The Girl He Knows

by Kristi Rose

  “Nothing. Just said some interesting things when we were dancing. She seems real nice.”

  I give the cabinets one last wipe and hand the sponge back to be rinsed. My mind races at the possibilities of what Josie could have said to him. We finish cleaning the mess and Hank steps around me, heading toward his bedroom.

  “Like what?” I follow him.

  He turns and is about to say something, struggling with either the words or his thoughts. His face reflects a mélange of emotions and settles on one that looks a lot like exasperation.

  “Nothing important.”

  I search his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to her wedding.”

  “What about the guy at your apartment? You aren’t taking him?”

  “No.” I shake my head and sit on the edge of the bed. I’m pretty sure trashing a guy’s car wipes out any chance of reconciliation. Not that I’m interested.

  “I think she would be disappointed if you didn’t come.” I tell him. “I’m not trying to pressure you, but you’re welcome to come.”

  Taking Hank has its perks. He’s a great dancer and fun to boot. I know I’ll enjoy his company. I don’t want to go alone, especially since Jayne is going with Stacy, but if Hank’s going to be this moody, I’m not sure I want to spend the whole weekend with him either.

  “Are you asking me because your friend wants me to come, because you want me to, or you don’t want to go alone?”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake. Don’t come, jeez.” I throw up my hands in frustration. “I asked because I thought you might like to come. I know we’d have a good time and you look worn-out. I thought a weekend at the beach relaxing might be the thing you need.”

  “I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m trying to make sure I understand what page we’re on. I’d love to go to the wedding, but I want to know what the expectations will be.”

  Should there be any expectations? Wasn’t that part of the no-strings deal? “Why don’t we agree to have no expectations so no one can misconstrue anything.”

  “And if we have sex?”

  I sigh with exasperation. “Why is this so difficult? Isn’t this exactly what you had in mind when you came up with your grand idea?”

  A beat passes before he responds, “You’re right. Sounds fine with me. No expectations.”

  Gigi calls to us from the living room, “I’m back.”

  “We’re in the bedroom,” I say.

  “Can I come in? Is everyone decent?” She stands outside the doorway with her hands over her eyes.

  “Yes.” I sigh.

  “Gee, too bad.” She joins me on the bed. “Who’s hungry for lunch?”

  “I might be.” I hold up my hand as my stomach loops over, though I’m not sure if it’s because I’m hungry or still nauseated from last night.

  “If you’re treating, I’m hungry,” Hank tells Gigi.

  We agree on a restaurant and head out. Hank takes his motorcycle. I want to ask if I can ride with him but I hesitate, something I normally wouldn’t do. It feels strange, everyone knowing we’ve slept together. As if they’ll be watching our every move, speculating.

  The lunch together isn’t too awkward, when I don’t think about Hank’s hands on my body, which happens about two seconds out of every minute. Or try to make small talk with Gigi while refraining from leaping across the table and throwing myself at Hank. Instead, I’m trying to chew my nails but each time I bring my hand up, one of them looks at me as if they can read my mind.

  It’s a huge relief to head back to Daytona. Of course, once I send Gigi on her way home, with a large cup of iced tea and trail mix to snack on during the ride, I flop onto my couch and stare at my cell phone, my finger hovering over the message icon. I don’t feel like things are settled between us. Plus, I want to see him.

  Oh, what the hell.

  I text him and use an emoticon, because who can resist? Hi:-)

  Hi

  Apparently Hank can. Such a buzz kill. I hesitate, second-guessing my next move. It was nice seeing u. What r u doing?

  Nothing. U?

  Ack. This is painful. What was I thinking? Same. Gigi’s gone

  I told you she’d be cool

  She wasn’t 100% cool

  She didn’t kick your ass either

  I want to point out that I was right, sorta, about his sister’s reaction. She wasn’t as pleased as he said she would be. She threatened to

  LOL

  That’s all he can say. Laugh out loud? This requires an exclamation point, or two. Seriously!!

  She’s posturing

  OK, deep breath. Now for the real reason. Here goes nothing. What r u doing for dinner?

  Dunno. Have no food here. Guess takeout

  I have tons here. Plus great take out places

  Good for you

  If I could reach through this phone and shove him I would. Don’t be obtuse

  Was that an invitation? BC if it was it sucked

  Ahh! This man is making me crazy. OK, another deep breath. Oh all right. Wanna come here for dinner?

  I have to close my eyes and wait for the phone to vibrate, finding it unbearable to watch the screen and wait for his reply. When the phone finally hums in my hand, I swallow the lump in my throat and open my eyes.

  It sounds like fun—long drive tho—Meet halfway?

  I type quickly so as to not chicken out. Or you could just bring an overnight bag

  I’m leaving here in 10

  Chapter 25

  The moment is perfect. It’s been years since I’ve felt this at ease or right with the world. When he arrives, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, having come on his motorcycle, I jump into his arms. We start at the front door, leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom. Whatever awkwardness was between us is gone. Hopefully forgotten.

  “I’m famished. Want to order delivery? We should get something now before it gets too late.” He rolls toward me smiling, picks up a curl, and brushes it against my shoulder.

