Imagine Me

by Fiona Cole

“Nope.” He stopped looking at me and stared at his coffee like he was hoping to find some tea leaves that would tell him his future. “Never figured I’d need one.”

  I hated that he looked away. My imagined conversation was vanishing quickly. “Why?”

  “Never thought of having kids.”

  “Like at all?” I knew he was older and talked about how hard his job was, but it never crossed my mind that he just didn’t ever want children. I figured he just hadn’t found the right women, or the time to find that woman.

  “Nope.” His short answers should have been warning enough to not push it, but I just couldn’t not know.

  “What if you found a woman and married her and she wanted kids?” Insert me, our marriage, our kids.

  “I’m not the marrying kind.”

  I had to laugh. I didn’t know what he meant by that, but he looked pretty damn marry-able. “Why not?”

  His chest heaved over a deep breath. “I’m thirty-eight, Juliana. Not exactly in my prime for marriage.”

  “You’re not at death’s door either.”

  I could hear my tone. I could hear his. This was no longer a hypothetical conversation. It was shifting, morphing. My morning coffee in bed with the man I fell in love with, was becoming an argument with a stiff stranger.

  “I’m set in my ways and don’t want to change. Don’t want anything serious.”

  “Then what are we doing?”

  There I said it. The gauntlet was down and watching his shoulders stiffen and his head slowly turn to me with confusion and irritation that he even had to explain, made me want to pick that gauntlet back up and swallow it whole.

  “What do you mean what are we doing? We’re fucking.”

  Those two words hit me like a one-two punch in the face and I jerked back at hearing them. How could he put it so simply? How could he pretend things hadn’t changed from when we actually were just fucking? No. I wouldn’t let him say that.

  “We’re more than just fucking and you know it.”

  “Juliana.”

  I ignored his warning, set my mug down and turned to face him again. Ready to make him admit it. Throwing it all out there, so he couldn’t hide anymore.

  “I see the way you look at me. I’ve felt the way you hold me. It’s different than Jamaica or the first night I came to you. You know it is, so why can’t you just admit it?”

  He rubbed at his jaw line. “What do you want from me, Juliana?”

  “I want to be with you. To keep doing what we’re doing. Laughing, fucking, making love, sharing our lives. I want to go to Sunday brunch with you and sit next to you and hold your hand.”

  He gave me a warning look, like I should know better. It pissed me off. “Jack would kill-”

  “Fuck my brother!” I shouted it, throwing my hands out to the side, moving to my knees so I could face him head-on. “You’re thirty-eight, Shane. A man. One who doesn’t apologize for anything. So, stop. Making. Excuses.”

  He moved to stand from the bed and reached down to grab his boxers. Once he had them in place, he began pacing and running his hand through his short hair. “You’re right, Juliana. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old man who has a dangerous job and works a lot of hours. I don’t want to bring anyone into that. There has been no one who was worth it.”

  I swallowed the pain of his words: Not worth it. It was another excuse. He knew it. I knew it. I scrambled through my thoughts to figure out why he was making so many damn excuses. And it hit me. I didn’t know if it was true, but I’d find out when I let the words fly.

  “You’re scared.” I said it softly, letting him know I didn’t judge him. Leaving him an opening to confess to me and we could move forward.

  Unfortunately, that was not the turn it took.

  “I’m not fucking scared.” He growled the words and stopped his pacing to point at me. Then he pulled his pants on and had his shirt in his hand. He was leaving and I wasn’t ready yet. It sparked my anger that he’d try and walk out in the middle of this. It pissed me off seeing him put his shirt on, covering the chest I’d touched at my own leisure just last night. I hated that he would rather start a fight, deny, and make excuses than just simply admit what he felt

  “You. Are. Scared.” I didn’t soften my words that time. His head popped out of his shirt and he opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. “You have spent your whole life never feeling the way I make you feel. You never stayed in a home long enough to spark that kind of emotion. No woman has ever held on long enough. And you don’t know what to do with it. You’re scared of it.”

