Page 56 of Torn
“You better at least come visit me. You can’t just stay in this tiny town and wither away. You have to get out sometimes.”
“Of course I’ll visit. I’m going to miss you like crazy. It’s not that far, though. I could drive, or even fly.”
“We can shop our asses off when you visit.”
“We definitely will,” I agree. I don’t know anyone who lovesto shop as much as Chloe does, and every time we go shopping, she insists on buying some ridiculously random thing that she will never, ever use, and then she’ll wrap one of those things up in the gaudiest wrapping paper she can find and give it to me on my birthday. It’s a silly joke she started when we were younger, and now I look forward to it every year.
“I’m not sure if I’m going to Maine this year or not,” I say as Chloe starts to put bright pink nail polish on her nails. She’ll probably want to do mine next, and I will inevitably smudge at least three nails by the time I get home.
“Why? I thought you loved going there.”
Every year for the past six years, I’ve spent summer break in Maine with my mom’s older sister, Katherine, who owns and runs a bed-and-breakfast in a beautiful Victorian house right by the water. This year I’m just not sure I want to be away for almost three months, especially since Chloe will be leaving for college soon, and my father will be going on tour in the fall.
My cell phone beeps with a text, and when I see his name on my screen, my heart jumps in that new way that it does every time he texts me.
It’s been a week since the talk we had in his backyard about thecollision, and that night I changed his name in my contacts from Uncle Tor to Tor. I knew in my heart I was never going to call him my uncle again. Not after I knew what it felt like to be kissed by him, and not after the daydreams I’ve been having about him. Seeing the dream version of us was like looking into a crystal ball, and I saw our relationship in a new way that now I can’t forget.
It also forced me to face several unexpected truths. I’m insanely attracted to him physically and mentally. I want to take care of him, and I want to be the person who makes him smile every day. I don’t want him to be any sort of uncle to me or be my dad’sbest friend. I want him to bemine. Thinking back, I can’t deny that some of these feelings started to grow in me a very long time ago, like a seed that’s been slowly blossoming over the years, growing as we grew together. For as far back as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be close to him and now it’s evolved into something far beyond friendship and guardianship.
I’m not entirely delusional. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way. I was raised thinking of him as my uncle and he is my godfather. Those memories can’t be wiped away from our history. He’s my dad’s best friend. He’s almost twice my age. But with each day that passes, those facts seem less valid to me, and the feelings I’m having for him are becoming much stronger than fake titles and age differences. It’s undeniable—our feelings for each other have changed. I know it, and I know he knows it. I just don’t know what to do about it.
I swipe my finger across the screen to read his text, and it’s a photo of a penny lying among some dirt and leaves.
Tor
I found the penny I threw in the woods the other day.
It hurt that you did that :(
Tor
I know. I’m sorry.
It’s okay. Put it back in the jar.
Tor
Some things we can’t wish for. I need you to understand that.
Tears well in my eyes reading his words and I type a quick reply.
I do understand. I just don’t like it.
A few minutes go by and I focus on Chloe painting little flowers on my nails until my phone beeps again. Using my right hand, I swipe the screen to see his new text.
Tor
I never said I liked it either, Angel. I hate it.
I turn my phone over so I can’t see the screen anymore. If Chloe realizes I’m getting text messages that are upsetting me, she’ll start asking questions, and there’s no way I can tell her about this, as much as I wish I could. I’m just not ready to admit to anyone yet how I really feel about him.
His truck is in the driveway on Friday afternoon when I get to his house, and it causes a moment of panic for me. I wasn’t expecting to see him today. Usually I clean up his house, do his laundry, brush the dog, and prepare a dinner for him that’s easy to heat up, and I leave.
I grab the two bags of groceries I just bought and walk down his brick walkway to the front door, hesitating, not wanting to use my key to let myself in. I still don’t feel right just walking into his house when I know he’s inside. Instead, I ring the doorbell and wait.
“Come in!” he bellows.
When I step inside, I’m surprised to find him lying on the couch propped up on a bunch of pillows wearing gray sweatpants and a wrinkled white T-shirt, his hair all loose and messy like he just woke up. Diogee is sleeping on the floor next to the couch, but immediately lifts his head and wags his tail when he sees me.