When I last wrote about Lewis, I did not tell all of what happened that day. The revelation of his feelings for Sarah seemed to be enough of a story to tell. But lives are not as neat as a writer might like, and things that do not seem significant can become very important later on.
After he met with Sarah, Lewis had his appointment with Dr. Christensen. She could tell that something had happened, and after a little time he admitted his feelings for Sarah.
“Then you should tell her,” was her simple response.
I was surprised that she should go so quickly to this reply, but as she and Lewis talked about this, I realized that she was right. Honesty is best, especially for Lewis, who will struggle enough to deal with these new feelings without having to hide them. At least if he tells Sarah what he feels, there needs be no strain in their friendship.
I gave this suggestion my support, because I knew that Sarah would at the very least not be uncomfortable with such a confession. But Lewis protested that he could not do it, and he was so emphatic that both Dr. Christensen and I accepted his refusal.
He has been thinking about it, though, all week, and this morning he had almost come around to our way of thinking. And this afternoon, he met with Sarah again, this time at her apartment. He was the only friend to answer her call—the men who had delivered her new sofa hadn’t brought it all the way into the apartment, and Sarah couldn’t budge it on her own. So it was just the two of them, and in the midst of their hefting and struggling, a moment arrived that made him feel that fate had guided him there.
I promise, I had nothing to do with it. The two of them had gotten the sofa into the apartment, though not where it belonged, but Sarah had decided they needed a break. So they were sitting on the sofa in its awkward place just inside the door, and they were talking about former relationships.
Sarah sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, I just haven’t had all that much luck,” she said. She plucked at her sweaty tank top and pushed her hair from her face. “Just not much to look at, I guess!”
She said it with a laugh—it was just a joke, not intended to force a compliment. But Lewis looked at her, hating the idea that she might not admire herself. And he realized that even if his feelings never did him any good, they might be able to help her.
So he spoke, his voice steady, though he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Sarah, you know I think you’re beautiful.”
Sarah blinked, startled. She leaned forward, trying to see his face more clearly.
He looked away and cleared his throat. “Any guy would be lucky to be with you. I know I would consider myself the luckiest bastard in the world…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Lewis,” Sarah murmured. Her heart was expanding in her chest.
There was more to say, but Lewis wasn’t sure that he had the courage to say it. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, and he laughed, much the way she had, but with more harshness directed at himself. “But then, maybe that’s part of your bad luck,” he said, looking down at his hands. “Attracting someone like me who doesn’t have his shit together. You deserve better than that.”
She understood him very well, even without my help. She slid across the sofa to sit right next to him and covered his hand with her own. “Maybe I could help get it together,” she said, her voice gentle and warm. “I want to help you, Lewis.”
Part of him wanted to throw off her hand and run; another part wanted to turn and kiss her. I didn’t let him do either of these things, and so he turned his hand to take hold of hers. “Thanks for that,” he said. “But it’s the kind of thing I have to do myself.”
“You sure?” she said.
He nodded. They sat together a moment in silence while he thought about how to word his next thought. “You’ve already done so much for me,” he said. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. But I…I need to get back to the point where my world is a good place, before I bring you into it.”
Sarah wanted to argue, and I was glad. That she wants to help him so much is a sign that her feelings are genuine, and stronger than I knew. But this is not something she can do for him, and I did what I could to make that clear.
So she sighed and squeezed his hand. “We can still be friends, though, right?”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Lewis said, meeting her gaze for the first time. It was only for a moment; then he pushed to his feet. “And so are you, if you want to get this sofa where it belongs.”
She groaned, but accepted his hand up. The rest of the ordeal was accomplished with much groaning and cursing, but at last Sarah was satisfied, and they stood a moment looking at the product of their work. It did look very nice, much nicer than the old one.
Still smiling, Lewis said, “Sarah, don’t wait around for me, okay?”
Sarah looked up at him. Then she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Lewis,” she said lovingly.