Lifers

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  She didn’t reply and neither did Paul. I hadn’t spoken to him since the hospital. Maybe Gloria had got the result she’d wanted when she unleashed her forked tongue.

  I was about to leave them at the bottom of the stairs, when I turned to face her once more.

  “You know what your problem is? You’ve turned Mikey’s death into a life sentence for all of you—for Paul, for Jordan. You turned them into lifers. That’s what you’re doing here—and that’s what you want for Jordan. But I’m not going to let it happen. I’m not going to let him suffer anymore. What you do with your lives is up to you, but Jordan deserves better than that. And I’ll spend the rest of my life with him, making sure he knows he’s loved and forgiven.”

  I didn’t wait to hear any reply. I trudged up the stairs and into our room. I flipped the light switch on and stared around. Jordan had made the bed. That didn’t surprise me, he was so tidy. He felt like he was breaking a law if he left a wrinkle in the sheets.

  His towel was still damp from showering before we’d gone out, and it was hanging neatly over the back of the chair. I picked it up and held it to my face, breathing deeply. I managed to get to the bathroom before the tears came. I peeled off my clothes and crawled into the shower, my stomach heaving as I washed Jordan’s blood from my hair.

  I was too tired to dry it, so I wrapped myself in Jordan’s towel and fell onto the bed, my wet hair falling around me like tears.

  The sheets smelled of Jordan, too. He didn’t wear cologne but I could smell the soap he used and his sweet, spicy, natural scent.

  It felt wrong sleeping in our bed without him. I hated it. There hadn’t been a night since we’d been together when we hadn’t made love. Even when I got home from work and it was after one in the morning, his warm body would wake and stretch as I slid in next to him. And even if we were both bone weary, we needed that connection at the end of our day.

  I’d learned a lot about Jordan in the last couple of months. I’d learned how his body responded to my touch. I’d learned the little tells he had that told me when he was desperate to come but wanted me to get there first. He’d bite his lip and stare into the corner of the room. I teased him about that and asked him what he was thinking. He never did tell me. For all I knew, he was going over baseball stats. But ya know, that wasn’t really something I was desperate to hear. I just appreciated that he cared about my satisfaction.

  He went crazy when I dragged my fingernails down his back, even when we weren’t in bed. He didn’t really have a favorite position but I’d learned that he loved fast, rough sex followed by slow, gentle, sensuous love-making. Through and through, Jordan was an intriguing mix of contradictions: his hard body, his soft lips; his serious, sensible nature; his wild and passionate side; the scary, prison demeanor he could switch on; his gentle soul.

  I don’t think Jordan realized half of these things. It seemed as if he was rediscovering himself, the person he was going to become since prison. He had no idea that all the other women at Starbucks drooled over him, and quite a few of the girls who worked in the mall would suddenly come in for coffee when they saw his truck in the parking lot. Or maybe he noticed but just wasn’t interested. Either way, it was one of the things that I’d grown to love about him.

  And he definitely had no clue how intimidating he could be. He’d scared the crap out of my manager one day. Gus had been yelling at me and the rest of the staff about some supposed misdemeanor, when Jordan had made one of his after work visits to the coffee shop. Gus saw this tall, tattooed guy with rippling muscles and cold stare, and had totally abandoned trying to ream us out. I knew that Jordan had switched to his defensive, prison mode, because he was meeting a guy he didn’t know. But Gus, the little jerk, had just about shit his shorts when I introduced them and he realized that Jordan was my boyfriend. Things at work eased up a lot after that.

  And then there were all the little things Jordan did that showed me he loved me.

  He didn’t think I noticed, but I did. Making me breakfast at 5 AM even though he didn’t have to be up for work himself; starting the shower before I got in it so the water would be warm; turning over the Princess’ engine so she started first time for me; putting my shoes away and hanging up my jacket so it didn’t get wrinkled; making sure he recorded my favorite TV shows when I was working.

  Small things, for sure, but gestures that told me more than words how much he loved me.

  I pulled the cold sheets closer around me. I knew I no longer had a choice. I was with Jordan Kane and always would be. He was my life, my forever, ‘til death us do part. And maybe not even then.

  I woke up suddenly. There was no sleepy confusion, no sense of quietly slipping between the dream world and the waking world. I knew instantly where I was and what had happened. I knew I had to be at the hospital.

  Not normally a morning person, today I moved quickly and with purpose.

  Today I marched to the shower, uncaring who I met or what they might say to me. I felt like a gladiator about to go into battle.

  I showered quickly and tugged my hair into a damp clump at the back of my head.

  I wondered whether it would be worth phoning the hospital, but then I figured it would be easier to just get there. I contemplated going straight to my car, but my stomach growled and I decided that Gloria wasn’t chasing me out of the place that had become my home with Jordan. If she wanted to avoid me, she could leave.

  Paul and Gloria were sitting with plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of them. Paul was distractedly pushing the eggs around his plate, and neither seemed to be eating. He looked up when he saw me.

  “How are you, Torrey?”

  “Tired, sore, pissed. You?”

  He winced at my blunt tone. Gloria didn’t say anything.

  I put some bread in the toaster and helped myself to coffee.

