Like You Mean It

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Like You Mean It Page 10

by Jillian Liota


  I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes as I add in my work doing marketing at the community college newspaper.

  Even now, after everything he put me through, and all of his lies and manipulation, the lows that dipped so low I wondered if I’d ever be able to drag myself out, I can still hardly control how I feel when I think about him. He may have treated me like shit, but he was my entire world for 8 years. My mom said it’s some cross between survivor’s guilt and Stockholm Syndrome. I told her Andrew wasn’t my ‘captor,’ and she just rolled her eyes at me.

  So even though I should be glad to be free of him, and thankful that I don’t have to live with a man that doesn’t love and cherish me, that treats me like I’m nothing, a part of me knows I’d still give anything to have him back. And not just for me, but for Jones, too.

  And that makes me wonder if there’s something seriously wrong with me.

  I finish up the application and sign the bottom, then walk it over to the counter, leaving it with the barista and thanking her with a smile, even though I don’t feel it.

  «««« »»»»

  A few hours later, Jones and I return to The Garage after having spent some of our afternoon at the park and then the library. Jones wasn’t as big of a fan of the library, but hey, sucks to suck sometimes. Reading is important and I need him to get into it early or it will never stick.

  He drags his little wagon of toys and books behind him, like a modern day gender swap on Matilda, as we walk into the lobby.

  “Alright, miss, Wanda’s all set to go!”

  The tone of voice that Alex uses surprises me. It has a lilt of positivity to it, which I wasn’t expecting. I was absolutely certain that when I returned to pick up my car, he’d be telling me all of the new things he found wrong with it.

  “Everything went okay?” I ask.

  My tone of voice must give away my skepticism because Alex gives a little chuckle as he finishes signing something on his clipboard.

  “Yes, ma’am. We went in and got things all worked out, and we didn’t have any problems. Well…”

  When he trails off, I think I’m gonna get the line of except we definitely found something else that’s a few thousand more. But he just pauses and glances back at the office.

  “Well… everything is in top shape now. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”

  My face breaks out into a huge smile.

  “Thank you so much. I can’t even tell you what a relief that is.”

  He sticks the clipboard in my hands and asks me to sign at the bottom.

  “Problem?” he asks when I stare at it for a second.

  “I don’t see a total. I just want to make sure I know what I’m signing,” I say with a nervous chuckle.

  “Oh don’t worry, we would never go over the amount we quoted you on your initial paperwork.”

  I nod, and then hesitantly scribble my name at the bottom.

  “And do I need to make the first payment now?” I ask, readying my wallet and beginning to dig for a card. This first one will definitely need to go on a credit card.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll get a notification in the mail about bill payments and setting up a schedule.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Are you sure? That seems… strange?”

  He smiles. “Don’t sweat it, sweetie. It’s all been approved. You’ll get something soon.”

  And then he turns and grabs my keys from the counter behind him.

  “You’re all set to go.”

  I slowly take the keys from where he’s holding them, outstretched towards me. Amazing things don’t happen to me very often, and I usually just end up trying to fake my way through most situations with a smile, pretending everything is okay. I look at the keys in my hand as Alex gives me a nod and then heads back towards the office.

  I let out a sigh. I can do one of two things with this little gift I’ve been handed. I can worry that something is wrong and the rug is gonna get pulled out from under me, which is my typical response. Or I can change things up, enjoy the ride and feel thankful that the tide seems to have finally – finally – swung my way.

  Deciding on the latter, I grip the keys in my hand a bit more firmly, and shout out a “Thanks so much!” before walking over to my car and help Jones climb into his car seat.

  As I finish buckling him in and then lift his wagon into the trunk, I take another look around the shop. Whoever this boss is that’s helping me out, he deserves a thank you from my heart. Maybe I’ll make him some chocolate chip cookies.

  And as I pull away, I smile.

  Yes. Cookies for the owner of The Garage.

  It’s the absolute least I can do.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  COLE

  “Tell me something,” I hear from over my shoulder. My whole body tenses, knowing what’s coming.

  When I glance over my shoulder, I see Alex leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed and a contemplative look on his face.

  I look away and back at my computer, pretending to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me. After finishing up on Annie’s car, I washed my hands, changed, and then decided to get a head start on the administrative work for the upcoming week. If I’m in on a Sunday already, why not put in a few extra hours so I can go home early one day?

  “What’s that?” I ask, dreading whatever he’s going to say, but resigning myself to hearing it anyways.

  There’s a pause before he walks forward and around my desk, plopping himself in the rarely used chair across from it.

  “Tell me again why we are here on a Sunday helping out that very pregnant mom? Because as far as I know, Sunday is the day I come in and do a bunch of shit you hate doing, but the shop stays closed.”

  I don’t respond immediately, because I can feel that he has more to say. That’s the thing with Alex. He doesn’t typically have a lot to say, but when he says something, you should prepare yourself for a monologue.

