Dear Diary...

  Chapter 20

  Dear Diary,

  Something’s up with Mark.

  CeeCee

  Mark was impossible to reach the week after the dance. I left messages on his voice mail a couple of times, but no response. I would have been worried sick if Nick hadn’t answered Mark’s phone on Tuesday night. Mark had forgotten it again.

  “Hey CeeCee,” Nick must have noticed my name on Mark’s caller ID.

  “Hi Nick,” I replied happily, glad we were on friendly terms, “I haven’t heard from Mark in days, is everything okay there?”

  “Mark’s fine,” Nick answered cautiously, “just busy. I haven’t seen him much myself.”

  “Is he working different hours or something?”

  I was confused. Mom told me Mark was working fewer hours so I couldn’t imagine him working so late at night.

  “No,” Nick hedged, “he’s not at work.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me where he is,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  “I would, CeeCee, but Mark is planning on telling you and your mother himself.”

  “Could you leave him a message, since I’m not sure my voice mails are getting to him?” I asked with a touch of resentment in my voice.

  I was trying hard not to feel that way, but it was a struggle.

  Mark has no right to do this to me without at least letting me know that calling him is a waste of time, I fumed, hating the feeling that I was nothing but a pest.

  “Sure,” Nick assured me, “I will personally deliver the message.”

  I was silent for a few minutes, trying to think of what to say without coming off as the selfish spoiled brat Nick had once accused me of being. Nick waited patiently, understanding that I wanted to be careful with my wording.

  “Just tell him to call me when he wants to talk,” I said finally, deciding that the least said the better.

  “Do I take that to mean you won’t be calling him in the evenings?” Nick asked carefully.

  Hearing Nick actually putting my unspoken thought into words brought a lump to my throat. I always knew that someday things would change, that Mark might no longer have time for me…I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. I guess I should have, he was about to graduate from college and begin life as an adult, so it made sense.

  The thought that we were already growing apart saddened me. We had just begun to feel close again.

  “CeeCee, are you okay?” Nick asked anxiously when he got no reply.

  “I have to go,” I whispered hurriedly and hung up before I started blubbering in his ear.

  I tried to stem the flow of tears that filled my eyes and quiet the sobs that rose up into my throat, but I couldn’t.

  A few deep breaths later, my cell rang. It was Nick, of course, calling from his own phone. I debated about answering, but knew I owed it to him to pick up.

  “Hi,” was all I could get out.

  “CeeCee,” Nick said gently, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

  “I…I’m…sorry.”

  I was doing the crying hiccupping thing that I hated so much because it always made me feel like such a baby.

  “I have an idea that might help.”

  “R…r…really…?”

  “Yes really.”

  I could hear the slight amusement in his voice and it was so familiar, so Nick, that I was able to breathe again. Ironically, it used to anger me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again in a stronger voice. “I know I’m being a baby about this, but I just miss talking to him so much.”

  “I understand,” Nick reassured me, “I know Mark plans to tell you what’s going on, but he hasn’t…gotten around to it.”

  I could tell by the hesitation in Nick’s voice that he agreed with my earlier assessment that Mark owed it to me to tell me something. That alone, knowing that Nick didn’t blame me for being so upset, was enough to make me feel better.

  He continued, “But until he does, why don’t you call me in the evenings.”

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  I would love to bother him, but I didn’t want to be more of a pest than I could help.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said firmly.

  “We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Nick asked reasonably. “I know it won’t be the same as talking to Mark, but I can reassure you that everything is fine here, and you can reassure me that everything is fine there. Somebody needs to see that you make it home safely every night.”

  “Nick, I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to do this,” I tried to sound like I meant it. “I’ll be fine, really.”

  “If you don’t call me then I guess I’ll have to resort to calling you each night,” Nick warned.

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we,” I replied lightly.

  Funny how it was the bracelet thing all over again; I wanted him to call me, but I didn’t want him to think I wanted him to call me. Could I be more confusing?

  “Mark said he programmed my number into your cell, so all you have to do is remember to call mine instead of his,” Nick said easily.

  “Okay,” I capitulated, “as long as you are sure you don’t mind.”

  “CeeCee,” he said sternly.

  “Alright,” I knew that voice, “I’ll call, and thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he returned simply, “now…go to bed. Five-thirty comes early.”

  “Yes sir, will there be anything else, sir?”

  I would have saluted but he couldn’t see me.

  I heard the laughter in his voice as he said “Just one more thing. Sleep well, CeeCee.”

  Although I missed Mark terribly, it was wonderful to be able to talk to Nick every evening.

