"I'm sorry."
I let out a little humorless laugh. "It's okay. It was almost a weight off my shoulders." I stopped talking and breathed a long sigh of relief. It was amazingly liberating to tell someone the truth. I guess I was doing it because I was just passing through this guy's life, yet I still trusted him. I said a little thankful prayer, feeling so relieved to say those things out loud to another human being. Maybe I was delirious and would regret saying all that in the morning, but in that moment, it felt wonderful.
"You mean to tell me you went your whole life living in the same town as your dad and you watched him raise another family?"
I smiled. "A picture perfect one."
"While your mom…" he hesitated.
"Not so picture perfect."
I was happy to have the responsibility of rinsing Jack, because it gave me something to look at and do with my hands. I rinsed away.
"It probably made you stronger," he said, turning to lean his back against the wall while I finished.
"Right now, it feels like I turned out just like her." I paused, but then added, "but I'm trying to do better."
"In what way do you feel like you ended up like your mom?" he asked.
I glanced at him as I stooped to dry Jack. "I'm not on drugs or anything like she was," I said. "I was talking about other things—other issues." I could feel him looking at the side of my face, so I smiled regretfully.
"I'm not really ready to go there," I whispered, knowing I couldn’t tell him the dysfunctional truth, that I'd been in a seven-year relationship that turned abusive, and I had just left him yesterday.
I wrapped Jack up like a burrito and held him close to my chest before straightening up to face Jesse again. Jesse smiled and wiped the faucet with a nearby hand towel before tossing it into a hamper.
"I bet I got you beat on having issues," he said casually.
"Ah-ha!" I said, since I knew there was some catch to the wonderfulness of Jesse Ward.
He looked at me sideways. "What do you mean, ah-ha?"
"I mean, I was worried for a second that you're too good to be true. I thought you might have a big pile of dead bodies down by the river or something."
I regretted saying that the instant it came out of my mouth. What if he really did have a pile of dead bodies? He stared at me with a kind but serious expression that said I should know better than to say such a thing simply by the conversations we had so far.
"What is it, then?" I asked.
"How do you know there is something?"
I hesitated and shrugged shyly. "How'd you know I needed help?"
Chapter 9
I was still holding Jack in my arms when Jesse and I walked back into the living room. His house wasn't extravagant, but it was nicer than any place I'd ever spent the night. My bed had some sort of memory foam mattress on it, and it was the most comfortable I'd been in a long time. I was so thankful I got to sleep on it again. I was thinking about that bed on our way through the living room. It was getting late, and I figured I should go in the bedroom and give him some space.
"I think I've got a brand new dog under here," I said as we walked. "It feels so good to have him all the way clean. Thanks again for helping me wash him."
Sensing the underlying goodbye in my statement, he asked, "Are you going to bed?"
"I thought so," I said, hesitating in the living room. "It's getting late, and I'm sure you want to get back to your show or whatever. I'll probably read a little bit."
I looked around before making eye contact with him again, smiling nervously. He stood a few feet away, and we gazed into each other's eyes, saying all sorts of unspoken things. A few lamps were on in his house, along with the Christmas tree. The room was lit dimly enough, though, that his blue eyes appeared dark, like a stormy ocean.
"You were right about me," he said. His expression had a regretful edge to it. I thought he was about to make some sort of confession about dead bodies, and the most hilarious part of it was that I wasn't even scared. I guess that just goes to show how low I was. On second thought, maybe I was scared because my heart started beating faster as we stood there. I thought about running away, and tried to remember where I had left my car keys.
"I don't have to tell you anything," he said, raising his hands in surrender in response to my panicked expression. He smiled and shook his head, stepping away like he was embarrassed about whatever it was he had been about to say. He fell onto the couch wearing a smile that wasn’t quite genuine.
"I thought you were gonna kill me," I said.
He let out a little huff of a laugh as he looked for the remote.
"Seriously," I said, taking a step toward him.
He glanced at me, and I smiled at him, trying to hold his gaze. Jack wiggled in my arms, and I let him down so that he could go to Donna. "I was honestly standing there thinking about how I was gonna get away."
He let out another one of those humorless huffs as he shook his head. "Mae, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm trying to do the opposite of hurt you."
I took a few more steps toward him, sitting tentatively on the far end of the L shaped couch. "Well, when you said I was right about you, the first thing that popped in my head was my comment about the dead bodies. That's how on edge I am right now." I paused and offered him a half-smile. "And you know what? For a second, dying up here in Virginia, or West Virginia, or wherever I am didn't seem like a bad idea." I smiled and shrugged. "Then I got scared and started thinking about finding my keys and making it to the door."
He threw his hands up, and looked offended, but I could see in his eyes that he saw the humor in the whole situation. "It's Virginia, and I wasn't gonna kill you, but you'd probably hate me after I said what I was gonna say. It's probably better if we forget about it." He wore an unreadable expression as he stared at the muted television, which was on some cops and robbers show.
