by Amelia Wilde
In all this time working for her, I’d never considered Charlie a friend. But now?
It really looks like I have a friend. It's weird, but it's also kind of nice. And all because I’d asked her to help me.
I wince, and shift on the couch. The doctor had said it was only a nasty sprain, nothing broken, but I am now the proud owner of a giant Frankenstein boot that lurks by the side of the couch. It is meant to keep my foot immobilized when I walk, but I have yet to get used to maneuvering myself around in it. Plus it clomps so loudly I swear I hear an echo, so right now I am avoiding it.
Last icing session, I’d caught up on a few chapters of my Anatomy and Physiology texts. The one before that, I’d submitted an assignment that was due on Thursday.
Now I have nothing to do.
Bored, I pick up my phone, then let it fall back down again when I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflective glass.
“Dammit,” I sigh to the ceiling as my fingers go to my chest, to the mark just above my left breast. I let them dance lightly, dreamily, over it for a moment, then I tug my shirt higher, cheeks flaming.
Adam is gone, but the mottled purple bruise from his greedy lips is still there, marking the area just over my heart.
His car had disappeared from my driveway by the time I’d come back from the doctor’s yesterday. He’d vanished so thoroughly that I could almost imagine that these last few days had been nothing more than a dream.
Except this mark meant it was real.
It was real and now it was over.
“I wish he’d never come back,” I mutter to myself. But my declaration rings false in my own ears. I don’t know what I wish. I don’t know what I want.
Yes I do.
I want him.
I fucking love him.
My phone lets loose a sudden cacophony, vibrating and ringing at the same time—I’d forgotten I’d turned the ringer on when Charlie came by—that mercifully derails this line of thought. I squint at the Caller ID in disbelief for a moment, before I slowly lift the phone to my ear.
She doesn’t even give me a chance to answer. “Hey,” she says. “How’s it going?”
My sister’s voice is just slightly lower than mine. Otherwise I could be talking to myself. “Maria?” I stammer.
“You sound shocked.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
I sit up straighter. “It’s been a while.”
“I know,” she sighs. “Listen, that’s why I’m calling. I’m sorry, I’ve been so far up my own ass with this grant thing that I completely neglected the people in my life. I swear it like ate my brain.”
“I can imagine,” I say, because I sort of can.
“I swear, I’d start working on something and then a whole week would slide by and I’d barely left my lab, barely brushed my hair even.”
“Uh huh.” I brace myself, ready for Maria to start her usual monologuing.
But then she blindsides me with, “But listen! Mom told me about your race! Holy crap, why didn’t you tell me you were running a triathlon!”
I have to forcibly close my hanging open mouth. “Um? Well, I guess ‘cause it never came up?”
“Ugh,” Maria groans. “That’s my fault. I’ve been a shit sister.”
Something warm is spreading in my belly, the same feeling I’d get sipping hot cocoa by a roaring fire. “Nah, you haven’t been that bad,” I smile. “Not as bad as when you stole my bike, anyway.”
“What?! I never stole your bike!”
“You did!” I squeal. “You took it right out of the garage and went riding off with your backpack on.”
“When?!”
“I was twelve! You were going to, like, the library or something and I was so mad because you were too tall for my bike and your knees were like up to your ears and—”
“Oh, God,” she moans. “You saw that?”
I spread my hands. “Of course I did!”
“Ugh.” I can picture Maria so perfectly right now, cringing with her fingers pinched to the bridge of her nose. “I swear, Regina, I had no idea you were home. You were always hiding.”
“I never hid!”
“You were like a ghost in our house! Chrissy and I used to have races to see who could find you first.”
I lick my lips, and try to talk around the tightening in my throat. “I wasn’t hiding,” I whisper. “You just never noticed me.” There is no mistaking the pain in my voice and for once I don’t try to hide it.
“Of course we noticed you,” Maria protests. “How do you think we always ended up finding you?”
I lick my lips again. I have no response to that and for a second I can’t say anything at all. “But you still stole my bike,” I finish lamely, feeling suddenly small and petty.
Maria laughs. “Inadvertently stole, you mean. I returned it to the garage as soon as I was done with it.”
“What were you even doing? Going to the library?”
“Oh, God….” Her laugh is so loud she muffles her phone and for a second all I can hear is her hand rustling against the speaker.
“Hello?” I say loudly, irritated that she is laughing and I have no idea why.
There is a scrabbling sound, and I hear her wheeze before she finally manages to squeak out, “I was meeting my boyfriend!”
“What?”
“You remember Jonas Abbott?”
“The dirtball who used to hang around the end of the street all the time?”
“He was not a dirtball,” she huffs indignantly. “And he was hanging around because I was sneaking out to meet him.”
‘What?” It’s all I seem to be able to say.
Maria sighs and lowers her voice. “Listen. Half the time I told Mom and Dad I was studying at the library, I was actually sneaking out to sleep with Jonas.”
“Maria!’
“Dear God, Regina, did you all really think I was studying that much? How boring do you think I am?”