  There was so much I wanted to know about him…like what he did during the day. When he told me that he was actually treating animals, I jumped on that and continued with questions about what types of animals he treated.

  “Right now I’m working mostly with pets, like dogs, cats, and even an occasional snake.”

  “A snake,” I repeated in wonder. “You actually treat snakes? What if they bite you?” I asked suddenly horrified at his career choice.

  “Actually, the one I worked on last week was a boa constrictor,” I could hear the smile in his voice “Strictly non-poisonous.”

  “A boa constrictor!” I exclaimed. “Oh yeah I can see how that would be so much better.” I continued sarcastically, “Sounds much more fun to get squeezed to death by a giant snake than to be poisoned by a smaller one.”

  “It wasn’t a giant snake,” Nick replied mildly, “This one was only eight feet long.”

  “Only eight feet…” I said in amazement, “You should get hazard pay. I didn’t even know they taught you how to treat snakes in vet school.”

  “They don’t spend a lot of time on it,” he admitted, “but it is covered. Snakes are very popular pets, although I have to own up that in order to treat the boa I had to do a little research.”

  I laughed and asked, “How do you research treating a snake? Google…?”

  “You would be surprised,” he laughed with me.

  “So what was wrong with it?” I asked curious in spite of myself.

  I had three horrible phobias, and snakes topped the list.

  “Believe it or not, the snake had a cold,” he replied in amusement.

  “You’re kidding me…right?”

  “Serious as a heart attack.”

  “How do you treat a snake cold?”

  “Well, in this case they simply needed to keep the snake in a warmer place,” he explained. “The people were keeping their house temperature in the 70 degree range and the boa needed a toastier environment. Boas tend more towards the eighties.”

  “Wow…so how’s the snake doing now?”

  “According to the follow up phone call, cold’s all gone.”

  “So do you actually like snakes?”


  “They’re not my favorite,” I could hear the shrug in his voice, “but I don’t mind them.”

  “What is your favorite animal? “Do you have one?”

  “Hang on, CeeCee,” Nick stopped me. “If you’re going to bombard me with questions, you have to answer some, too.”

  “But you know everything there is to know about me,” I objected.

  “No, I don’t,” Nick contradicted. “I know very little about your childhood.”

  “It’s not that interesting,” I assured him. “You’ve lived so much longer I’m sure your life’s story is way more exciting than mine.”

  I was amazed that I could tease him so easily about the difference in our ages when it usually pained me to think about it.

  “And you will pay for that remark when I see you next,” Nick threatened.

  “I’m scared,” I replied feigning fright.

  We both laughed, and I agreed to answer one question for each one he answered.

  Over the next few days, I was able to find out about his family and discovered that he was one of four children, all boys.

  Nick laughed when I commented on how sorry I felt for his mother assuring me that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. One of his brothers, Daniel, had actually introduced Mark and Nick during one of Mark’s first summers in Austin, having met through a common interest in karate, and had taken an instant liking to each other.

  Daniel, like Nick, attended Texas A&M so he was gone during the school year, but Mark and Daniel hung around together during summers and holidays.

  Because Nick was finishing up his fourth and last year of Vet school doing his clinical rotations in the Austin area, he was able to move back to Austin. He found an apartment and decided to take Mark on as a roommate once Daniel explained to him that Mark was being kicked out because one of the other guys had a brother beginning UT that fall and they needed Mark’s room for him.

  David and Josh, Nick’s other brothers, were identical twins and had just turned sixteen.

  “So why do all your brothers have Bible names?” I asked curiously. “Was that a coincidence?”

  There was silence for a few minutes, and I wondered if we had somehow lost our connection, assuming Nick was in his car and had no reception.

  “Nick, are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” he replied heavily.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously. “Did I say something?”

  Frantically replaying the last few minutes of our conversation, I couldn’t think of anything I’d said that would cause that type of reaction.

  “No,” Nick replied reluctantly, “You didn’t. My parents did use Bible names for all of us.”

  “All of you?” I asked in puzzlement. “I don’t remember a Nicholas in the Bible.”

  “That’s because there isn’t one,” he admitted. “My given name is really…Nicodemus.”

  “I see,” I said, trying not to jump for joy.

  For the first time ever, I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who hated their given name—something we had in common—and I was thrilled, to put it mildly.

  “If I hear a laugh or even a chuckle,” he threatened, “I will hunt you down like a rabid dog and make you pay.”

  “Okay, listen to me and listen very carefully; there is no possible way that someone whose name is Elsee Caitrin would ever laugh at anyone else’s name.”

