Impressions of Me (Impressions Series Book 2)

by Christopher Harlan

  "Of course I want to hear what you think, you don't need to ask."

  "First, this whole mess with Derrick isn't your fault whatsoever, you understand me? None of it. It's not your job to recognize that there are psychos in the world. You were a victim, and it's not a victims fault, it's the victimizer' fault. Don't ever forget that." He's right, I know he's right, but I can't help but feeling like I let myself be a victim - I don't even like thinking of myself in those terms.

  "Thank you." Is all I can respond with.

  "You're welcome. And I'm working on the boyfriend part. And third..." Wait, what? Did he say that he was 'working' on being my boyfriend, and then just glance over it? "You still haven't told me why you don't get to read much. No time?"

  "No, I definitely have the time, that's not the problem."

  "Then what is?"

  "It's just that..." I slow to think of the right words, "it's like every time I find a book that interests me, after I read it for a little while I start to get sad. Not sad at what's happening in the book, just in general."

  "How come?"

  "You wouldn't know this, or even guess it about me, but I've always wanted more than anything to go to college, to have a real education. And every time I start to read a book I think about all of the books that I'm never going to read; all the important works from all the great philosophers and economists and authors...it just reminds me of what I don't have. I know that sounds dumb."

  "Dumb is about the last word I'd ever use with you. And you're right, I wouldn't have guessed that about you, but that's only because I assumed that you had gone to college - you're very smart."

  "I always wanted to - and my foster family always had that in mind, but by the time they got to me it was too late for me to care about school. I spent the last few years of high school just scraping by and getting into a lot of trouble, then before I knew it I had a place of my own and bills to pay, and there was no time or money to go to school."

  "That's a shame," he says solemnly, looking out of the window by our booth as though he's deep in thought, "listening to you speak I realize how much I take for granted - like you said before. Going to college wasn't a choice in my family, it was just what you did. The discussions surrounding school were about which Ivy you were going to attend, and what we needed to do to get accepted to one of them."

  "I guess that we just come from different worlds, you and I."

  "Do you ever think of starting slow? Maybe taking a class or two, to see if you like going to school?"

  "It's not a matter of knowing whether I'll like it - I know I'll like it. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this, but it's really more a matter of money at this point. I'm barely scraping by each month paying for the car and my place, and now a big black Rottweiler who eats her weight in dog food every week. So, yeah, maybe one day, but not right now."

  The waitress comes back as we're speaking and almost drops our plates on our laps. She looks so nervous, and she clearly shouldn't be trying the veteran move of balancing multiple plates along her arm, but she'll get the hang of it. I remember that stress when I first started here. "Oh my God, I'm sorry." She says as the plates make a loud noise on the table. Kane interjects. "There's nothing to apologize for, you're doing a great job, and please tell the owner that the food looks great." She gives him the biggest smile possible, and walks away happy that this gorgeous man relieved her stress for a few minutes.

  "That was nice of you," I fell him.

  "Not at all, she shouldn't be stressed, it's not like she dropped the waffles on my lap or anything." We both try to smile the uncomfortable conversation away. The waitress almost dropping our food became a nice break in my intense soul-bearing, but now that things get quiet and we start to eat - damn her waffles are good - I start to think about everything I just brought up to Kane, and how understanding he's been of everything I've told him - and what about that boyfriend comment! I have to go back to that at some point.

  "These might be the best waffles ever." He says with a mouth so full that little food pieces almost fall out. And he's right, I could eat this food for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack.

  "I told you," I say, right before taking in a mouthful myself, "you need to start listening to me."

  "Ditto." He says back. I look up from my waffle bliss and give him the eye. He just gave me the perfect opening to follow up on his comment from before.

  "I'll make you a deal. I'll take all of your advice without question if you do two things."

  "And what are those?"

  "One, chew with your mouth closed, didn't any of your tutors or etiquette people - whoever teaches you rich kids manners - tell you that? And two, I'm going to need an elaboration on that boyfriend comment you made."

  "Did you really just say etiquette people?" He laughs so hard he breaks rule number one, and has to cover his mouth. After he stops laughing at my expression - which did sound a little dumb- he takes a drink of water.

  "I'm sorry I'm not as refined as the Marsden’s" I say laughing.

  "You mean you didn't have any etiquette people?"

  "You're such an asshole, Kane Marsden."

  "Guilty as charged, but I love the way you say things."

  We eat for a few minutes without saying much, Kane carefully avoiding my question for a second time, and just as I'm about to bring it up again to force an answer out of him I see him walking in. I swear to God I have the worst luck in the world. It's Jamie, the bitchy waitress I almost came to blows with, who apparently had the same idea as me to come on her day off to eat. Damn you, Sally, for having such irresistible food. Her being there isn't the worst part; I can handle ignoring someone I don't like- I'm pretty good at that- but she's going to be harder to ignore with her dumb boyfriend and his friend, Declan, the one who I told off in front of his friends. This isn't what I had in mind when I decided to come here this morning, but I guess things don't always go according to plan. Kane can see the change in my face right away when I look up at them as they're being seated two tables away from us. I must be making a terrible face because Kane gets a very concerned look, like something's very wrong, and he actually turns around instinctively to see what's going on. "What is it?” he asks, and I just keep staring at them as they're being seated.

