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Eleven
Shaw
Everything that happenedlast night shifted my entire understanding of the world. When she admitted that she’s thought about us as more than friends on more than one occasion, it took everything inside of me to not jump up and start doing cartwheels around the house. But, it’s a good thing that I didn’t, since I haven’t done a cartwheel in years.
I’m showered and ready to prepare the best breakfast that one could ask for after a day like yesterday. A day of cat and mouse, then a tremendous revelation that there could be something more to the friendship that we’ve had for so many years.
She’s standing at the counter in the kitchen, both hands cradling a steaming cup of coffee. She’s in her favorite pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, her long caramel hair is in a half-fast bun on her head. She’s blowing at the coffee in her hands, staring out the window over the kitchen sink that overlooks the backyard, deep in thought.
I sneak up beside her, place my hand lightly on her hip, and lean to the cupboard beside her. She jolted slightly at the touch and then settled into it with an audible breath.
“Sorry,” I whisper to her. “I wasn’t sure if you were meditating or something, you looked zoned out.”
“If I was meditating, you shouldn’t have touched me and walked into my personal space, that would be so un-Zen like of you and you would have busted up my setting the intentions for the day into the universe,” she grins.
“Funny, you’re saying so many new age types of things that I wouldn’t be surprised that you did meditation.”
“And if I did?”
“I think that would be awesome. I can’t be still long enough to do it, so I give more power to those that can… do you?” I ask.
“I do, before bed, it usually helps me sleep better,” she replies.
I hold up my fist. “That deserves a solid pound,” I say with a smile.
“Are you making fun of me?” she looks at me with a confused look.
“Not one bit, I think it’s cool. Anyway, how are you this lovely morning?”
“Tired, remind me to not do day drinking again, I don’t think my body recuperates as it once did,” she rubs the back of her neck.
Panic flows through my body, “Do you, do you remember last night?” I ask her with caution.
She blushes, nods, and her eyes dart to me while she bites her bottom lip. I set the cup on the counter and take the step to her and pull her against me.
She’s standing with her hip against me and easily leans her head against my shoulder as my arms envelope her as if we’ve stood like this many times before. I feel her take in a deep breath.
“I want to cook you breakfast,” I say with my chin on top of her head. Feeling her head nod, I kiss the top of her head, smile and release her.
“Waffles sound good?” I ask.
“Sounds perfect,” she says, stepping away and moving to the other side of the counter to get out of the kitchen.
“So,” I begin.
“So,” she mimics.
“About last night,” I say. “What are your thoughts there?”
“Man, that’s quite a loaded question,” she says heavily.
“I know, but it should be discussed, and I don’t want it to just be swept under the rug.”
“No, I know. But we have eight years of friendship, what about that?” she asks, setting down her cup.
“I think that is a pretty good foundation,” I answer.
“What if something more happens with us and it doesn’t work out? How would the friendship survive that?”
