Flashcards On The Wall

Chapter 26: One Good Day

I ended up telling Gabe that what I wanted for my birthday was to spend the entire day with him. Lately we are not clicking at all. One or both of us is either busy, tired, frustrated, or just not in the mood to see the other. One good day. That's what we need. It falls on a Thursday and we both agree to free our day. He doesn't tell me what we're going to do until we're done having breakfast.

"We're doing what?" I ask.

I'm pretty sure I misheard Gabe just now.

"We're going to get your first tattoo," he says.

"No, we're not," I state.

"You want one," he tells me.

"Why? Because I get jealous that you have one and I don't because I'm a chicken? So what? That doesn't mean anything," I say.

"Wouldn't it be cool if today you could do something that makes you feel brave?" he asks.

It might.

"I haven't even made up my mind about what I would get," I reason.

"That's what this is for," he hands me a paper.

"What's this?" I ask.

"An idea, take a look."

It's a drawing. I look from the paper up at him.

"It's a pen writing something?" I ask.

"It's you," he says.

"Explain please," I tell him.

"You are the only person I know that is always writing on their hands. You carry a pen with you everywhere," he claims.

"So do a lot of people," I say.

"Remember that day at the beach-" he starts.

"We've been there a few times," I interrupt.

"We were sitting in my car because it was too cold, but you insisted on wanting to see the ocean. We talked about everything we wanted out of life. You told me about your dream house and I drew it on a notepad you had with you with the pen you take everywhere."

"For the record I own multiple pens. I'm not like obsessed with one pen in particular," I say.

"Noted," he responds.

"And you were supposed to give me that drawing. I wanted to frame it," I remind him.

"You left it in the glove compartment of my car."

Gabe gets his wallet out of his back pocket. He opens it and takes out a folded piece of paper which he hands to me. I unfold the paper and look at the drawing. I see the rooms. The office Gabriel insisted I would love. Even the garden he drew that I tried to talk him out of because I could never keep a plant alive. All in black in ink. It makes me smile. On the back it reads: One day. Our initials below it.

"I carry it with me because it reminds me of you," Gabe says.

"I love that story," I reply.

"Now you tell me that tattoo of a pen doesn't represent you," he tells me.

Would I take into consideration something that Gabe picked out to be permanently marked on me?

"What's it going to be?" he asks.

"She survived!" Gabe exaggerates having just left the tattoo studio, "Any regrets?"

"No," It was the truth. I had none, at least none in regard to the new permanent mark on my body, "I do know where I want to go next though."

"Where?" he asks.

I stop walking and turn to face him, "It would interfere with whatever else you had in mind for the rest of the day."

"What is it?" he asks.

"I want to go home," I say.

"Your apartment?" he questions.

"No. Home. As in my parents' house," I answer.

"Today?" he's confused.

"Yes," I answer.

"Right now?" he asks.

"You don't have to come with me, but she called me this morning and left a message. And I just keep thinking, I need fix this. We're not talking and that's not us," I explain.

He takes a few moments to try to read me and consider his options.

"Well it's a bit of a drive so we should get going."

Wait. What?

He starts walking again but I'm confused.

He wants to go with me?

"We don't want to catch traffic," he adds.

"You'll go to my parent's house? Where you will have to meet them?" I ask.

"Did you not say you wanted to spend the day with me?"

"Yes," I reply.

"Have you changed your mind?" he asks.

"No," I answer.

"I guess we have some driving to do," he concludes.

From the passenger seat I look over at Gabe and wonder what often comes to mind, how someone like him wasn't already taken when we met. Maybe it's because he never really lets anyone see the real him. Even with me Gabe always has his guard up. That has to be exhausting. He catches me looking.

"I'm just enjoying the view from the passenger seat," I tell him.

"You worried?" he asks.

"No. I just want everything to be okay. I'm sorry I changed our plan at the last minute. I said a day to ourselves and look at us now..." I say.

"We can do that anytime," he assures me.

"But we don't...we get caught up in everything else...I forget that I'm a very lucky girl," I explain.

He reaches for my hand and brings it up to his lips.

"We can do this right? We can make this work? Us?" I ask.

"We are doing this. This works," he assures me.

"I love you Gabe," I say.

"I love you," he replies.