by Christa Lynn
I nod, but I don’t say anything. I’m trying to fill my brain with what I’m going to say to him. We stop outside the door, and Ray pushes it open. “I’ll be right outside,” Sarah says.
“Thanks for the encouragement.” I feign a laugh.
Ray pushes my chair beside the bed, and I take Nash’s hand. It’s warm and heavy, as his body is relaxed from the meds. His eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s just sleeping, though his eyes are moving rapidly behind his eyelids. He’s dreaming, and based on his eye movements, it’s not a good dream.
I sit quietly, brushing my fingers over his knuckles, and he stirs, his eyes blinking open. “There you are.” He sighs, a slight smile on his face. He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath, only to burst out coughing, a painful grimace on his face.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, unsure of what I’m supposed to say.
“Like shit, you?”
“I’m okay, going home today.” He nods and closes his eyes and his facial expression changes as if he’s thinking about something.
“Will you come back soon? To see me, that is?” I don’t want to disappoint him, so I tell him that I’ll be back tomorrow, but that he needs to rest. I try to let his hand go, and he squeezes it. “Good. Hopefully, I’ll be more alert tomorrow. I hate pain meds.”
“Me too,” I respond.
He opens his eyes as Ray comes in to get me, the nurse behind him. “I’ll see you soon,” I say.
He nods and smiles. “Okay, beauty,” he whispers as Ray moves the wheelchair, but Nash’s hand stops it. “Rest well, I love you, Jade.”
I freeze, he thinks I’m her. I try not to let that get to me, that it’s the meds talking, but it hurts. He looks at me, almost not even focusing on me. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t. Ray, get me out of here, please,” I say, prying Nash’s hand off the chair.
Ray pushes me toward the door. “Why not?” Nash asks from the bed, trying to sit up.
“Because I’m not Jade.”
Chapter 17
Two months later
The white piece of paper with Ray’s name on it lurks in my desk drawer. I debated on calling him, but I didn’t. I still can’t. I’ve wondered what became of Nash and Jade. I’ve tried not to dwell on it too much. I know I was wrong in not going back to see him, especially after he almost lost his life trying to save me. But at that point in my life, I couldn’t get in-between him and the love he obviously has for Jade. I needed to focus on my own life.
As I sit here in my office chair, finalizing the advertising for the campaign, I smile. I made it. I got the large account I needed to boost my business, my home has been rebuilt, and I have a sparkling new Charger that sits out in the parking lot. I moved my business to one of the high-rises downtown, but I can see the shiny silver machine sitting in the lot below my sixth-floor office.
After I had won the account, business started booming. I had to hire three more account executives, and they’ve all done amazing. My luck has definitely changed since I got out of the hospital. I guess God figured I’d had enough and set me free.
“Sarah called, party at Beer Knobs at eight o’clock,” Michelle says, referring to my thirtieth birthday party, something I thought I’d never see after the last couple of months I’d had.
“Beer Knobs? Why there?” I freeze, remembering when Nash scooted his chair back over my foot, beginning the string of bad luck I found myself in. I haven’t been back there since that night. I stare out the window of my townhouse at times, wondering if I’ll catch a peek of Nash on the patio having a beer, but I haven’t. Even though I haven’t seen him in two months, I think about him a lot, probably more than is healthy. But he’s the face I see when I close my eyes at night, his voice is the voice I hear when I have quality time with Frank. He’s my imaginary boyfriend, though I’d never tell anyone that. Not even Sarah. If I told her, she’d make me try and find him, and I refuse to get in the middle of his relationship with Jade. I know, I’m probably unlike any others, but I won’t fight a battle I know I can’t win.
“Not the place I’d choose, but okay. At least I won’t have to drive home,” I say. She smiles and then closes the door, an amused smirk on her face. I know now she’s up to something, but after all, it is my birthday, so I expect she and Sarah have been plotting for weeks now. I’ll just have to stay on guard and not let them get me.
I tap my pencil on the desk and my phone rings, jarring me out of my potential demise at my own birthday party. “Shelby Mansfield,” I answer.
