Needing Her Read online

  “Rachel.” She waits for me to look at her. “Did he really love you?”

  I hesitate, not sure how to answer. I’ve never really thought about that. When Adam told me he loved me, I believed him. He said the words and I assumed he meant them. But looking back, I honestly don’t think he did. I never really felt like he did. Then again, I’ve never been in love so I don’t know the signs. But I know Adam, and I know he’s the type of guy who would marry me because it was the next logical step in our relationship. He’s a very logical person. He acts with his brain, not his heart. He’d invested a year with me, we’d both finished college, our families knew each other, we’re from the same town. To him, it made sense to marry me, then get a house and have kids. But when the kid part wasn’t possible, it disrupted his plan and he no longer saw a future with me.

  “No,” I say quietly as I realize this for the first time.

  “No, what?”

  “You’re right. Adam didn’t love me. He just thought he should marry me.”

  She puts her hand on mine. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I really am.”

  “It’s okay.” I wipe my eyes and look at her. “Actually, I’m glad you asked me that. You made me see something I should’ve seen a long time ago. Adam never loved me.”

  “But someday, someone will. And when you find him, he’ll want to marry you no matter what.”

  I smile. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

  She shrugs. “It’s from watching my parents. They’ve been married thirty years and are still totally in love with each other. And if my mom had told my dad thirty years ago that she couldn’t have kids, he would’ve still married her. She’s the only woman for him. There’s no way he would’ve let her go.”

  “Your mom’s lucky. Most men aren’t like that.”

  “Some of them are. You just need to find the right one.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because I don’t want you to end up an old maid with fifty cats because of some asshole who dumped you back in college.” She pulls me up from the couch. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  I laugh. “I’m not going to end up an old maid. I’m just taking a break from dating.”

  “Which is a horrible idea.” She drags me to the counter and takes a seat on the stool next to mine. “You’re in your prime, Rachel. This is the time to find a man.” She picks up her fork and waves it at me. “Look how gorgeous you are. Any guy would love to go out with you.”

  “Yeah, right. I hardly ever get asked out.”

  “Because you’ve closed yourself off and guys sense that. Men are like dogs. They sniff around and if they get the sense you’re not interested, they move on.”

  I take a sip of my now warm beer. “Trust me, Shelby. Nobody’s been sniffing around.”

  “You need to ask that guy out.”

  “What guy?”

  “The one from the lecture series. The hot rich guy.”

  “I am not asking him out. He’d probably laugh at me.”

  She jumps up and goes around the kitchen counter and takes the phone book out of the drawer. “What’s his name? I’ll look up his number.”

  “I already have his number. He gave it to me that day I met him.”

  She drops the phonebook. “He gave you his number? That means he wants to go out with you!”

  “No, it doesn’t. He just gave me his business card. He probably hands them out all the time.”

  “Rachel.” She comes back around the counter, turning me toward her. “This man is interested in you. He gave you his number because he wants you to call him.”

  “No. It’s not like that. He just said if I have any business questions, I could call him. He was just being nice.”

  She steps back, her hands on her hips. “Did you tell him you’re a history major?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then he knows you wouldn’t call him with a business question. He gave you his number hoping you’d call him for some other reason. Like for a date.”

  “That’s not why he gave it to me. He seems like someone who’s used to being the one in control, which means he’s not the type of man who wants a woman asking him out.”

  “I’m telling you, Rachel. He wouldn’t give you that card unless he wanted you to call him. He wanted to see you again. And from the look on your face, I can tell you want to see him too.”

  “What look on my face? I don’t have a look on my face.”

  She rolls her eyes. “When you talk about him you get this dreamy look on your face and you can’t stop smiling.”

  “I smile all the time.”

  “Not like that.” She points to my face. “That’s a different kind of smile and you only do it when you talk about this guy. You need to ask him out. Then you’ll know for sure why he gave you that card, and if you find out he’s not interested, you’ll be able to stop thinking about him.”

  “Hmm.” I chew on my lip and look off to the side. “It’s not the worst idea. But instead of asking him out, maybe I could take a less direct approach. Like maybe invite him to have coffee. Tell him I’d like to learn more about what he does at his job. That’s kind of like asking him business questions but more personal. And honestly, I am interested in his job and his family’s company. I’ve never met anyone who runs a company that large. Well, his father runs it, but he’ll probably take it over someday.”

  “So you’re going to ask him out?”

  “Yes, but it’s not a date. It’s just two people having a conversation at a coffee shop.”

  “Call him right now. You can use my phone.”

  “I’m not calling him now. We need to eat. I’m starving.”

  We reheat our food in the microwave and finish our dinner. Afterward, as we’re cleaning up, I notice Shelby’s pager on the counter. I wonder if that guy’s going to page her again tonight. I guess I shouldn’t assume it’s a guy but why else would she leave late at night like that? It has to be for a guy.

  As I’m putting the plates away, I say, “So do you want to go out Friday night? Maybe to a club or something?”

