“Oh,” she replies, sounding dumbfounded. “Okay,” she drawls out, then finally says, “If Coal is okay, why are you asking about him?”
“Well,” I mumble uncomfortably. It’s not every day a girl has to tell one of her closest friends that she was turned down flat for a dinner date. “I kinda, sorta asked him if I could make him dinner, and he told me no. I guess … I guess I just want to know more about him.” I don’t tell her that I see he’s holding on to the negatives, and if he would let me, he could be released from the darkness.
Des and Morgan are good about my eating habits, my yoga, crystals, and talk of chi, but that doesn’t mean Des will be kosher with me trying to explain a cosmic connection to a man she clearly isn’t comfortable talking about.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree with that guy, sister,” Des replies back automatically, making me cringe
Who likes to be told twice in one day that they aren’t good enough for somebody? Not that those were my friend’s actual words, but it’s how her comment makes me feel.
It’s more than being good enough for him; it’s making this right. I did wrong, and until I do something for him, then we are karmically unbalanced.
“Maybe I’m not the sort of woman he usually dates.”
Des snorts. “You can say that again.”
I actually raise my right hand in the air like I’m making some sort of oath before quickly dropping it, realizing people may actually see me.
“This isn’t coming out right,” I concede as I decide Des may not be the person I should ask about Coal.
“Look, Paisley, you are the sweetest person I know. Like chocolate on strawberries sweet. You’re so sweet you give the tooth fairy a cavity. It’s what makes you … well, you.”
I sigh and look ahead of me at my tiny apartment complex. “I feel a but coming on.”
She laughs lightly. “Coal, well, he’s anything but sweet.”
“I don’t need sweet. Des, this isn’t about, like, dating the man. It’s my need to make this right.”
“If Coal let you leave, take your exit. That is your energy giving you back all the good you give out.”
“You really think?” I ask, feeling hopeful.
“Yes, honey.”
With a sigh, I end the call and make my way to my apartment. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this will be my one pass in the cosmic energies, and I shouldn’t press it further. Maybe I read his aura wrong. He could be ill, and I don’t see that.
My key promptly gets stuck in my lock, and I have to call maintenance.
Waiting on the man to find a way to get my key out, I lean against the stucco wall and slide down until my butt hits the concrete.
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. Exhale. Another inhale. Tuning out the noises around me, I center myself.
The deep, dark circles of his pupils draw me in. He towers over me. My breathing pattern matches the one he had when he stood toe-to-toe with me. I inhale and swear I can smell the leather of his vest.
The energy between us is strong. The emotions the man pushes down somehow come to my mind.
He’s skeptical.
He’s hurt.
He’s hard.
He needs light to his dark. He’s not what he thinks he is. I see it. I feel it.
Blinking, I force myself back into my own headspace. Why is the man so on edge? Why do I care?
The maintenance man makes quick work of freeing my key. Without a word, he hands my keys over then walks off while I enter my space.
Immediately, I kick off my shoes and wiggling my toes that are happy to be free from their confinement. Walking through my small place, I open my windows, checking my window box gardens and letting the fresh air in. Everything looks the same in the garden.
Inhaling, I breathe in the fresh air I love coming through my space. I hate having to close it up, but the apartment complex frowns on me leaving the windows wide open all day and night. In Florida, it rains practically every day, mid-afternoon, sometimes late afternoon. Whatever time, there is a daily shower. Apparently, it’s bad for their flooring to continually get wet like that.
Opening the fridge, I pull out a head of romaine lettuce, baby spinach, carrots, radishes, shallots, and a lemon. I managed to grow everything myself in a plastic pool left by some previous tenants on my patio. Rather than let the plastic spend years disintegrating in a landfill, I drilled a few holes for irrigation drainage and created my own backyard garden without the backyard. The lemon came from a lemon tree at a grove down the road where I pick most of my citrus from. In return for the free fruits, I work one day a month at the farmer’s market for them.