Chat

by Theresa Rite

  He smirked, reaching for one of my curls to twist around his finger.

  “Love you too, my pretentious little poet. I’m going to buy you a beret. For some reason, I think you need one while writing your poetry.”

  I cringed and pushed at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

  “Or one of those Samuel L. Jackson hats. Turned around backwards, of course.”

  “Did you come over here to tease me, or to let me comfort you in your times of woe?”

  He laughed, and I grinned, tucking my face against his chest.

  “Comfort and woe. You’re right. Sorry, no more teasing. I love your poems.”

  “You smell like weird toothpaste,” I commented.

  “The clinic smelled like that.”

  We’d turned the music up and never talked about it again.

  I was showered and dressed and waiting for Jason when he pulled in the driveway promptly at noon. Standing at the window with my arms crossed around my body, I watched him get out of his truck and walk toward the house. Joplin jumped up at the window, whining excitedly.

  In khakis and a crisp, white shirt, and his ever-present aviators, he was absolutely gorgeous. In the seconds it took him to walk up the sidewalk, I felt like I was seeing him for the first time in our whole lives.

  “Where’re my girls!” he called as he twisted the key in the lock. Joplin charged, and he took a moment to pet her before turning to me. “San,” he caught my chin in his hand, inspecting my face. “Your eye looks so much better. God, you’re beautiful.”

  His words melted me from the inside out. I teetered on the line of my instincts, wanting so badly to just give in and let him be everything that I’d always wanted, or to mention Carissa and set him free.

  “Mrs. Brewer, you’re very quiet,” he urged when I continued to hug him in silence.

  Finally, I tightened my hold on him. “I’m just so happy we’re here.”

  I could feel the tension in his body release, and he pulled me even further into his arms, lowering his lips to mine. “I won’t fuck this up. Don’t let me fuck this up,” he corrected, cupping my face in his palms and staring into my eyes.

  “Up here is all crazy,” I whispered, tapping my finger to my temple. “But down here, I know what I feel.” I covered my heart, and he grinned, kissing me again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jason

  I sat in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, trying to answer work emails and not think about the upcoming week.

  Or Sandy.

  Or sex with Sandy.

  The week ahead would be the true turning point in our relationship. I wanted to go slow enough for her, making sure that she had plenty of time to relax and be by herself.

  Calling her “Mrs. Brewer” had sparked something in me that couldn’t be contained. Suddenly, I wasn’t only thirty-five, I was already thirty-five.

  I wanted the real thing.

  I thought about what my mom had said in the kitchen. I knew Sandy had been waiting for Jack to propose to her, and that she wanted marriage and children.

  And I wanted Sandy.

  My thoughts were tumbleweeds, blowing in from out of the blue, too fast for me to catch them. Every time I felt like I was on the edge of realizing what I wanted to do, I’d get distracted by more thinking.

  The door opened, and Sandy came out, quietly thanking the doctor. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she quickly slipped her sunglasses on before turning to me with a forced smile. “All set! I’m starving. Lunch?” she suggested.

  I gave her a soft smile, leading her out to the pickup.

  She immediately turned up the radio, and I sensed that she didn’t want to talk.

  We picked up salads from her favorite café, and by the time we were standing in my kitchen, I could tell that she wanted to say something to me.

  “San?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s up?”

  She grabbed her salad, moving to the table, and I followed her. “Nothing.”

  “Is this that thing when you say ‘nothing’ but it’s really something that I did?”

  She shrugged, stabbing a piece of lettuce with her fork. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Brew.”

  “But I did something,” I urged, joining her at the table.

  She lifted her eyes to mine before narrowing them. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a hot fucking mess lately. Nothing that I think or do makes any sense.”

  “Fine.” I slid my chair back, moving to the bowl by the front door and retrieving both of our iPhones. I handed hers to her, and unlocked mine. “If you can’t say it, write it.”

  She took a deep breath, picking up her phone.

  I waited.

  Finally, I heard the sound of her text sending, and mine receiving.

  Boss: We’re going too fast.

  I kept my eyes focused downward, replying to her text as my pulse raced.

  Me: I’m not pushing you, am I?

  Boss: No. But I have to stop, or I’m going to hurt you.

  Me: Stop what? Us?

  Boss: Yes. Sleeping with you. Playing house.

  Me: Do I make you happy?

  She exhaled slowly, tossing her phone to the table. “Jason. You know you do.”

  “Then stop overthinking us.”

  She placed her fork on the table, sitting back in the chair. “You deserve better. My mind is a mess. Half the time I miss Jack, did you know that? I think of him, the good times, and my heart just… I respect myself. I’m an intelligent woman. Dr. Adams said that it’s normal to be feeling this way, and that I have to… stay away… but I know that if he gets help, too, for his anger…”

  I watched as she slowly crumbled before me. “San.”

  “The doctor said,” she rambled on, “that what I’m doing… what we’re doing… is a reactive behavior. That some women react this way to… sexual… assault. They allow their partner to play the part of the aggressor within some kind of… safe zone that… psychologically earns them the trust that they are looking to build. I’m becoming sexually aggressive and am seeking out sexually aggressive men. It’s like a do-over; making it right, trusting that he won’t hurt me,” she cried.

