What's Left Of Me Part 19

I make a quick move of checking my hair, but it feels good, so I don't worry about it.

"Thanks," I say to Parker as he helps me sit on the bench.

"You'll need to ice that. It looked like you hit pretty hard."

"I did." One good thing about falling is I can pa.s.s off the pain I've been already feeling as this new pain.

I ask Parker to skip dinner and take me home. My hip is throbbing, and I can feel the new bruise forming over the old, but he won't listen. He insists we go back to his house and finish the date, offering to make me dinner and possibly watch a movie, saying it won't be a true date if he takes me home without feeding me. So, off to his place we go for homemade pizza.

"Do you want some wine?"

"Sure. Just a small gla.s.s." Because my chemo was postponed a week, and it's five days before my next one, I was told it would be okay to have a drink or two.

He pours us each half a gla.s.s of white wine, and we clink gla.s.ses in a silent toast. I watch him taste a small sip before taking a larger one. He makes drinking wine look professional compared to my gulps. Cla.s.sy!

As Parker puts sauce on our pizza dough, I start adding toppings.

"Tell me more about where you're from. It's a small town, right?" Parker asks.

"Correct. Northridge is very small. It's outside of the twin cities and I think there are maybe three thousand people who live there."

"Yup. Never heard of it."

I can't help but giggle. "I wouldn't expect you to; you're not from here. But don't worry, you're not alone. About 80% of the state hasn't heard of it. I usually have to give the name of a major town around me. We don't have much, but we do have plenty of bars. There's not a dry mouth in that town!"

He laughs at that. "Sounds like my town. It's small, but there are plenty of places to find a stiff drink. Oh, and a clinic."

Taking a quick sip of my wine, I ask, "What is it with small towns having a lot of bars?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

I add the last of the pepperoni just in time for the oven to beep.

Parker puts our pizza in the oven.

"How old were you when your parents adopted Genna?"

"My parents adopted her first. They had tried to have a baby for a few years and couldn't, so they adopted. Then, voila, they had me." I add in the spirit fingers with a huge grin. Parker laughs.

"That's awesome. I take it you two are close?"

"Yeah. We get along really well. You mentioned when we first went out that you have a younger brother. How about you two? You close?"

"Oh, Lee and I? Yeah. We are. We're opposites, though. He played football; I played hockey. I golf in the spring; he plays baseball. We're both athletic, just not at the same sports. But, regardless, we always have a good time."

"Lee?"

"Yeah. Don't tell me you know him?" he jokes.

I laugh.

"No, can't say I know a Lee. It's just, that's my middle name, but spelled L-e-i-g-h."

"No s.h.i.t. Well, don't get too comfortable with having things in common with my brother," he teases.

"What's yours?" I ask.

"My middle name?"

I nod.

"Cade."

Cade. I like that. Giving him a soft smile, I tell him.

"Thank you."

"Does your brother live in Florida?"

"Yes. He works for my dad's finance company."

"Did your dad want you to work for him too?"

"No. My parents never pressured us into anything. As long as we went to college they were happy and supportive. Lee just happens to be really good with numbers and accounting, so it made sense that he'd follow in my dad's footsteps. I'm more like my mom. She never worked aside from running the hobby farm. All she wanted to do was be outside with the animals. I saw her admiration and love for animals, and I knew I wanted to be like her."

Parker opens the fridge and pulls out a bowl full of cotton candy grapes. Oh my, they are out of this world! Whoever thought to grow hybrid grapes like these is pure genius. Reaching in, I grab a handful and pop one in my mouth.

"How come you don't have a boyfriend?"

I nearly choke on the grape. "Excuse me?"

"A boyfriend. How come you're single?"

"How come you're single?"

"Because my girlfriend left me. Now you."

Oh s.h.i.t. Hitting territory I don't want to go.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. She did me a favor. How come you don't have a boyfriend?"

I take a deep breath and let it out. Why don't I have a boyfriend? Because I got cancer. Adam got scared and couldn't handle it. He left me. The guys since have just been filler. "He left me."

"How long ago?"

"How long ago did your girlfriend leave you?" I'm not sure I want to know, but the longer I can keep myself out of this conversation the better.

"A year. You?"

"Why?"

"You."

What has it been now? I count the years in my head. "Four."

"Months?"

"Years."

"You haven't had a boyfriend in four years?"

I shrug.

"Seriously?"

"Well, I've dated and had short relationships every now and then, but nothing serious."

"Wow. Why?"

"Okay, this is. .h.i.tting too close for comfort. Change of subject, please."

"I'm not trying to put you on the spot. I'm in shock. A beautiful woman like you, roaming the streets for four years. I can't wrap my head around it."

"I was never roaming the streets." I laugh.

"Why'd he leave you?"

"Why did she leave you?"

"She wanted to get married."

Yup, I am really hitting territory I don't want to go into.

"You didn't?" Do I want to know this? Yes. No.

"No."

"That's harsh."

"I want to get married. I just ... I couldn't give her what she wanted at the time. She wanted a ring. I was looking into internship programs. I didn't know where I'd end up. I wanted her with me, by my side, but I didn't think I needed to give her a ring to prove that to her. When she asked for one, I said I wasn't ready. I came home the next day to an almost empty apartment."

"Because you wouldn't get her a ring?"

"Guess so." He takes a longer sip of his wine this time.

"I'd be happy with that."

Parker raises his eyebrows and lowers the gla.s.s. "You'd be happy if I didn't get you a ring?"

"No. I mean, yeah, but not like how you think. I mean ..." Why do I always find myself in a hole? "I don't want to get married. So I, personally, would be thrilled knowing I was with a guy who wasn't thinking about getting me a ring."

"You don't want to get married?"

"Nope."

"Ever."

"Ever."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right guy."

"No, that's not it."

"Ouch."

I let out an awkward laugh.

"So, is that why the boyfriend of the small town left you? He wanted to get married, work the farm while you raised the babies?"

"The farm?" Babies?

"Yeah. You said you were from a small town. Isn't that what people in small towns do? Get married out of high school and have kids?"

"This isn't the South or 1950. And, no, that's not why he left me." I honestly don't know if that's what they do in the South.

"Then why?"

Because he was a coward? Ah, that's not nice. Adam was a great guy. He was just a scared eighteen year old. I don't blame him. I probably would have left me too.

"We had different plans in life. My plans didn't match his. He went his separate way. I went mine. I don't blame him."

"And, what are your plans in life, Aundrea?"

Stay alive. "Graduate. Travel the world. Spoil my sister's kids. Enjoy life."

The oven goes off and I jump.

I watch, sipping my wine, as Parker takes out our pizza. It's done to perfection. The cheese is golden brown and bubbling from the heat. The smell of Italian spices fills his kitchen. He grabs a pizza cutter and starts cutting it into small squares.

"Where are your plates?" I ask.

"Second cupboard to your left."

Walking over to the cupboard, I take out two white square plates.

"Here you go." I hand him our plates, allowing him to dish up some slices. Sitting at his table, I blow on my pizza before taking a bite.