  I never go to clubs. I don’t have money for drinks and even if I did, I don’t drink much. But I’m thinking if we go out, maybe Shelby will meet someone and forget about this guy who keeps paging her every night.

  She dries her hands on the dishtowel. “I can’t imagine you at a club.”

  “Why?” I point my finger at her. “And don’t you dare say it’s because I’m a wholesome farm girl.”

  She laughs. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

  I shake my head, smiling. “Do you want to go or not?”

  “Why would you want to go to a club?”

  “Because you might meet someone there.”

  “Yeah. Guys who are drunk or high and looking for a quick hook-up in the bathroom.”

  That’s probably true. The few times I’ve been to a club, they did seem to be filled with people just looking to hook up.

  “How about someone at work? Is there anyone you’re interested in?”

  “Why are you trying to find me a guy?”

  “I just thought you might want to go on a date. If you’re pushing me to go on one, you should have to go on one too. You said it’s been a while. By the way, why’s it been so long? I’m sure you get asked out a lot.”

  “I do, but I turn them down. The guys I attract don’t want to date me. To them, I’m just a one night stand. That’s it.”

  “Then you’re dating the wrong guys. Why don’t you try dating one of the Yale guys? Start having lunch on campus. Guys are always hanging out on the benches there between classes.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s hilarious.”

  “Why?”

  “Rachel, I have a GED. A Yale guy is not going to date a girl with a GED.”

  “And a rich, successful businessman is not going to date a farm girl from Indiana. But you still told me to ask him out.”

  “Our situations are n
ot at all comparable. You’re in grad school at a fancy private college. It doesn’t matter where you grew up. You’re smart and successful and you have a future. The only thing you don’t have is money. And that’s not enough of a reason for this guy to turn you down.”

  “Shelby, why won’t you date?” I ask cautiously. “Is it because you’re already seeing someone?”

  She wipes down the counter with a paper towel. “What makes you think I’m seeing someone?”

  “Because you disappear all the time at night. And sometimes I don’t hear you get home until three or four in the morning.”

  She throws the paper towel down on the counter. “Are you my babysitter now? Waiting up all night to see when I get home?”

  “No. But the walls are thin and I can hear the door open and close. It wakes me up.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “Then I’ll be sure to be quieter next time.”

  “Shelby, I don’t care about the noise. I’m just worried about you. If some guy is making you do things you don’t want to do, or hurting you, or threatening you if you leave, then—”

  “What are you talking about?” She storms into the living room. “Nobody is making me do anything! Would you just drop it?”

  I follow her. “I’m just trying to help. There’s a women’s center near campus. They have people there who could help you get away from this guy. You can’t let him control you like this.”

  She puts her hand up. “Okay, stop. There is no guy. Nobody is controlling me or abusing me.”

  “Then why do you keep leaving at night? And why do you have a pager?”

  She hesitates. “Because my mom needs to be able to reach me.” She turns away but I go around to face her.

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  She sighs. “My dad is sick, okay? He has cancer. It’s terminal. They can’t do anything for him so he’s at home and he needs constant care. Sometimes my mom needs a break, especially at night, so I go over there and keep an eye on my dad so she can sleep.”

  Now it makes sense why Shelby always gets nervous and panicked whenever her pager goes off. She thinks it’s her mom paging her to say something bad happened to her dad.

  I take her to the couch to sit down. “Shelby, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I like to pretend it’s not happening. My dad and I are really close and I’m not ready for him to go, which is selfish of me because he’s in a lot of pain and it’d probably be better if he passed away.” Two big tears roll down her cheeks. “But I don’t want him to. I’m not ready.”

  I reach over and hug her. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were going through all this. Can I do something? Anything you need. Just tell me.”

  She pulls away. “I need you to act normal. Pretend you don’t know what’s going on. I can’t be sad and depressed twenty-four hours a day. I’m serious, Rachel. I can’t do it. It’s too much. Having you as a neighbor has been great because you’re funny and you smile constantly and laugh all the time. And although your constant need to hug me can be annoying, I’ve learned to look past it. We all have our flaws.” She smiles.

  “Hey!” I sit up straight. “Hugging is not a flaw.”

  “It is when you can’t control it.”

  “I can control it.”

  “No, you can’t. You hug everyone. People you don’t even know. Is that some Midwest thing? Because I’ll be honest with you, people here will think you’re crazy for doing that.”

  “I do not hug people I don’t know.”

  “You hugged the mailman yesterday!”

  “Because he delivered that package from my mom. She sent me homemade cookies and I was excited when the box arrived.”

  “Then you call and thank your mom for sending it. You don’t hug the mailman.”

  “He’s old and he had to carry that box up three flights of stairs and I thought he could use a hug.”

  She laughs. “I swear, you are just too damn sweet. I’ve seriously never met anyone like you.”

  I put my hand on her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “What did I just say? You’re supposed to act like I never told you this. Let’s just watch TV.”

