by Jacob Chance
I spend the next two days holed up in our condo, shutting out the rest of the world as I contemplate my future and wallow in my misery. The first day I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep; all I could do was cry and think of everything we’ve lost. The next day I buried my sorrows by ingesting insane amounts of junk food. Vanilla ice cream is now my drug of choice and no matter how much I eat; I can’t seem to get enough of it. I’m pathetic. Even though I know I should, I’ll never be able to stop loving Kyle, fuck it all.
I can’t stay here, for obvious reasons, and I don’t want to move back in with Elle. Josh has an empty room at his apartment, but it might be weird to live with my ex-boyfriend. Kyle will be in rehab for at least a month, if not more, and that gives me plenty of time to figure out my living arrangements.
It’s not until the third day that the answer I’ve been looking for finally comes. Rifling through our mail, I’m surprised when I come across a large white envelope from Morrison & Sons Advertising. They’re one of the top advertising firms in New York City. I sent them my resume and applied for an internship with their company prior to meeting Kyle. I wonder why I’m hearing back from them now. I place the rest of our mail down on the granite counter in our kitchen and tear open the envelope. My eyes scan the page and I smile. Good News. They’re offering me the internship and giving me three weeks to make arrangements. They’ll provide me with a decent salary, a low rent, furnished apartment close to the office and the internship would span from mid-August to the end of February; just over six months. A fresh start in a new city sounds pretty good right now. In fact, after everything that’s happened with Kyle, this could be just what I need.
I glance around the condo; my eyes are blurred with tears I don’t want to shed. The space is now wiped clean of all traces of me. It looks like it used to before I moved in. It looks like I was never even here. My eyes travel over to the couch where we shared our first kiss.
“Janny, we have to stop, before this goes any further.”
“I don’t want to rush things with us.”
My gaze moves to the narrow console table in the entryway.
“You taste fucking incredible.”
“Hands on the table.”
God, I’m flushed just from thinking about it. I wrap my arms around my stomach as more memories invade my mind.
“Hold still or I’ll stop.”
“Please. Don’t stop.”
My eyes flick to the kitchen table.
“Are you ready for me, baby?”
“You’re so wet. Do you want my cock?”
I can’t block the images flooding my brain. I wish I could make them stop. God please make them stop. Saying goodbye to this place is hard enough without thinking about all the wonderful moments we shared.
“I’m not the most romantic guy. I’ll probably suck at being a boyfriend, but Janny Moore, will you be my girlfriend?”
The tears roll down my cheeks. I can’t hold them in any longer.
Josh walks in from loading boxes in his truck and sees what a mess I am. The look of concern he flashes me as he pulls me into his arms warms my heart. He’s always here for me.
He kisses the top of my head and holds me tight to his chest. I stay there until my tears have stopped flowing.
“You’re going to get through this.” He runs his hand down my hair.
I lift my head to look up at him. “Promise?” I question.
He stares into my eyes, his expression earnest. “I don’t need to promise. I know you will. You’re the strongest person I know.”
When I turn the key, unlocking the door to my new apartment, I smile over at Elle and Josh. “Here goes nothing,” I say when my hand grips the cold metal of the knob. My stomach flutters nervously. I wonder what I’ll find on the other side of this steel. When I push the door open I’m assaulted by the bright sunlight pouring in the large windows along the far wall. I hold my hand up to shield my eyes when I step inside the entryway.
“Jesus, holy sunlight,” Elle comments. “With all these windows, I think you’re safe from vampires.”
I giggle while my eyes scan the small space. It’s decorated in muted and varying tones of gray. It’s a little nondescript for my taste but I know that will be an easy fix. Just having some of my own pictures displayed will make a big difference.
Elle and I walk further inside and Josh shuts the door behind us.
“Damn, this is nice.” Josh glances around while he walks over to the small, black leather couch. He sits down, stretching his arms out along the back edge and rests his converse-clad feet on the glass coffee table. He looks totally at home here and I’m not surprised that his artistic nature likes this space. The great natural light and the muted soft gray walls are reminiscent of a blank canvas waiting to be painted on. Maybe I should have thought to bring a couple of Josh’s more colorful paintings with me. I’ve always loved his artwork and it would be a definite improvement to the space. Currently, there are black and white pictures of the New York City skyline, evenly spaced out along the largest wall. Who needs pictures of the skyline when the live view is all around us? Being on the thirtieth floor has its advantages, and the sight of the Statue of Liberty proudly standing off in the far distance is one of them.
Across from the couch, on the other side of the glass coffee table, there are two charcoal gray club-style chairs. I can tell an interior designer must be responsible for the decor, but I’d honestly be happier if everything wasn’t so perfect. This place has an unlived-in feel to it and that’s not something that’ll last with me staying here. It’s only a matter of time before my stuff is spilling out all over the available spaces.
“Janny, check out this kitchen. You might actually have time to learn to cook while you’re here.” I walk into the small galley-style space, noting the granite counters and large sink. The large, shiny, white cabinets brighten up the windowless space and the dual ovens on the right side of the room will probably go to waste with me staying here. Cooking is not my thing.
“Are you going to use me for my cooking skills?”