“Hey, girl, you ready to partayyyy!” Sarah belts out in my ear.
“Um no, what are you and Michelle up to?”
“Why do you think we’re up to anything? It’s a birthday party, for my best friend. I can’t imagine why you’d believe that it would be anything else.”
“Because I know you,” I say as I start to pack up my desk. I lock my computer and close the lid and grab my designer handbag that Sarah talked me into getting once I won the account. It’s way too much, but it made her happy. I still have my grimy backpack, but to get her off my back, I conceded.
“So, eight o’clock at Beer Knobs?” she asks.
“I guess, but why in the hell did you choose that place? There are so many other places we could have gone.”
“So, you don’t have to drive home, you can walk.”
“Oh, yeah, like the last time I walked home from there?”
“You haven’t been back there since …”
“No, and I had no plans to. But now, I guess I don’t have a choice,” I say as I walk out of my office and close the door. “See you at eight,” I whisper to Michelle who’s also on the phone, no doubt winning us another deal. She nods and continues her call as I make my way to the parking lot and get in the car.
“Wear something sexy,” Sarah says.
“Oh, yeah, like I have a closet of sexy clothes. You know I don’t do sexy, Sarah. Don’t start on this again.”
“Oh, come on, you’ve been alone since Nash. It’s time you get back out there.”
“You saw what happened last time I got out there, and the time before. No thanks, I’m good in my bubble.”
“Fuck the bubble,” Sarah says. “I’ll pop that mother fucker myself if I have to.” She laughs.
“This isn’t my virginal cherry, Sarah. You can’t just pop it. It’s sturdy and safe, and I’m happy in my bubble.”
“Fuck that,” she says. “Bubble smubble, it’ll burst … and I want to be there when it does.”
“Right, on that note, I’m in the car and heading home. I’ll see you at eight,” I say as I punch off my phone. That chick is an amazing friend, she bailed me out of a hard place after the fire, and I owe her my life. But I’m not letting her pop my bubble. She’ll try to have her fun later, and I’ll shut her down in an instant, I hope.
I head home and flop on the new sofa and scan my home. It’s all new—everything in my life is new. The fire destroyed everything, and I almost decided to rebuild somewhere else. But I like this side of town, so I stayed. That’s the only thing that’s remained the same since that fateful night.
I close my eyes and rest, just for a minute before I have to get ready to go across the street. I wish she had chosen another place for tonight, but Sarah has a method to her madness, and I let her run with it. Mom is supposed to be there with Phil who decided he could no longer live without Mom, so he moved back here. She’s happier now, and I can’t fault her for that, a younger man or not. If she’s happy, then I’m happy. She too has pressed me to contact Nash, but I just can’t. He knows where to find me if he wants to talk. I guess that’s selfish of me, but being anything other that selfish only got me into trouble. If I focus just on me, then I’m good.
My phone dings, and I jump out of my skin.
“Where are you?”
“Fuck, what time is it?”
“Eight oh five, you’re late.”
“Oh geez, five minutes. Get your panties out of your ass. I’ll be there in a few.”
“You’d better, or we’ll bring the party over there.”
“No no, stay there. I’m on my way.”
I run upstairs, pulling my work clothes off as I skip each stair, a sudden burst of energy fills me. I haven’t been out with the girls in a long time, so I’m actually kind of excited, even though it’s a place I never wanted to go back to.
I tug on some too tight jeans and a basic t-shirt, but throw on some sky-high heels and freshen up my makeup. Sarah told me to dress sexy, but this is as sexy as I can get. As I start down the stairs, I almost twist my ankle in these damn fuck-me pumps, so I slip them off and carry them down the stairs. I don’t want to start my night with a broken ankle. I’ve managed to stay away from the hospital, and I damn sure don’t want to go back.
