by Aly Martinez
"My name is Jesse James Addison," she answers, causing me to stop walking. Surely she's joking. Who names their daughter Jesse James?
"No, it's not," I laugh, only to stop when she flashes me some "Oh yes it is" attitude. "Wait, you're serious?"
"Yep, my dad was a big fan of westerns. My mom thought I was going to be a boy, so when my dad threw a fit about wanting to name me Jesse James, she gave in. It wasn't an issue until I was born without a penis. Mom says she argued with him, but the other names he chose were so bad she eventually gave in.”
"Can I say something about it without you getting pissed?" The look on her face implies I obviously cannot, but that doesn't stop me from saying it anyway. "That name is fucking hot! Don't ask me why, but it's definitely hot."
"It's a porn star or a stripper’s name." A flash of insecure Jesse peeks out.
"No babe, it’s your name. It fits you. If I've learned anything about you over the last few months, it's that you're a dichotomy. You have one side you allow people see. Then you have this ballsy alter ego that you only show when someone get close. I like this Jesse James woman." I pull her into me and roll my hips into hers.
I know her weakness; at some point Jesse became a sexual beast. While her soft moan ensures that I’m turned on too, a wave of something else passes over me. I feel a sense of contentment with her wrapped in my arms. So I open my mouth and say words I have no business saying.
"I love..." Thank God, I stop myself before I get to the most important word of all. But that doesn't stop my brain from firing one last absurdity. I'm going to marry this woman.
What. The. Fuck. I have no idea where that ridiculous notion came from. It's absurd at best. First of all, I can't marry her, I'm already married. Secondly, I will never allow myself to get into another relationship like I did with Sarah. I can't lose her again. Damn it, Jesse isn't Sarah! I scream to myself. I mean that in all the good ways, and the bad. Damn it. I hate my life. This inner dialog is killing me, so I try to focus back on the woman in my arms.
Jess doesn't react, so like an idiot, I breathe a sigh of relief. She must not have heard me. I should have learned by now though-God hates me. Big brown eyes look up at me, standing on the sidewalk outside her apartment, she asks a question. The one damn question that could change everything.
"What do you love, Brett?" You. Oh for fuck sake, what is wrong with me? This is dating. Get your shit together asshole and answer the center of your world’s question. Jesus Christ. I'm getting all poetic now. I need to shut up and get in the car before my mouth starts spewing Shakespeare.
"I love that your name is Jesse James. I have every intention of chanting it later tonight." Sex. Yes, sex is a safe topic. Let's stick with that.
"Oh...um, yeah. I like the sound of that." She tries to pretend she isn't disappointed by my answer. I can see it in her eyes. I know she was hoping for more, but I have nothing more.
"Come on gorgeous, I owe you dinner, drinks, and dancing." She stays silent and disappointment paints her face.
Damn it, this was supposed to be a good night, but once again I've screwed everything up. I need to bring her back to me. So I leave out the questionable parts and tell her the truth.
Backing her into the side of my car, I tell her some things she doesn't know. It's not what she wants to hear but hopefully it’s enough to make the spark flicker back into her eyes.
"Gorgeous, look at me," her eyes immediately flash up to mine. "I love spending time with you. I love watching you wake up in the morning. You always do this adorable little stretch, and roll away from me so I can't smell your morning breath," I laugh and she just rolls her eyes. "I love watching you cook, because even when there is no music, you always shake your ass to an imaginary beat. I love watching you lay on the couch pretending to like football." She tries to interrupt me, so I lean forward and place a soft kiss to her lips to keep her quiet. "I've known for weeks that you don't like football, but I love that you pretend for me. I have no idea how you beat me in those bets a few months ago, but it’s obvious you aren’t really a football shark. I love that too." I look down to see tears pooling in her eyes.
The tears confuse me. I'm giving her the only substitution I have for those three magical words I can't possibly begin to say.