My chest tightens when I hear Kyle’s words in my mind and it brings back painful memories of us making love on his kitchen table. I close my eyes for a moment, overcome by longing and remind myself this is a fresh start. I can’t let thoughts like these seep back in and make me long for him any more than I already do.
I’ve done well for the last couple of weeks to stop myself from thinking about the past. I’ve tried my best to stay busy. Elle came over to help me pack a few times. On one of those occasions she brought some ridiculous magazine with all the typical breakup articles. Ridiculous – yet I’ve read it four times and I now know I’m on stage three – feigned indifference.
Josh came over yesterday and convinced me that watching a movie would be the perfect distraction. He chose a rom com, but I couldn’t stomach watching the happy couple on the screen. Why couldn’t he have brought a horror instead?
I know I haven’t dealt with our breakup yet, but this move is a step in the right direction. When I open my eyes, I feel stronger and reassured. Relocating here is the best thing for me.
“I doubt that’s going to happen, Elle, but you never know. I may come back to Boston a new improved person.” This is a fresh beginning for me and I’m going to make the most of it. Being in this city makes me want to try new things and experience everything I can. I’m going to grab life by its balls and make it my bitch. Watch out New York City – Janny Moore’s here and I’m taking no prisoners.
Chapter Six
Kyle
I’ve been at The Carmel Rehabilitation Facility for two weeks now. This is rumored to be the best place for a fast rehab. They specialize in helping stroke victims and in the short time I’ve been here, even I’ve noticed a huge improvement. I can now move my arm again. I may not be able to make it do what I want it to, but at least it’s a start.
“What’s new with you, Kyle?” Kenna breezes into my room.
I s
cratch my beard-covered chin. “Gee, Kenna, there’s so much going on with me right now. Where do I start?”
She punches me in my good arm. “Don’t be a dickhead. I’m just being polite by asking. I don’t really give a shit what’s new with you. I’m still angry with you and I may be for the rest of your sorry life.”
I clench my teeth together aggravated with her and her incessant need to punish me for pushing Janny away. Why can’t she see it was the most selfless thing I could’ve done?
“You can be a bitch if you really want to. It doesn’t bother me at all. All I did was cut someone loose, someone I don’t even remember.” My eyes squint when I look at her. “How that makes me a bad guy I’m not sure. If you only came here to shit on me and tell me how dumb I am, I’d prefer you not bother. I have real problems of my own to deal with and I don’t need your drama added to them.”
She sits down in the chair next to mine and places a bakery-style box down on the table between us.
“I brought you chocolate cupcakes if that helps. I don’t mean to be a bitch to you, Kyle. I’m just so angry with you for Janny’s sake.” She gathers her shiny, black hair in her hands and drapes it over one of her shoulders. “You really hurt her. She loves you so much and you just threw her away like she’s insignificant.” Her amber-colored eyes flash with anger at me. “True love is a precious gift we don’t all get to experience.”
Later that night when I’m lying in my bed, I think back to the conversation I had with Kenna. I know love isn’t something everyone is entitled to and if you find that special someone you’re lucky. But what’s the right thing to do when you can’t remember that love that you’ve supposedly experienced? Do you take everyone’s word for it or do you move on with your life?
I haven’t regretted the decision I made regarding Janny, until right now. Here in the dark silence of my room, I think about her beautiful face, her sexy body and I long to remember what it feels like to be buried inside her pussy. I want to know what her warm, tight, heat feels like clenching my cock when she unravels, moaning my name. My dick wants the same thing and since I can’t stop myself from thinking about her, I might as well take care of it. I slide my hand down inside my boxer briefs and grip my thickness in my fist. I’m so hard – maybe harder than I’ve ever been. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from groaning. It feels so good when I slowly stroke up and down. My eyes clench shut. I imagine it’s Janny’s hand bringing me so much ecstasy. Her thumb slides over the tip, through the pre-come beading on the end. She brings it to her mouth, her tongue glides out licking the drop of moisture before her full lips close around her finger like she’s swallowing my cock. Her eyes shut while she savors the taste of me and my breaths leave me in sharp pants. I do everything I can to fight back the orgasm about to rocket through me. But thoughts of her mouth wrapped around my cock, sliding up and down, sucking me between her lips and tongue has me shooting come out in thick, powerful streams.
My rehab is keeping me busy and I meet with a physical therapist twice a day. All the work I’m doing is paying off. I can now hold a tennis ball in my hand without dropping it and I can also apply enough pressure to slightly squeeze it. This might not seem like a lot to some, but to me it’s a huge improvement. When I first arrived here I couldn’t even move my arm, never mind my fingers. Now I’m able to do both and it’s only been a few weeks.
The sharp rap of someone’s knuckles on the door has me looking up from the book I’m reading. Derek Santiago, my best friend, walks in with a big smile on his face. I stand so we can exchange a hug and when he thumps me on the back with his palm I realize how much I’ve missed him.
“Hey, bro. You look great. I didn’t expect to see you up and about like this. What are you trying to break, a record for the fastest recovery from brain surgery?” He takes a seat in one of the chairs in my room. I sit down across from him at the small table and rest my hands on the laminate top.
