Two
With a jolt, I wake to the sensation of Sadie getting up and rushing to the door. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for Jared. Still foggy, I jump up off the couch to let him in. I feel silly remembering when I’m halfway to the door that Jared has a key.
“Hey boss!” he exclaims when our eyes meet.
“I told you not to call me that,” I proclaim with a little uneasiness.
“Seriously? It’s been how many years now that I’ve been working for you and you still can’t stand it?” he queries me playfully, wraps me in a bear hug which is a little longer than usual, and kisses me on the top of the head.
He’s right. I know he’s right, but I still haven’t gotten used to it.
After a long comforting embrace, Jared bends down to his knees to give Sadie some love and attention. “What time did you get up today?” he asks, looking up while squatting.
“Just before four,” I respond trying to brush it off.
“Thanks for not texting then,” he says gratefully with a half smile pressed into his left cheek.
“I knew you’d threaten to quit if I did,” I reply playfully.
“Please . . . you’d never let me quit. You’d kill me before I had the chance to utter the words.”
“True,” I answer slyly.
His smile widens. He’s happy to see that my recovery from mornings like this is occurring much quicker than it had when we first met. It would take most of the day for the first year. As the months passed by, it would only take a few hours for the feeling of dread to fade. Now, an extra bout of physical activity works followed by borderline obsessive compulsion like today.
“Well, Kitten, you know I do love my job,” he declares as his smile stretches from ear to ear. “And, I’d hate to disappoint my fans.”
“You aren’t one to disappoint,” I say mischievously.
His smile is infectious as I return his perkiness.
Jared follows me to the second bedroom of my apartment which has been my office since I moved in a few years ago. Glancing at the clock, I’m surprised to see what time it is. When Jared said he was on his way, I didn’t expect him to be here this early. Reaching the front of my desk, I abruptly turn around to him and sheepishly announce, “I’m so sorry Jared. I didn’t realize what time it was. When you said you would be here soon, I didn’t think you would be here this early.”
I know my eyes aren't playing tricks as I check the clock a second time to confirm that it is seven forty-nine.
“Anything for my, Sex Kitten,” he declares.
“Seriously . . . ” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
“Kitten, it’s no big deal. You’re my girl . . . but, don’t tell that to Maggie,” Jared affirms while chuckling at his last statement.
Maggie and I are the only girls who have any place in his heart. The rest is for all his male lovers and fans.
“Besides, you should have seen how dead the streets were from WeHo all the way here. I’ve never seen LA like this. It’s creepy,” he shares.
I laugh wholeheartedly. Everyone in and out of California complains about the traffic only because they drive during the busiest times. Not many people know when the roads are as still as the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse.
Before I can muffle my laughter, Jared continues, “I just might have to start getting up earlier to travel like I’m King of the Road.”
“Please,” I mutter while trying to subdue my giggle and start shaking my head. “You will never come to the dark side.”
“Yeah . . . you’re right,” he agrees. “But, one can dream.”
Our giggles tapper offer as we sit on the white leather couch that’s up against the wall across from my desk.
Getting into business mode, I profess, “I know we have next quarter’s schedule already laid out and you’ve got the team way ahead of schedule for development and production . . . which I’m loving since it’s almost midway through this quarter . . . .”
“But . . .” Jared chimes in, seeing where I’m going. “You’ve already started the third quarter’s ideas.” He smiles, though I can see by the look in his eyes that his worry for me has returned.
“Actually, I have it completely finished,” I admit with certainty, but nervous for his reaction.
“Wow. Really?” He takes a breath to process my confession. “How the hell do you do it? I mean, I know how you do it, but . . . .” His eyes soften more as his voice trails off.
I desperately want to ease his concern and move forward.
“Years of practice,” I state begrudgingly as I try to brush it off like a joke, but to no avail.
I haven’t slept for more than five hours straight a night since the accident. My body shivers at the thought
“Besides, you know I get phenomenal, intense focus following . . .” my voice begins to trail.
Wanting to keep our attention on the positive, Jared redirects us both, “So, what did you come up with?”
Jared is such a loving friend above everything else. He hates to see me in pain. I’ve gotten really good at fooling him and Maggie over the years. Not that I want to lie to them, I just don’t want them to worry too much. I know what he’s hinting at when he tries to praise me for my uncanny attention and ability while leading me back to the distraction at hand. My extreme ability to give my absolute focus to anything I decide is my way of coping. I won’t admit it to anyone, not even Jared or Maggie, only myself on some occasions. I just avoid or put up more walls.
I remember vividly the first time I met Jared. Just getting off the train from Newark, New Jersey to Union Square in downtown Los Angeles, California. I was exhausted, frightened and confused thanks to the restless sleep and the more than two-day journey. Not knowing where to go or what to do, I followed the mass of people getting off the train. In the tunnel of the station, I finally stopped, perplexed by which direction to continue. That’s when we met.
Actually, he scared the crap out of me when he said “Hello. I’m Jared. You look like you need some help.”
