16 Sebastian
Dinner was in the oven keeping warm, there was soft, instrumental worship playing through the Bluetooth speaker on the counter, an apple cinnamon candle had been lit on the coffee table, I'd showered, dressed in something semi-nice, lit a fire in the fireplace, taken my pills, and it was only ten-till seven.
So, maybe I'd gotten a little ahead of myself and started dinner too early, but at least it was done, and Summer would be there any minute, so we could eat soon as she was ready. Until then, I paced the living room floor, my eyes peeking into the darkness through the window to see heavy snow illuminated by the street lights. I said a prayer that she'd make it safe, then paced some more.
There was no reason for me to be nervous. Summer had spent most of the day at my house, had shared a kiss in my armchair that I ceased my pacing to sit in, but for some reason, her coming now felt more official, and I was scared senseless. It was the first time I'd have made her anything other than pre-packaged cocoa; the first time she'd be in my place after dark. Maybe that was what it was.
It was dark, it was cold. I had a cozy fire made and a comfy couch to curl up on. With the way my body had responded to her from just a kiss, I feared what else may happen between us when the circumstances seemed appropriate. Pursing my lips, I stared into the fire, half tempted to put it out, but didn't get a chance before the front door was knocked on.
Rising, I smoothed my shirt and hair and moved to open the door, quickly stood aside to allow Summer to enter. She was shivering, with flakes of snow dotting her hair and coat, which she shook out over the rug as she shrugged out of her jacket. I took it from her and hung it on the hook behind the door as she unwound her scarf and handed it to me as well.
I stood mesmerized as she shook out her hair, the bouncing tresses of red silk flying wildly to fall heavy over her shoulders and down her back. She was dressed in a navy-blue sweater with rhinestones across the chest, and tight white jeans that cupped her perfect butt, making me blush for having noticed. Black boots rose all the way up to her knees, the heels of which were crusted in ice.
"I'm sorry I'm late." She breathed as she brushed her hair back from her face. "I couldn't decide what to wear, and the weather is just... awful." She shook her head as she looked over my shoulder at the snow falling through the kitchen window .
Catching her hand, I drew her eyes to me and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "You look beautiful." I whispered, and she beamed. "And you're not late." I released her hand and started toward the kitchen. "Rather, I started a bit early."
After donning the pot holder mitts from the counter, I stooped and opened the oven, pulled out the cast iron skillet containing a bubbly chicken piccata, and set it on the stove. Summer groaned from where she leaned against the counter, watching me.
"That smells amazing!"
I grinned as I retrieved the mashed potatoes and green beans as well, and set them beside the skillet. "Guess you can decide for yourself how it compares against my driving." I teased, and she rolled her eyes.
"I can tell just by the smell that it won't compare to your driving."
She rounded the bar and came to my side, swiped a finger through the mashed potatoes and stuck it in her mouth as I gaped at her.
"Such manners."
Grinning wide, she swiped another finger and rubbed the potato over my lips. My heart kicked into my throat as I licked it off, then grimaced.
"Needs salt."
She shook her head as she licked the remnants and turned away. "No. Needs nothing."
Taking her bag from where she set it on a bar stool, she opened it, and I watched her as she lifted out a bottle of Merlot, a flush of embarrassment in her eyes.
"Everything online says its courteous to bring a bottle of wine to a dinner date." She said, and I smiled as her cheeks blossomed. "So, do you? Drink at all, I mean?" She gestured the bottle toward me as I rounded to her.
"Unfortunately, I can't, because of my medication." And a history I'd rather not repeat, but she needn't know that yet.
Frowning, she poked out a lip before setting the bottle on the counter. "In that case, it's a good thing I also brought this." She reached back into the bag and pulled out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice, making me laugh. "Better?"
"Better." I said, and took her hand in mine. "You are amazing."
"I'm starving, actually." She said, her cheeks blushing again.
Grinning wide, I released her hands and moved back into the kitchen. She came in behind me as I was taking plates down from the cabinet, and took them to set two places at the bar. She also took the wine glasses I pulled down after, and rummaged through the drawers until she had found a cork screw, popped the top on the wine.