I wait a beat. “Very,” I deadpan.
She laughs. “Okay well, you’re not completely wrong. But I’m only about half as boring as you think I am.”
I tap my finger on the side of my cheek. “For some reason, the knowledge that you were sneaking off to fuck your dirtball boyfriend instead of studying makes me like you a lot more.”
“Well thank you,” she says primly. “And the knowledge that you were training for a marathon...”
“Triathlon.”
“Well yeah, that. It makes me like you a lot more.”
“Um...thanks?”
“I mean doing that on top of working and getting your degree? Damn, no wonder you’ve been so snippy.”
“I’m not snippy.”
“Oh don’t worry about it, we love you any way. Snippy is part of what makes you, you.”
“I’m not snippy!”
“You’re a complete bitch, Regina,” she says, but her voice is so soft and gentle it almost sounds like a compliment. “You really are. But that just means that the only people who want to be around you are people who really love you.”
“I...thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” Maria says. Then she sighs a great sigh of relief. “I’m so glad we finally got a chance to talk. It’s been too long.”
“It has.”
“And you’re pretty terrible on the phone. Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall. You’re so closed off usually. But this time?” She pauses a beat. “Did you get hit in the head during the triathlon? Is that why you’re being so nice now? You know, I’m studying the effects of brain trauma on personality and…”
“Maria!” I wave my hand. “Shut up, jerk!”
“Ah, there you are. So you’re fine.”
“Actually.” I reach down and lift the peas from my ankle. “I actually did get hurt. Sprained my ankle crashing my bike on wet pavement.”
“Oh shit!”
“Yeah.”
“That sucks.”
I press my lips together. “It really does.�
�
“Did you go to the doctor?”
“I did. I have a fun boot I have to wear now. Remember Old Lady Feathergill who ran the antique store? With the orthopedic shoes? I look like her.”
“Eek.” I can hear her wincing. “Well, who’s taking care of you if you can’t walk?”
For some reason my fingers go to the bruise over my heart. But he’s not here any more. “My friend Charlie took me to doctor and got me some groceries.”
“That was nice. But what about now?”
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“Somehow I knew you’d say that.”
“Because I am. I have my boot.”
“Regina, you are a pain in the ass. Why don’t you ever let anyone help you? Why do you insist on making yourself a martyr to independence?” Maria sighs the world-weary sigh of an exasperated older sister. “I’m hanging up and calling someone for you, right now.”
“What?” I bellow.
But the line is suddenly dead.
I wait a beat. For one terrified moment, I imagine Maria is calling Adam. I can picture him walking through the door, apologies on his lips and flowers in his hands.
Would I let him in?
I would.
I miss him already.
I need him.
I love him.
My phone rings again, and this time I resent the interruption that takes me away from that thought. I love him, but what the hell am I supposed to do with that?
My fingers close around it with trepidation, and when I see the Caller ID, it only gets worse. “Mom?” I answer.
My mother gives that little squeak of surprise that she always makes when caught by Caller ID, but recovers quickly. “I just got a call from Maria,” she frets. “You’re hurt? Why didn’t you tell me?”
If Maria’s concern threw me for a loop, then my mother’s makes me feel downright dizzy. “Uh…”
My mother sighs and falls silent. I can hear her prepping, composing some speech in her head and I wait for it to come. The lecture. The recrimination.
But today is the day of thwarted expectations, because what comes out of my mother’s mouth is exactly the opposite. “Honey, I owe you an apology.”
“Um.” In my twenty-six years on this planet, I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mother say those words to me. “You do?”
She takes a breath. ”I’m sorry about how awful I was when you called Saturday. My tooth—you know how it is when your mouth hurts. I was a complete bear to you. Will you forgive your old mother?” She sighs again. “I should have come to your race, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.”
“Okay?”
“Parents make mistakes too, honey. And that was a big one.” She pauses. “I got it pulled yesterday. Oh my word I can’t even tell you how nice it is to be able to talk without pain.”
But I’m still stuck on what she’d said before. Maria is right, I’m opening up. I’m letting people in. But there are also things that need to be let out. “Mom,” I say carefully. “Thank you for saying that. You did hurt my feelings.”
“I know honey. I’m sorry.”
“But you asked why I didn’t call you. I didn’t ask you to help with my ankle because you’ve never helped me.”
“Regina!”
Her tone is sharp and hurt, but I stand my ground. “Growing up it felt like you sometimes forgot I was even there. Maria and Christina—I know they overshadowed me everywhere else, but at home, too?”
“You think they overshadowed you? Oh honey, no, they just—” she pauses. “I can’t think of the words. The three of you were like radios, except you were playing softly and politely and your sisters were blaring at top volume.” She chuckles. “I always loved that about you. You were my peace and quiet.”
There’s a little pause, and then she goes on.