I grabbed my bike and tried to put some distance between us. He was too close to me, not for being a stranger, but for my recently acquired fear of men.
“Don’t worry, Kitten,” he said comfortingly. “I’m gay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He must have known what I was thinking by the look on my face and was trying to calm and reassure me. Though he didn’t have any glaringly obvious gay traits that are overly embellished in the movies and TV, I honestly believed him. I wouldn’t have know from first hand experience since I hadn’t known anyone who was gay or openly gay prior to meeting him. There just was a look in his face that I couldn’t explain. A look of understanding. I swore I saw myself staring back at me.
He must have seen my expression relax, encouraging him to coax me more by gesturing with his hands as he took a few steps backward away from me through the tunnel to the right. “Come on. Looks like you could use some food. Maybe even some coffee. Do you like coffee?” He paused as his genuine smile grew bigger.
Calmer, I took a step towards him with my bike in tow while shaking my head in response to wanting coffee.
Assuming I was answering his latter question, he confessed, “Coffee’s overrated anyhow. How about some tea instead, then?”
I hesitantly nodded as I slowly stepped towards him.
“Great. Follow me,” he said as he turned his back to me and started walking. Every few steps he would turn his head over his right shoulder to make sure I was still with him and hadn’t run off.
I was at a place in my life where I needed a friend, and for some unknown reason, it was meant to be him. At the time, I didn’t know why, but I was grateful and still am. Since the accident almost three months prior, I’d had no one, until Jared.
Jared was kicked out of the house by his parents when he was eighteen. Apparently, according to Jared, they were God fearing, devout bible readers. That was the only book they read and they read it every day
. Jared had come out to them the night of his high school graduation, convinced that they would love and accept him. After all, he was their only son. Unfortunately, his father spat venomous words at him as he tried to strike Jared with his belt. The disturbing thing was that it wasn’t the first time Jared was ever beaten by his father. He had received lashes in the past as a young boy for being foolish or misbehaving, but that night something snapped in Jared. After taking three blows to the body without flinching, he grabbed the belt on the forth swing, ripped it from his father’s hands, and returned the heartless attack on his father. He didn’t say a word, but stopped on the thirteenth smack when Jared’s mother begged him to stop. She didn’t stand up for Jared, ever, and he probably thought to whip her as well, but didn’t. She gave him as much money as they had in the house plus a check made out to cash and pleaded for him to pack his bags and leave. I think she was trying to save both of them.
Jared was almost nineteen when we found each other. He had been living on his own in a small rundown studio apartment on the edges of Chinatown. The only time he would leave his apartment before he met me was to go to work. His demons still haunted him too. We were both lost, but then found that day in the tunnel.
As Jared completes his review of what I have written down for the third quarter’s schedule, I look to him for his thoughts and suggestions. He seems seriously impressed and it takes him a little longer to verbally respond than I’m used to. It must be the early morning hour that is causing Jared’s brain to not fully catch up quite yet.
Glancing at me he says, “Damn. I think this is terrific!” Still with a little bit of shock on his face, “Man, Emma. You’ve surprised me yet again.”
Humbly, I reply with a smile, “Thanks.”
Jared adds in some other pointers to add to the Lesbian - Gay - Bisexual - Transgender, or LGBT, section of the website from some recent comments and questions he’s collected from our social media platforms and his friends.
Sadie gnawing on her bone catches our attention, and Jared becomes excited again.
“I have and idea!” he shouts.
“What?” I question.
“It might sound a little silly . . . at first, that is,” he cautiously replies.
“Just say it. You know I like ideas,” I instruct, prompting him to share his idea.
I’m having trouble understanding his hesitation. Maybe he isn’t completely sure of my mood yet. I’ll have to do some better convincing.
“You’ve done a lot already this morning. I don’t want to add to . . . .”
“Just spit it out,” I politely demand, smiling as I cut him off.
“Ok . . .” he begins, seeming to be more confident now in his decision to bring it up. “We should create a whole section for pets. Mostly dogs to start because of Sadie, but I think we can increase the follower base even more. Sadie would be the face and we write everything from her perspective . . . well, our assumption of her perspective that is . . . what do you think?”
My business, Naturally Me, is a health and wellness blog that focuses on organic and natural products, recipes and the like. When I started it about six years ago, it was to suffice my interest, fascination and experimentation with female health, beauty and food products and questions about alternative health that I started to use when I changed my daily habits after some rocky moments I had while trying to figure out my life during the first two years in California. Jared was a very loving and patient friend from the start, even after learning about my demons.
I was already a computer wiz thanks to being homeschooled and my mother encouraging my learning to be around whatever topics interested me at the time. I was proficient in computer coding and graphic design by the time I was fifteen among other things. I was technically a high school graduate at the age of fourteen. Mom wanted me to have my high school diploma regardless of her thoughts of the ill-effectiveness of the public school system, so she scheduled the testing. The district actually had me take the test a second time, not because I didn’t pass, but because my scores were close to perfect and they wanted to make sure I wasn’t cheating. Mom was pleased with her teaching ability after the second test results came back practically the same as the first. Not wanting to thrust me into college at my young age, Mom began introducing me to a variety of college based courses until — well, let’s not get back into that.