"You mind if I have a glass?" She asked, gesturing to the Merlot.
Glancing at her as I spooned chicken on the plates, I shook my head. "Knock yourself out." She poured a half a glass of wine for herself, then a glass of juice for me and set them before each place. "Why don't we eat at the table before the fire?" I offered, and she glanced back at the coffee table before nodding.
"Yeah, good idea."
I helped her carry the dishes into the living room, but hesitated as I watched her lower herself onto the floor instead of the couch. When I caught her looking up at me, confused, I shrugged.
"If I get down, I won't be able to get back up." I admitted.
Though she laughed a moment, she patted the spot on the floor in front of the armchair. "I'll help you."
Smiling, I lowered beside her and prayed over the food, then leaned back to watch her as she cut into her chicken. Her eyes closed on a pleasured sigh with her first bite, and I laughed as she fell back over the couch, groaning.
"Does it meet your approval?"
Leaning up, she shook her head. "Approval nothing. This has redefined chicken piccata for me. I will never eat at Olive Garden ever again."
Chuckling, I cut into my own food and took a bite, then waved a hand side to side. "Meh."
She eyed me incredulously. "Meh? That's all you have to say about it?"
I shrugged. "It's good, but it's not outstanding. I doubt Gordon Ramsay would approve."
Shaking her head, she took another bite. "You're nuts. Gordon Ramsay would ask for the recipe."
I gave her an amused huff as we both took another bite.
"This really is phenomenal, Sebastian."
Blushing at her praise, I smiled. "Well, thank you. It's my mom's recipe, so I'll have to pass your compliment to her."
"And a gold ribbon to boot." She added. "One day, I'm gonna learn how to cook, and I'll make dinner for you."
Lifting my eyes to her, I watched as she took a sip of her wine, then chuckled. "You can't cook?"
She shrugged. "I can boil water. And heat Spaghettios and Stouffer's. Oh,and I've got the local Chinese place on speed dial!" And she seemed so proud of the fact.
Shaking my head, I feigned honest disappointment. "Oh, Summer, Summer, Summer. That's pitiful."
"Tell me about it."
"How did you never learn to cook?"
She shrugged again. "Well, my Mom was teaching me for a while, and then..." She trailed off, and I nodded.
"It's okay. I get it."
She swallowed the bite in her mouth, her eyes on her food before she took another long drink of her wine, then got up to pour another. I watched her, but didn't say anything as she returned.
"Could you teach me?" She asked, and I arched a brow at her.
"Teach you to cook?"
She nodded. "Why not? You could teach me to make this." She gestured to her plate, and I laughed.
"If you're serious, then we better start with something a bit simpler."
"Like what?"
"Like... scrambled eggs or grilled cheese."
"I like grilled cheese."
"Fine. Then when have more time, I'll teach you to make grilled cheese."
She grinned at me, then returned to her food. For several minutes, we ate in silence. Summer got a third glass of wine, and watched me as I munched through my green beans.
"Tell me about your girlfriend." She said suddenly, and I coughed as I choked on a green bean.
"What?"
"Tell me about your girlfriend." She said again, and I swallowed, used my fork to pick at my food as I shrugged.
"She's thirty-one with gray eyes and red hair, freckles on her nose. She likes cats and marvel movies..."
I stopped when she scoffed, and looked up to see her grinning. "I didn't mean me, weirdo."
I matched her smile. "Does that mean you accept being my girlfriend?"
She shrugged. "I kind of thought our kiss settled that for us."
My face flushed as I looked down at my food, the memory of her lips on mine rising fire in my veins. If I didn't get myself under control, I'd need another soak in the snow.
"I meant your old one. The one you said left you."
Well, that was one way to suppress a hormone. Inhaling deeply, I nodded. "I know you did." Clearing my throat, I poked at the few bites of chicken that remained on my plate. "Um... what... what did you want to know about her?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just curious. What was her name?"
"Molly."
She made a sound of agreement, and took a sip of her wine. Her cheeks were beginning to flush with the alcohol, and I tried to focus on the adorability of it as she spoke again. "Why did she leave you?"
I cleared my throat again. "Um... she didn't leave me so much as try to kill me."