  His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. If Shane had one thing in spades, it was pride, and his was coming out full force, not wanting to admit he’d never felt this before. Not wanting to even admit it existed within him. A part of me knew I’d pushed too far bringing up what he’d shared with me about his foster care, but I was tired of pretending.

  When he smirked at me, I tried to prepare myself for the blow, but it was worse than I could have imagined.

  “And you think you can? You think the little twenty-five-year-old girl who’s in her first real job, still trying to be a big girl away from mommy and daddy, can change me?” He laughed with no humor. “I am who I am, Mini MacCabe, and you’re just a child with hope in her eyes. Unwilling to see anything beyond what you want to happen. One breakdown away from running back home.”

  My anger burned the more his words sank into me, hitting every single weak spot he knew I had. Tears burned the backs of my eyes and it pissed me off even more. I’d trusted him. I’d trusted him, and he threw the weakest part of me back in my face. I could barely look at him.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I never said I wasn’t.”

  Even with the tears building, I scoffed, letting my bitterness and pain slip into my words. Using condescending insults as my defense mechanism. “You want to tell me you’re a man who is unchangeable, but all I can see is a fucking baby running scared.”

  “Real mature, Juliana. Way to use your big girl words.”

  I swallowed hard and had to look away as the first tears fell. “Get the fuck out.”

  I listened to every angry footstep as they got further and further away. I jerked, and let the first sob shake my chest when the door slammed.

  Not a minute later, Jolene rushed into my room and threw her arms around me, soothing me, rubbing her hands up and down my shaking back.

  “How? How did it spiral this far?” I kept sucking in short breaths, crying as I tried to understand how it fell apart so quickly. “I can’t even remember how it started?”

  “Shh. Shh. It’s not your fault, Jules.”

  “Yes. It is. I pushed and I pushed and I . . .” My voice broke on another cry and I struggled to catch my breath. “I thought if I tried, he would just admit he cared. I hadn’t expected a proclamation of love. I just wanted to know he cared. God, I was so mean. We were both so mean. And for what?”

  “Stop, Jules. Just stop.” She gripped my cheeks in her hands and made me look at her, making me hear her. “It’s his loss if he can’t see what an amazing woman you are. If he’s too damn stubborn to try. You deserve more.”

  Did I? Right then, remembering how I brought up his upbringing and called him a baby, I sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

  Chapter 20

  Praise Jesus I didn’t have to go into the station on Monday. I couldn’t have handled seeing him. I wasn’t able to handle seeing anyone.

  I’d laid around all day Saturday and avoided all the missed calls and messages on Sunday asking where I was when I hadn’t shown for the Sunday brunch I’d promised I’d be at. I couldn’t go.

  I was too scared that Shane would be there. Fear that he wouldn’t be there. My mind had already imagined showing up and him announcing his love for me for everyone to hear. But I shut it down faster than it formed. And I knew that no matter if he was there or not, I wouldn’t have been able to hide my sadness.

  God, I�

��d thought our relationship was going somewhere. Maybe I had been naive and the stupid little girl Shane had accused me of being. Either way, I hadn’t been ready to face the masses.

  However, Monday didn’t care how I felt, I had a job to go to.

  When I stepped off the elevator, I saw Dr. Voet unlocking his office. My shoes on the tile floor drew his attention and he looked back, smiling when he saw it was me.

  “Hey, Juliana. How are you?”

  “Morning, Dr. Voet. I’m okay. How are you?”

  His blue eyes scanned my face and he smiled. “Better than you it seems.” He held his door open for me. “Why don’t you come in for a coffee? It’s early still.”

  “Thank you, but I only drink iced coffee with an unhealthy amount of cream and sugar.”

  He laughed at my answer. “It’s a good thing I have a fancy machine that makes iced coffee. And that I also have an unhealthy amount of cream and sugar. And chocolate.”