  “There’s eggs. If you want them.”

  I nearly dropped my mug and managed to splash hot coffee over my jeans.

  “What?”

  I turned and stared at Gloria.

  “I’ve made plenty,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Why are you talking to me?” I asked, suspicion making my words snap and crackle.

  Paul coughed, obviously ill at ease with the duel starting up in front of him.

  “I phoned the hospital,” he said, cutting off my anger at Gloria. “They say Jordan had a good night.”

  I gave a staccato nod. I knew it was irrational, but I felt jealous that Paul had done something that I’d wanted to do, that I should have done.

  “The nurse said he was askin’ for you,” Paul added.

  I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. “He was?”

  Paul nodded. “Of course. He loves you.”

  My eyes flickered toward Gloria, wondering what expression of hatred and distaste I’d see on her face. But instead she was staring at her untouched food.

  A tiny bud of hope planted itself in my stomach. I tried to ignore it, but it was definitely there.

  The popping of the toaster called for my attention and I slathered two slices thickly with butter. As an afterthought, I heaped three spoonfuls of eggs onto the plate, as well.

  “Do you want to ride to the hospital with us?” Paul asked, tentatively.

  “No thanks. I’ll make my own way.”

  “Okay,” he said, quietly. “We’ll see you there.”

  I nodded and occupied myself with eating.

  I finished before them and cleaned off my plate in the sink. Paul called after me as I left the room.

  “Torrey, wait up.”

  “What is it, Paul? I want to get going.”

  He pursed his lips. “I am sorry that I said that about you. I didn’t mean it. I never did.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Apology accepted. I have to go.”

  “Darlin’, please?”

  “I can’t deal with this now, Paul. Yeah, what you said hurt, but I can’t,
I just can’t!”

  “You’re not the only one who cares about him, Torrey.”

  I met his eyes at last.

  “I know.”

  I broke a few speed limits getting to the hospital. Jordan would have been pissed. He was always such a careful driver, which given the reason, wasn’t surprising.

  It took several frustrating minutes before I could locate him. They’d moved him from post-op recovery to a unit on the far side of the hospital. I clip-clopped my way along the overly polished corridors, becoming irritated when slow moving patients blocked my path. Why the hell didn’t everyone stick to the right hand side? I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from yelling at a woman strolling along with a portable drip on wheels. Out of my way! I’m in a hurry here!

  She smiled at me pleasantly and I grimaced in return.

  When I found Jordan, he was alone in a small room. His left eye was heavily bandaged, and although it barely seemed possible, he looked even worse than the day before. His entire face was swollen beyond recognition and his chest and arms were mottled green, purple, and black.

  I thought he was sleeping and I tried to hold back a sob, but his good eye fluttered open.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice thick with tiredness and pain. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I was going to get a manicure this morning, but the hospital was on the way, so … here I am.”

  He managed a weak smile, although the effort seemed to tire him, and he turned his hand palm up on the bed, silently asking me to hold him.

  He was right: I felt better being able to touch him and feel his warm, calloused skin. I leaned over and brushed a soft kiss over his forehead. It was about the only part of him that wasn’t damaged.

  “So, how they treating you in here?”

  “’Sbetter than prison,” he chuckled, hoarsely.

  “Nah, you just have low standards,” I quipped.

  He started to shake his head then winced.

  “Not anymore, sweetheart. I have you. Pure gold.”

  I tried to laugh it off, even though his words made my heart tremble.

  “You may look like you’ve been run over by a truck, Jordan Kane, but you are one smooth talker!”

  He tugged weakly on my hand. “Not smooth,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

  “I know,” I said, quietly. “I love you, too.”

  His good eye blinked open again. “You … you love me?”

  “I told you last night, but you were too busy being unconscious.”

  His eyelid fluttered closed and his face contorted with the effort of holding in the emotions that churned inside him. I saw a single tear roll down his cheek.

  “Jordan,” I said, slowly, “we have to talk about this. About what you let those men do to you. It’s got to stop. You know that, right? Enough is enough. I won’t stand by and watch that again. I can’t.”

  He looked up, watching me, measuring my expression. “Parole’s nearly over,” he murmured.

  “Don’t tell me that was the only thing stopping you from fighting back. You told me last night that you were paying a debt!”

  His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I said that?”

  “Yes. Because it was Ryan Dupont?”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember,” he said, thickly.

  “The police were here last night,” I added, as his fingers tightened around my hand. “They’ll want to talk to you. They told us that Ryan turned himself in. He’s refusing to say who the other guys were, though. The cops are waiting to speak to you to see if you want to press charges.”

  He shook his head minutely. “No charges.”

  Which was pretty much what I’d imagined he’d say.

  My voice took on a frustrated edge. “If you refuse to press charges then you have to promise me that this is where it ends. Because I’m telling you, Jordan, I don’t ever want to see you like this again. Ever. I won’t stand by and let you self destruct out of some twisted sense of … justice … or atonement. If you can’t move on, I don’t see that we can have a future.”

  God, I didn’t mean those words but I needed to shock him, to make him see sense.

  His fingers squeezed around mine more tightly.

