A Bridesmaid to Remember

by Amy Vastine

  Jake’s head was down as he dodged the human traffic coming in all directions. Intentionally, Lauren bumped into him and like an actor on a stage, she bounced back, falling to the ground, her packages scattering everywhere.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, offering his left hand to help her up.

  Lauren pulled her belongings close to her as other pedestrians pushed her things back in the bags and handed them to her. Finally, she took Jake’s hand and he levered her up. His hand was soft, but strong, a doctor’s hand. She was surprised at the strength of him. Even though she knew that the loss of use in his right arm had likely strengthened other part of his body, she hadn’t expected to feel so weightless as he pulled her into a standing position.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She forced herself to breathe hard as she used her free hand to brush any street dirt from her skirt.

  “I guess I’ll live. I’m mostly embarrassed. My pride is a little injured but holding. It looks like my shoe bore the brunt of the physical damage.” She hopped on one foot showing him the severed heel of her sandal.

  “Let me get you a taxi,” he offered.

  She wondered how he was going to do that if he didn’t let go of her and use his left hand to signal for a cab.

  “I don’t need a taxi. I’m fine and I live in Brooklyn.”

  “The cost will be mine,” he said. “After all, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  She smiled. “I was walking too fast. How about we settle it with a cup of coffee.” She looked behind him. Several shops, including a coffee bar, an Italian restaurant and a Greek eatery beckoned. “I have a new pair of shoes in one of these bags.” She glanced down, lifting the bags slightly away from her. “I can change inside.”

  He looked around, probably noticing the eating places for the first time. Lauren could tell he wasn’t exactly planning to spend any more time with her.

  “I don’t usually eat out,” he said.

  “I don’t either, but I’m leaving the city soon and I’m trying out some new things before I head into the great unknown.” She gave the last words an uptake of tone. “Come on, have some coffee with me.”

  “Well...”

  She didn’t give him time to refuse. Grabbing his left arm, she propelled him forward. “I’ll even spring for the coffee.”

  He allowed her to pull him along, but when she neared the coffee bar, he stopped.

  “This one would be more comfortable,” he said. It was the Italian restaurant.

  “You like Italian food.” Lauren stated the obvious.

  They went in. Lauren did her one-legged hop step as they followed the waiter to a secluded booth. The place was beautifully appointed. She felt as if she’d stepped from a New York street straight into Provence or Naples. Most of the tables were empty. Waiters had already begun preparing them for the dinner crowd. White tablecloths with bud vases holding a single rose, bone china and silverware gleaming in the light.

  Luck was still with her as she settled her bags and placed her napkin in her lap. The line was crossed, and there was no going back, yet there were more hurdles for her to jump before she did what she’d been hired to do.

  “Have you had lunch?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “They have some very fine food here. It’s all made with fresh ingredients,” he said.

  So, he did know about the restaurants in the area. She’d been wrong in that. It was a mistake on her part. She’d have to be more alert in the future or he’d trip her up.

  “I suppose that’s how you like your food?” she said, just to have something to say.

  He looked her straight in the eye for a long time. Lauren felt as if he was able to see into her mind. Then she realized the string of nurses and therapists he’d had in the past must have asked a question like that.

  “You don’t have to cut me with your eyes. I like fresh food too,” she said.

  He relaxed a bit. The waiter arrived and they quickly ordered.

  “What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked when they were alone again.

  “You are certainly direct for someone I only met a moment ago.”

  She nodded. “You’re right, especially since we haven’t even exchanged names.”

  His expression told her he had yet to think of that small detail.

  “Lauren Peterson.” She extended her hand, her left hand.

  Jake looked at it and after a moment pulled his hand up and shook hers. “Jake Masters.”

  “Now that we’re acquainted, Jake Masters, what’s wrong with your arm?”

  “I had an accident.”

  “When?”

  “I’m not going to play twenty questions with you.”

  “Too pushy?” she commented. He’d be amazed if he knew the shy, quiet college kid she used to be still lurked inside her. She was great with children, but it took a lot of courage for her to deal with adults who weren’t the parents of her patients. And romantic relationships were out of her league ever since her divorce. “I’m sorry. I’m used to asking questions.”

  “Really, what do you do?”

  His speech was very formal and he sat up straight in his seat, coming only short of folding his hands in front of him like he was in the third grade. Jake wasn’t as warm and welcoming as his brother, and it made Lauren feel as if she was in another job interview.

  “At the moment, I’m between careers.”

  “What did you do in your last career?”

  She stared at him. “Arm surgery,” she said.

  A long moment went by and then he grunted. It wasn’t a laugh, but a sound that told her he didn’t believe her for a New York minute.

  “And what are you going to do in your new career?”

  “Now who’s asking a lot of questions?” She paused. “Anyway, I haven’t decided where to go yet. I’m looking at someplace close to the ocean. I’ve always liked the sea. I feel calm there. In the meantime, maybe I could work for you. Of course, it would be temporary.”