  "Nothing, just the universe hating me is all, nothing new."

  "Care to elaborate?" His voice sounds more normal now that he realizes nothing's really that wrong, but it's nice to see how strongly he'd react if something were. I don't want him to worry about me, though; I've already put enough on his mental plate.

  "Haven't you gotten enough of my drama?" I ask sarcastically. It's true though, I feel like I've been venting and complaining way too much.

  "I'll let you know when I've had enough, don't worry. Now tell me, who are those people you can't stop staring at?"

  "Just this bitch I work with, and her loser boyfriend."

  "And does this particular bitch you work with have a name?"

  "Jamie, isn't that perfect."

  "And Jamie's boyfriend? You don't like him either?"

  "Just think of the kind of guy who would be with a girl like that and you'll understand." It's true; you can tell so much about a person from who they choose to be with. Jamie's awful, so I judge her boyfriend for being with someone so awful. By what does that say about me, and the choices I've made?

  "Got it. And who's the third wheel?"

  "Declan." I say matter-of-factly. "He's the boyfriend's friend, and a total douche, at that." Kane nods. "Yeah, tried to pick me up while I was waiting his table a few days ago, had to put him in his rightful place."

  "Which is?"

  "Exposing his assholery for all around him to see."

  "I imagine that you're particularly good at that, aren't you?" He knows me so well already.

  "It's a talent. I can't sing or dance, but I can put people like Declan in their place, especially when they're being totally inappropriate." I've always been good at not ta
king shit from anyone - I've been through too much in my life to let people like him, or my mom, or even like Derrick, push me around.

  "You seem distracted since they got here, and we're almost done anyhow, why don't we get out of here." I love what he's trying to do. He knows how stressed I am because of the whole Derrick thing, and he's been nothing but a rock for me this entire time. He's right - the last thing I need is to get into another stupid argument with a random person, especially if I want to keep my job here.

  "I think that's a great idea, let's go." Kane waves down our waitress who looks about as overwhelmed as ever, and manages to get a check from her. I tell her to breathe - my standard advice for the stressed out server- and take the check. Kane snatches it out of my hand.

  "No way." He says. It's a little aggressive, but I like it. "I've got it." Kane goes into his wallet and leaves the money on the table. Hopefully he gave the stresses out new girl a good tip - a payment that'll make the annoying demands and endless mini-complaints a little more bearable. Knowing him he probably left her more than she'll make from all her other tables, combined. When she comes back to take the check from us I see Kane hand her a tip with his other hand. "You're doing a great job," he says to her, "it's not easy dealing with all these people. Have a good day." He smiles at her and I swear that I see her blush. Kane's a gorgeous man; the best looking one in the room, and I'm not sure which elevates the waitresses mood more: the tip or the kind words, but in any case her cheeks turn red as she turns away to finish her shift.

  As we walk past Jamie's table I make a decision not to look over, but I can feel them staring at me. I decide to just rise above it and keep walking because I don't need any more stress right now. I don't even feel it at first, but when I look down to see what that sensation is I see that Kane's holding my hand, and squeezing it tightly. I don't say anything, or ask why he's doing that, I just squeeze back and smile because it might be the most comforting thing I've felt in a while.

  We walk right past Jamie's table and I don't even make eye contact. I'm proud of myself for staying above the drama. As we walk outside I take a deep breath- the kind I used to do in yoga when we got to the meditative part of class - in through the nose, out through the mouth, eyes closed. Kane hears the sound of my giant exhale and makes a face. "That was one hell of a deep breath."

  "I know," I say, taking one more before I get in the car, "needed to happen. I'm good now."

  "Are you sure?"

  "As good as I get, yeah."

  "You should really stop doing that."

  "What's that?" I ask.

  "Being so down on yourself. You'll get through all of this. Trust me, I know what it's like to come through the other side of some serious problems." I feel stupid all of a sudden. What I'm going through is real, and dangerous, and Kane's been so supportive, but I've definitely forgotten about him - about what he's been through and what he might be going through in his own life. I've kind of been using him as a sounding board and dinner date - but everything's been about me.

  "You're right, I'm sorry." I say, feeling bad.

  "Don't be sorry," he answers, "just stop dumping on your life. Things will get better, I promise you." He leans down and kisses me; not how we were kissing before. Not a I-wanna-rip-your-clothes-off kind of kiss, but more of a it'll-all-work-out kiss. And I believe him as we touch lips ever so gently; I believe that it'll all be okay.

  "Take me home, Kane Marsden."

  "You got it."

  When we pull up to my place I start fantasizing about my favorite sweatpants and a good, mid-afternoon Netflix binge...maybe a glass of wine. Who am I kidding, definitely a glass of wine.

  "So thank you for...for everything."

  "Never thank me," he says. "It's my honor to be here with you. Text me later if you feel like it." We kiss one more time and he leaves, as he does, with few words, and blazing away in a car that's too fast for a normal road. I watch his car disappear around the block and think back on the last 24 hours. I don't remember feeling this happy in a long time, and I can't wait to see Kane Marsden again.