"Brett, all of those things are sweet, and there are a lot of things I love about you too. Most of all, I just love...you." I suck in a breath, knowing things will never be the same again.
"Jesse..." I start to say something, but I have no idea what. Luckily she stops me first.
"I love you. I'm an idiot, and I know you don't feel the same, but I freaking love you. I promised myself a few weeks ago, I was going to give this thing with you my all, and that includes my heart. If it falls apart so be it, but at least I'll know I tried. I won't say it again, but I needed to say it just once before I had a chance to chicken out. So there you have it. I love you. Do with it what you want. Run, hide, file it away under crazy things psycho girlfriends say, I don't care...but at least now I know it's out there." She pauses to wipe away a single tear.
"Jesse..." I try to think of something to fix this, but come up empty handed.
"Can we please go now? I have a sudden urge to get drunk, and I'm not talking sexy drunk. I'm talking, drunk enough to forget the last twenty-four hours of my life, drunk. It's open bar right?" I just nod and pull her into a deep apologizing hug.
I can feel her shoulders shake as she begins to cry into my dress uniform. This is not the way this evening was supposed go. Outside her apartment, standing in the freezing cold, I hold her, giving her all I have to offer: a heartless, warm body.
"I'm done." My nonexistent heart lurches into my throat at the possible meanings of her words.
"Umm..."
"Are we going to be okay?" she timidly asks, not wanting the answer any more than I want to give it. "I mean, can you handle that I'm in love with you? Or is this the end?"
"Can you handle the fact that I can't tell you the same thing?” I ask the bigger question.
"Look, don't mess around with me here. Please. If this is a point you will never get to, let me go now. I don't want to go, but if you know this isn’t something you want, then please let me go before I lose myself completely in you."
"Jesse..."
"Stop saying my damn name and talk!" she yells, frustrated by my inability to communicate.
"I don't know what to say! I can't make you any promises, and I'd be setting us both up for failure if I tried. Gorgeous, I want to be with you. I want to see where this goes. I can't tell you those magical words, but I'm not ruling out that one day I will."
"What the heck does that even mean?" She begins to pace.
"It means we could go round and round, but I don't have any answers. The only thing I know is I don't want to lose you. I'm sorry I'm a douche bag who can't give you what you deserve. Fuck, I want to give it to you. If I didn't care about you, I would look into your eyes and tell you the words that mean everything." I throw my hands up the air. "If and when I know I will tell you. Jesse, when I say them, you can trust that I will mean it with my entire soul. I want to give you that one day. And if that never happens, I'll be the one who loses. I will be the dumb ass." She finally gives me a small one-sided smile. It's fake, but at least I'm one step closer to holding her again.
"Can we pretend again? Can we do what we did at the game and pretend I didn't say anything."
"Absolutely not." Her head snaps to the side. "Gorgeous, those are the most beautiful words you can say to someone, and I'll be damned if I'm going to forget the sound of them coming from your lips. I'm sealing this into my memory for the rest of my life. I just hope that one day I'll be able to give that back to you."
"Do you promise to tell me if you realize you'll never be able to fall in love with me? You know...not string me along."
"I swear on my life."
"Do you promise to tell me the split second that you realize how stupid you are, and that you ha
ve loved me all along?"
"I look forward to it."
"Do we have time for me to go fix my make up?" she asks, running her fingers through the black mess under her eyes.
"I'll wait forever if I need to."
She looks down at her sexy shoes and shakes her head, "The sad thing is...so will I."
"Jesse...I won't make you wait forever. Just give me a little more time to get my head straight." I worry that if I don't touch her now, I might not ever get the chance again.
Reaching out, I circle her into my arms and kiss her head. I don't want this to be sexy. I just want to give her back even an ounce of what she has given me tonight, but she pulls away all too quickly.
"Okay, I'll be right back." She heads up the stairs leaving me alone standing in the cold, and feeling like a total jackass. Very fitting.