Her fork clattered against the plate as she dropped it, her eyes wide when they met mine. "What? Are you joking?"
"No, I'm quite serious." I said, and drained my grape juice.
Her eyes still wide, Summer picked up my glass, then hers, and took them to the bar to refill them. "So... what... what did she do?"
I stared for a long time at my plate, the memories flashing so hard through my head I could barely see past them. Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. "I can't talk about it."
"Does it have anything to do with the scars on your back?"
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
"Oh, God. Sebastian, I'm so sorry. You don't have to tell me what happened. I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes against the memories, and when I opened them again, I saw Summer staring down at her plate, her expression looking both concerned, sad, and embarrassed. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back against the armchair and folded my arms.
"I broke my leg." I said, and she lifted her eyes to me.
"What?"
"It was how we found out that I had cancer." I said. "I was at the church with Tom, helping him remodel the sanctuary."
She nodded. "I saw a picture of you two painting it on Facebook."
I nodded as well. "All I did was step down off the stage and my right leg crumbled beneath me. It was the second worst pain I've ever felt in my life. I was screaming, and Tom was freaking out, trying to figure out what happened." I let out a long breath as I walked through the events in my memory. "He called Molly, then drove me to the hospital. The x-rays showed that I'd broken my leg in four places, which should have been impossible considering the circumstances."
I chanced a look at her to see her with a heartbroken expression, just watching me. Clearing my throat again, I continued.
"After a few more tests, doc comes back in and tells me that the bones of my right leg were about as dense as Styrofoam, and were riddled with tumors. They did a full body MRI after, and determined that I had late-stage cancer. So, of course, they're wanting to start treatment right away, and get me on chemo and all this junk, and Molly and I are just trying to recover from the shock." I swallowed hard, my arms loosening to let me finger the padded socket of the prosthetic on my leg.
"I was in the hospital less than a week before they decided that in order to stop the tumors that were rapidly spreading up through my leg, the best course of action would be to amputate. So, they did, then started me on chemo that was even stronger. All my hair fell out and I was sick all the time... it was awful."
When I looked at her, she had tears in her eyes, and I leaned over to wipe one away. "Do I want to know what happened next?" She whispered, and I shrugged.
"That's up to you. My baggage is mine to bear. Not yours."
She shook her head. "You're helping me carry mine."
Inhaling deeply, I nodded. "Molly didn't stick around much while I was in the hospital." I said slowly. "She didn't like the way it smelled, or the way it made her feel..." Huffing, I shook my head. "I was dying of cancer, but she didn't like the way it made her feel. She told me that our relationship had become cumbersome, and she couldn't handle having to constantly be on edge around me, thinking I was going to die at any second."
"What a bitch..." Summer muttered, and though I didn't like the language, I smiled, just a little.
"When I got out of the hospital, I found out she'd been cheating on me for the duration of the time I'd been gone." I took another deep breath. "She said she didn't love me anymore, and wanted me out of her life. I told her I loved her too much to let her go, and was going to fight for her."
Another tear fell from Summer's eye, and I wiped it away.
"So, when I'd been home from the hospital for a little less than a month, she and her new boyfriend devised this plan to send me to Heaven early. I have a sizeable life insurance policy, and she was still listed as the sole beneficiary in my will." I paused a moment, my eyes on my lap as I continued. "They set fire to my apartment."
"Oh, my God..."
Nodding slowly, I swallowed hard. "I was connected to the IV chemo I was taking at the time, and couldn't get out. So, I put my back to the room and curled up in the corner. At some point, my oxygen tank exploded, which is what caused the majority of the burns on my back."
Absently, I reached up to rub my scarred shoulder.
"All I remember after that is pain. At some point, I passed out, woke up in another hospital with third degree burns on my back. My immune system was already decimated from the cancer, so I got a bad infection. It was just pain all the time. Tom never left my side. He was trying to chronical it all for me, you know, to 'look back on when God heals you'." I made quotations with my fingers. "He ran my Facebook page, started up a community of prayer warriors, and opened a GoFundMe account to help pay for my all my medical bills. The nurses would take pictures of us and junk..." I shook my head. "I thought it was ridiculous."