  “And why do you think I need someone to work for me?”

  The waiter interrupted them with their meals. When he left, Lauren returned to the conversation.

  “Because you’re in pain and I know something about pain.”

  “How do you know I’m in pain?”

  “By the way you’re holding your shoulder.” At that he shifted, but didn’t truly relax. “And by the way you clench your teeth until it eases.”

  She picked up her fork and took a bite of the seafood fettuccine she’d ordered. Closing her eyes at how wonderful it tasted, Lauren savored the pasta and sauce. She didn’t often cook her meals with all fresh ingredients. She didn’t have time. She remembered visiting her sisters and her parents. They always had catch-up and cook time in the kitchen. The five of them would catch up on what was happening in their lives while they made a meal. Their mom would plan the menu and each sister would choose what she wanted to make. It was a female bonding time that was fun and delicious. Lauren missed those days.

  “Are you a therapist?” He nearly spit the word. The expression on his face was crafty.

  “A massage therapist? Not technically, no. But I’ve done my share of working with someone in pain.” She wiggled her fingers and smiled to show she knew what she was talking about.

  “Don’t bother. I’m fine. I don’t need any kind of therapist,” he said, again with a disdainful tone.

  “I can see you’re in pain, but...” Lauren raised and dropped her shoulders, leaving her statement open.

  Jake said nothing. His silence made her only want to try harder.

  “So, what do you do, Jake?”

  He didn’t immediately answer. “I’m between careers at the moment.”

  “I see,” she said, knowing even with his dry method of speaking
, he was mocking her. “I suppose in your last career you were a bouncer.”

  “What?”

  “Someone who knocks people down on the street.” Lauren wondered if he ever smiled. So far he’d scowled, winced and grimaced, but showed no positive emotion at all. He looked angry, something his brother had failed to tell her. Lauren had kept an image of him as the happy college student. But they were no longer in college and she was no longer Lori Graves. She was thirty-one and he was either thirty-three or thirty-four.

  “That isn’t it,” he said.

  She decided not to pursue it any further. Lauren was new to this pretend game and she didn’t want to show her hand or let him discover that she’d been hired by his brother. She was naturally shy and nervous at all the talking she was having to do.

  They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the excellent food. When the waiter brought the check, Lauren quickly took it. Without glancing at it, she handed him her credit card and he walked away.

  “Not only pushy, but aggressive,” Jake said.

  “I said I’d pay for the coffee. The food came with it.” She smiled again, hoping he’d reciprocate. She was disappointed.

  The other diners finished and left the restaurant. Only she and Jake remained with the staff, who’d all but disappeared. Jake slid out of the booth. Lauren stood, still on one heel. When she saw that Jake was in pain, she placed her hand on his right arm. He stopped immediately, facing her.

  “Let me help,” she said in the same voice she always used with a crying child.

  She didn’t wait for his approval. In fact, she expected him to refuse. She began moving her hand along the length of his arm. With her thumb and forefinger, she worked long, steady strokes against his muscles, smoothly caressing them with both the heat and shape of her hands. It would be better if his arm was bare, but this would have to do, she thought.

  Jake stiffened at her initial touch, but he relaxed as she added pressure from his shoulder to his wrist. Then using both hands, she pushed him into a seat. He didn’t resist. Lauren found points where she assumed the pain was intense. Her fingers lingered there and she added releasing pressure to ease those tissues. His right arm was thinner than the left, indicating that he hadn’t used it in a while and had not been exercising it according to any competent therapist’s routine. She finished her impromptu massage, the entire procedure taking no more than five minutes. Stepping back, she stumbled, forgetting about her heelless shoe. With flailing hands she caught the table and steadied herself.

  “Are you all right?” Jake asked whipping around, his good arm extended but couldn’t have reached her in time.

  “Fine.” She smiled. “But I better put on those new shoes before I break an ankle.” Reseating herself, she pulled a shoe box from one of the bags and exchanged her broken heels for a pair of flat-sole shoes. When she stood, she was noticeably shorter than he was.

  Outside, Lauren looked in the direction of the subway that would take her back to Brooklyn. She turned to Jake.

  “Well, Jake Masters, thank you for the company. Consider the debt paid in full.” She offered him her left hand. He took it and shook. Lauren wasn’t sure, but she almost got a smile, at least the shadow of one at the edge of his mouth.

  “It was interesting,” he said, still in a formal tone.

  Lauren felt like she should stand up straight and salute. She didn’t know what his comment meant and decided not to find out if it was positive or negative.

  “Well, Lauren Peterson, good luck with your new career.”

  Lauren opened her purse and pulled out a card. It had her name and a phone number on it. Handing it to Jake, she said, “Just in case you want someone to help alleviate the pain.”

  “Temporarily?”

  She heard the sarcasm in his voice.

  “True, so you’d better act fast or that number will be disconnected.”