  “Elsee Caitrin?” he asked incredulously, “how did you manage to extract CeeCee from Elsee Caitrin?”

  “The last syllable of Elsee and my middle initial,” I replied automatically, “You didn’t know my full name?” I asked suspiciously.

  “It never came up.”

  “Well, I’ll make a deal with you,” I said playfully, “You keep my secret and I’ll keep yours.”

  “And no laughing,” Nick added in warning.

  “Of course not,” I replied, and ironically we both laughed.

  “Why Nicodemus…?” I asked curiously. “Surely there were other Bible names they could have chosen.”

  “More normal ones you mean,” Nick commented sourly.

  “Okay ‘normal’ then,” I conceded.

  “Apparently, my mom was a big Sir Laurence Olivier fan and he played Nicodemus in some movie or series or something,” Nick said in disgust. “She was eating chocolate, her one pregnant craving, and watching him on TV when she went into labor. She had a hard labor, high blood pressure and all of that, and was still on muscle relaxants, not fully awake when they came in to ask for my name in order to put it on the birth certificate. She mumbled ‘Nicodemus’ and when they asked for my middle name, she said something about “Ask Jonathan,” but all they heard was the Jonathan part. My dad was with me in the nursery and didn’t know anything about it. They put Nicodemus Jonathan Barrett on my birth certificate. My dad has never let her live it down, the fact that she was dreaming of Olivier first and him second after the birth of their first child. I couldn’t very well be called Jonathan, too confusing what with it being my dad’s name, so Dad considerately shortened my name to Nick.” He paused then asked, “So how did you get your name?”

  “My mother decided to name me after my dad’s mother,” I replied. “Mom actually met her before she met my dad and loved her dearly, but she died right before I was born so I never knew her.”

  “Well at least your parents had a good reason for your name,” Nick said morosely.

  “That didn’t help when the other kids starting calling me Elsie the Cow,” I said lightly.

  I couldn’t believe I was actually joking about my name; that was a first.

  “Okay you win,” Nick teased, “Yours is worse.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Nick spent most of his question time asking me about my childhood. I had no idea why he thought it was such a fascinating topic, but it was very possible that he didn’t want to know anything about me and was just grasping at straws to be polite.

  Sometimes I cried when a sudden memory made me think of Dad, while at other times I expected it and could skirt around the emotional parts.

  Nick was always patient with me, and refused to let me hang up, saying he would just call me right back until I answered. Eventually I’d regain control, and we’d continue.

  He laughed at my diary/diarrhea episode, commiserated with me on my lack of a pet, and somehow managed to extract just about every story I had worked so hard over the years to keep hidden out of me; even the Serena one, which I’d never told anyone.

  Most of our conversations became lopsided, with me answering more questions than I asked, but I never realized it until after we hung up. Nick had a way of pulling information out of me whether I wanted him to or not.

  The Friday night before the District cross-country meet, I was extremely nervous, and had a hard time concentrating on our conversation. Nick suggested we cut it short, understanding that I was having difficulty pulling my thoughts together. He wished me luck, I thanked him, and we hung up.

  Normally, I was very careful not to daydream about Nick, knowing that it was highly unlikely that anything would develop from our friendship and not wanting to build myself up for disappointment, but I needed something to distract me from my nervous dread of the meet the next day. I was practically shaking. My junior year, I’d been in so much pain from my feet that I hadn’t given it much thought, but I had no such distraction as I lay awake full of questions.

  What if I’m still not good enough? What if I’m just as bad as last year, but this time I have no excuse? How important is all of this to me?

  Self-doubt filled my mind. I wanted to quit. Running had always been fun for me, but suddenly it was just plain scary.

  Deciding that I would never get to sleep with all of the things running through my mind—I laughed to myself at my unintentional pun—I lay on my bed, closed my eyes, and allowed
myself to think about Nick.

  I began imagining what it would feel like for Nick to really kiss me, like he meant it.

  He would look deeply into my eyes, pulling me gently toward him. I would put my arms around his neck as I had when we were at the dance, and run my fingers through his beautifully casual sandy brown hair…I’d always wanted to do that. Our lips would meet and…and… rats!

  I had no idea what would happen then, with no experience to draw from, and not being much of a TV/movie watcher. Even though I’d read a lot of books, trying to picture that only took me so far.

  The dance—that was it—I would replay the dance in my head. I could recreate the feelings that Nick I’d had that night and enjoy them again. I sighed in relief…that would work.

  Closing my eyes as a contented smile touched my lips, I fell asleep dancing the night away in Nick’s arms.