  “Why do you do that?” I ask. Unfortunately, the move reminds me of Jake and I’m not interested in any reminders.

  “What? Play with your hair?” He continues when I nod. “Your hair’s been long since I can remember. Though it’s either whipping me in the face or stuck to your face. I guess I like to touch it.”

  I raise up and press a light kiss to his lips. History. We have history. It warms me from within.

  “Delivery sounds great. How about Thai food?” I roll toward the night table where I keep my iPad and reach to open the drawer. Hank grabs my arm before I realize what I’ve done.

  “What’s this on your arm?” His voice is quiet.

  I look at the back of my arm and the fingerprint bruises are clear. Hank moves my pillow to look at my other arm, finding the other set of bruises. I roll back toward him, iPad forgotten.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing. Who grabbed you and why?”

  He sets his jaw, his lips thin creases, his brow narrow. This is not a conversation he can be distracted from. I consider making something up, but Hank knows me too well and can sniff out a lie in an instant. I go with honesty.

  “Remember the guy who was here the day you showed up, said he was my boyfriend?” I pull the sheet up, covering my chest, and tuck it under my arms before I continue. “It turns out he was interested in me so he could get to Josie’s fiancé Brinn. When I told him I wasn’t going to see him anymore and he wasn’t coming to the wedding with me, he got upset.”

  Hank takes one arm and lifts it up to look at the bruises and places his hand over the imprints. His hand assumes Jake’s position.

  “He grabbed your arms and what else?” He gently puts my arm down and moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Nothing else. Said some hateful things and that’s it.” I reach for him but he gets up and pulls on his jeans.

  “Holy shit, Paisley.�
� He jerks on his shirt and stands, clenching and unclenching his fist. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Me?”

  He gestures to my arms.

  “I don’t understand? I’m not still going out with him.”

  “Oh yeah? After how many dates did you decide not to see him again? Because I can pretty much guaran-damn-tee he gave you warning signs on date number one and you still went out with him again. Probably two or three more times. To think he was inside your place while I stood outside and I left you alone with him. And you knew he was capable of this—”

  “I didn’t know.” It’s a halfhearted argument. He’s right. I ignored my instinct throughout the whole ordeal. I follow him out of bed, throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Bullshit. You knew. Deep down, you knew.” He stops to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if it helps with regaining composure. “I never imagined your self-esteem was this low, Paisley.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my self-esteem,” I shout, more embarrassed, less indignant.

  “Is that so?” He stares at me and it’s the first time he’s looked at me with pity.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he says matter-of-factly, shaking his head.

  I step back and sink onto my bed. “I knew doing this would ruin everything. I knew it.” It takes everything I have not to say I told you so, not to cry.

  He shakes his head, grabs his backpack, and starts throwing his stuff into it. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “I don’t understand....”

  He rubs his hand across his brow and shakes his head. “I’ve known you my entire life, and I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you just as long. Remember when you punched Michael Walters in the nose for calling Sarah Grace a bitch, you were ten years old maybe? I watched you ball up your fist and slug him. Watching you do that, I knew for sure. Do you remember?”

  I nod. “Sure, but what—”

  “Hear me out. You’ve always been sassy and courageous. So sure of yourself and determined. You’re not that person anymore. This person now, I’m not sure I like. Yeah, when we’re together I see glimpses of the girl I fell for as a boy and it gives me hope she’s still in there. But this wishy-washy person, who can’t make a decision, can’t...won’t...know her own mind, infuriates me.”

  “Apparently I don’t infuriate you enough because you still slept with me every chance you got,” I say.

  He stops and looks at me and shakes his head, “I’ve waited a lifetime for you, and yeah, I slept with you whenever I could. Because I want to be with you. Because I thought if we slept together, you would see me as someone other than Gigi’s brother or your friend. I thought you’d see how great things are when we’re together and want it too.” He looks away.

  “Hank, I’m still trying to find my way since my divorce.”

  “Bullshit.” He points at me. “You can use your divorce as an excuse for only so long. You know, it amazes me. You can marry the wrong person, go through what he put you through, and come out the other side weaker than when you went in.”

  It’s a slap on the face. “You know nothing about being divorced. Nothing,” I scream. “You know nothing about me.” Tears run down my face.

  He stops and looks at me; his pack falls to the ground. “You’re right. I don’t know you, or should I say this version of you, at all. The girl I know is lost. I guess you have been for some time. Maybe it started when your dad died. Maybe not. I guess it doesn’t matter because the point is you’ve lost a part of you. The best part of you. The girl I know would’ve never let some jackass grab her. She would’ve never let it go too far. Not after everything she’d been through, but then the girl I know would have never let her sister punch her cheating ex-husband in the face either. She’d have done it herself.”

  The disappointment that crosses his face guts me. I know he doesn’t see the person I think I am.

  “I’ve always been there for you, Paisley. Ready to bail you out, ready to be your hero, but I won’t be there anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “I never asked you to be my hero.” My temper boils.

  “No, you didn’t. But you sure came running every time you needed one.”

  “Not true.” I point my finger at him.