  “How can I turn that down?” I asked with a tired laugh.

  I followed him into his secretary’s office and then his own. I’d been in his office many times, but usually only for business meetings and such. This time felt a little different. More social.

  He smiled more, kept looking back at me as the coffee brewed and he prepared the mugs. One said, I use this mug periodically, with a periodic table of elements. Then he handed me one that had a cartoon drawing of Neil DeGrasse Tyson that said, Ya’ll mothafuckas need science.

  I laughed and admitted to my own collection of mugs.

  “Interesting for someone who doesn’t drink hot coffee.”

  Immediately, my mind thought of Shane and how he’d said the same thing. Apparently, my face showed the pain that washed over me at the memory of us at Findlay’s Market, because Dr. Voet stepped closer than normal and bent his knees to look into my downturned face.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  I had to swallow past the lump in my throat that his soft words caused. My heart was too sensitive, my emotions too close to the surface to handle such tenderness.

  “Yeah.” I somehow managed to choke the word out and tried to force a smile, only briefly letting my eyes connect with his before looking away.

  I watched his hand lift toward my face as though in slow motion and my heart beat erratically in my chest. His fingers pushed my hair back, grazing my temple in the process and I couldn’t help but stare at him with wide eyes. I knew it was inappropriate for work, for colleagues, for a boss and an employee, but not caring because I needed a tender touch just then.

  “You sure?” he asked, moving his hand back from my face, the connection broken.

  I tried to laugh, trying to lighten the tension that stretched taught between us. “Yeah. Just tired. I’m sure I look like hell for the amount of sleep I’ve gotten this weekend.”

  “Well, I think you always look beautiful.”

  I ducked, hiding the blush staining my cheeks. “Thank you.”

  I wanted his words to make me feel better. To know that a man still found me beautiful even if Shane didn’t want me. But really, they just hurt. They hurt because they hadn’t come from the man I wanted to hear them from.

  That morning had ended up being the best part of the day since the rest declined rapidly when Dr. Stahl arrived in a mood that made his day-to-day rudeness seem pleasant. He blew past Jo and me sitting at our benches with a glare and no words. When the door slammed behind him to his office, both of us jumped at the loud bang that resonated around the room. I thought the glass beakers along the wall were going to come crashing to the ground.

  Unfortunately, Jo left me alone soon after, giving me a sad smile. “I promise to be back soon. Hopefully, the Wicked Dick of the West stays in his office until his next class.”

  “Have fun teaching the kiddos in lab. Say a prayer and rush back to me soon.”

  She walked out the door with three fingers held high, a la Hunger Games.

  I’d gotten through maybe half my procedure for the day when I heard the door to Dr. Stahl’s office creak open.

  “Juliana.” His harsh voice cracked against my ears. “Go teach my class.”

  “But, I—”

  “I didn’t ask for your shit excuses. Just go do it.”

  My eyes wide behind my goggles, hand frozen on my pipette, I jumped when he slammed the door again. I didn’t know how long I sat there trying to process the fact that my boss had just yelled at me. He was horrible, but not quite to the point of shouting and swearing at us.

  Heat rushed from my neck and over my face. How dare he yell at me? I wanted to go in there and let him know he could shove his attitude up his ass, but when I glanced at the clock, I saw I only had five minutes before the lecture started. Taking a deep breath, I decided to be the bigger person and push it down.

  I turned off all the machines and searched for the book for the semester, not even knowing what chapter they were working on. I’d have to check once I made it to the room and give the text a brief glance and hope for the best.

  I’d stumbled through the lecture, knowing I sounded monotonous. Hell, half the class looked as if they were fighting sleep.

  But whatever. Fuck it. I let them go early and prepared myself to get yelled at by Dr. Stahl when I showed up back to the lab thirty minutes early. But, when I walked in, his door was open and the room was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief for having dodged at least one bullet for the week.

