Page 11 of Ruining Hattie

HATTIE

L ately, all I think of is Bastion.

I shouldn’t. It’s stupid. Maybe it’s just a girlish crush on an older man. I don’t know. He hasn’t even given me any indication that he sees me as anything other than someone he enjoys conversing with when he’s away from home.

But it’s the first exciting thing that’s happened to me in a long time, even if by most people’s standards, it’s just casual conversation.

Still, I can hardly sit still as I wait for his arrival at the coffee shop Tuesday evening.

Tuesday has become my favorite day because of our meetups.

Every time, I have to remind myself that these rendezvous are finite.

I try to tell myself that I’m fine knowing these meetings will eventually come to an end.

I mean, Bastion has to finish his business in Wisconsin at some point, right?

And then he’ll have no other reason to come back to town.

I push that thought from my mind, determined to enjoy the time I do have with him. I haven’t even told Taylor about him, and I’m not sure why.

Maybe because there’s nothing to tell.

And there isn’t really. I mean, we share one drink together, talk a little, and part ways. It’s not as if we’re having an illicit affair.

I feel guilty for even having the thought. I shouldn’t think of Bastion like that.

I’m here at the café ten minutes early, and this time, I made sure to buy Bastion’s drink. I felt awful last week when I realized I couldn’t order his coffee because I didn’t know how he took it, when he’d remembered my order after our brief meeting the time before.

He walks in five minutes early, sparing me from having to wonder whether he’s going to show up or not. I smile and wave with my free hand, holding up his coffee with the other.

He grins and makes his way toward me. He looks as if he just got out of the shower—his hair is half damp and has more wave to it than usual. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray jeans and a black T-shirt that fits him perfectly. As usual.

Bastion’s never said outright that he has a lot of money, but I can tell by the way his clothes fit him that they’re better than anything I could ever afford. Not to mention his expensive watch and just the way he carries himself.

“You remembered.” His ocean blue eyes twinkle with mirth.

“I did.”

He stands in front of me, and I pass him his coffee. Our fingers brush in the exchange, and I inhale a swift intake of air. It’s an innocent touch, nothing more, but it still makes me feel… things.

We catch up on what we’ve both been up to this week. Me—work, spending time with my parents, attending church and a few of the groups I joined through church. Him—putting out some fires at work and dealing with some employee issues.

Whenever I ask exactly what business he’s in, Bastion just says the entertainment industry. I’ve wondered if maybe he deals with celebrity clients or something, but I’ve never asked outright since it seems like he doesn’t want to talk about it. I figure he must want to preserve their privacy.

Bastion’s just finished telling me a story about how he once jumped off a roof into a pool when I shake my head. “I could never do that.”

“Sure, you could.” He sips his coffee.

I give him a look as if he’s crazy. “No way. I’d be too afraid I’d get hurt.”

He studies me for a moment. “I think if you did it, you’d probably love it. It’s a rush taking risks once in a while.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He takes another sip and sets the empty cup on the table.

“I’ll get you to break free from your chains at some point.

” He winks at me, and I smile. I’m really starting to love that wink.

Bastion sets his hands on the armrests of his chair and pushes himself to his feet.

“Unfortunately, I have to be going. I have an early flight out in the morning.”

His abrupt departure takes me by surprise. He usually spends longer.

“Of course.” I stand too, collecting our cups.

“I have some more news.” His lips turn down to a frown, and I brace myself for whatever it is he’s going to say, but I think I already know. “Next week will be the last time I can meet you. My business in Wisconsin will all be concluded the next day.”

“Oh.” A wave of nausea courses through me.

“It’s been really wonderful getting to know you, Hattie. Should we meet up for one last time next week?” He rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

My eyes almost drift closed to bask in the sensation, but I somehow manage to keep them open.

“Definitely.” I nod, swallowing past the growing lump in my throat.

“Perfect.” He removes his hand from my shoulder. “I’ll see you then.” Bastion gives me a small smile, then makes his way out of the café.