A few minutes later she returns looking more beautiful than ever. A smile plastered across her face. A smile I know isn't real, but it still manages to steal my breath.
I swing open the passenger side door as she slides inside without a single word. "Jesse James, are you ready for some horrible banquet food?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
"Brett, promise me something." Her voice is stern and serious. I prepare myself to make her yet another heartfelt promise. Hell, I'll promise her anything at this point. "If dinner sucks, promise me we can order room service."
I laugh, leaning my head back in relief. "I swear. Actually, even if it's not terrible, we should at the very least order dessert."
"Maybe we can get into our pajamas and order one of those chocolate cakes with the melted chocolate inside."
"Absolutely, well...except for the pajamas part. No pajamas." She finally gives me a genuine Jesse smile.
Jesse
Two weeks later…
THINGS HAVE surprisingly been great since I opened my big mouth confessing my love to Brett. I figured it would get weird, or it might even scare him away completely. But if anything, he's started coming around more often. It's as if showing up almost every day is his way of proving to me that he does care. I think he might feel guilty for not sharing my feelings. Just what Brett needs, more guilt.
He and I live in a perfect little world of denial. We don't talk about Sarah or our feelings. We definitely don't talk about a future together. We just exist, hanging out and talking about our days, but never our tomorrows. Somehow it works. I keep telling myself that I should ask about Sarah. Maybe try to help Brett move forward, but I always chicken out at the last minute and end up having sex with him instead. At least we're good at the sex part.
Last week, Brett shocked the heck out of me by asking me to spend Christmas with his family. I used every excuse I could think of to get out of going. It's not that I didn't want to go...okay, it was completely that I didn't want to go. I'm not ready to meet Brett's family. What if they look at me like the other woman? I'm sure they were close with Sarah. What are they going to think of him seeing someone new now? But Brett pulled out the trump card, and invited Kara first. She of course jumped at the opportunity to spend the night with the Sharp family. When I informed her later that he doesn't have any brothers, she was pretty disappointed.
Today, I'm going to the station to meet Caleb on his lunch break so he can help me shop for Brett’s Christmas present. I'm buying him size fifteen bowling shoes. Every time we hit the lanes he always limps for days afterward. They don't offer rental shoes that big so he crams his feet in a size too small. Caleb agreed to help me pick them out. At least this way if he hates them, I can blame it on Caleb.
"Hey, baby girl." I hear Caleb say as walk into the front of the police station.
He’s sitting on the desk flirting with the sixty year old receptionist. I look around equally hoping to catch a glimpse and trying to avoid Brett. I'd love to see him in his work element, but I don't want him to know I'm going shopping with his best friend.
"You can relax, he's not here."
"Oh, um...okay," I say disappointed. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah come on back, I need to grab my jacket." He leads me around a surprisingly quiet police station.
He stops on one side of two desks pushed together. "Give me just a minute, I need to send out this email and close out my computer." He nods to the desk facing his, "That one is Brett's. Have a seat."
I slowly walk over trying not to look too eager, but inside I'm dying to see what pictures are inside the two frames propped on his desk. I feel a rush of relief when neither of them are of Sarah. One is a family photo of a herd of beautiful people. Caleb wasn't wrong, that is a good gene pool. The other is a picture of him with his parents at his graduation from the police academy. God, he looks so young, but he's way better looking now. He's filled out and looks more like a man than the boy in the picture.
I sit in his chair and study his workspace. He's a pretty neat guy. His apartment isn't immaculate, but it's always tidy. His desk is no different. All the papers are in stacked baskets, pens all stored in a Chicago Bears mug, and his paper clips cling to a magnet next to his keyboard. I want to open all his draws and get a closer look at this professional side of Brett Sharp, but I'm relatively sure digging through a detective’s desk is frowned upon in the eyes of the law.
Out of the corner of my eye, something under his keyboard catches my attention. I can tell it’s the edge of a photo and my heart drops. Ah, this must be where he hides the picture of Sarah I so feared he would have. Unable to stop myself, I reach forward uncovering it.