  “I get a phone call from you saying we have an important job we gotta do on a Sunday – the day you have declared for all eternity is your day off, no matter what comes on the docket or what kind of emergency might have rolled our way. And then that pretty little mama comes strolling in here, with her shitty ass car that is literally falling apart in every possible way, and you don’t even want a first payment on the work?” He scoffs. “And you know whatever it is you quoted her isn’t enough to cover the work we did today, especially with those extra parts you put in. You know it.”

  Now he’s done. So I turn reluctantly in my chair and give him as much truth as I can.

  “She’s my neighbor.”

  Alex just continues staring at me. When I don’t add anything else, because, lets be honest, I’m not a big talker, he waves a hand in front of him as if to say And?

  I sigh. “Her husband or boyfriend or whatever died a little while ago. She just moved here. I don’t think she knows anyone, and she’s pretty broke.” I shrug. “She just needed help and I’m willing to give it. That’s all.”

  Alex nods a little bit.

  “And I don’t really want her to know I’m the one who set this up. There’s a good chance she’ll find out at some point, since she lives next door to me, but…” I shrug again. “She doesn’t need to know right away. In fact, I’d rather she not know for as long as possible.”

  I don’t add that I’d rather Jess not know either. It might make me a shit, but I’ve never talked to her about work before so…

  Alex lets out his own sigh. “Just don’t get wrapped up in something you’ll regret.”

  I scowl at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, she’s a pregnant mom who needs saving. And that’s your thing.”

  My glare intensifies. “Excuse me?”

  He puts his hands up. “I don’t mean anything nasty by it, but you have a thing for damsels in distress. Look at Jess. She was also having car problems. And Maxine was a boatload of daddy issues in a sinking ship that
you were hoping to save from drowning.”

  I start to interrupt but he sticks a hand up and just keeps talking.

  “It’s not a bad thing, man. But the difference now is that there is a kid involved, two once that second one pops out. And, don’t forget the very important thing called you already have a girlfriend.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” I bark at him.

  I rarely raise my voice, so Alex stops talking immediately. He’s pretty rough and tumble, so there’s no way he’s intimidated. But he knows I’m not fucking around.

  “There’s nothing going on between me and Annie. She’s a sweet kid, and she’s my neighbor. She’s in a shit spot and I’m helping. That’s. All.”

  My stomach turns over just slightly, and I don’t know why, but I press forward.

  “I don’t know what the fuck this damsel in distress bullshit is, but that’s not me. Am I happy to help people who are struggling? Yes. But that doesn’t equal a romantic involvement. I’m not even attracted to Annie.”

  Everything I’ve said so far is true. Except for that. And Alex knows it. We’ve known each other for so long, he can smell a lie before I even say it.

  But for whatever reason, he doesn’t call me on it. And I’m thankful. Because whatever it means, now that I’ve actually mentally acknowledged that I’m attracted to Annie, I might not be able to pack that little thought away into the recesses of my mind and try to make it disappear as fast as it popped up.

  “Just be careful,” he says, likely picking up on my discomfort. “You’re a good guy, even if you are a little bit of a handful. I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”

  I just continue to stare at him as he gives me a weak salute, spins on his heel, and heads out to the loading bay. Once he’s gone, I plop back into my chair, bringing my hands up to scrub at my face.

  So much for a productive Sunday.

  «««« »»»»

  When I get home from work around 3, Jess and I have a late lunch/early dinner thing before she packs up and heads back to San Diego. I wave at her car as she drives off, then turn and give Annie’s house a glance.

  I spent the majority of time at work today, working on her car, trying to figure out what to say to her about what she overheard between me and Jess yesterday. I hope I’m overreacting. I hope that she isn’t upset by what she heard me say. But something inside of me knows that however Annie interpreted what I said to Jess, it wounded her in some way that may be irreparable.

  I let out a sigh and head over to Annie’s front door, opening the safety gate and cringing when I hear how loudly it squeaks. I need to give her some WD-40 for this thing. I give the door a knock and only a few seconds go by before she opens the door, her face determinedly neutral when she looks at me.

  “Hi Cole,” she says, looking at a spot on my neck rather than in my eyes. “What can I do for you?”

  Yeah. She’s pissed. And if not pissed, definitely hurt and upset.

  “Hi Annie. Are you free for a second? I was hoping we could talk.”

  She stays frozen for a moment before cracking the door open and allowing me inside.

  It’s not the first time I’m entering Annie’s house, but it is the first time I’m seeing it without a hundred boxes scattered everywhere. I never knew the group of guys that lived here for the few years before Annie rented it, but I know they liked to have parties and treated the place like shit. It was a blessing when they moved out in late September.

  Now, glancing around, I can see the quick patch up job the owners did to try and make the place livable for a new tenant in the few days between renters. I want to shake my head and point out all of the stuff Annie should bring up to the owners about how this place is not up to par. But I bite my tongue.

  I don’t know Annie very well, if at all, and I don’t know her situation. But I do know that she wants to be self-sufficient, and that every time she feels like she has to ask for help, it costs her a bit of her pride. The last thing I should do is come over to apologize and then mansplain a bunch of shit to her.