“It’s great to see you man. The doctors are talking about letting me go home next week and continue my therapy as an outpatient. I’m looking forward to that – to getting my life back on track,” I explain. I grab the yellow tennis ball from the table and clench it to improve my hand strength some more. “I want to return to work as soon as possible. Sitting at home isn’t going to work well for me. You know how I prefer to stay busy.”
“I know you do, but I think you’ve earned a break. I don’t want you to come back too early and set your progress back.” He peers at me, studying my expression. “You know I’ll keep things running smoothly until you return. Business has been really good or I’d have been here to see you before now.”
“I know that.”
“Where’s Janny? I thought I’d find her glued to your bedside; mopping your brow and holding your hand.”
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. “We’re not together anymore…”
Derek remains silent. He studies my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It was my choice. I pushed her away. I’m just sorry she got hurt. Everyone tells me I should know who she is, but I just don’t. Did I really love her like they say?”
“Yeah,” he says. “It was sickening.”
I laugh. “I find that hard to believe. I’m not exactly the hearts and roses type of guy.”
He pins me with his gaze. “Dude, you were worse than that. You were feeding ducks and shit.”
Derek shifts in his seat, reaches in his back pocket and removes a deck of cards. He shuffles it smoothly like the card shark he is.
“Ready to get your ass kicked at blackjack?”
“Bring it, dude.” My eyes move over to the toy duck that Janny brought me in the hospital. I’m not sure why I felt the need to hang on to it when it was sent here, but I did. Maybe it’s my subconscious trying to tell me something. If everything he said is true, why can’t I remember her?
Chapter Seven
Janny
My stomach is tied up in queasy knots when I step on the elevator that will take me to Morrison & Sons Advertising on the sixtieth floor. I’m alone at first, but it stops at almost every floor, picking up more and more people until there’s barely room for me to move in the packed space. By the time I finally reach my destination I’m sweating and my heart is palpitating. This agency must be more popular than I realized because I have to wait for the rest of the passengers to clear out before I can make my escape. I pause to look around while I wipe the moisture from my damp brow. My eyes move slowly around the large space, taking in the expensive decor. This place screams money, from the marble tile of the floors to the vaulted ceilings. The large crystal chandelier hanging from a thick, roughly-hewn wooden beam above me, casts patterns of shadow and light on the floor and colorful prisms on the beige walls. The hand-carved beam is a nice touch. It adds some masculinity to the elegant space.
Directly in front of me is a large desk with a model-thin, elegantly dressed twenty-something-year-old sitting behind it. Her black hair is slicked tightly back in a ponytail and her makeup is perfectly applied. I glance down at my light blue button-down shirt, tucked into black pants and I feel sloppy and under dressed. One of my hands smooths over the top of my hair and I clench the handle of my leather bag in the other. I walk forward and stop in front of the receptionist and wait for her to look up from her computer. She smiles at me with one of those overly-bleached toothy smiles. Maybe if my teeth were that white it would make me smile bigger too, but right now I’m feeling out of place.
“Hi, I’m Janny Moore. I’m here for the internship.” My lips lift in a small closed-mouth smile.
She types on the computer for a moment. “Yes, Janny, I’m Natalie, the receptionist for Morrison & Sons. If you have any questions while you’re here, please feel free to ask me.”
“You’re going to head down this hallway here,” she gestures behind her, “and knock on the third door on the right side. The nameplate should read, Edwin Morrison.”
There’s that smil
e again. Jesus, put that thing away.
“Thank you and it’s nice to meet you.” I reach forward and shake her bony hand. I almost recoil from the icy temperature of her skin. It’s like shaking hands with a dead person. When our hands part I’m tempted to wipe my chilled skin on my pants, but I don’t want to be rude.
The distance from her desk to the hallway seems endless. I can sense the stares from the other employees I pass by and it makes my stride feel awkward and uncoordinated. When I enter the hallway, I breathe a sigh of relief and I smooth my hand down over the front of my shirt to make sure it’s wrinkle free. I run my fingers through the front of my long blonde hair and imagine it’s probably a wild, frizzy mess by now. When I reach the door with the correct name plate, I pause for a moment to take a deep breath.
You can do this. I hear Kyle’s voice in my mind, encouraging me. It pisses me off that he’s still the one person I want to believe in me. I straighten my back, stand tall and resolve that I’m not going to think about him for the rest of this work day. Later tonight, when I’m all alone in my apartment and the loneliness creeps in, he’s sure to make an appearance, but for now I have business to take care of. It’s important that I make a great first impression with everyone here.
My knuckles rap three times on the dark stained door. I hear a deep voice tell me to come in and before I turn the knob, there’s a moment of panic where I wonder what I’ll find on the other side – I’m nervous, like I’m about to enter the lion’s den.
It’s now or never.
Once I push the door open, I breathe a sigh of relief when I find an average-looking man sitting behind a huge desk.
He stands and walks out from behind the wooden monstrosity, “I’m Edwin Morrison, Vice President of Morrison & Sons Advertising. You must be Janny Moore.” His demeanor is professional and flat enough it borders on stern.