I looked over at him. “What?”
“Shit man, she’s got you.” He let out an annoyed huff. “I was going to tell you to let this go. Between Dave and the fact that, thanks to my words, she thinks you’re one screwed-up fella, it was time to say bye-bye to the idea of Fern. But you can’t.”
“I can’t describe what the ten days has been like not being able to be with her or hear her. I also know she’s a hot head and could throw punches if I just show up somewhere. Clearly, I sound like the loser in some county song, but it’s like a magnetic pull I can’t fight.”
“Well, if you’re willing to put your life at risk, between punching Fern and Novots who would likely pull you limb from limb and enjoy it, my wedding is coming. She’ll be forced to be in the same place as you are. After the wedding might be your shot.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking, but I don’t know if I can wait another two weeks.”
“You have to. You’ve got to give her some time to sort through this. I wish I would’ve known she heard us talking the day we left. I could’ve said something. I still can if you want.”
“No. I’m taking your advice. I’ll give her time.”
A huge grin made its appearance. “No shit? Somebody’s taking my advice? That doesn’t happen too often.”
“Well, Ed, that does not make me feel very confident.”
As I drove home from practice the next day, a new plan came to mind: Fuck it. Yes, I would protect my teeth and balls from her fists and feet if necessary, but I couldn’t wait another day.
I’d gone with Dave several times to his parents’ house for dinner before he got with Liv when he wanted a home cooked meal. Sharon Novotny can cook up a storm including good old goulash and pot roast, but her Italian cuisine was mind blowing. Even thinking of her homemade ravioli made my mouth water. So it wouldn’t be completely off kilter for me to stop by. Right? Screw it, I was going in.
I changed my shirt three times. That was new for me since I typically don’t give a rip what I’m wearing. I decided on an unworn button down black shirt that had been hanging around my closet for months, jeans, and my R.M. Williams boots.
Any boots of mine are typically found at Cabella’s. I only know the proper name of these because I paid a personal shopper a few months ago to hook me up because Dan said I dressed like a hobo.
Twenty minutes later, I was cruising through South St. Paul toward Summit Avenue. I pulled in front of the house that belonged on a post card. It was a white Cape Cod-style home with a large picture window in front and a three-season porch off to the side.
I sat behind the wheel for a good five minutes, looking down the street at the snow-covered yards and naked trees. My mind’s eye imagined hot summer days with Fern riding her bike, running through a sprinkler, and most likely playing street hockey with Dave and the neighborhood boys. Was her hair always long? I figured she was a tomboy, but was she? All odd questions I wanted answers to. Ed was right. She had me.
A little panic flickered in my gut as I wondered if she’d even let me in. Maybe this was the worst idea ever? Should I give her more time? Stop.
I pulled up Lose Yourself by Eminem, my go-to anytime I felt the pull to possibly cut and run. The music pulsed through the speakers while I took in the lyrics that had pushed me through so many other times in my life, along with the friends who’d been my saving grace.
Fern had released me from my life sentence of sufferance. She was sunshine that melted away the black cloud I’d been carrying. I’d lost my mother, my wife, and I knew Fern was somehow sent to me from above. I couldn’t bear the thought of not having her.
If she couldn’t move past what she’d heard, I’d fight for a friendship or whatever I could get, but I needed her like I needed air in my lungs.
I knocked, and the front door opened. The sight of Sharon Novotny was like chicken noodle soup on a frigid day.
“Gabriel!” She reached up and rested her hands on my face. “It is so good to see you.” She motioned me inside. “Come in.” I stepped into the toasty house before she pulled my coat off and hung it on a hook next to the door. “Are you meeting Dave here?”
“No, I’m not.” I cleared my throat. “I was actually hoping to speak to Fern please.” My voice cracked like the fourteen-year-old punk I felt like at the moment. I hadn’t really thought about her reaction to that, but her eyes smiled as she nodded.
“I see. She’s upstairs doing some work on her laptop.” She motioned to the couch next to a large fireplace. “Please have a seat, and I’ll tell her you’re here.”
The room was just as comfortable as it was the last time I was there, the opposite of myself, as my heart rate seemed to be sneaking up at the thought of Fern kicking me out in front of sweet Mrs. Novotny. How humiliating would that be?
I walked to the couch, checking out some photos on the fireplace I hadn’t noticed on my last visit. I could feel the dorky smile on my face when my eyes spotted a framed photo of a middle school Fern with braces. Yes, she did have long hair then as well.
Next to that was what appeared to be a high school dance photo with her looking beautiful in a strapless white dress while a jock-type of dude had his arm over her shoulder.
I took the photo in my hand and examined it closer. Her smile was sweet, but something in her eyes said she was already bored with the man at her side.
“Gabriel.” I jumped and spun around to see Sharon. She walked over to me and laughed. “That’s one of my favorite photos of her. But the date was not her favorite.”
“Her eyes shout it.”
She laughed as I put it back in place and turned to her.