  “What men?” I burst, shaking my head. Her poor arms were trembling as I reached for her. “Hey, it’s just me. Just the same old me I’ve always been, and you’re the same old you you’ve always been. I’m not sexually aggressive. I’m just… following your cues, San. Just having fun. I love you.”

  Moving to her, I pulled her into my arms, and she pressed her face to my chest as her shoulders shook with sobs.

  I realized, at that moment, that playing house and taking a road trip to the beach wasn’t what she needed.

  She needed consistency. Security. Reassurance that she was making the right choice, without the pressure of me falling in love with her.

  And I was- totally, inexplicitly in love with my best friend.

  “Sandy,” I whispered. “You’re absolutely right. Too fast. You’re the boss, remember?” I added gently.

  She nodded against my shirt.

  “You have enough to deal with. And as far as… as the way you’re feeling about him, like the doctor said, it’s normal.”

  It was hard, really hard, to essentially encourage her to continue thinking about him. But I knew it was inevitable, and it had to be part of her healing process.

  But that was all I knew.

  “I liked what we were doing. Knowing that we’re just… playing around, you know, nothing serious.”

  “Playing. Check.” I let her pull away, and I brushed at her tears with my thumbs as I held her face in my hands.

  “If you want more from us, I’ll only end up hurting you,” she whispered, searching my eyes.

  “I don’t want anything but you. I’ll meet you where you are.”

  I got a semi-smile, and her watery gaze faltered. “Thank you.”

  “Hey,” I said softly. “How are you feeling? I think I might
have been a little too rough last night.”

  She blushed, and I loved watching the color spread from her neck up to her cheeks. “You weren’t. I just never thought that I’d… like… that.”

  I swallowed hard, trying not to picture her ass as I gripped her hips.

  “I love how open you are to trying new things.”

  “I feel like it’s safe, with you,” she admitted quietly. “You don’t judge me.”

  “And I never will.” I took her hands, pulling her to her feet from the chair. “I have an idea.”

  “Uh-oh,” she teased. “Those usually get us into trouble.”

  I grinned. “You know what I haven’t done in a really long time?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Gone fishing.”

  “Fishing?” She giggled, and I warmed at the musical sound of her laugh.

  “Fishing. Let’s go to my parent’s dock. Dad’s got all the gear there that we’ll need. We can stop and get some bait and beer on the way.”

  “Not too much beer, we’re leaving early in the morning,” she chided, and already her eyes were lighting with enthusiasm.

  Relief flooded over me. She still wants to go. “Right! Forget the beers. Cream soda then.”

  She smiled so wide, her tears disappeared. “Perfect. Okay, let me throw on some old jeans.”

  An hour later we were sitting at the end of the dock with both of our lines in the water, Joplin lying behind us contentedly.

  I smirked at her legs as they swung back and forth over the lake.

  She caught my grin and gave me a shy smile. “What?”

  “You still swing your legs.”

  She immediately stopped, and I reached for her thigh, gripping lovingly as she laughed. “I guess I do.”

  “For as long as I can remember,” I added, pulling on my line a little. “Makes you look like that little girl from all those years ago.”

  She arched her eyebrow, smirking. “All those years?” she demanded, and I laughed, reaching for my soda. “When you turn your hat around like that, you look like you’re ten again.”

  I scooted closer to her, swinging my legs in sync with hers. She rested her head against my shoulder.

  After a while, I tilted my face toward hers. “Are you excited for the beach?”

  She sighed, reeling her line in slightly. “I’m so excited… but I’m so scared.”

  I turned to her eyebrows raised. “So you’re Jessie Spano?”

  She laughed, pushing against my shoulder. “I am Jessie Spano. Which makes you Slater.”

  “Fuck you, I’m Zack Morris,” I returned, and she laughed even harder, reeling her line in the rest of the way.

  “Of course you are, with your blond hair and your blue eyes, cutest boy in school.” She reached out to take off my hat. “Your hair has gotten a lot darker since we were kids. And… is that a gray?” she teased, pretending to examine an area near my ear.

  “That’s it.”

  I tackled her, and she laughed, letting me attack her neck with kisses.

  I lost track of the time, the place, and the year as I kissed her with all of the conviction in my heart. Both of our hands were dirty from the live bait, so we kept them from getting involved as my tongue tangled with hers.

  “I don’t want to rush you,” I breathed against her mouth. She sighed, resting her forehead against my lips.

  “I feel better now. Sorry for my little freak-out at home.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “I do feel like we’re rushing,” she said, confidently, quietly, as the sun began to set over the lake. “But… I feel like I’ve waited my whole life… to rush with you.”

  Her words were branded with truth, and I bent to kiss her healing eye, her cheek, and then her nose. “You want me to be honest with you?”

  “You’d better,” she replied.

  Time seemed to stand still.

  We were at the edge of everything that we had been, and moments away from everything that we could be.

  Finally, I whispered my words against her forehead.