Summer shook her head as well as tears slid from her eyes. "I saw some of the pictures on your profile..."
"Yeah..." I said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'll bet you saw the one of me clutching Tom and crying like a baby... He posted it even though I told him not to."
She nodded. "It said your pain was bad that day."
"Pain doesn't even come close." I mumbled. "Even after all I'd gone through with the cancer, it was the first time in my life I'd ever begged God for death."
Sniffing hard, Summer inched around the table and sat next to me, took my hand in hers. "I'm glad He didn't listen."
Scoffing, I rubbed her fingers as I stared at them. "Yeah, me too. But at the time, I wasn't happy."
"I am so sorry." She wept, and raised her head to rest on my shoulder as she held my hands.
I shrugged, blew out a long breath. "It's over now. Molly and her boy toy are in jail for a long time." Chuckling lightly, I allowed myself to smile just a bit. "You should have seen their faces when I went to visit them."
Lifting her head, Summer gaped at me. "You went to visit?"
Laughing softly, I nodded. "They were horrified. Tom pushed me in a wheelchair, and from the other side of the glass, Molly just stared at me."
"Did she apologize or anything?"
"No... just stared."
"Well, what did you do?"
I shrugged. "I told her I forgave her."
"And that's it?"
"That's it. Tom took me home after."
She shook her head, her eyes staring at me with a look of straight incredulity. "How could you forgive her for trying to kill you?"
Again, I shrugged. "Because, in my sin, God forgave me. How could I not forgive someone else?"
"Um... because the psycho whore tried to kill you?"
She was looking at me like I was an idiot, her face scrunched up in a way that made her look like an angry Care Bear. It was absolutely adorable, but considering the topic we were on, I didn't tell her that.
Staring blankly at the fire, I continued, "Molly was a good person at heart. I wouldn't have spent three years with her if she wasn't. But she acted out of irrational emotions. Not forgiving her would only destroy me by allowing me to wallow in it. She'll have to live with what she did for the rest of her life. As far as I'm concerned, it's over and done with, and I can move on."
Summer was still shaking her head. "I don't understand how you could do that."
"It wasn't easy, but it was necessary."
I inhaled deeply, blew it out long as she rested her head on my shoulder again. I understood her questioning considering she was still withholding forgiveness from someone else. All I could do was hope that my story fed into her just a little bit, and let her know that forgiveness was always possible, for her sake if no one else's.
"So..." I smiled as she raised her eyes to me. "Now that you know my baggage, you want dessert?"
She stared at me for a moment, then laughed out loud. "You are so weird."
"Yeah, I know."
I let her pull away from me and stand, then took her offered hands as I struggled. Though it took more than one grunt and awkward position, we finally managed to get me on my feet, and I sighed as I brushed off my pants and carried our plates to the kitchen.
"So, when you said you've been single for quite some time... what did that mean exactly?" Summer asked from behind me as I rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher.
"What do you mean?"
"How long ago did all that happen?"
"It'll be two years in April." I answered over my shoulder, and took the empty wine glasses when she brought them to me, rinsed them and added them to washer.
"I gotta say... your baggage beats mine by a country mile."
"Nah... It just differs from yours is all. Besides, now I have you, so my baggage doesn't matter so much anymore."
She smiled as she came up behind me and reached around to turn off the faucet before pressing my back into the counter. For a long time, she simply stared at me, her stormy eyes locked on mine as she lifted a hand to trace my lips, making my entire body shudder.
"Summer..." I choked, and she shook her head. "Summer, I can't."
"I know." She breathed, and laid her lips gently on mine.
She sank against me as I wound my hands up and through her hair, holding her to me as she sighed into my mouth, raising goosebumps on my skin. With my heart racing, I broke free, buried my face in the crook of her neck.
"You torture me." I groaned, and heard her chuckle.
"I'm sorry. But I promised not to take it any further. And I meant it."
"You're making it harder and harder for me to mean it." I complained, and she laughed.
"Poor Bassy." She cooed, and skimmed a hand over my hair before she pulled away and finished loading the dishwasher.
I didn't tell her that her calling me 'Bassy' made me melt inside.