The Intimacy of Small Graces

There was only a bit of light left in the western sky when my phone rang. At the time, I had been downtown window shopping for pastries I certainly didn't need. My groceries were comfortably in hand and whether or not I gave into temptation, the homemade spaghetti and meatballs were going to be good. I was eyeballing the chocolate croissants as I answered the phone, trying to convince myself that I wanted to be talked out of buying it.

"Hello, who's this?"

"Hey, it's me."

"It –" my brain short-circuited for a sec as I gathered myself. Of all the calls I'd been expecting that night, it wasn't from Zachary.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already, Fatima," he joked with a half-hearted chuckle.

"No, no it's just – Zach. I mean it's been almost a month since I've heard from you."

"I know, I kind of fell off the face of the earth."

"It freaked me out! After all this time with you, you just ghosted me and I –"

I made a split decision in the pause of the conversation: purely because of stress alone, I was getting the chocolate croissants.

"Look Zach, I can't really talk right now I have something I need to do."

"Will you call me back?"

"I – Zach..."

"Tell me you'll call back." It was unfair really, how gentle and deep his voice could be. His voice murmuring in my ear made me feel warm despite the coming chill of night. The seconds ticked on past his question, and I tried to hide my nervousness as I made up my mind.

"Don't waste my time not picking up, Zach," I finally sighed.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he chuckled again.

"Yeah."

I hung up at that, not wanting to get embroiled any further with my on-again, off-again lover, took a deep breath, and pushed the glass door open to the patisserie, the ringing bell sounding more ominous than welcoming as I resolved to buy every last chocolate croissant they had.

It was a bit juvenile to make him wait until I got home, but I figured after his last adventure into whatever abyss he fell into, he deserved at least a bit of one. I prepared myself for whatever story he'd concocted and reminded myself that I would no longer settle for the bare minimum just because it happened to come with spectacular sex.

So I finally arrived at my place, stepped inside and poured myself a glass of wine before I took out my phone and dialed back his number. As it rang, I took out one of the seven chocolate croissants I'd manage to rangle from the baker before they closed and took a large bite out of it before anything that Zach said ruined my appetite.

"Hey," he answered.

"Hey."

"What are you up to tonight?"

"Zach..."

"What," he murmured in that irresistibly disarming tone of voice, "am I not allowed to check up on you?"

"You haven't been," I pouted, biting my check as I realized how needed that made me sound. "Besides," I continued, "I've decided that if you don't actually care enough to let me know how you are, then why should I let you?"

He sighed at that, then said off-hand, "That's fair."

"Look if you're seeing other people or something –" I began.

"No, no it's nothing like that."

"Then where did you go Zach? I mean I know it wasn't really our thing but... damn a month is pushing it. I was scared you'd –" I paused, unsure if I should continue. I took a sip of wine as he let me gather myself, then finally finished my sentence: "I was scared you'd died or... or something."

"Like that I'd crashed the motorcycle?"

"Yeah, like that."

"Mm, I like that that was the first place your mind went."

"You like that I was scared you'd died Zach?"

"I like that you were worried about me. Not many are."

I didn't have a response to that. Not one that I trusted myself with, so I just took another sip of wine and looked around my place.

"Look, if you don't have an explanation for where you've been I'm not really trying to talk to you."

"I do, I just – I'd rather explain in person if you'd let me."

"I don't have time for all that, I gotta get dinner ready and –"

"Spaghetti and meatballs?"

Damn him and his memory. It was Wednesday's go to meal, something I thought made me sound boring and one of the unimportant details I'd fixated on while he was absent.

"Y-yeah."

"Enough for two?"

"Zach –"

"Fatima, if I'm unwelcome you just say the word, but if you don't well – I mean, I'm already on the way."

"What?!"

"Whether or not you let me stay tonight, at least give me the chance to explain things to you properly. You deserve that much – and at the very least I'll be able to get a taste of the spaghetti before I leave."

I bit my lip and looked at the bag of chocolate croissants on my counter. Zachary and I had had a good thing going, a casual sex thing, until emotions started getting in the way. I began feeling clingy and nervous around him, while he claimed that I had grown distant. It seemed the more needy I felt the more distance he felt between us. Maybe he had felt the need for a break when he disappeared. Either way, that sudden panic when I realized he wasn't returning my phone calls wasn't something I wanted to experience again.

"Fati, will you open the door for me?"