  “I want to come home to you for the rest of my life. I want to know that when I’m going home, I’m going home to you. I want to have babies with you,” I said bravely, my throat burning as I spoke. “Curly-haired babies with your big, brown eyes.”

  Her eyes were locked in mine, and I knew she hadn’t taken a breath since I began speaking.

  I pushed forward. “I want to sit on the end of this dock in our matching wheelchairs, fishing with you until the end of our lives. I want to marry you, Sandy. When you’re ready.”

  My words should have been shaking with the apprehension that took over. I’d never been so afraid of rejection as I was at that moment. I prided myself on being confident, self-assured, and always ready to take on whatever came my way.

  Except with Sandy.

  She commanded my heart and always had.

  When she lifted her eyes to mine, they were swimming with emotion. Those depths of earthy brown and green sparkled in the evening sun, and two tears raced down each of her cheeks.

  “Jason?”

  I waited.

  She finally took a breath. “I’m ready. I love you, Jason.”

  My life stopped and started again at that moment.

  My slow smile spread across my face, and I exhaled quickly. “You’re ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to? Marry me?”

  “Yes,” she sobbed, dropping the fishing line and throwing her arms around me.

  Dirty hands or not, I gathered her into my arms, and she clung to me with all of her strength. God, I was suddenly exhilarated, like I’d just found my entire purpose in life and was standing on the edge of forever.

  Adrenaline charged through me, and I tilted my neck back, looking up at the sky. “I’m marrying Sandy!” I shouted into the air, to no one in particular. She exhaled with a tearful laugh, clinging to me. Joplin barked at us, and I grinned. “I’m marrying you,” I repeated, softer now, catching her lips in a kiss that gave my heart a reason to beat.

  “It’s about time!”

  My dad’s voice pulled our eyes toward the backyard, and my mom was huddled in his arms, smiling at us and dabbing her eyes with the tissue that she always kept hidden in her sleeve.

  “Oh Jason, Sandy, come here,” she cried, holding her arms out. I carried Sandy with her limbs wrapped around me, gripping her cute little ass through her jeans.

  “Glad you listened to me for once,” my dad said, and I caught a prideful gleam in his eye. “You’d better marry her soon before she comes to her senses. And you’d better be the husband that she deserves.”

  Sandy laughed, squirming beneath my grip. “He’s learned from you, George, so he can’t go wrong.”

  My dad smiled at her as I lowered her to the ground, and my mom was too overcome with tears to do anything but hold her in her arms.

  “You’ve always been meant to be my daughter. I knew it since the day you marched your sassy little self into my kitchen.” My mom could barely contain her tears.

  “We love you, Sandy-curls,” my dad added, both of them hugging Sandy to their chests.

  “Okay, we have to get going. We’re packing up the car for tomorrow, and we need to go to your house and tell your parents,” I hurried. I was suddenly anxious, glancing at my watch. “San?”

  “Okay,” she agreed, turning into my arms again.

  We cleaned up and drove to her parents in smiling stretches of silence. We both were trying to process the logistics of it all, still reeling from what we’d just agreed to do.

  We’d just agreed to spend the rest of our lives together.

  “Do you still want to get married on my parent’s dock?” I finally asked, and she widened her eyes, her mouth falling open.

  “How in the world do you remember that?” she demanded.

  “I remember everything you say, Boss,” I replied in my most overly-serious tone. She smiled, nodding once. />
  “Yes. Right on the dock. And I love you more for remembering that.”

  I couldn’t count the number of times she’d told me that she loved me over the years, but now, this made twice since I’d asked her to be my wife.

  Twice that her words had thrilled me, turned me on, and comforted me all at once.

  “I love you too, baby.”

  She nestled against my shoulder again, turning up the Gary Clark Jr. song that poured through the speakers.

  I thought about the day she told me that she wanted to get married on the dock.

  It had been her sixteenth birthday, June 10, 1995. We’d spent the day at Cedar Point, the huge roller coaster theme park a little over an hour away. Our parents were exhausted after trekking all over the park, and I suggested we take the canoe out into the lake.

  “Your dad’s gonna shit a brick, Brew,” she hissed, whispering near the edge of the lake.

  “They’re sleeping, they’ll never know. Stop being a pussy.”

  “What about spiders?”

  “There are no spiders in here. Come on,” I urged, holding my hand out for her. She wore her favorite cut-off jean shorts, her TLC t-shirt- featuring the condom eye-patches that her mom absolutely hated- and Grant Hill high-tops.

  “If I see a spider, I’m screaming and turning the boat over.”

  “You’d rather swim in pond scum than deal with a spider?”

  “No duh.”

  “Come on, pussy.”

  “Call me pussy again, and I’ll hit you with this oar.”

  It’d taken all of five minutes to row out to the middle of the lake, and my palms had instantly begun to sweat.

  “So, happy birthday,” I began tentatively.

  She arched one eyebrow under the light of the full summer moon. “Thanks.”

  “Did you have fun today?”

  She nodded, grinning. “The Raptor was the most awesome roller coaster ever. Makes me wanna watch Jurassic Park again.”

  I nodded, gripping the oars, white knuckled.

  “Cool.”

  We sat in silence for a little while, until finally, I cleared my throat.