I stood up and took three steps so that I could sit closer to him on the oversized couch. I could see that he was deeply affected by whatever he was thinking about, and I wanted him to know I wasn't scared of whatever he had to say. He looked at me with a small smile once I settled closer to him.
"Jesse, some of the stuff I told you earlier were things I'd been holding onto for a long time—some of it I never told anyone—all that about my dad and everything. Anyway, what I'm saying is that maybe you and me are in a unique position to show each other all the skeletons in our closet before I drive off and we never see each other again. I think you should tell me whatever you wanted to say. I mean, as long as you're not a murderer, we're good."
He let out a humorless huff again wearing a regretful smile. "And what if I am a murderer?" he asked.
"Well, then I have other things to worry about."
There was a long pause. "You don't have anything to worry about, but I am a murderer in a way. It's not a skeleton in my closet, though. Everybody knows about it."
My heart started pounding as I waited for him to continue.
"I lived up in D.C. after I graduated college. I had everything—money, cars, women, whatever I wanted. I drove up to a weekend party in the Hamptons, and I pushed it to the very last minute on getting back to D.C. I thought I was invincible." He spoke slowly as if he was trying to decide how much of the story to tell me. He sighed and tilted his head at me, and I scooted a few inches closer to him. "It's no secret," he said. "It's a matter of public record that I, uh, there was an accident where I fell asleep at the wheel. I crossed the centerline, and collided with another car. It was a teenage couple. She got away with some minor injuries, (a pause) but the guy passed away."
My heart sank for Jesse. He wasn't looking directly at me when he said it, but I was looking at him, and I could see the pain in his expression. I shifted so that I could face him more fully. "Jesse it was an accident…" I said, my voice coming out more reluctant sounding than I hoped.
"Don't," he said. "I don't deserve to be excused for it. I just told you because you seemed to know somet
hing wasn't right with me. Plus, it explains why I was so persistent about following you to your hotel last night. I could tell how tired you were."
My heart continued to beat at a rapid pace as I sat there, putting all the pieces together. "When did it happen?" I asked.
"It was two years in August," he said. "I sold my company and moved back home not long after that happened."
I had no idea what to say. There was no handbook for how to respond when someone told you they killed someone in a traffic accident. "You have to forgive yourself," I said, seeing how much it still affected him. I thought back to me saying, we'd be fine as long as you're not a murderer, and I cringed at my own choice of words. I had to say something to make him feel better—or at least steer us from our current topic.
"I was in an abusive relationship," I said. "He was jealous and possessive, and I was scared of him. We were together for seven years, and I had to save up money behind his back and leave town when he was gone for the day. I put whatever I could fit into that little car, and took off, not even considering that my car might start smoking like that. It's only five years old." I paused, but he just sat there, waiting for me to continue. "I've never been so scared and alone in my life, and you saved me last night. You probably prevented me from getting stranded or into an accident."
I looked at him, and he gave me a sad smile before focusing on nothing in particular in the space between us. He was the most remarkable looking man I'd ever seen yet he was consumed with such crippling guilt that he had no idea what he looked like.
"So, you're mad at yourself for what happened, and you're just gonna live out here alone for the rest of your life?"
A tiny smile touched the edge of his mouth. "That's basically the plan," he said. "You don't need to feel bad for me though. My family sees that I don't turn into a complete hermit. They make me get out and do stuff, and at least pretend to be a functioning member of society. That's where I was last night when I ran into you. My sister had me at some Christmas party up in Lexington."
I remembered back to the whole chain of events. "I'm sorry I made you work so hard to try to help me," I said.
A smile touched his lips. "It's too bad I was a man helping you and not a woman. Given your situation, you're probably pretty reluctant to trust a man." He paused and sat up on the couch, tossing the remote aside as if to show his disinterest. "I'm really not happy that you had to run off like that," he said. "I can't imagine what you're coming from if a Walmart parking lot seems like a better option."
"It's not as bad as it might seem," I said. "The parking lot situation is temporary. I'll be able to get a place once I get settled somewhere and get a job. We've all heard stories about millionaires starting out with one dollar to their name. I have way more than one dollar, so I figure I'm already ahead of the game."
He shifted, putting his leg onto the couch where his knee was between us. His knee touched my leg just barely, and I looked down at the spot where they gingerly connected. I glanced up to let our eyes meet.
"I've never met anyone like you," he said.
I smiled. "Desperate and stubborn in equal parts."
"I don't see you as either of those things, Mae."
I stared at him for several long seconds, getting lost in his eyes. "Well, I don't see you as someone who could go his whole life and not forgive himself and move on—start a family or whatever. I'm in the same boat as you as far as that's concerned, and I'm picking up the pieces and moving on."
"Oh, so when you get to Florida, you're gonna find a guy and settle into a nice relationship?" he asked sarcastically.
"I never said I'll get into a relationship. I just said I would pick up the pieces."
He gestured at the house around him. "I am picking up the pieces. I did pick up the pieces. I have a house, and a dog, I go to Christmas parties when I'm…"
He hesitated, and I filled in the blank with, "…dragged to them."
This made him smile.
