Still Rattled

by Charles, Jane

  “My adoptive parents would never tell me anything about my birth mother, and as I grew older I grew to resent her. That was mostly in my teen years because my parents were so controlling.” She laughs. “I get it now.”

  I find myself smiling into the phone.

  “But, I had built up such a hatred for my birth mom, for abandoning me, and not loving me enough to keep me, that I never considered that it was really a blessing.”

  Tears sting my eyes.

  “I’ve done things differently. All my kids know they are adopted. They all know that their mothers loved them. And, we’ve told them that when they are older, they’ll understand, and we will tell them more.”

  “Thank you.” At least Brandy won’t grow up thinking I simply abandoned her.

  “Madison is the only one whose mother is in this country, and alive.”

  “At least the others have you.”

  “Which is why it will be different for her. The others were orphaned. Their mothers were either killed or died young of an illness. Madison is the only one who was given up.”

  I swallow against the lump in my throat.

  “Had I known more about my mother before I met her, it might have gone better. I may have given her a chance to explain and come to know her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I was filled with so much resentment that when I finally found out who she was, I went to her house, said some horrible, hateful things, and then left. By the time I matured and realized that not everything is black and white, she had died. She never knew I forgave her or that I wanted to start over and actually get to know her.”

  How the hell can I respond to that? What a horrible burden to carry.

  “That is why I’m keeping the letters. When Madison is old enough, I will give them to her to read. Then, if she wants to meet you, I will allow it.”

  Tears sting my eyes again. The letters won’t be destroyed and just maybe, my little girl won’t hate me.

  “And, you can continue to write.”

  “I had planned on doing so.” Even if the first six years of letters are gone, that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up writing to my daughter.

  “My husband and I have opened up a P.O. Box. You can send them there, and I will add them to the box.”

  “You would do that?” I can’t believe she’s making that offer.

  “Yes. It is important to us, and it will be necessary for Madison. We want her to know you, Kelsey. When she is older and mature enough to understand.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you for giving her to us and for understanding.”

  As much as I wished to have my daughter, it was the right decision to give her to Mr. and Mrs. Cross. They do love her and only want what’s best for her. Just like I do. “Will you let me know how the transplant goes?”

  Mrs. Cross hesitates.

  “Please. I’ve been so worried. I won’t be able to stop worrying until I know that she’s going to be okay.”

  After a moment she answers. “Yes, but that is all. She’s mine for now and Madison will tell you all about her life when she is older.”

  This is what I signed up for. I knew from the beginning that I’d never know anything about my daughter, but now that I’ve had a glimpse at her life, I’m hungry for more. I want to know everything. But, I’ll have to wait. And somehow, the days will get easier, as they did before, even though not a day will go by that I don’t think of her.

  “Thank you.”

  “And you’ll abide by the contract? Not to contact her?”

  “Yes.” As much as it will kill me, I will. “Thank you.”

  This isn’t exactly how I planned on spending New Year’s Eve—alone in an apartment, waiting the ball drop in Times Square—but that looks like how this is going to go.

  Kelsey didn’t text or call.

  I didn’t message her because she said she was going to message me.

  I haven’t deleted our conversation and decided that she was probably ready to forgive me until she found out I’d talked to Mrs. Cross and hadn’t told her.

  I might never get a chance now. Part of me is thinking she’s being unreasonable, and it pisses me off. But, I did screw up too, and tomorrow, we’ll just deal with it one way or the other.

  The door to the apartment above the shop opens and Mia just waltzes right in. I gave her a key to the shop because she’s going to be working there. That doesn’t give her the right to come and go in the apartment as she sees fit. Though, on the other hand, I shouldn’t be surprised. All of the girls treat the brownstone like a second home. Why should this place be any different?

  Joy, Kate, Alyssa and Zoe are with her. All five of them are in short, flirty, glittering party dresses, ready to bring in the New Year.

  “I told you he’d be brooding up here,” Mia tells them.

  “I’m not brooding.”

  “Sulking?” Zoey asks.

  “Feeling sorry for yourself?” Alyssa pouts.

  “Why are all of you here?” I’m not in the mood for them or anyone. Okay, maybe I am sulking and feeling sorry for myself. It’s my right to do so.

  “You, are coming with us.” Kate holds out a bag with a hanger sticking out of the top.

  “Where?” I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly very suspicious of these five.

  “The Poison Apple.” Kate grins. “Alyssa’s bartending.”

  I like the place and I’ve been there a lot with Zach and the other guys, but “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Come on,” Mia whines. “Christian’s band is playing. Zach is dressing in his finest. Everyone will be there.”

  This peaks my interest. “Everyone? Kelsey.”

  The girls share a look. “She’s been hanging with Mary a lot,” Zoe answers and shrugs. “If she’s not with her friend, I doubt the guys will get her out of the house.”

  If there isn’t a chance Kelsey will be there, then I don’t want to go out either. It is amateur night after all. Do I really want to be surrounded by sloppy drunks?

  “Come on,” Kate begs. “We’ve got your clothes.” She holds up the hanger. I still don’t know what is under the bag.

