muse, and then watched him head off into the shower. 'These blueprints aren't supposed to be here . . .'

'Dean, you have to tell him.'

'No.' He frowned, a smile still lingering on his lips.

'Come on. Wouldn't you want someone telling you?'

'Something like that would never happen to me in the first place.'

'What if it does?' I challenged, blowing a gust of wind that would push this humble argument off the edge into a full blown fight with no gravity.

'Then I'll have you to tell me, won't I, Mrs. Duncan?'

I nearly stopped in my steps.

That was the closest thing to an 'I love you' I had ever gotten. I am actually still confused about the implied meaning.

I could say it to him first, but fear overwhelmed my advances every time. I was afraid that he wouldn't say those words back to me. That's what I've always been afraid of; rejection and being let down. And I owe it all to Mother Martha.

But apart from that, there has always been something about Dean that has kept me aware; that he was nervous--no, uncomfortable around me ever since we first meet. And the lack of comfort had only grown into resentfulness over time.

'Let's get back to the bathroom later. . .'

Mr. Jenkins voice kept talking in time with the memory playing on my subconscious mind-screen, and I will my awakened senses back to it.

'The bedroom walls by the by, happen to be 10 inches thick and reasonably soundproof.'

I remember Mr. Jenkins' smirk directed at us, and the shy smile I had exchanged with Dean. I remember plotting for that night too.

Little did I know about the endless times I had to wait for Dean to make a move. I would never go first. And slowly, the rejection had started to sprout into a genuine fear.

So now stands a fully grown tree in its place, placating and making me think my every move, until eventually, I had stopped trying.

I do take the blame for how things are, because from my end, I've given up. Things are moving along for now, but I cannot guarantee anything in the future.

I sniff back the tears when I am aware of them, and I find myself walking along the sidewalk in the market area.

Bright colors and novel noises grasp my attention, and I come to my senses.

Dean had meant for me to take this day out so I could get my mind off things; not change the venue of my reprieving thoughts.

In light of that, I stand up straighter and take in a deep breath, along with which a range of mouth-watering aromas replenish my senses. And for a moment, they are the only occupants of my head.

So I follow the scent that reels me in like a fishing line, down the street and past a door into a quaint but cozy diner; behind which stands today's purpose.