My breath hitches with what's revealed. If finding the picture hadn't already stolen my breath, the beautiful image in front of me would. It's a picture of us at the police ball. I have no idea who took this. It's not posed. It's just us standing talking. I'm staring up at him, and he must be saying something dirty because my cheeks are flushed-his thumb caressing the red. He's wearing a sexy smirk, and my face is glowing. I don't remember standing there with him, but I can feel a rush of the million emotions captured with one click of a camera.
The corner of the picture is slightly worn where someone frequently handles it. It may have been hidden, but it's obvious he looks at it often. I get an idea and quickly slide it into my purse.
"You okay, Jess?" Caleb draws my attention away from grand-theft-photo.
"Yeah, I'm great. Why do you ask?" I try to be smooth.
"Because I just watched you steal Brett's prize possession."
"I...I just..." I stumble over my words.
"It's okay, baby girl. I don't blame you. It's a really good picture. We'll get some copies made while we're out. He'll lose his shit if that thing's missing for more than thirty seconds. I'll put it back for you later."
"Thank you," I rush out a breath.
"Let's go, we have some ugly non-scuffing shoes to buy!" he mocks excitement, and I punch him in the shoulder.
CALEB AND I must have gone to every store in town that offered bowling accessories. They either didn't have size fifteen shoes or the selection was beyond hideous. It got to the point where Caleb would walk into a store and say, "Show me what you have in a size fifteen." They would bring us two or three pairs and we would sneak a peek, then move on. Two hours later, we finally hit the last athletic store in a fifty mile radius.
"That's them!" I scream as the sales girl holds out a kick-butt pair of black and blue checkered shoes. "Please say you like them?" I turn to Caleb waiting for the final verdict.
"Sold!" He slams his hand down on the counter.
Exhausted by the day, I jump around thrilled we finally found something. I only have five days left until Christmas, so ordering online was out of the question. I should have planned this better, but I was waiting for my most recent paycheck to spend on Brett's big Christmas gift. Fortunately for me, these are way better than any shoes I would have picked out from just a picture online.
I launch myself into Caleb's arms, ecstatic and grateful for his help, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
"Jesse, I didn't make them
."
"I know, but I probably would have given up four stores ago if you hadn't been here to help."
"Alright, alright. You’re welcome. Now let’s get out of here, I need to get back to work."
"Wait, we still have to stop and get the pictures."
"I couldn't forget that," he winks.
"Caleb, earlier...you said that picture was Brett's prize possession."
"Yeah, it is," he answers quickly. "He thinks he's being sly and no one can see him sliding it from under his keyboard two hundred times a day, but we're all just so fucking happy for him that we don't call him out on it."
"I told him I love him," I confess. Caleb may be Brett's best friend, but he's safe. He won't share my secrets. But hopefully he will share some of Brett's.
"Really! How did he react to that?" Caleb says shocked.
"He doesn't exactly feel the same way," I shrug, pretending it doesn't break my heart every time I think about it.
"Give him some time. He's a good guy."
"So everyone keeps telling me."
"Do you need a Brett pep talk?" he teases, expecting me to punch him in the arm again.
"Maybe," I squeak out honestly.
"Jesus..." He looks around to make sure no one is listening. Whenever someone does that, you know it's always good information they are about to share.
"He hasn't seen Sarah in over three weeks."
"WHAT?!" I shriek. He disappears every Thursday. I just assumed he would be with her.
"For the last few weeks we have been meeting for drinks."
"Why isn't he seeing Sarah?"
"She froze him out. Won't open the door. He's been sending over caretakers who she surprisingly lets in, so he knows she's okay. She just doesn't want to see him."
"Well that's good she is letting someone in," I say relieved. Why should I care about her? Oh that's right, because Brett loves her, or loved her, or... heck, I don't know. I've never bothered to actually ask.