  “You need to get out of here.” Mia pulls me from the couch. “Go get a shower. We’ll wait.”

  With that, each of the girls takes a seat and looks at me expectantly while Kate shoves the hanger at me.

  I’ve seen this look on their faces before. They are a stubborn lot, and if I don’t leave, they won’t either and we’ll all be sitting in the living room watching the ball drop on the television. “Fine.” I grab the hanger and duck into the bedroom. What could it hurt to get out for a bit? It would be good to see the guys and hang with the girls. Besides, I’m sick of having only myself for company.

  “See, I told you she’d be up here.” Zach shakes his head in disappointment. “It’s not even eight, and you’re in your pajamas.”

  “They are comfortable.” Why am I defensive? They are the ones who barged into my apartment. They are lucky I wasn’t laying around naked. Not that I do that or anything, but still, I’m supposed to have privacy.

  Zach is carrying a dress, Dylan has a plate of food because he’s constantly feeding me, and Ryan and Sean just follow them in and sit at my small table. The only person not with them is Christian, but his band is playing tonight, so he probably already left.

  “What are you doing?” I finally ask.

  “Well, first you are going to eat something.” Dylan sets the plate of spaghetti with a side of garlic bread on the table. “Then you are going to get ready to go out.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I argue.

  “Yes, you are, darling,” Ryan insists. “It’s New Year’s Eve, and we are not about to let you be by yourself.”

  “I like being by myself.” Though in truth, I’m kind of sick of myself. But, I don’t really feel like going out either.

  Sean snorts. “You’ve got to get out of your own head.”


  “I’m not in my own head.”

  “Yes, you are,” Ryan asks. “For almost a week you’ve been up here going over the fight you had with Alex, then questioning yourself and not making any decisions.”

  “And, not eating enough.” Dylan nods to the plate of food.

  “Is Alex going to be there?” Part of me hopes he is and part of me doesn’t. Do I really want to find out what is going to happen with us on New Year’s Eve?

  “Mia said he didn’t plan on leaving the shop until after the first of the year.”

  I glance at the spaghetti. It looks and smells wonderful, so I take a seat and then a bite. If Dylan ever decides to give up writing, he really should open a restaurant. I’d probably be a daily customer.

  “Well?” Zach asks.

  It would be good to get out. They are right. I’m stuck too much in my head and that is never a good thing. Too much overthinking. “Fine.”

  They all relax.

  “Well, eat up Buttercup and we’ll get you all prettied up for tonight,” announces Zach.

  He is dressed to the nines and is gorgeous, as usual. “You look good as a blonde,” I say before taking another bite of spaghetti, chew and swallow. “How hard is it to put on false eyelashes?”

  “It’s an art, darling.” He bats them at me. “One you don’t need to learn. But, I will be doing your makeup and hair.”

  “That’s not necessary.” I really don’t wear much makeup. I’ve never liked how it felt on my face, especially foundation.

  “I’ve been dying to play, and if not on a night like this one, then when?”

  I just shake my head. “This is crazy, but fine. Do with me what you will.”

  Within an hour and a half, my unmanageable hair has been curled in a way I’ve never gotten it to do. Zach has pulled it back from my face and let the rest fall down my back. The makeup is perfection, and he didn’t use all that much. It doesn’t even feel like there is anything on my face. The last, the dress he picked up for me. A short, red dress. Shorter than anything I’ve ever worn, but I like it. In fact, once he’s done with me, I’m feeling better than I have in days.

  “Thanks, guys,” I say before we enter the club. “I did need to get out.”

  “Just make sure you have fun too. No sulking in the corner, but dancing.”

  “I’m wearing three inch heels. Not sure I’m going to be doing much of that.”

  “Sure you will.” Zach grins. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Ryan lifts his camera and Zach pulls me close as Dylan and Sean crowd around me.

  “Smile.”

  I automatically respond and he clicks. Tonight I will have fun. I need this, and tomorrow, I’ll contact Alex. We can’t remain in limbo like this. If he doesn’t want to see me anymore, I’ll figure out a way to move on. But for tonight, I’m going to let go and pretend all is right.

  “The guys are here.” Mia puts her phone back down.

  I’ve been sitting at a large table, not too far from the band and close to the bar where Alyssa is, with four gorgeous women and getting looks of envy from nearly every guy around. Even though the girls are great friends, family even, I’d trade every one of them in to have Kelsey with me instead.

  “Hey, come with me,” Christian says as he comes from the back and stops at our table.

  “Where?”

  “I need you to hold a table for me.”

  It’s probably better that I hold it than one of the girls. They’d get hit on right and left. As a group, they can take care of themselves.

  I follow Christian to a small table for two stuck in a back corner. “There’s already a reserved sign on it.”

  “I don’t trust that some asshat won’t remove it to have privacy with someone.”

  There is that. “Fine, but for how long.”

  “As long as it takes,” he answers. “Thanks man.” Then he disappears.