  Tuesday had me in the lab at the station. I’d remained glued to that room, not daring to walk out the door unless absolutely necessary. I packed my lunch and water bottle and pawned off running any errands to someone else. When I had a bathroom emergency, I mostly kept my head down and darted down the hall. Just as I was about to reach the restroom, I heard him and my eyes flicked up to see him talking to his partner. I panicked and walked into the first door on my left needing to get out of sight and found myself in a broom closet, where I proceeded to take deep breaths, and tried to control the tears burning the backs of my eyes. After probably too long, I snuck out and made a quick escape to the bathroom and then ran back to the lab.

  Wednesday was a repeat of Monday with Dr. Voet. Instead of inviting me in his office for coffee, he’d stopped by Starbucks and brought me a hot chocolate, explaining that he wanted to cheer me up this week. When he’d complimented me again, it hurt less than Monday. Hopefully that meant Shane’s hold on me was diminishing, but the words still didn’t hit the spot.

  Jolene walked around the corner just when his hand rested on my shoulder and slipped down my arm. She’d cocked an eyebrow in a What the fuck is going on? kind of way, and I shrugged. I honestly didn’t know. It didn’t stop her from giving me the third degree as soon as we walked into the lab.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, before taking a sip of my hot chocolate.

  “Juliana.”

  “I swear. I honestly don’t know what it’s all about. He’s just been . . .Really nice this week?” I finished the sentence on a question, unsure of how to explain it. “We ran into each other on Monday and he invited me into his office for coffee. I kind of assumed he wanted to talk about how the forensic stuff was going, but we just talked. Then he asked if I was okay. He also complimented me. And maybe he brushed my hair back.” I shrugged.

  “Maybe?” Jo asked incredulously.

  “Maybe.” I avoided her eyes and leaned over my bag to pull out my notebook.

  “Well, he’s hot as hell, so you can’t be too sad about it.”

  “I’m not sad about it. Just confused. On top of everything else this week.”

  “Well, if you don’t want him, you send him my way. He may be a professor, but I’ll be sure to teach him a thing or two.” She bobbed her eyebrows and made me laugh for the first time all week.

  It was quickly squashed when Dr. Stahl came out of his office, slamming the door behind him. My eyes widened as he stomped closer to my bench. When he neared my workstation, he thrust a stack of papers toward me, shoving them into my line of sight.

  “What the hell is this, Juliana?” His bushy eyebrows lowered over his dark eyes. His nose flared over a pinched frown.

  “Uhh.” I stuttered over my answer, trying to regroup before eventually looking at the form. “It looks like the shipping form for this week’s deliveries.”

  “And whose signature is that?” His finger stabbed at the bottom of the paper.

  “Mine. I was the only one in the lab when the products were delivered on Monday.”

  “And what is this?” He flipped a new page to the front.

  I looked it over, getting frustrated with the twenty questions. “The sign-in sheet for the storage room.”

  “The sheet we’re supposed to fill out when we take the deliveries to the storage room, so we know who is accountable for what.”

  “Yeah,” I answered confused. I didn’t know why he was recapping such basic instructions.

  “Then where the hell is your signature? And why are there a slew of chemicals missing from the storage area that were delivered on Monday? Where is the disconnect here?”

  “What?” My heart pounded in my chest as he threw questions at me. It felt like an accusation, but my mind was stumbling to keep up with what he was saying. “But I signed everything in.”

  “Did you? I had to suffer the embarrassment of a lab manager coming to me and reprimanding me about procedures of signing materials in and out.” He dragged out lab manager, like the words were disgusting on his tongue. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? Especially with the dean of the department standing right there to witness it all.”

  “I . . . I—"

  Those are expensive chemicals, Ms. MacCabe. What were you doing with them?”

  My cheeks burned with panic. Was he accusing me of stealing? Why would I do that? What the hell was happening? He needed to believe me. “I signed them in.” I tried to make my voice stronger, but it came out high and reedy.

  “Come with me, Ms. MacCabe. We will go to the dean with this issue of theft.”

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