The Concept of Perfection

Chapter Twenty One- The Perfect Match

For always making me smile. :) [Belated] Happy birthday, Remy!

--Kierra

 Chapter Twenty One- The Perfect Match

            “Aunt Isby?”

            She looked up. “Hey, Add. How did the date go?” She wiggled her eyebrows. I couldn’t help but smile.

            “It went okay,” I replied, which seemed more of an understatement. The thing is, it was more than that. I don’t think I can even use an adjective for it.

            It felt like we were there, together, not intimate—no, definitely not romantic, just together. We talked and talked. And it felt like it was what I actually needed, though I'm not sure what it was really. He opened up, and I did, and the next moment, we were laughing and saying even more things.

            I have never, not once in my life, laughed while I talked about my past. Let alone talk about my past at all. It was with Nate when I was able to do just that.

            For whatever reason, though, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that if it wasn’t for him, and him alone. I don’t even know what’s up between us, but I really didn’t need to know.

            “Okay, as in…?” Aunt Isby smiled at me, raising one eyebrow.

            I giggled. “As okay as something could get.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop being nosy.”

            We exchanged a few more words, mostly about the recipe she was working on, before I went up my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I sighed and closed my eyes, reliving the moments that passed between Nate and me. On our “date,” or whatever you would call it.

            The telephone rang. I walked over to it, which was placed on top of the bedside drawer, and picked it up. “Hello?”

            “Addy?”

            I froze.

            It was my father.

            “What, Dad?” I asked him. “I was about to call you,” I added. Nate had talked me into it. I opened up to him, told him why I cried that night when my father and I fought. He told me about his father, the way his dad always doubted his decisions and all, and how he hated him. What he felt when his father drowned.

            “The last thing I told my father was ‘You never knew me, Dad.’ And that was it,” Nate had said earlier, a distant expression on his face. It was almost haunting, but the way he said it actually made me cry, and I did. We were on that beach, and I was crying.

            Now, Dad sighed. Even over the phone, I can easily know what he was feeling. I could almost see him rubbing his face, or running his fingers through his hair. I waited for what he was about to say. After all, not too long ago, I yelled at him over the phone. He was known for his bad temper. I always knew that. I didn’t think that he’d call this soon.

            With clammy fingers, I tried to hold on to the phone. Even with the effort, I found my hand actually shaking.

            “I talked to Olivia,” he admitted.

            I was silent for a minute, and all I could say was, “Oh.”

            “Things… are going okay between us,” he added.