The blog took a little time to get going, but after the first two years, it started to pick up enough that I was making almost twice as much as I was working with Jared at Jensen’s Florist. By the third year, I was making even more, almost four times as much money. Not long after the start of Naturally Me’s third year, Jared gave me some inspiration for topics to address on the blog from hearing him recount or discuss certain subject matters with me and his other friends. Knowing that I wasn’t quite legal yet to get into bars to see and hear everything first hand, I asked Jared to do some recognizance for me. Not understanding why I was so curious, two weeks later he showed up with a fake ID for me. Not willing to use the ID right away, I explained to Jared how I wanted to expand the blog. He instantly loved the idea.
Shortly after Jared’s insatiable desire to see what he could find, he and I were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of talking points we could add to the blog. From then on, Jared spent all his free time helping me establish the LGBT division of the blog with him as the face until I could pay him the same amount or more as Jensen’s. Proudly, I was able to match his monthly income from Jensen’s in just four months.
Currently, Naturally Me offers its readers health and beauty tips, tricks, product reviews, product referrals, homemade recipes along with a section dedicated to cuisine, home decorating, contests and giveaways, and an exclusive LGBT section. The thought of another division is mind blowing . . . but real.
Naturally Me expanded its reach by the end of its fourth year with the use of internet video sharing that allowed the company to instantly start making additional income which grew faster than I believed possible. Now, not only is Jared the main face of Naturally Me, he manages all communication and task completion between me, Naturally Me, and Naturally Me's independent contractors who handle our research, graphic design, video and editing, general inquiries and social media.
“Holy crap, Jared!” I blurt out in sheer astonishment.
“Yeah?!” he hesitantly replies.
“No. Seriously,” I exclaim. In shock, then awe and joyous appreciation for the man, I squeal in excitement, “You are a genius!”
“Oh, stop it!” he counters, trying to seem bashfully innocent and humble.
I glare at him with a devilish smile to his response, suggesting that I know what he’s doing, but pleased with his brilliance. “We can incorporate the pet section into the third quarter easily. We can hire a few more people to handle it under your direction.”
“Sweet!” he shouts with enthusiasm. “Looks like I should be getting a bonus at the end of the year,” he says teasingly.
“I’ll throw in a night at your favorite strip club if it goes the way I’m envisioning it in my head,” I toy with him with a sense of half truth.
“Mmmm . . . You sure know how to please a man,” he replies, winking at me with a dirty grin. We both snicker like school girls for a moment before turning back to the project at hand.
Happy with our successful meeting and my true love and gratitude for my friend, I tell him, “I love you, Jared.”
He looks at me quizzically for a second. Not sure where I’m going with this suddenly serious tone. He tries to brush it off lightly joking around, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I love you too, Sex Kitten.”
“No. I’m serious.”
He rarely sees the serious and openly emotional side of me, let alone the fact that I don’t say those three words loosely to just anyone or in just any context. Appreciatively and affectionately, I smile and repeat myself, “I love you.”
Respectfully, he pauses to take in this still unaccustomed moment. Jared, genuinel
y grateful for the moment, smiles and replies back, “I love you too, Emma.” He leans over to embrace me.
We sit, reassuring each other for several minutes and start cracking up when Sadie decides to wedge herself between our arms and onto our laps. Sadie never misses a beat.
We continue hashing out the details for the third quarter’s targets to include the pet division while sipping on tea and coffee. I leave Jared to his now coherent and animated concentration to fix him some breakfast. Surprisingly, I can hear his stomach grumble in protest to his second cup of coffee in demand for more sustenance.
A few hours later, content with our goals and objectives, we resolve to bring our business meeting to an end. Any in-person meetings after this will be brief to just review the progress of what’s scheduled and the testing of any new products that have arrived, unless it’s to just get together and hang out.
“I need to check the P.O. Box for deliveries,” Jared admits. “I completely forgot to before coming here.”
“That’s fine. You were here really early,” I reply, letting him off the hook.
He did come over much earlier than regular, two hours earlier.
“How about we check after going out for some lunch?” I suggest.
His eyes gleam with elation. Grinning and pleased, Jared puts his notes and iPad into his bag.
Before we head out the door, I turn off the music streaming from the Baroque classical music playlist on my computer that has been playing since just before I got into the shower. I am disappointed to hear my favorite song, Suite for Cello No. One in G Major by Johann Sebastian Bach, start playing. I almost hesitate to turn it off, but both Jared and I are hungry and need to get out.
If I were musically inclined, I would have learned cello or violin, but alas, I am not blessed with the ability to play. I can dance and follow any beat. Jared and I have taken dances lessons for practically every style of music, but my creative gifts and abilities are the visual arts. Though I can’t play an instrument, I have always been able to pick up tones and notes, which help greatly with the variety of languages I speak other than English.
Just Breathe Series (Trilogy Box Set) Page 2