Against my better judgment, I said yes.

I was a tense bundle of nerves as I waited for him to show up. The wait felt longer than it was, of course. It had only been ten minutes when I heard him knock at the door.

"Fati, it's me," his voice rang out.

I went to yell back through the door, but my voice caught in my throat. All the better that I didn't. I pulled back the deadbolt, slid my hand down to the copper knob, and opened the door.

Zachary was the kind of man that knew how good he looked. Of course, he worked hard to make sure that was the case, and his confidence showed in his posture, in the soft but secure smile that seemed eternally plastered on his face. Even in spite of the reason he was here tonight, his messy waves of hair and the observant, meaningful look in his eye made heat coil in my belly.

A deep breath. "Hey," I offered. "Come on in."

"Mm, smells good," he replied as he stepped in, shrugging off his leather coat. There was something deeply intimate about his entrance, something in his mannerisms that hadn't been there before his sudden departure.

"Yeah, um... do you –" I looked toward the kitchen and the hidden bag of croissants. "Um, would you like a chocolate croissant?"

"Was that your big thing you needed to do?" he chuckled.

"Yes. Yes it was."

"Sure."

It was as good a distraction from him as I would get. He settled himself on my couch in the living room, and I hid behind the pillar at the entrance of the kitchen and pretended that it was going out of my way to put one of the croissants on a pretty plate. No use being a bad host, but anxiety was beginning to war with the arousal I was feeling.

I had no idea what he would say.

After another deep breath, I finally reappeared with his croissant and another one for myself. I set it on the coffee table in front of him and – instead of taking my usual place nestled beneath his arm beside him – I sat down in the adjacent chair.

"So, you said you had an explanation Zach?"

"Yeah, it's just. A lot happened in a short period of time, and I know I should've at least told you..."

He trailed off as though I would interrupt but I had been preparing for this conversation since after hanging up. I had resolved to hear him out without judgment – at least until he was done.

Instead, when it was clear his sentence had ended, I simply said, "Zach, you and I both know what we'd been doing was... mostly casual. I get that. But I at least saw you as a friend or as someone that wouldn't just disappear on me with no explanation."

"Just a friend?" he asked.

"That's what you focused on? I – I mean, I thought that my feelings or that feelings in general were off-putting to you. I thought..." I trailed off myself at that. We'd had this conversation before, and at this point I felt I was being obtuse. Truthfully, I was the one who'd felt uncomfortable but it still didn't explain him staying away for a month.

"Did you get in trouble or something Zach?"

"It's best I start at the beginning, if that's okay."

"Sure."

"But Fati, I wanted to say this before – before I explain."

I pursed my lips and quietly inhaled, my heart suddenly beating loud in my chest.

"Yes?"

Zach turned toward me – his croissant untouched – and took my hands in his. After looking at them clasped together for a moment, he looked up to meet my eye. It was unlike him, the nervousness that suddenly clouded his face.

"I don't want to waste my time on casual," he finally said. "I don't want this to be a friends-with-benefits sort of thing any more."

"Zach..."

"No, I mean this. I've – Fatima I saw some things in the last month. Dark... you know, life-changing things. I'll tell you about them, enough that you'll understand at least. I didn't really know how to explain them to myself at first. I had no idea how I'd react if I saw you before I was ready."

"Zachary you're scaring me. What happened exactly?"

"No, no. Don't say –"

He let out a deep sigh, turning my hands over in his and looking at them as though they could end what was troubling him. "Don't say I'm scaring you, please. Say... say that whatever you hear me say, whatever my explanation, you'll give me a chance to make things right between us."

"I can't make promises Zach."

"I don't need promises Fati, I need you to give me hope."

After a moment, seeing the genuine sense of loss in his eyes, I curled my hands into his and held on with him. "I should've known better," I said gently, forcing a chuckle but refusing to let his hands go. "You always seem to know how to get to my soft side."

Zach's light brown eyes became glassy, bright as he held his breath and waited for me to finish.

"I..." I began, trying to make sure I worded it as best I could. "As long as you promise not to disappear from me like that ever again, Zach... then... whatever I hear you say, whatever your explanation, I'll give you a chance to make things right between us.

A deep exhale from him, and it was as though a weight lifted from his broad shoulders. He leaned down and kissed the back of my hands, then placed my right palm on his cheek, resting into my touch.

"I promise," he murmured. "I promise I'll never do that again."