I eye my old grimy backpack in the hall closet and almost decide to grab it, just to piss off Sarah. But I don’t, because that part of my life is gone and done. Over, and I’m not going back. I slip on some flip flops and stuff my shoes into my bag and lock the door and head to the corner. I make my way across the street, stopping on the opposite corner and putting my heels on. As soon as I’m in sight of Sarah, she screams. “Oh joy, she’s drunk already,” I moan to myself. I hope she has someone to drive her home, or she’ll be crashing at my place. You’d think this was her birthday or something.
She opens the wrought-iron gate to the patio area and lets me in then gives me a bone crushing hug. “Easy there, Tarzan,” I cough out as she lets me go. She’s booked the entire patio, so it’s full of familiar faces and some not so familiar faces. “Who are those people?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Just some people I yanked off the street. The more, the merrier, right?”
“Oh, Lord, girl.”
“Come on, sit! You have the best seat in the house,” she says as she points to the chair I sat in last time we were here.
“What is this, are we revisiting the past?” I ask as I sit down, a brown bowl of cashews on the plastic table top. I flash back to that night, and I suddenly don’t want to be here, it’s too much. I don’t think I realized how much I miss Nash until I sat down here. But I’ll try and stick it out since Sarah and Michelle went through so much trouble to set this up. I turn around and scan the patio, they’ve strung twinkle lights, and the heaters are going as it’s a little chilly out here. Why we couldn’t do this inside, I’ll never know.
Music starts playing, and a few tables are pulled back to mimic a dance floor, “Come on, let’s dance!” Sarah grabs my arm.
“Um, no. I don’t dance, especially in these shoes.”
“Take them off.” She tugs on my arm again.
“Sarah no, I’m not dancing. And I’m not walking barefoot out here. It’s too cold, and there’s no telling what’s coating this concrete.” I shiver.
“Fine,” she says, dropping into the chair next to me. “I’m sorry, I thought this would be fun.”
“It will be, but I don’t dance. When have you known me to dance?”
“Never, but you’re the new and improved Shelby Mansfield, I thought maybe …”
“Look, give me some time and a fucking drink, I’m parched.” I fake a cough, and she lights up, realizing I don’t have a beer yet. But before she can get up, a long neck is set on the table, “Thanks,” I say as I grab the neck and chug it back, Sarah clapping her hands like a kid in a candy store.
“What are you so excited for? It’s beer.”
“I know, just fun seeing you unwind for the first time in months.”
“Unwind? I’m not …”
“Wound up like a top? Oh, yes you are, you just don’t see it,” she says, kicking her feet up on the arm of my chair.
“Oh, good grief, care for a cracker with that toe jam?” I ask, pushing her foot off my chair.
“Seriously, you’ve been a bit of a fuddy-duddy since …”
“Don’t say it, Sarah. That’s behind me now.”
“I know, but itis good to see you out and about.”
“I didn’t have much choice, did I?”
“Nope, I would have come over there and dragged you out if you hadn’t shown up for your own party.”
“I don’t need a party,” I say.
“Oh, yes you do, you only turn thirty once.”
“Oh, I plan to hit thirty every year from now on, I will get no older than thirty.” I laugh. My mom always said she started counting backward at forty, but I just plan to stop at thirty. Pretty soon we’ll be the same age.
A few more people show up, and I’m reminded that Sarah has more friends than I do, because I don’t know half of them. Michelle is half lit, and so is Sarah. But I’m the sober one. I just can’t after the last time I got drunk here. Sober is how I need to remain, to keep my wits about me. I get too sloppy drunk, and I’m liable to start crying.
I kick my shoes off and prop them up on the chair next to me as another beer is set down on the table. “Thank you,” I say without looking up. I take a big chug and remember I want to stay sober, so I set it back down and turn to the crowd. Sarah is dancing with some dude, and Michelle is over in a corner talking with some girls she must have brought with her. “Whose party is this anyway?” I ask myself quietly. “I bet they won’t even notice if I slip out of here,” I say as I pull my flip flops out of my purse and pick up my high heels, which I shouldn’t have worn anyway. I don’t do heels, but Sarah said: “wear something sexy.” “Blah blah blah,” I groan at the fact that I’m sitting here all alone at my birthday party. “Fuck this,” I say as I stand up and spy the gate to exit off of the patio. I pull a twenty out and set it on the table to cover the two beers I had and sneak out the gate.