  “What do you want to talk about?” she asks, and that’s when I realize I’ve been standing silent in her living room, glancing around for an unacceptably long period of time.

  “Sorry,” I say, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious. “I just didn’t really pay attention to this place the last time I was here. It’s weird when you finally see the inside of a place you’ve imagined for years.”

  She just nods and takes a seat in the corner of the small futon.

  “Well, it looks on the inside just like it does on the outside. Like no one has ever taken care of it before.”

  I let out a laugh.

  “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but yes, I’d have to agree with you.”

  She gives me a little shrug and stares at her hand that’s scratching away the top layer of paint on the metal part of her futon.

  “It’s what we could afford after Andrew died,” she says, and my stomach drops to my feet. “We’re making the best out of our situation.” Then she looks me right in the eyes. “We don’t need your pity.”

  I sigh. So she did hear me. And took it exactly like I thought she did.

  Well, this is going to go awesome.

  Instead of jumping right on her about it and trying to convince her that I don’t actually pity her, I take a seat on the other end of the futon and rest my hands on my stomach, stretching out my legs.

  After a beat or two of silence, I finally settle on something to say that I hope will make sure she understands my perspective.

  “You said you lived outside Chicago, right?” I ask.

  She keeps picking at the futon, but nods.

  “I bet it was really cold there. A friend of mine lived through a polar vortex in 2013. She said it dipped into the negative 30s?”

  She glances over at me, clearly confused. But she nods again. “That was the worst winter I’ve ever experienced. It was my first winter ever living with snow, and I was terrified. I considered leaving, it was so horrible.”

  I nod at her.

  “When I was in my early twenties, I spent a few weeks helping my step-dad’s family move. They lived in Montana, and were moving in February. It was probably the coldest I’ve ever been in my life.”

  I see her eyes look at me for a second, and I take my opening.

  “I was hanging out with my cousin Paul one night, in a downtown area, and we were drinking with a group of his friends. Just being young guys, but nothing too ridiculous. There was a man sitting in the alleyway between the bar we were at and another building, and I’ve never seen someone looking so cold in their entire life. You know that cold where it seeps into your bones and you wonder if you’ll ever be warm again?”

  She turns slightly in her chair, angling her body towards mine, giving me a small nod.

  “Well this guy was shaking. Paul and his friends just walked past him, but I couldn’t. I could tell he was homeless. He reeked of booze and cigarettes. And even though I knew that anything I could do for him in that moment likely wouldn’t significantly change the trajectory of his life, I couldn’t just walk past and ignore him. So I pulled off my jacket and wrapped it around him.”

  I let out a sigh, remembering how cold I was as soon as I took off my well-fitting, very warm winter coat. I’d wondered how anyone could go out without a jacket, let alone not own one and be suffering from such cold on the streets.

  “Paul was kind of a dick. He was right in front of the guy and was like ‘you know he’s just gonna sell that jacket for his next hit right?’” I shake my head. “That was the first time I realized that maybe Paul and I were pretty different people. But then the homeless guy looked at me with something angry in his face and said ‘I don’t need your pity.’ And he started to take the jacket off to give back to me.”

  At this point, I have Annie’s full attention.

  “My mind was blown. I couldn’t believe this guy would rather freeze in a fucki
ng alley than accept a jacket from a stranger. But I reached over as he was pulling it off and gripped it in place. And I told him, ‘I didn’t give you my pity. I gave you my jacket.’ And I swear, all of that anger fell from his face and it looked like he might cry.”

  I lean back on the futon. This shit is so uncomfortable, both the conversation and the couch. I don’t even know if I’m explaining anything right.

  “So what I’m trying to tell you, Annie, is that yes, I told Jess to have some pity. But I probably used the wrong word. Empathy, maybe. Or sympathy. No – compassion. That’s probably more along the lines of what I meant. And isn’t it important to feel those things for people? To try and understand when other people are struggling so we can be kind and helpful in a way that they need in that moment?”

  She looks away again and doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at her hand and that stupid paint she keeps picking away.

  “I wasn’t implying that you’re weak. Or that you are some charitable cause that can’t exist without my superior graciousness.”

  I see a slight tilt in her lips at that one.

  “Is that a smile?” I ask. “Did I finally make you smile?”

  I can see her fighting it, trying to tamp it down.

  I stand up from where I’m seated, walk over to where she sits, and I squat down in front of her. The easy thing to do would be to stare at the wall I was facing when I was sitting down. But the right thing to do is to look Annie in the eyes so she can really see how I feel.

  “Annie.”

  She wavers slightly before her eyes flick up and look at mine.

  “I’m not trying to imply that you’re some homeless person that needs my castoffs. I’m not trying to say that you couldn’t be strong and independent without me around. I just care about you,” I say. “And Jones. And I want us to be friends. Not because I feel like you need me for any reason. Not because helping you makes me feel superior. But simply because you two make me smile, and I want to do the same for you.

 

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