  “‘Hank, I have a flat. Hank, I don’t want to go to this party alone,’” he mimics. “‘Hank, Austin dumped me before prom and I don’t have a date. Hank, my friend’s husband is an asshole, so aren’t all men? Hank, come to my friend’s wedding so I won’t be alone.’”

  “You asshole.” I grab some of his stuff and throw it at him, tears blurring my vision. “I thought you were my friend and I asked you to come to this wedding because I wanted your company not because I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Right. Good old Hank the friend. Remember my senior year when we were both single at the same time?” He doesn’t wait for a response.

  “We hung out and walked the lake, ate ice cream, and had a good time. You asked me why I broke up with what’s her face and I told you some stupid line. The truth is I broke up with her because you were suddenly single and I was leaving for the Academy in the fall. I thought maybe we could start something, maybe you’d finally see me as something other than a friend. But you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not an asshole, I’m a chump.”

  My knees are shaking as my mind races. I’m trying to process what he’s saying but can’t seem to focus. I only see the anger and disappointment etched on his face. His words flash through my mind, bring snapshots of our past, my past. He’s walking around my apartment, making sure he has everything. When he does a complete lap, he turns to me.

  “I don’t want to be your friend anymore. Everything I did for you I did because I love you. Correction. I love the girl you used to be. I want to be with her more than anything in the world. When I found out you were getting divorced, I couldn’t get back to the states fast enough. Hell, I even had orders to Norfolk, Virginia and changed them to be closer to you. I just wanted a shot to see if we could make something of it. Something good, true, and lasting. But this girl”—he points to me—“she’s a coward, and I don’t have the stomach for cowards, nor the time. I’m all done.” He swings his bag over his shoulder, grabs his helmet, and walks out.

  How I manage to walk on such wobbly legs I’ll never know. I make my way to the window, watch him get on his motorcycle, and ride away, never once looking back. It’s not until the night gives way to morning that I turn away and go back inside.

  Chapter 26

  “Come on, Paisley. Help me impress Jayne with my Fred Astaire moves.” Stacy holds his arms out and does a dance move with an imaginary partner. He nods toward the dance floor where a large portion of the guests at Brinn and Josie’s wedding are twirling around to the ten-piece orchestra’s big-band music.

  I smile up at him. “It’s OK, Stacy, I know the guys are taking turns dancing with me because I have no date. But there are plenty of single men here, and I can’t meet even one with you all hovering.” Not that I’m trying. I put my glass under the champagne fountain and watch the bubbles collide.

  “Come on, help a guy out. I’ve got to show her I’ve got something going for me other than mad counting skills. She keeps giving me the old let’s-just-be-friends line.” He gives me such a look of earnest. It’s too bad Jayne is overly cautious about getting involved with someone who has a kid because it’s obvious they like each other,

  “Oh, all right, but if I know Jayne, and I do, it’s not going to help. She’s nothing if not stubborn.” I put my glass to the side and let him guide me to the dance floor, where we make it through a fast dance without anyone getting hurt.

  “It’s only six steps. I can count that high.” He smiles and guides me back to our table.

  By ours, I mean the same table where Gigi and John, Jayne and Stacy, Kenley and Doug, Samantha and her husband Mike, and Heather and I are sitting. I’m trying really hard not to be a wet
blanket. It’s hard enough being at a wedding surrounded by so much love and happiness, so foreign from my own experience. I plop into my seat next to Gigi.

  “Can I drink this champagne?” I reach for the glass.

  “Please do.”

  Her hand is on John’s leg and he’s entwined his fingers with hers. He’s been smiling and laughing all night and he and Stacy have struck up a friendship.

  “Can I ask you something?” I put down the glass and lean in to make it a more private conversation.

  “Sure.” She leans toward me.

  “I may have the wrong impression of John. I mean, I haven’t spent any time with the two of you together in years and I was wondering, um... Are you happy?” I whisper it.

  She nods and smiles at me. “We’ve had our rough periods, in fact, we are coming out of one now. But even our rough periods are still pretty good. Our issues are more about external stresses like Pete’s teacher and her concern about his attention or John’s job.”

  The moment hangs there as I gain a new perspective on those memories, finally seeing the other side.

  She continues, “Remember Poppy’s party? When you showed up and Pete said John and I were inside wrestling?”

  I nod and remember how disheveled and scattered she looked.

  “A couple weeks prior, Pete walked in on us...you know...and asked what we were doing. We told him we were wrestling. The day of my dad’s party, John and I were trying to get in a quick ‘wrestle,’ if you know what I mean, and John told Pete to go outside and play so we could wrestle.” Her face turns red.

  “He’s always been so...grouchy.” It’s the mildest of words I can come up with.

  Gigi laughs. “I know, mainly because of his job.”

  I know John works for the FBI, but I’m not sure what he does. I was told a long time ago, but couldn’t remember, so I ask.

  “Until a few days ago he was assigned to investigate pedophiles. He just got transferred to financial crimes. It’s going to be a huge change, for the positive.”

  I look from Gigi to John and I see it, a couple, struggling with a difficult child, a stressful job, and still working together. Two people in it for the long haul. Two people who love each other, for better or worse.