Alex chuckled. “That was quite a show.”
“She's insane, Alex. And she thinks I have this thing for Rose…she’s crazy. ” I shook my head. “Harmony, not Rose,” I added, making a mental note not to make crazy jokes around Rose.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?” I asked, avoiding the question.
“Come on, Jack. It's me. I see how you look at her. Like you've never seen anyone so beautiful in all your life.” He stopped, embarrassed by his words.
Why couldn't I just admit to myself, at least, that I liked her? Because I fucking did. I liked the way she laughed, and the inappropriate things that came out of her mouth sometimes. I liked the way my heart felt like it was going to explode every time I caught sight of her. And how her touch felt like someone had lit a match and was holding it against my bare skin.
I loved the smell of her when she first arrived; fresh flowers and vanilla, like she had just stepped out of the shower, which of course led me to imagining her in the shower. This girl was messing with my head, and it embarrassed me to think what she might be thinking about me. I either acted rudely toward her, ignored her, or I stared at her like a freak.
Then there were the rare occasions where I let my guard down when she was around. She got a glimpse of the real me then, if she wasn't confused enough already
“I do like her, but it’s not that easy. Not after . . . I can’t go through that again.”
“You can't turn yourself off forever, Jack. You have to move on at some point.” He paused. “It's been three years. Are you afraid that moving on means you loved Belle less? Because it doesn't.”
“I'm way too tired to talk about this now, Alex. I think I might go to bed. You're right in the spare room? Towels and stuff are in the closet near the bathroom.”
Alex nodded, not pushing the subject.
“Night, Jack.”
#
I walked into my bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, I eased open the bottom drawer, reaching far into the back. I pulled out the small wooden box and lifted the lid.
The tiny angel sparkled as it caught the light. Gently, I lifted it out, holding the chain so the angel and diamond rested in the palm of my hand. I balled up my fist, tears stinging my eyes. God, I missed her so much.
I reached into the box and pulled out the picture. My angel, Belle. My heart pounded as I stared at her beautiful smile. Life was so fucking unfair. I would never forgive myself for Belle. All I could do was learn from my experiences.
And never fall in love again.
Chapter Eleven
Rose
I let myself into the empty apartment, trying not to think about how quiet and eerie it felt. I was alone for the next week, with Marina off on a few overseas trips for work. I flicked the lights on and glanced around. Maybe it was just because it was my first night here, but something was giving me the willies.
I walked over to the balcony to check the lock, and closed the drapes. Then I made my way over to the fridge and poured myself a juice. It was so late, and I had to start work at the diner in a few hours. I'd considered calling in sick, but there was no I could do that on my first day. Leaving the living room lights on, I stumbled down to the bedroom.
Pulling back the covers, I climbed in. Instant relief. This was so much better than sleeping in my car. I flicked off the lamp and lay there in the semi darkness, trying to block the thoughts in my head, my parents, therapy, Alex . . . and Jack.
Jack.
I didn't even know where to start with him. I knew I felt something, and sometimes I thought he did too, but then he'd act in a completely different way. He was stubborn, sure of himself and extremely private but then I'd see glimpses of this sensitive, sweet guy who cared about others. And those moments made my heart race.
Maybe it was all in my head, all those little moments we shared. Like tonight, when he’d touched my back. Did he seem jealous that Luis had been flirting with me? I'd snuck glances at him before he came over, and he looked angry.
Why did he get to me so badly when I wasn't even interested in a relationship with anyone right now? Or ever. God, I couldn't even handle friendships. Most of my friends had deserted me over the years following my suicide attempts, and those who hadn't I'd pushed away in fear of them getting too close to me. Admitting I was attracted to someone was a huge step for me. Making a move would be near impossible.
All my life I'd felt like everything was an act. Nothing was real. I felt like I was forever putting on a front, pretending everything was perfect. Why did I feel like that?
The only things that made me feel like I had a place in this world were my songs. Some days, all I did was sit holed up in my room, writing song after song. As creepy as it was, I'd even written and recorded a series of songs for my funeral.
How fucking morbid was that?
I slowly drifted off to sleep, ignoring the pool of tears forming on my pillow.
* * *
Getting up at seven for my first shift at the diner was hell, but by halfway through I was surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. According to Reena, most of the people who came in were workers from around the area, which meant we got a lot of professionals in. Occasionally I’d end up out front waitressing when things got really busy.
I spent most of my time out back, helping to prep the meals. Cooking was nothing new for me; I'd been preparing my own meals since I could remember. It was something I actually enjoyed. There was something therapeutic about starting and finishing something in a short amount of time.
Reena and her family were nice, and since we were scheduled on for the same shifts I was looking forward to getting to know her. I was keen to push myself out of my comfort zone and make some friends. She was twenty, and had dropped out of college to help her mother after her father had died. She helped care for her six brothers and sisters; while also helping out at the diner.