  “Okay, but if you ever need anything, just ask. Or if you just need to talk, I’m here. I kind of know what you’re going through.”

  “Your dad had cancer?”

  “My sister did. My twin sister.” It’s another topic I avoid talking about. Another painful memory from my past. But if it comforts Shelby in any way, then I’m willing to share it. “My sister had leukemia and she died when we were six.” I blink away the tears and take a breath. “Even though I was young, I still knew what was happening, and it killed me to watch her go through that. And then to lose her. She was my other half and then she was gone. I don’t even like talking about it, but I thought it might help you to know I’ve been there. I know it’s not the same situation, but still. I understand how hard it is…and how much it hurts. So if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.”

  She seems uncomfortable so I leave her alone and don’t say any more. She flips through the channels, looking for something to watch. I wish she’d let me help her, but then again, I don’t know how I could help. When my sister died, there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better. And it took a really long time to get past it.

  Shelby and I watch a movie and when it’s over I go back to my apartment. I need to get some reading done for class. But first, I take Pearce’s business card out of my backpack. On one side is the company logo and on the other side it reads as follows.

  Pearce Kensington

  Director of Strategic Development

  Kensington Chemical, Inc.

  Below that is his number. Should I call it? I wasn’t going to. I only told Shelby I would so she’d stop bugging me to ask him out. But now I think I might do it. I really want to see him again.

  Maybe it’s too late. I should’ve called him right away. Will he think it’s weird if I call him a week later?

  I take the card and go over to the phone in the kitchen. I’m doing this. I’m calling him before I change my mind.

  The phone rings at least seven times and I’m about to hang up, but then he answers. “Hello.”

  “Pearce?” My throat is already dry and I’ve only said one word. Why am I so nervous?

  “Yes. This is Pearce Kensington.” He sounds very serious. Maybe this was a bad time to call. “Can I help you?”

  “You might not remember me, but we met last week at Yale. You gave me your card and—”

  “Rachel. Rachel Evans.” His tone lightens, the seriousness gone. “The girl who arrived at 12:15. How could I forget?”

  I cringe. That’s what he remembers me for? Being late? I should just hang up now.

  “Yeah. Again, I’m really sorry about walking in so late.”

  He laughs, a short but deep laugh. “I was just kidding. How are you doing, Rachel?”

  He’s asking how I’m doing? I wasn’t prepared for that. I thought he’d just sit quietly on the phone while I asked him out and then he’d tell me no, but in a nice way. He seems nice.

  “I’m okay,” I answer.

  “How are your classes going?”

  “They’re going well. I meant to call you earlier but I’ve been busy with school and work.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “At a small museum near campus. I sit at the front desk and also give tours.”

  “I would love to take part in one of these tours. Do you give them every day?”

  He wants to go on one of my tours? Is he serious? The man has probably been to museums all over the world and he wants to go to my teeny, tiny museum that hardly has a collection?

  “The tours are just for special groups, like school groups or senior outings. They’re usually not every day.”

  “I see. So could I arrange for a special tour? I’d be happy to make a generous donation to
the museum.”

  “The tours are free, but yes, you could certainly make a donation if you’d like. We limit the tours to twenty people. How many people do you plan to have in your group?”

  “Two. Or if you don’t count yourself, then one.”

  “Oh. So you’re saying you want a private tour?”

  Did that sound dirty? Like I was implying something? God, I hope not. But for some reason it sounded dirty when I said it.

  “Yes. I would like a private tour with you as my tour guide. I’m available this Friday at 4 p.m. Would that work?”

  This is happening so fast I can’t think. Did he just ask me out?

  “Rachel, are you still there?”

  “Yes. Four would be perfect.”

  “Excellent. Now, as for the reason you called, did you have a business question you’ve been dying to ask?” He sounds like he’s kidding again. When I met him at Yale, he didn’t seem like the type of person who jokes around. He was so serious. But I like this side of him. It makes me feel not so nervous.

  “Yes. I mean, no, I don’t have a business question, at least not a specific one. I called because I thought maybe we could meet for coffee. I’d love to learn what you do and learn more about your company.”

  “You’re interested in the company? You do know we make chemicals, right?”

  He’s joking again and this time I laugh. “Yes. But I’m still interested in learning more about it. And about you.”

  I cringe again. I shouldn’t have said that last part. It sounded like I was flirting and I’m not. Okay, maybe I am, but I shouldn’t be because I don’t know him and he may not like me that way. But he did invite himself on a tour with me, so maybe he does like me that way.

  “I would very much like to have coffee with you, Rachel. Would you like to meet tomorrow?”

  “I would very much like to meet tomorrow, Pearce.” I say it in the same formal tone he used.

  He chuckles. “Very well, then. Tomorrow it is. Shall we meet at six?”

  “Sure. There’s a coffee shop downtown called Barista’s. It’s not as crowded as the ones near campus.”

  “Yes, I’ve been there.”

  “Are you coming from work? Because if it’s too far to drive, I can meet you somewhere else.”