  “I’ll never forget what I did, Torrey.”

  “And I don’t expect you to. But you have to live, not exist in some twilight half-world. I want to share a future with you, Jordan, but not like this.” My voice shook. “I can’t.”

  He tried to take a deep breath but the pain from his broken ribs drained the blood from his face.

  “No more,” he whispered. “Together. Us together.”

  “The debt is paid?”

  He hesitated.

  “I’ll pay ‘til my dyin’ day, sweetheart, but by livin’, not wastin’ my life.”

  “You promise?”

  “Promise.”

  He lay quietly while I drew slow circles over his wrist, rubbing my finger over his tattoo. Relief warmed my whole body, and I felt a glow of love for the man lying next to me.

  Jordan had drifted back into a drug-aided sleep when his primary physician arrived for the morning rounds.

  He ignored me completely, flipping through the chart on the end of Jordan’s bed then barking out some instructions to the minions following him.

  When he turned to leave, still without speaking to me, I was fuming. I’d had a really bad 24 hours and I’d just reached my limit.

  “Hey!” I barked. “I am sitting here! I do exist!”

  “Excuse me?” he said, haughtily.

  “Doctor…?”

  “Dr. Markov.”

  “Well, Dr. Markov, as it has clearly escaped your attention, I would point out that your patient has a relation sitting by his bed, waiting somewhat anxiously to hear a report of how he’s progressing after both a surgical procedure and a severe beating.” I was just getting into my stride. “May I remind you of your duty primum non nocere, and right now that includes not raising my blood pressure above its very comfortable base level of 120/80. So, please, be so good as to tell me how the hell my fiancé is doing!”

  He blinked several times as my voice became louder, and several of the students accompanying him looked nervous. Yeah, well, they could learn a lesson in manners just as much as Dr. Jerk-off.

  “Ahem. Mr. Kane’s blood pressure is stable; his blood work looks good. I believe the retina reattachment was successful and that Dr. Linden was pleased with the surgery. There’s no blood in his urine, which is a good sign, especially after receiving blows to the kidneys. In short, he’s doing well.”

  “Thank you so much,” I snapped back. “Next time you might like to offer up information without having to have it surgically extracted from your anus!”

  His mouth dropped open then closed with a click. He swept out of the room, but not before I glimpsed a smile on the faces of some of the students.

  Jordan opened his good eye. “I think you scared him, firecracker.”

  “Oh, you’re awake!”

  “Didn’t have much choice what with all the hollerin’.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just, he pissed me off so badly!”

  Jordan gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed. You sounded real lawyer-like right up until the part where you told him he had his head up his ass. But even that sounded classy.”

  I smiled and stroked his arm, happy that he felt up to making jokes.

  “Well, I was a paralegal for three years; I picked up a few tricks.”

  He looked at me thoughtfully.

  “You want to go back to doin’ that, sweetheart?”

  I nodded my head emphatically.

  “Yes, I do. More than ever.”

  He frowned at me. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, lawyers see paralegals as pretty low ranking—‘glorified secretary’ I’ve been called, when the lawyer is an asshole—but we’re the ones who can talk to the clients in plain English. I can’t advise anyone, but I can explain the advice
they’ve been given in words they understand. People find lawyers intimidating. I’m not like that.”

  Jordan laughed quietly and took my hand in his.

  “Sweetheart, you just intimidated the shit out of that doctor. You intimidated me the first time I met you, and just about every day since.”

  I was taken aback. “I didn’t! Did I?”

  “In a good way,” he said, soothingly. “You’re just so fearless, a real straight shooter. You don’t take shit from no one, and you say it like it is. I love that about you. I think you’d be a great paralegal. Hell, you’d be a great lawyer if you wanted to be.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Nah, I tried law school. Couldn’t stick with it. I like my job, or I will when I get another one. I was thinking maybe I’d look into getting a Masters degree. Maybe.”

  He was silent for a moment. “You know I’ll support whatever you want to do, right? If you want to go back to school. Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen.”

  “That goes for you, too, Jordan.”

  He closed his good eye, a peaceful expression on his bruised face.

  “Kinda sounds like we’re plannin’ a future, sweetheart.”

  I smiled to myself. “Doesn’t it just,” I agreed.

  I looked up when the door to Jordan’s room opened quietly, and his parents stepped inside.

  “Your dad’s here,” I whispered, running one finger down his neck. “And your mom.”

  Jordan glanced up as Paul came into his vision.

  “How’re you doin’, son?”

  I think Jordan meant to shrug, but he winced instead.

  “Been better. Okay, I think.”

  “Momma’s here.”

  Jordan didn’t reply as Gloria stepped forward.

  “I hear you got engaged,” she said.

  Jordan blinked a couple of times and flicked his gaze to me, then started to smile.

  “Is that what you heard?”

  I squeezed his hand. “Sure, goes a long way with the hospital staff.”

  He looked confused for a moment and some of his bright smile faded. He gazed coolly at his mother.

  “Why are you here, Momma?”

  Gloria swallowed a couple of times. “Well, your father telephoned to tell me what happened. Despite … all the things … I wanted to make sure you were … all right.”