Time to Relax

Holden

Exams are finally over. Not that it gives me much reprieve, because I have less than six months to find an advisor, research not only what information exists on my chosen subject, but what doesn’t, and complete a detailed proposal on how I’ll fill in that gap.

But as I exit the campus building, instead of focusing on that next step, all I want to do is celebrate with Dina. Sure, I could go over to my sister’s or parents’ and they’d be happy to give me a hug or clap on the back and say, “Job well done.” I could call up Sam or Phil to suggest a guys’ night. But after weeks of burying myself in studying, that’s not what I’ve envisioned as my reward.

Holden: Are you busy?

I eagerly await a reply as I walk to the parking lot where my ride-share is supposed to pick me up. Dina doesn’t respond by the time I climb in the back of the dark blue Toyota Corolla that smells like cigarette smoke and BO. I instruct the driver to take me home, while my fingers hover over Phil’s number.

A message bubble pops up before I can make a backup plan.

Minnie: Just got in the door. How did it go?

I’ve been so caught up in my stuff lately, I don’t even know where she got home from. As much as I’d like to ask, I figure she’ll tell me if she wants me to know.

Holden: I think it was okay. Never talked so much in my life.

Can I swing by?

I’m not sure if we’re at that level yet where we can just swing by each other’s places, but I’m about to find out.

Minnie: There’s nothing here to eat. But if you’re ok with ice water, that’s fine.

“Excuse me, Warren? Would you mind dropping me off somewhere to get food in the CNE area?”

Without a word, Warren taps the screen of his phone, which is mounted on his dash for easy access. A few minutes later, he drops me at a cafe a few hundred metres from Dina’s building. I thank him and jump out of the smelly vehicle, hoping the stench hasn’t rubbed off on me.

The cafe isn’t busy, but its location is a little off the beaten path, so I assume it’s more of a neighbourhood hot spot. There are plenty of late lunch options, leaving me staring at the menu board for five minutes before I order.

With our food in one hand and warm drinks in the other, I walk the remaining distance to Dina’s house. Someone is exiting as I enter, so I sneak in instead of having to fiddle with the buzzer with my hands full. But then I realize that’s kind of shady, so I set our food down in the lobby, go back out to the keypad, and ask Dina to buzz me in.

She opens the door minutes later wearing black terry shorts and a loose white T-shirt, with Nacho cradled in her right arm. Dina welcomes me inside, closes the door behind me, then sets Nacho down. He runs in the opposite direction, so I take my opportunity to give Dina a quick peck. In the time it takes for my lips to connect with hers, Nacho comes tearing back around the corner, squeaking a tiny stuffed toy in a frenzy.

Dina smiles wider than I’ve ever seen her. “He brought you his favourite gift.”

That gesture, as insignificant as it may seem, endears me to the little terror. “Thanks, Nacho. I’ll keep ’em coming, buddy.” Before I can set our food and drinks down to pat his head, he grumbles and runs off the way he just came from.

“He’s so moody.” Dina stands on her tippy toes to kiss me again.

Now I’m annoyed I didn’t have the opportunity to set this stuff down. Kissing Dina is still new and intoxicating, but not being able to touch her feels like a rip-off. I don’t get much time to mentally gripe about it, though, because she pulls away, swipes the drink tray from my hand, and giggles on her way to the kitchen.

“So tell me how the exam really went. I’m sure it wasn’t just okay.”

I walk over to the row of cabinetry and set our bag of sandwich options beside the sink, then lean back against the counter. “I have no idea, honestly. The adjudicators were like unfeeling robots. Not a single facial gesture. Not even a nod. They just asked questions and scribbled or typed as I spoke.”

Dina stands in front of me, grabbing my shirt at either side of my waist, pulling herself against me. It’s a good thing she didn’t do that before my exams because my mind goes blank.

She nibbles on my lower lip as she says, “I have full confidence that it was the greatest oral exam they’ve ever adjudicated.”

Now that my hands are free, I don’t need to hold back. I place one on her hip and the other at the back of her neck, grateful her hair is piled high in a messy bun. I take my time, teasing her lips, but the second she whimpers, I have no desire to prolong the torture. Our tongues tangle together as I pull her closer to me until no air can pass between us. Our pace is so in sync, we could dominate the 90s boy-band charts. We break apart when we’re both short on air, but I don’t let her go.

“You’re brilliant, Dickens. Don’t doubt that. You and I both know how hard you worked for this, and it will pay off.”

I never thought I’d find someone who understood the dedication, sacrifice, and level of insanity it takes to complete an advanced degree. Beyond that, someone who is working toward their own goals, but still did everything she could to help me chase mine.

“You realize I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you, right?”

She steps back, still looking at me from hooded eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You got through your undergrad and master’s long before you crashed into me.”

“Excuse me.” I close the small gap between us, wrapping my arms around her waist. “You crashed into me, remember?”

She giggles and squirms, trying to work her way out of my grip. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“Well, you remember it wrong.” I pick her up and twirl around in the tiny square of open floor space. “But it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She waves off my comment, but she’s blushing. “Did you bring food?” she asks, like she just now realized I brought drinks and a large paper bag.

I don’t backpedal or readdress my confession because I’ve learned from our awkward encounters in the past. That may have been the one time I was a slow learner, but still, I think I’ve now figured it out. “Yeah, just sandwiches. I grabbed a few options because I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” I spin around to open the bag I set down moments ago and start digging out the contents. “Oh, and drinks. Cappuccino.”

She reaches to grab one of the cups, giggles, and takes a sip. “Are you trying to keep me up all night?”

I drop the sandwich I was holding onto the granite, while Dina coughs and sprays cappuccino across her kitchen. She has a knack for saying things that have a double meaning, and I’m not entirely sure it’s an accident. This time, however, she seems to have caught herself by surprise.

“Are you okay?”

She lets out one more little cough, looking away from me. “Yep. Great. Thanks for the drink.”

Embarrassed Dina is adorable, even if I can’t see her face.

I present her with the four sandwich options, and she chooses the classic ham and Swiss on a kaiser, so I take the roast beef on French bread.

We sit on the sofa, where Nacho promptly climbs into Dina’s lap and receives a small piece of ham for his efforts. He looks at me next, so I feel obligated to give him a piece of roast beef or risk reverting to our previous relationship.

With two sandwiches left, Dina asks, “Want to take Nacho for a walk?”

I know exactly what she’s asking. “Absolutely.”

Once she changes into some pants, we venture outside and spend the next thirty minutes walking across Fort York Boulevard to the walkway that cuts through Garrison Commons. Dina takes no time at all to offload the remaining sandwiches, and Nacho does his business even faster. He may look ridiculous in his argyle sweater, but he struts around like royalty, then waits at Dina’s feet to be picked up and carried home.

On our way up the elevator, Dina says, “Thank you for doing that. For the sandwiches.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

As the elevator dings and opens, she rushes out toward her condo. “You could have let me thank you properly.”

My steps halt on the way to her door. “I could go for a proper thank you.”

She snickers as she slips the key in her lock and opens the door. Now it’s me chasing after her like an attention-seeking little puppy. I will not beg. I will not beg.

Safe to say, her thank you makes every ounce of stress I’ve carried over the last several months disintegrate. When her lips press against mine, she has one hundred percent of my attention. Not grades, research methods, thesis advisors, or future plans. Except future plans with her.