The Trouble Is

Chapter 46: Bokeh

Tonight, East and I are going out on a date. It will be the first time since Katie died. We've been together a lot, just not out like on a real date. He calls around lunch to talk about our date night. It seems that I don't really want to text much these days. East prefers a conversation, anyway, so this whole telephoning thing is working.

"Hey, baby," he says when I answer on the first ring.

"Hey," I say.

"So, do you have anything in mind for tonight?" he asks.

The truth is, I don't even want to go out. I just want to sit at home in my pajamas. I might get fancy and put on some yoga pants and a clean t-shirt if we order out, but I'm having a hard time seeing myself going further than the yoga pants.

"I don't really care where we go or what we do," I say. "Maybe not be around a huge crowd, though. Just tell me what to wear, and I'll be ready."

He's silent for a minute or two. I know him well enough to know that he's trying to figure out whether it's time to push or just let go. I outwait him.

"OK," he says. "How about cutoffs and a t-shirt?"

I don't even ask what he has in mind. I just say fine and that I'll see him around seven. I'm already wearing cutoffs and a relatively clean t-shirt, so I'm good to go.

I spend the latter part of the afternoon watching episode after episode of Family Feud. Doug's at Chris's, and Skip is taking Mom out for dinner tonight. It should feel normal, but it doesn't. The rest of the day goes by with non-stop surveys and Steve Harvey's smile.

As I'm brushing my hair that evening and checking my teeth in the mirror, it comes to me: I figure out what is so abnormal about the evening. My parents have not had a date night of their own since pre-diagnosis. That's actually been a few years. That's definitely weird.

When I finally head to the kitchen, I see that East is sitting at the kitchen table with Skip drinking Gatorade. Skip's load of Earth-friendly grocery bags is stacked on the table, and the room smells a little like fresh dirt.

"Let's go, East," I say as I wave goodbye to Skip. "Tell Mom to have a great time tonight. I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

I almost sound normal, I think. It feels weird.

We promise to have me back by midnight, drive safe, and have fun. I nod as if I'm willing, but in truth I just need to get out of there. I feel like I'm living in a fishbowl at home. Everyone is watching me, waiting to see me fall apart. It's like I can't get away from this new world where there's just me. So much of my day was Katie. I never really knew that until it wasn't anymore.

I still don't even ask where we are going. It doesn't matter to me. I sit beside East in the truck and think about ghost me. I think about the summer list and about Katie wanting to lose her virginity.

"Maybe we should just do it?" I say it out loud before I even really know what I'm doing.

"Do what?" East asks.

"You know," I say. "Have sex."

East doesn't say anything, nothing at all. I hear him breathe louder once, a deep breath that fills his chest and then goes out through his nose. One of those meditation kind of breaths. I don't know if that's because he's glad I said that or not so glad.

"Don't you want to?" I ask.

Still no answer. Instead, he pulls into a local park. It's not the one where he works, but it's like a carbon copy. He parks the truck in the parking lot by the swings. He gets out of the truck and holds out his hand to help me slide over and get down. He holds my hand so tightly that I swear I can feel his pulse through it.