I filled the dishwasher as Reena came over with another stack of dishes. One good thing about this job was that time went relatively fast. “You were right,” I chuckled, “it does get busy in here.”
Reena laughed. “See, I told you. We are one of the only cafes on this strip, so we get all the local workers coming in for their coffee fix. How are you enjoying it?”
“It’s really good. I love that it’s pretty much non-stop. I think I’ll be quite happy here, if you guys are willing to give me a shot.”
“Don’t worry Rose, you’ve got the job.” She winked at me and picked up the two plates of pancakes waiting to go out. I stood there smiling like an idiot. Sure, it was just a part time job in a diner, but it felt good to finally be supporting myself.
#
After my shift, I went home and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a blue shirt. Grabbing my hairbrush I ran it through my long locks, before wrapping them up in a loose bun. My hair often had a mind of its own, so when strands began to fall around my face I just left them. I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I rarely wore make-up, but today I decided I wanted to. I ran my lip gloss over my lips and brushed on some eye shadow, which made my eyes pop. Throwing the make-up back in my room, I grabbed my purse and left.
I was meeting Alex for more ‘therapy.’ He'd suggested we meet for lunch in the park, and I'd agreed. Arriving at Mansfield Park a few minutes early, I spotted him setting up what looked like a picnic in the shade of a big oak tree. He waved at me, which made me grin. I liked Alex. He was a good guy. And hot to look at…like his brother.
"Hey." I grinned, dropping down on the red-and-white checkered blanket opposite him. I glanced around. The park was pretty busy, with lots of children playing on the nearby playground. The park also had a decent bike and walking track that snaked around the lake, so it was popular with fitness people. I’d never been much into fitness. I had played basketball as a teenager, but that was where my athleticism ended.
"I hope you like chicken and lettuce sandwiches," Alex’s voice brought me back
down to reality. He’d made sandwiches? That was so cute. Not only that, but he had what looked like carrot cake, juice, and even some fruit. He had gone to a lot of trouble for a therapy session. That should’ve made me uncomfortable, but it didn’t. I felt like I could relax around Alex.
"I love them. My favorite." Said. Then I giggled. “I think it’s cute, the difference in our cultures. Like you call these ‘chicken and lettuce’ whereas I’d just call it chicken.”
I reached over to the container housing them and selecting the once that looked like it had the most chicken. I was starving, and I wasn’t afraid to eat in front of a cute guy.
He laughed. “Well I might’ve been here for over six years, but I’m still British at heart. How was your first shift?” he asked me, biting into a sandwich.
My first thought was does he mean the diner or the bar? Then I quickly remembered that he only knew about the bar. I covered my mouth as I swallowed. Why did people always ask questions when your mouth was full?
“It was good. So busy, but that was what I needed to keep my mind off things like screwing up my first shift.”
Alex laughed. “Well, from what I hear you did pretty damn well.”
My ears pricked up. Had Jack told him that? The thought of Jack talking about me made my skin tingle.
“Yeah, well, I have to keep it up, right?”
Alex smiled. “How have you been feeling? How's the anxiety?” he asked, reaching for another sandwich. He offered me the container. I shook my head; I needed to save some room for that cake.
I shrugged. “It comes and goes. Most of the time I can distract myself by keeping busy. But sometimes no matter what I do, I can't keep myself out of my own head.”
“Are there specific things that make you anxious?” he asked.
“Who are you, my therapist?” I quipped.
He laughed.
“Yeah. Thinking about my family makes it flare up a bit. And worrying about work . . . and other things,” I said, flushing, praying he wouldn’t ask what other things. No such luck.
“What other things?” he asked. He brushed the crumbs off this shirt and lay down on the blanket, facing me.
“Things I don't feel comfortable talking about with you,” I replied after a while.
He nodded, as if he accepted my answer. I was not talking about Jack to Alex. Not going to happen.
“So, talk to me about your family.”
I winced. Talking about my family was hard, but then that was the point, right? You talk about it more and more, and slowly it gets easier until you no longer associate the trigger with the pain you feel.
“My family . . .” I repeated, unsure of where to start. “Well, I’m an only child. Parents who worked too hard and left me to basically care for myself. I don't know . . .” My voice trailed off as I struggled to sum up my family. “I know they love me but at the same time, I can’t remember the last time they showed me any affection.”
“Ah, I can relate.” Alex grinned. “You think your family is fucked up, well, yours has nothing on the Falcon family.”
I giggled, my mind wandering to Jack, imagining them both as little kids, growing up. Whatever Alex told me about himself got me one step closer to learning about Jack. I felt bad, almost like I was using Alex for information. I really liked Alex, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin that friendship.
“Oh?” I said, expressing my interest. “Tell me, did your mom send the gardener down to pick you up from hospital after you tried to kill yourself at age eleven?” My voice was light, but there was no mistaking the undertone of sadness.