Ironically, no one sees me leave so I make the trek across the street and up the front steps inside, the door clicking loudly behind me. “Home sweet home,” I whisper to myself as I drop my shoes and go straight upstairs. I change and collapse into bed, realizing it’s almost midnight. “I wonder how long it’ll be before Sarah realizes I split.” I laugh. “For that to be my party, I sure felt like an outsider.” I sigh as I roll over and hug my pillow. I can hear the music from across the street with people laughing and having fun … at my fucking party.
Oh, well, I’ll get over it. I turn the lamp off and sink into bed, just in time for my phone to ding. I debate not looking, but I know if I don’t respond, she’ll be over here knocking on my door at one in the morning.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“What the fuck?”
“Home.”
“Why are you at home?”
“I got bored.”
“This is your party!”
“Yeah, then why was I sitting there all alone?”
“Because you’re a party pooper.”
I realize now I should have just told her I went home to poop, but I doubt it would have mattered.
“Are you coming back?”
“No.”
“I’m coming over.”
“NO!” I type back real fast.
“Yep, crossing the street now.”
“I’m not answering the door.”
“Don’t have to, I have a key.”
“I had the locks changed.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Go away, Sarah. I’m in bed, and I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Fine, I’ll go back and cry in my beer.”
“No, you won’t, not in the arms of that dude.”
“You saw that?”
“Of course I did.”
“You didn’t see who it was?”
“Of course I did not.”
“You want to know?”
“Not really, but I imagine you’re going to tell me anyway.”
She doesn’t respond right away, so I turn off the volume and set the phone face down on the end table, so I won’t notice it lighting up. I’m sure the man is just some dude she randoml
y picked up at the bar, she would have told me if she was dating someone. Or would she? I’ve been in my own little world for so long, trying to keep my mind on work and off of Nash, that she might have failed to mention a new guy.
“Have I been that bad of a friend?” I ask the darkened room. My bubble welcomed me back in with open arms, and I just fell right into it. “Damn I suck,” I think that maybe I should get back up and go back across the street, but I notice the volume drops. I lean over and look out the window, and it appears everyone has left, except one person who’s leaning up against the wrought-iron gate, looking up toward my window.
I blink my eyes and rub them, then open them back up, and he’s gone. “Whew, that was kind of creepy,” I say as I make sure the window is locked and then laugh because I’m on the second floor. “Unless he’s Spiderman, he’s not getting up here.”
But I do go downstairs and make sure all of those windows and doors are locked as well as setting the alarm. I don’t usually set the alarm, but that vision made me a little uneasy, so I set it tonight.
I peek out the window once more before crawling into bed, no strange dude, thank goodness. Maybe it was just my imagination running wild, being back at Beer Knobs for the first time in months. I shake it off and close my eyes, not even looking at my phone anymore. It’s obvious that Sarah and that dude took off together, I just hope she has a good time … on my birthday.
I know I did this to myself, I get it. She was just trying to cheer me up, and I totally bailed on her. I suck as a friend, I really do. I realize it now, but it’s too late. And I imagine she’s getting jiggy with her new dude right about now, so I don’t text her. I’m sure she’ll call me as soon as she wakes from her drunken stupor tonight.
Just as I get settled, and my heart calmed, I hear a pounding on the door. Then the doorbell rings and more pounding. “Holy fuck,” I groan as I toss the covers off and look for some sort of weapon to use to beat someone over the head with, and I find nothing. “Guess I have to go downstairs empty handed.”
I grab my phone and punch in nine-one-one, but I don’t hit send. I don’t need the police here accusing me of making a false emergency call if it’s nothing. But the pounding on the door occurs again as well as the doorbell, and I jump out of my skin. As I scoot toward the door, lurking behind doors and things, I spy my full-size umbrella in the stand by the door. As I reach for it, the knocking begins again, and I finally hear a voice. “Shelby, open up!” I hear Sarah, then giggling.