  After I walk in the front door I see two things - Jordan curled up in a giant black ball on the carpet, and a small white envelope underneath my feet. Probably the neighbors getting my mail again - I swear I need to call the post office and complain, this happens at least once a week...as I crouch down to pick it up I see that it isn't mail, it's just an unsealed envelope with my name on the front of it in big black letters. My heart starts to race as I open the back. I pull out what looks like a small, folded, hand-written note, and when I unfold it I can't believe my eyes. All it says is,

  I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. I'M COMING FOR YOU SOON. GONNA FINISH WHAT I STARTED.

  I can feel my heart pounding violently; it's a wave of panic and anxiety like I haven't felt before, not since the last time I can remember seeing him. It feels like I've been struck so hard in the stomach that I can't breathe in fully, I can only take short, shallow breaths that begin to make me feel light-headed after a few seconds. My eyes are fixed on the words, but I'm not reading them anymore. My mind is disorganized; unfocused, and I begin to realize all of the implications of what I just read. The voice in my head - the inner dialogue my childhood therapist used to tell me to listen to- speaks to me as I stand in my living room panicking quietly. Don't worry, don't panic, just keep breathing...you're stronger than this feeling, you'll be okay, just keep breathing deeply, just like that - in and out. Good! Just like that; one more time, only even deeper. That's it. Just keep breath...

  I don't remember passing out, but when I open my eyes all I can feel is the soreness on the left side of my face where I fell, and Jordan's big tongue licking at my forehead.

  I pick myself up and go to the bathroom to see the damage. Not too bad; at least nothing that a little foundation and cover up won't make better. I haven't had a panic attack like that in a long time. The only other time this happened was my first night in my foster home. I was so scared and disoriented at the fact that my whole life had been upended that I started to panic in my new bed. My adopted dad had to hold on to me and keep reminding me to breathe until my heart rate came back to normal. Now there's no one but me here, and I literally have to pick myself up and get a hold of my body. After I wash my face and pull myself together I make two decisions: first, I have to call the police; and second, no matter what comes of that, I can't live like this any longer.

  I refuse to be his victim and I won't spend my days or nights worrying about the next note - or worse. Something has to give, and I'm going to take all the steps I can to make that happen. My first instinct is to lock my door - he's been to my house; he stood outside my door and slipped that terrible note underneath my door, hoping that it would terrify me. What a sick fuck! After I do that I call Jordan into my bedroom, lock the door, and find his P.O.'s number again. I don't care if he's an apathetic piece of shit; he still had a legal obligation to keep control of his parolee. I leave a panicked and angry voicemail, and then dial the police to tell them what happened.

  Unlike Derrick's parole officer, the woman I speak to is very nice, and she sends two officers to my house to take my statement and collect the letter as evidence. They arrive within a half hour and spend about an hour here speaking to me. It's like I'm experiencing events all over again as I tell them the whole story for the record: stalker ex; attempted murder, arrest, conviction...and here I am again, experiencing it all a second time. I really can't believe that I have to deal with this. The police offer me an escort to anywhere I want to go. They do the normal thing and ask me if I have any family or friends that I can stay with in the area. I wish the answer were yes, but there's no family here to speak of, and my best friend's still away. There's only one place I can go; only one place that I want to go. I text him before I leave to make sure he's home, then warn him that I'll explain why the police are escorting me to his house. Then I tell him that he's also going to be welcoming a giant dog. Kane doesn't hesitate, and after I pack a sm
all bag and grab some doggie essentials we're off, driven to Marsden Mansion in the back of an old police car.

  When we arrive Kane's already waiting. I open the car door and leap into his arms, and he holds me so tightly that I feel the breath leave my body. Jordan follows me, and sits at Kane's feet. He thanks the officers, and assures them that I'll be safe here. And for the first time since this whole mess began, I believe that I will be.

  Chapter 13

  I don't remember falling asleep, or what words were spoken between Kane and I, or much of anything, really. But for the second time in two days I wake up after having blacked out, though I assume the second time wasn't an anxiety attack, but just good-old-fashioned exhaustion. I wake up in his bed, covered by silk, with soft pillows holding my head a few inches off of the mattress. I'm alone, and as my eyes adjust to the light I rub them with both hands; the subtle leftover of a headache lingering just above my right temple.

  Kane walks in as if on cue, looking as handsome as ever, and I feel a warm sense of comfort rush over me. "Hey," he says softly, and I do my best to smile at him, but it's a strain.

  "Hey. I passed out?"

  "You could say that, yes. I had to carry you to bed you were so out of it."

  "Did you take advantage of me," I ask, joking around.

  "If by 'taking advantage' you mean take off your shoes before positioning you under the covers, followed by a very long walk with a very big dog, then yes, I used and abused you."

  We both laugh, but I can tell that all he wants to do is ask me about last night. He has the right to know, he's helped me through everything so far, and it is his house I brought the police to. I open my mouth to tell him about it all, but he beats me to the punch. "I know what happened, and I think you need to consider moving."