“No, my mum left when I was seven after my father beat the crap out of her one too many times,” he replied with a wink.
I shut my mouth, not sure what to say to that.
“So what made you decide that enough was enough at eleven?” What? He turned the tables on the conversation so quickly it had left me breathless.
“That was my third attempt. Why?” I shrugged. “If I knew the answer to that, I'd be in a better place than I am now. I don't know. I've seen so many therapists, and none of them have been able to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me.”
“Can you describe it?”
I looked at him, shocked. “What I do?” I asked, confused. That sounded so…morbid.
He chuckled. “No. How you feel. Just before you do it, what's going through your head?”
“I feel like . . . like there’s no point. To anything. I don't hate my life, but the uncertainty of everything I struggle to cope with. What is the point of living if all we do in the end is die?” I toyed with the edge of the blanket. “I’m not scared of dying itself…it’s not knowing. I guess that’s why so many people believe in a religion. The idea of death and dying becomes so much easier to deal with when you have some hope to cling to.”
“So it’s almost like you can't cope with not being in control.”
I nodded, wiping my eyes. “It's stupid, and irrational, and I know that, but I feel so empty and so overwhelmed. I'm convinced anything good that might come to me will end in some horrible way, and it’s just easier for me to end it all first.” I took a deep breath, staring out in the distance across the lake. “I don't want to be left alone, crying over what I've lost. I’d rather not have it at all. But then something comes along that challenges everything I’ve just said and I end up feeling confused, and even more alone.”
“Something…or someone?” asked Alex.
I didn’t need to answer that. He knew. Apparently everyone did.
“Have you lost anyone close to you before?”
“I've never let anyone get close enough for me to lose,” I mumbled, focusing on the blanket in my hands. “I lost a grandparent, but that’s it. I’ve never even had a pet to lose.”
“What about love? Have you ever been in love? Those kind of feelings about loss and death must be incredibly hard to cope with when you’re in love.” I shook my head.
That was the point. I avoided love to avoid the pain. I kept myself closed off so as not to feel pain, and because the only thing worse than not knowing what comes after death would be knowing I’ve left someone behind.
“The thought of being in love scares me.”
“It scares a lot of people,” he pointed out.
“True, but most people don’t avoid it. Most people take the challenges of falling in love along with the good things about it.” I blushed. Talking about love felt weird.
“Do you see the good things about love?”
That was a good question. I thought about it. “I see why people fall in love, but…I don’t know. One moment I think how wonderful it would be to have that kind of bond with someone, but then…” I broke off. No. I needed to say this. I needed to get it out. “Then I think about how falling in love with me could ruin someone.”
Alex furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “How would it ruin them?”
I shrugged. “Being in love with me…how would that person react if I killed myself? How could you not blame yourself for that?” Did this make me sound self-indulged?
“People blame themselves for many things, Rose. Last words, actions, not acting. There are so many things that can go wrong with love, but what you feel when you’re in love and truly let yourself go? That’s what makes it all worth it.”
#
Pulling away from the park, I suddenly swerved up Fifth Street. I parked a little way down from the food truck, pretending I hadn’t just stuffed my face full of sandwiches and cake. I needed tacos, and I needed them now.
As I approached the truck, I thought about Jack. The bar was only two streets over. I fumbled through my pocket for my cell. After I had his details up, I quickly typed a message.
I’m on Fifth about to overindulge in Tacos. Care to join me?
I pressed send before I could change my mind. This was so not me. I didn’t chase guys. Not that I was doing that with Jack. All I knew was he was cute and fun to be around. And he was oblivious to how go
od tacos could really be. I jumped as my phone vibrated. Shit!
Give me five minutes
The panic began to set in. I’d expected him to shoot me down. The fact that he’d said yes unleashed a whole new explosion of questions. Was he just hungry, or was there more to it? There had been lots of glances and ‘accidental’ touches over the last few days, but we still hadn’t spent any more time together since that first day. I wanted to know him. What did he like? What made him tick? There were so many things I wanted to know about this guy.
I wandered up and down the sidewalk, window shopping while I waited for him. Looking up, I saw him walking to me from the other direction. Wow. How hot can he be? If it were possible, he looked even sexier today in a pair of jeans and a fitted tee. The fabric clung to his biceps, showing off his amazing muscles. His hair looked untouched from bed, but it suited him.
“Hey,” he smiled. He glanced at the old, rusting tuck we were now standing in front of. “So this is the famous home to the world’s best Tacos?” he teased, cocking his head. My knees went weak.
“At least Brooklyn,” I assured him. We approached the truck and placed our orders. I went with my usual fish and guacamole combo, while Jack stuck to a classic.
“Fish and Tacos? Sorry, I just can’t do it,” he laughed, screwing up his face. “I mean, that has to be the oddest combination ever.”
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