I’ve Got You

“You plan to answer?” Aleshia tucked into her food, testing with her tongue to detect if it was too hot. She blew on the morsel dripping from her fork, and chewed, liking the contrast of flavors.

Cameron gave a nervous chuckle. “Well, I could say that I feel that a lot, yes. I imagine everyone does at a point, though.”

“I feel it all the time,” Aleshia admitted. “By all accounts, I could be considered successful. Decent job with flexible work hours, a place to live, a sister and mother who love me, and it can only get better. Yet, I feel like there’s something big missing. It’s a gap… a kind of nothingness I can’t explain. Though I’ve tried. With bad poetry and all.”

The realtor followed her words intently, hanging onto each syllable. “I know what you mean,” he said slowly.

“It’s not a nice feeling, is it?” Aleshia stared at him sympathetically. The writer in her itched to get into his personality, find out what made him tick – and she spotted things clicking in his expression.

“No, it’s not. I do feel that a lot. I also feel like I don’t have a right to think something like that, since obviously I’m a lot better off than others.” Cameron Lovell’s lips dipped into cautious sadness. “There is always someone worse off. People who will flay you apart just to have a taste of what you have.”

“True.” Aleshia continued eating her cottage pie. Cameron, who had ignored the food previously, blinked into awareness and picked up his fork and knife, taking apart the pie segment. “Doesn’t take the feeling away. Just means you shouldn’t talk about it. So it sits there.”

The realtor delicately picked at his food. “You say you’ve written poems about it? Why don’t you recite one?”

“Over food? Do you want to be put off the food or something?” Aleshia said, blushing, considering if she should pretend she didn’t remember any of her poems. I remember them all, because they’re a part of me.

“Go on. I’m curious now. Give me a taste.” He relaxed in his chair, angling his legs wider apart.

Shyly, Aleshia cast through her reservoir, locating a poem written five years ago. It was one of her more private ones, words she hadn’t shared with anyone before. She swallowed, breathed, and recited the poem.

There were many things I wanted to do

Many dreams I dreamt

Many words I thought about you

All circling in the graveyard of my mind.

I can’t explain you

What you’re doing here roaming

Taking the edge off my success

Making everything cast-iron gray.

Does the path lead to or away?

I’m still searching for a purpose

Floating in that dark sea

Pretending I’m happy

Ignoring the little voice that screams.

Silence fell between them, though quiet conversation persisted with the others in the bar. The poker table had one person exclaiming in disgust, their double pair trumped by a royal flush.

“That’s pretty heavy,” Cameron eventually said. “I’m not a poet myself. Putting words together in that fashion isn’t something I can do. It’s…” he was at a loss. “It makes sense to me. I’ve felt that.”

Aleshia felt some of her awkwardness peel off. “I’m glad it makes sense. I wrote that a while back, when I found myself stuck in a routine, doing nothing exciting or meaningful. I don’t write poems that often, but sometimes I find them best to express certain… things.”

Cameron Lovell nodded. “I get it. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s beautiful. I would like to hear more of your poems.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. they’re the kind that can su*k the light out of a room, since they tend to be written at peak emotional climates.” Aleshia rested her fork on the plate and interlocked her fingers, rueful. The vulnerability felt from delivering the poem died down, instead replaced by the sinking feeling. Damn it, Cameron Lovell really was someone worth considering as boyfriend material. Sparks grated in their words, in the careful, admiring glances they gave one another. There was something tangible here. An attraction she could almost touch. Out of all the worst timings the universe chose to shunt her way, this had to be top of the list. The image of a moth, circling closer and closer to a flame breached her thoughts. She battled it out of her mind, but not before the moth’s wings touched the edge of the fire, and crackled up like dried leaves.

“Peak emotional climates. Nice phrasing.” Cameron tasted the words. “Perhaps you’re right. I came here to talk business, and a little extra. But I can’t say I regret the detour.” He smiled at her, as if seeing her in a new light. “I don’t recall your sister ever being quite so… poetic.”

“She’s the loud one. She used to think she could win her arguments against anyone by shouting at them louder. You should have heard some of the screaming discussions she had with our parents. She learned better volume control later, though.” Aleshia forced a smile, but waited, heart heavy, for the inevitable question.

“So, I have to ask,” Cameron said, leaning forward, eyes raised, making his forehead crinkle with jagged lines. “Are you single? I’m really enjoying this evening. More than expected, and that’s been hovering in my head for a bit.”

Fragments of her heart started chipping off. “I’m single.”

Cameron saw the dismay in her eyes, heard it in her voice. “You don’t sound so happy to admit to that fact.” Puzzlement appeared. “I thought… you seemed interested. I’m sorry. I went beyond myself.” The excitement in his eyes faded as well. Sudden tension formed in the air.

“No. I’m the one who is sorry.” Aleshia had no idea how to explain it. The words filled up her throat like vomit. “It’s just, I’ve been enjoying this evening. Enjoying you. I’m glad you’ll be helping out with the property hunting, and with all the effort you’ve put into arranging this. And believe me, I wish I could start dating you. I’m feeling… something. A spark. But I’ve left quite a mess behind in Minnesota, and brought a little of it here. I can’t drag you into that.”

Cameron Lovell stopped eating his food completely. “I’ll bite. What is it that makes you single and yet not able to consider a date?”

Aleshia appreciated the bluntness, the dispassionate tone. She suspected somewhere that Cameron Lovell had been rejected a few times before, in damning manners from the lovers of his past.

“I came to Miami to escape my controlling ex.” Aleshia deliberately didn’t look at Cameron Lovell’s haunting dark eyes. “I still have his number on my phone, though my sister and her friend tell me daily to block it. And they’re completely right, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. So, it’s too soon for me to go into one. The guy I select might be nothing more than rebound material. The attraction I feel at that point could be just out of a longing for some sort of attention.”