  * * *

  JAKE WAS SPEECHLESS. He hadn’t been whirl-winded by a woman since...never? Had it ever happened? He couldn’t remember. As he watched Lauren Peterson walking away, Jake wondered what had just happened. Who was she? She looked slightly familiar, but he was sure he didn’t know her, didn’t know anyone like her. Someone who could be both klutzy and aggressive at the same time. Women usually flocked to him. At least they had before... Jake stopped the thought. He wouldn’t go there.

  Since the accident, most people tried to ignore his arm. They didn’t mention it, tiptoeing around even looking in that direction. If anyone approached him, they did it from the left. If he changed direction, they moved back to his left side, as if he had a contagious disease that would jump through the air and infect them.

  Without even knowing his name, Lauren broached the subject of his injury head-on. Jake admitted that threw him for a moment. He was in pain and when she bumped into him, it escalated.

  There was no pain now. She said she wasn’t a therapist, but her hands had felt magical as she soothed his muscles better than any licensed therapist had ever made him feel.

  Who was she? he asked himself again. He had his eyes on her back. She walked confidently, weaving in and out of the swaying crowd. After a few seconds, she was gone, swallowed by the sea of humanity. Jake glanced at the card in his hand. It had her name and a phone number. He remembered her words. That line would be disconnected soon.

  Pushing the card in his pocket, he told himself it didn’t matter. He was no longer seeing therapists or nurses. They’d proved they could do nothing for him. It was all in his head. He’d been told that by the best psychologists in the business. Of course, they didn’t use those words. They used medical school jargon to explain neurological deficits, paralysis or somatosensory losses. It was hysterical paralysis for the layman. He was no moron. He knew the language. He’d learned it alongside them in the same chairs at the same medical schools. In essence, his mind wouldn’t let him move his arm.

  Turning around, Jake dismissed Lauren. This was his life and this was how it was going to be. He headed toward the car that stopped at the curb. The driver got out and rushed around to open the door. Jake levered himself inside without any help and soon the car merged into the traffic.

  Back at his apartment, the place felt cold and austere. It never had before. Had Lauren somehow changed his perspective? The apartment was a grand two-story space with twenty-foot ceilings and windows almost as tall, but today it felt empty and bleak. Lauren was different, not exactly a breath of fresh air, but someone he rarely came across. She was like spring: warm, sunny, colorful. Why was she making him feel that his apartment, the space he’d lived in for the last five years, was a grayed-out shell? It had everything he needed, furniture, lighting, paintings on the walls, books and a huge concert grand piano that had once belonged to his grandmother, yet he felt as if there was no life in the place.

  Wasn’t that the way he wanted it? As cold and empty as his life had become. Did the rooms reflect the state of his life? Had it atrophied along with his arm? Jake glanced at his right arm. The pain had not returned. He wondered what she’d done that was different from the multiple therapists who’d tried and failed. Why were her hands more effective than those of the professionals?

  The pain was real, but phantom nevertheless. Jake stared at the limb that hadn’t moved in two years. He willed it to move. Just a small change, even minuscule, would be welcome, his brain said. He’d ordered it to move millions of times since the doctors told him there was no physical reason why he shouldn’t be able to use his arm. Yet it refused to answer the commands of his conscious brain. It hung limply by his side or stayed in a pocket if he used his left hand to put it there.

  Since he’d stopped all the therapy, the arm was noticeably smaller than his left one. He could give himself all the rationalized reasons he wanted, but he knew that without exercising that arm, it would atrophy. He dug out Lauren’s card and looked at it. As he ran his thumb over t
he raised lettering, he outlined her name, remembering her smile and her touch. He could almost feel the warmth of her hands sliding along the grain lines of his muscles, coaxing them into submission, giving them the blood flow they needed to allow the natural biochemistry of the human body to act as nature intended it.

  His brother, Cal, came through the door while Jake was still looking at the card.

  “You’re late,” Cal said.

  Jake knew his brother was concerned about him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Cal put out a missing person’s report. In this case, he probably only needed to contact the limousine driver to discover that he was alive and well and talking to a stranger on the street.

  “I stopped for a late lunch with a woman named Lauren Peterson.”

  “Really? Who?” Cal’s brows went up in surprise. Since the accident, Jake had spoken to few women and agreed to no invitations.

  Jake walked to his brother and handed him the card. “Her. Check her out.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “On the street. Actually, we ran into each other, literally. She fell, dropped her packages, then suggested we have a cup of coffee.”

  “Why am I checking her out?” Cal asked.

  Cal always did the background checks. At least since the accident he had, taking on the role of protector to an infirm Jake. Jake was a wealthy man and he’d been taken advantage of once. Since then he protected himself. Jake didn’t mind Cal looking out for him. He loved his brother and knew Cal loved him.

  “You’re concerned about me being alone while you go away. And since I refuse more nurses and therapists, at least for a while, maybe she will be the answer.”

  “Why do you think that? You’ve met her once. For the space of a lunch.” Cal frowned.

  “She massaged my arm and I’m not in any pain.”

  “What? Where? Did you two go somewhere?”