“You’re so competent, so independent. I’d show you how to do something and you’d snatch it from my hand and demand to do it yourself. You didn’t need me like Christina did. Do you remember how shy she was? Always clinging to my legs. The whole reason we started her volunteering at the soup kitchen was so she’d learn how to talk to people. And Maria, oh my word. She was such a time-suck. Forever demanding to be drilled on her spelling words, her times tables. I tried to give you all equal attention, but you were always off on your own. Half the time if I went looking for you to see if you wanted to spend some time together, just the two of us, I couldn’t find you. You were either off on your bike, or up a tree, or God knows where else. But I keep looking for you, Regina. I always know where you are. And if you need me, you know where I am too.”
For a second I can’t breathe, and then suddenly I can breath more freely than ever before. Tears are falling, but I’m not crying. I’m just sort of...leaking. Like all the things I’ve needed to let go of are finally flowing out of me. “Mommy?”
“Yes honey?”
“I think I might need your help.”
“I’ll be right over.”
33
Adam
I’m driving through the city, aimlessly wandering even though I’m supposed to be in the office, when my phone rings. Nothing anchors me at work, not since I came back from Reckless Falls, and I’ve taken to giving my driver time off. At least having my hands on the wheel gives me something to do. The ringtone cuts into the music I have blaring over the car’s sound system.
“What the hell,” I mutter, punching at the button to ignore the call.
Naturally, I miss that button and answer it by accident.
“My man!” Gideon’s voice booms through the system, nearly bursting my eardrums.
“Shit.” I fumble for the volume control, turning down his laughter. “What do you want, you asshole?”
“Did you have your music turned up? I warned you about that, my friend.”
“None of your—”
“Where are you? What are you doing? Come get on my plane at LaGuardia. We’re going to the Bahamas.”
I have to stifle a sigh. The Bahamas are fucking great, and Gideon always rents a place that might as well be a palace. But the last thing I’m going to do is get on his plane right now. I want to go back to my place and pull a pillow over my head and come out when this sickening disappointment has subsided.
“I’m back into the city.” I search for an excuse. “I’m late getting to the office.”
“You own the office. Take a day or five off. See you here in thirty?”
Some asshole cuts in from the right lane, so close I almost take his bumper off. I want to shout at the guy—the urge is there to do something—but I don’t feel anything. I’m just alone in my car, with my best friend’s voice in my ears.
“I’d love to, but—”
“No excuses, Adam. You were in that little town for days and days. It’s time for some adventure.”
Adventure. Nothing seems more adventurous to me right now than climbing up to the falls with Reggie and stripping off her clothes right there in the open, where anyone could see us. I want to be in that moment again, not inching my way through New York City traffic. Discovering her was a thousand times more exciting than the Bahamas will ever be. The crush of cars here might be more of a risk to my life, but I can’t feel the slightest pulse of adrenaline.
“Yeah, I—”
“Hey!” Gideon shouts the word like he’s remembering something important. “Did you do it?”
“Did I do what?”
He lowers his voice like we’re conspirators. “Did you sleep with her?”
I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about for a long moment. Sleep with who? Then it comes back to me. The reunion. The bet.
I’d lost that one.
“No, man, I didn’t.”
“Adam Zeller, the man who got denied by his hometown honey—” Gideon’s words strike me to the core. I don’t know why I suddenly have the urge to prove him wrong, but the truth comes bursting out of me.
“I didn’t sleep with her at the reu
nion.”
“Aha! So later on then.”
I open my mouth to tell him everything but the words stick in my throat. What happened between Reggie and me wasn’t some stupid fucking bet. It was real. It was the realest thing that’s happened to me since I left Reckless Falls.
“None of your business,” I say in a tone that I usually reserve for the boardroom.
Gideon sobers. “Did I say something?”
“I can’t—” I’m gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles are white. “She’s not a bet. And I really fucked things up.”
There’s a moment of silence. “Go back.”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “There’s nothing to be done about—”
“Go back to Reckless Falls, Adam.” His voice rings with a certainty that I don’t feel. “If you do nothing else in your life, turn the car around and get your ass back to her. You have to tell her, man.”
“Tell her what?”
“That you love her. Don’t be an idiot.” He laughs out loud. “I have watched you roll into a hundred different clubs and charm a hundred different ladies. For God’s sake, you had half of Kennedy’s bachelorette party hanging off of you the night I met her. Remember that?”
It’s all a blur of faces and loud music and a ridiculous fucking sash that Kennedy was wearing. I’d made a bet with Gideon. He had to go after her. It was the perfect way to get him to focus on one lady while I had my pick of the rest. And none of it mattered. It strikes me that none of them mattered because they weren’t Reggie.
He’s right.
She’s right.
I’m the one who’s wrong.
The answer dawns on me.
I’ve been in love with her from the moment she wiped out on her bike in front of my house. From the moment she first lifted her chin and refused to cry. But everyone cries eventually. Everyone breaks eventually, and I saw her break while I was in Reckless Falls. She did that in front of me. She let me take her home and tend to her in her moment of weakness, and I turned my back.
I’ve danced with countless women. I’ve bought countless drinks. I’ve slipped out of more expensive hotel rooms than I can count, picking up the bill on my way out. None of those women ever had fire in their eyes like she still does.