Heart Sparks: Tiny Stories of Love | ✓

24 • The Relunctant Heart

"So, you're never getting married then?"

Her sister's dinner guest had been grilling her for a little less than an hour. She knew because every time he reached for a snack or averted his gaze to consider his next question, she stole a glance at the clock.

She had tried to be polite, entertaining his natural curiosity. But this was uncharted territory. She couldn't think of anyone who had gotten to know so many things about her so quickly.

She thought through his question. She needed to offer a firm response, or he'd barrage her with more, attempting to poke holes in her theory.

"I don't see the need," she started. "I'm not going to be starting a family. I'm grateful that I don't need to share an income, I have my own home."

Considerately, he didn't question her choices or attempt to her persuade her that she might feel differently later.

"What if you met someone who felt the same way you did?" he asked.

"Then there still wouldn't be a need," she answered and held out her palms, placing them apart. "Two independent people, just living out their lives." 

He took one of his signature pauses. He was contemplating her answer.

"You could love someone and not want to be with them?" he asked, but he didn't face her. It seemed as though he was thinking through it himself. She responded anyway.

"It depends on what being with them would mean to you," she said. "I don't have anything against someone that needs, or wants, to live with someone to be with them."

"So," he said and paused, "you're not actually opposed to being in love then?"

She stopped.

No one had asked her that before. They had just assumed that being married, or committed, and being in love were synonymous.

It was something she hadn't fully developed an answer to herself. She'd always thought she liked the idea of love more than immersing herself in it. It seemed unnecessary to go through the motions just to feel them, or tell others that she had experienced it. Ironically, they would be more sympathetic if she had loved and lost. Or loved and got her heart broken.

She observed him as she thought of her answer, the same way he had been observing her. Not judging, not searching, just seeing him as he was.

His eyes were brown like hers, but lighter. She could see her reflection in them. His hair was jet black and hunched over, he was the same height as she was. Nothing about him stood out.

But nothing about him made her feel unsafe.

"I don't know," she said, finally. "I've only loved, but never been in love."

He nodded once, a slow gesture of understanding that was reflected in his own eyes. It seemed he'd never been in love either.

He excused himself. She thought he was heading toward the washroom but he had spotted her sister struggling with carrying dishes to the table. He approached her, taking the stack, and joining her back in the kitchen.

Her brother-in-law soon followed with her nephew, as did she. When they sat at the table, he caught her eye a few times and smiled, before joining back into the conversation with his questions. He even made her sister laugh.

As he left, he shook everyone's hand, including her own. Her brother-in-law pulled him into a hug instead and he laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

He slipped a paper in her hand as she followed him outside of the door.

"I meant to give it to you earlier," he said. "My parents are running a sketching class and your sister said that you had always wanted to learn."

"Thank you," she said, unfolding the quarter paper.

It was in three weeks' time and there was a phone number to register. She'd sign up as soon as she got home.

He nodded again, averting his gaze to the pavement, and waved before his car left the driveway.

Her sister joined her on the porch swing with a blanket when she didn't come back inside.

She smiled and her sister laughed knowingly, pulling her in close.