  I sit on a chair and look around. The place is filling up and soon there won’t be room to move. Whoever got this table was smart to plan ahead. It’s a great place to be away from the crowd and actually have a conversation. Further out, with the larger tables, people will end up shouting over each other and the band to be heard.

  It’s always like this at the Poison Apple. The place is always packed with men, women, cross-dressers, gays, straight, and any label someone may want to attach to themselves. It’s a fun environment without judgment. Just people in their twenties wanting to have fun.

  Zach pushes his way through the crowd. He’s really done himself up tonight. From the blond wig to the red lipstick, he almost resembles Marilyn Monroe, which I’m sure is what he was going for. Ryan is with him and taking photos of the people, the place, and then he aims the camera at me. I’m about to make a face when Zach steps aside, revealing Kelsey.

  My mouth goes dry. That red dress hugs her like a second skin, and those gorgeous legs go on forever.

  Her eyes widen when she sees me.

  Our friends did this. They set us up, and I hope to hell she doesn’t bolt.

  I stand and she takes a step forward. She searches my eyes, and I’m not sure what to say. I could start the planned groveling now. “You look beautiful.” That isn’t groveling but the truth.

  A blush stains her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  Christian pushes his way through the crowd. He’s carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine and sets them on the table.

  “I thought this was reserved.”

  “It is. For you. For however long it takes.”

  “Talk.” Ryan points to me, then Kelsey, then back at me and then the guys turn and are swallowed up in the crowd, leaving Kelsey and I very much alone. Or, about as alone as you can be in a packed bar.

  “”Want to sit down?”

  She shrugs. “Sure.”

  I hold the chair for her and then sit back in mine before pouring wine, hoping she’ll stay long enough to enjoy a glass.

  “I forgot this.” Christian says as he puts an ice bucket on the table and the pushes the bottle of wine down into it before taking off again. Beside the bucket are party hats and noise makers. They were here when I sat down I thought they were for another couple, but they are for us. I hope we have a reason to blow the horns to celebrate at midnight, and I’m not licking my wounds instead.

  “To you.” I lift the glass and toast to Kelsey. “The most beautiful and strongest woman I know.”

  Her blush deepens and she raises her glass. “To you. The kindest and most thoughtful guy I know.”

  My heart skips a beat, and I search her eyes. “You’ve forgiven me?”

  The corners of her mouth tip. “Yeah, but we need to talk.”

  “Okay.” I try not to sound too hopeful, or desperate.

  “You know what you did was wrong.”

  “If I could turn back time, stop and think, I’d change everything.”

  “She called me.”

  “Mrs. Cross?” That’s got to be who Kelsey’s taking about.

  She gives a quick nod. “She’s going to hold onto the letters and give them to Brandy when she is old enough.”

  “That’s great!” So the situation isn’t as bad as I feared and maybe I can make it right.

  “She shouldn’t have been given them in the first place.”

  Shit! She’s still pissed even if she has forgiven me.

  “Those were mine, and you took them.”

  “You don’t know how sorry I am. I wish I could take it back. I tried to get them back.”

  Kelsey places her hand on mine. “I know. But you need to promise never to do something like that again.”

  “You have other things?”

  “No.” She turns more fully toward me. “You can’t fix all the crap I my life. Sometimes the crap can’t be fixed, and I just need to work through it.”

  “Okay.” If I can’t fix it, how the hell am I supposed to help her?

  “What I need when that happens is a shoulder or an ear. That’s all.�
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  “That’s not being very helpful,” I tell her.

  “It’s worth more than any action you could take.” Tears spring to her eyes. “That is what not being alone is about. I had no idea how much I needed someone I could talk to. To confide in. To know that someone had my back, or supported me, or loved me no matter what. I was so alone until you.”

  “You don’t have to be.”

  She looks into my eyes. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  A tear slips out of the corner and trails down her cheek. She swipes it away before I have a chance.

  “I love you, Kelsey. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I thought I lost you. I was such a bitch, but you never called.”

  Why didn’t I just pick up the damn phone? So what if she kicked me in the balls, at least she would have known I still cared. Instead, I left what balls I had back at the brownstone when I walked out. “I was giving you time.”

  “I thought you were done.” She twirls her glass and then takes a drink.

  “I didn’t leave because of the fight. I left because I realized how badly I fucked up and was afraid to look you in the eye again.”

  “So you don’t run whenever there is a fight?”

  “Only when I’m pissed at myself and need to figure out how to fix it.”

  “I should have called,” I admit.

  “No, I should have.” She smiles.

  I grab her hand and kiss the back. “Maybe we both should have, but I was afraid you’d never want to see me again.”

  “That’s the same reason I was afraid to call.”

  “Let’s not do that again.”

  “Fight?” she asks. “I’m not sure that’s possible.

  “No. Let’s not stay away from each other when we do.”

  “As long as you promise not to try and fix something without talking to me first.”

  I wince. “That’s going to be hard.”

  “I know. It’s a guy thing.” She smiles. “But it’s important to me.”

  “Okay.” I make a cross over my heart with my index finger. “I will ask before I try to fix. Deal?”

  “Deal.” She sticks out her hand as if making a bargain.