"I guess you're right about picking up the pieces," I added, shrugging. "Picking up the pieces doesn't necessarily mean you have to get into a relationship."
"All the women in my life want to fix me so they can marry me off," he said. "I'm used to it. My sisters and mom do it all the time."
"I wasn't trying to marry you off," I said. "I just didn’t want you to think that what you did would ever be an issue with someone if she liked you, you know? It's not that big of a deal."
"Oh, you're the spokesperson for all the ladies out there?"
I smiled shyly but nodded. "Sort of," I said. "I'm just being honest. It was an accident, and the right girl will see past that."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but someone seeing past it isn't the issue."
"What's the issue?"
"I'm the issue. I'm different because of it. I'm not the type of guy who'd be good for anyone else. I have my own crap to deal with."
"We all have crappy stuff in our lives, Jesse."
He stared at me with an unreadable expression—serious with a touch of sweetness. "You're sweet, but you don't know what it's like," he said, finally.
Chapter 10
Jesse and I sat on the couch and talked until three o'clock in the morning. It would probably go down as one of the most memorable conversations I would ever have in my whole entire life. I went to sleep recalling all the things we had said, and the next morning, when I opened my eyes, I was thinking about it again.
Jesse Ward and I had been put in each other's lives at the perfect time and in the perfect capacity. Our lives would intersect briefly—just long enough for us to have a unique and beautiful relationship, albeit fleeting.
I told him things I had never told anyone. Our short-term place in each other's lives put us in a position to tell each other things we would never share with another human being. We both seemed to know it, and we took full advantage of it. We went way back, telling on ourselves for terrible things we had done, said, or even thought as kids and adults.
It was absolutely liberating to be one hundred percent real with someone. When I first sat next to him, I was thinking about his looks, and staring at his face—even after he first told me about the accident, I had been unable to stop being distracted by his face.
But then, as we sat there and talked, something shifted in me, and I was able to ignore the exterior. I think it was him convincing me that he didn't ever want to be in a relationship. I think once my brain really understood that he was permanently off the market, I was able to loose all inhibitions. I said things to him during our hours-long conversation that I would never in a million years say to someone I was trying to impress. He did the same to me.
Somewhere toward the end of our conversation, he told the price he got for his company when he sold it. He said the reason he told me was because he wanted me to refrain from arguing when he paid his friend to fix my car. He said it wouldn't be more than a thousand dollars, and that he wouldn't feel like our time together was complete unless he did that for me. He said helping me would make him feel at least a thousand dollars better, so I should consider it as a favor to him. What was I supposed to say to that? I cried at the thought of having my car fixed without having to pay for it, and he tickled me to get me to stop.
I smiled at the memory of it as I stared at the ceiling fan from my comfortable place in bed. Thinking of Jesse's cozy bed made me think of Jack, and I quickly glanced up, praying I wouldn't see or smell anything suspicious.
Jack was on the bed next to my feet, and he stirred and army-crawled up to me when I picked up my head. He moved slowly and sleepily, stretching as he came toward me to say good morning. I reached out to pet him, marveling at what a different dog he was after that bath. He came right up to me, placing his face next to mine, and I held him close, noticing how good he smelled and how soft he felt.
"You're handsome," I said sleepily. He curled into a ball right next to my shoulder, and I shifted to make a spot for him. I looked at him, and his little tongue
came out and licked the tip of my nose. "I wouldn't go that far," I said, wiping my nose with my sleeve. "Can you believe Donna's dad's fixing our car?" I asked.
Jack shifted and stretched as if his movement was an answer to my question. I breathed a sigh, thinking about how comfortable I was in this bed, in this house.
"I think he's an angel," I whispered.
Jack didn't stretch or otherwise move.
"I hope you didn't use the bathroom in here last night," I added.
Silence.
I rubbed his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his soft, wiry fir. "If I don't find any accidents in this room, I might think about keeping you," I said.
It took me about thirty minutes to get myself out of bed get dressed and make it to the living room. My hair, which had air-dried the night before, was wavy and unruly, so I pulled it into a messy bun and stuck a chopstick in it. I pulled a few pieces loose to frame my face and applied a little pink lip-gloss. I pinched my cheeks since I figured I'd probably be blushing when I encountered Jesse, anyway.
I wore the same dark colored jeans I had on the day before, but I pulled out another shirt, a lightweight turquoise sweater that Kristen always said looked good on me. I wanted to look presentable when I met his mechanic friend, so I didn't come across as the homeless person I was.
Jack was waiting at the bedroom door when I finally finished getting dressed, and he ran out as soon as I opened it. There was no one in the living room or kitchen. Jack made a lap around before coming back to my side. I went over to the kitchen counter to see if there was another note, but when I got there, I could see Jesse's back through the window on the side of the house.
I didn't notice that he was talking to a young woman until it was too late and she had already seen me through the window. I tried to shrink away as soon as we made eye contact, but I knew she had seen me by the way she peered over his shoulder and smiled at me. I had backed up out of their view, but, I heard the door open seconds later.
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