He said he’s enjoyed getting to know me, but he didn’t seem at all hesitant to leave. As usual, my difficulty in reading people gives me little insight into where his head is.

I set the two empty cups on the counter as I leave, then make my way to where I’m parked down the street.

Deciding I don’t want to go home yet, I head over to my parents’. I’m welcome to stop by whenever I like, and right now, I don’t want to be alone. I know I’ll only think about how next week is the last time I’ll probably ever enjoy Bastion’s company.

It was nice having someone to connect with while it lasted, and who knows when the next person will come into my life? I really need a change, because if Bastion taught me anything, it’s that I want to put myself out there more.

I knock on the door, which feels odd, but I didn’t grow up in this house. It feels more like theirs than ours. My mom answers almost right away, as though she knew I was coming and was waiting at the door.

“Well, this is a nice surprise. Come on in, sweetie.” She leads me toward the kitchen. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

I don’t want any, but I’m afraid if I turn her down by saying I just finished one, I’ll have to lie about coming from seeing Bastion. So rather than having to explain all of that, I just say, “Sure.”

She takes a couple of pumps of the moisturizer beside the sink and spreads it over her hands and forearms. “Your dad just ran out to grab a prescription from the drugstore.” She takes the electric kettle over to the kitchen sink to fill it.

“Everything okay?” I sit at the kitchen table.

She waves off my concern. “He just had to refill his cholesterol pills.”

I nod with relief, then glance at the papers littering the table in front of me. My mom looks over her shoulder at me while she sets the kettle on the base and turns it on. Something about her unsettled look has me picking up the piece of paper in front of me.

I blink in surprise at the big red lettering on the notice I hold. “You guys are behind on this medical bill?”

“We’re a little behind, but it’s not for you to worry about.” She comes to sit across from me, gently plucking the piece of paper from my fingers before setting it back on the pile.

“What happened?”

She stacks the papers in a nice pile, then sets it to the side, out of my reach. “The repairs on your dad’s vehicle were more than we expected, so we had to short our payment the last couple of months.”

My stomach drops to my feet. “Why didn’t you say something? I could have helped.”

“It’s not a big deal, sweetie. We’ll be back on track soon enough.”

My mom doesn’t say it, but I know she’s thinking of those few days she had to take off last month because she wasn’t feeling well. If she’d worked, she might have had the money to make up the difference.

I hate that they didn’t come to me for help. That there’s not more I can do for them.

I’ve prayed on it so many times, asking God to show me the way I can make a bigger difference in their lives, but so far, no answers have presented themselves.

“I have a bit of money in savings. Let me use it to make up the difference.”

She’s already shaking her head before I’ve even finished. “Absolutely not. I already don’t like that you contribute to the payment every month. You’re doing more than you should.”

I take her hand. “We’re a family. That’s what we do.”

Tears fill her eyes, and guilt weighs heavy that I’m the one who put them there. “How did I get so lucky to get a daughter like you?”

Something like a haunted look crosses her face, but the kettle whistles and clicks off, so she gets up from the table.

My mom puts a few scoops of hot chocolate powder in a mug, then pours the water over top. “I appreciate the offer, but you let us worry about it, okay? I know your dad would feel the same.”

I sigh, knowing I won’t win this argument. Still, I have to find some way to help.

My mom stirs the hot chocolate, grabs some milk from the fridge, and adds it. Before she brings it to the table, she puts some more lotion on her hands and spreads it around.

“What’s with all the moisturizing?” I chuckle.

“My hands and my arms have been so itchy lately. I’m wondering if something in the garden is irritating them.”

“Do you have a rash or hives?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, but that’s the only thing I can think of. I’m used to having dry skin during these Wisconsin winters, but it doesn’t usually bother me going into summer.” She laughs and sets my hot chocolate in front of me.

“Thanks, Mom.”

We chat for a while, and I stick around until my dad returns so that I can say hello to him. Eventually I return to my apartment, and as predicted, the only thing I can think about is how next week will be the last time I’ll see Bastion.