My strategy was a simple one: Guard and block. But somewhere in my head was a voice that yelled, “Don’t draw attention to yourself, Charlie.” I vowed to listen to that voice.
As Briggs whistled, indicating war to commence, I took my battle stance. Nothing and no one was going to steal our balloons. It was Kevin and I all the way.
“Red rules!” I yelled, feeling a bubble of adrenaline squeeze at my insides.
Okay, so much for not drawing attention to myself…
Poor Kevin was slipping and sliding all over the slick tarp. With six kids going after their color at one time, while simultaneously trying to fend off attacks, the sight was pure chaos. Briggs was guarding his blue bucket and laughing hysterically as the scene in front of us played out. When he caught my eye, I looked away quickly. I did not want him concocting any evil plans where I was concerned—especially not while I was surrounded by all this ammo.
Kevin finally staggered off the tarp carrying four red balloons in his arms. He hurried over to me so he could drop them into our bucket. After a slap on his back to show my team spirit, I pushed him to retrieve more. He did.
Only once did someone try a sneak-attack on my bucket, but I was too quick for him—or perhaps, in reality, they were not-so-sneaky. All that mattered was my job as bucket guard remained in good standing.
Our bucket had nearly twenty red balloons inside it when the insanity really started. The ground around us had quickly turned into a giant pool of mud. The water that had been poured onto the tarp to make it slick, had seeped into the already wet ground causing it to resemble more of a sink hole than a soccer field. The bursting water balloons that flew all around me only added to this thick sludge.
Just as I let my mind wander to how I could help Angie with mud-cleanup once back at her house…I was hit from behind. I straightened immediately, stunned by the slap of water that soaked my back. Blue balloon pieces fell to the ground near my feet. It was that moment that I decided to un-man my station for the first time—to retaliate.
After plunging my hands into my bucket, I ran after Briggs.
I realized way too late, however, that I should have heeded my earlier intuition. I was no match for Briggs. He was the expert hunter, and I was Bambi’s mother after the shots were fired.
He hit his target every single time he threw a balloon at me, while I made maybe three. Soon I was just running with no balloons in hand at all.
And where was my faithful partner, now? The one I had cheered for and encouraged while he had been dying a slow death on the slippery tarp? He was rooting for Briggs, in fact, all the kids were. And helping him, too!
If I hadn’t been so panicked I would’ve been livid at their disloyalty.
I trudged and splashed through the muddy-muck that was to be my final demise, and with one last scream, the world went upside down.
Chapter Ten
Briggs
Okay, so maybe I had started it, but in my defense it was one balloon.
One.
How was I to know that it would wake her inner-Rambo?
Unfortunately for her, she had the aim of a windsock in a tornado. When she had started running toward the mud pit, I knew it wouldn’t end well—at least not for her. I had just halted my launches, yelling for her to steer clear of it, when her feet were no longer on the ground. She hit the mud with a smack, sliding on her back.
I felt sick as I ran to her.
“Shortcake…are you okay? Does anything hurt?” I leaned over her.
She was splattered with mud—and that was just the part I could see. I was certain that her backside was completely caked with it. She looked up at me, blinking. Her eyes resembled that of a hurt puppy. She reached her muddy hand up to me as I hunched over her. I took it without hesitation.
This is when Charlie went from hurt puppy to perturbed Pit Bull.
With one, hard, unsuspecting yank, I fell face first into the mud. Her laugh was the cackle of an evil villain.
I wiped the mud from my face as I surfaced, “Well played, Shortcake.”
I helped her up—our bodies resembling swamp monsters.
“Will I still get retaliation points even though my team lost?” she asked, hand on her hip.
Without thinking, I pulled her to me and wrapped my arms around her as I laughed. And even through several inches of caked-on mud and grass, I could only think of one thing:
Charlie Lexington is hugging me back.
Charlie
Clean-up was a bit of a nightmare.
The taco feed was moved to the backyard as muddy pants and shoes were the common denominator amongst the group. Briggs and I were the exception, however. The mud we wore covered the majority of our bodies.
Angie laid a pair of sweats and a t-shirt on her bathroom counter for me to change into after my shower. When she first saw us walking toward the house, she had laughed for a good five minutes straight. I now knew why she had stayed behind to frost the cake.
As I stripped off my mud-covered clothing, my wrist began to throb, a feeling like pins and needles shooting through it from every angle. I had felt an initial stab of pain when I had landed on it, but when Briggs had come to check on me, I was much more focused on his demise than my discomfort.
I stepped into the shower, watching as the water uncovered my pink skin once again. I stood, letting the heat thaw me as I closed my eyes.
Briggs had hugged me.
A rush of nervous, swirling energy filled the base of my belly.
I didn’t understand it—this connection I felt to him. Wasn’t it just last week that I had been crying over my broken heart and now I was swooning over a fireman—one who was sent to babysit me.
Maybe men had it right: Women were crazy.
Washing the mud out of my hair, while using only one hand, took an eternity. Once I was out, I picked up the pile of mud-free clothes from Angie. I rolled the sweat pants down a few times on the waist, and tightened the drawstring as much as I could. They still hung low on my hips, but at least the t-shirt was long enough to cover the waistband. I dried my hair and looked in the mirror at my clean, make-up free face. It was ironic how only earlier today I had hoped to be going a glamorous party tonight, and here I was now, au natural.
And celebrating a seven year-olds birthday.
I walked into the hallway, just as Briggs stepped inside the house from the backyard. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his ruggedly, handsome face—dried dirt and all.
Briggs:
“Hey,” I said, not trusting myself to say anything more. She may have been drowning in my sister’s clothes, but even still, she was breathtaking.
“It’s all yours,” she said nodding toward Angie’s room. I was grateful that I hadn’t had time to change earlier after working on the Honda. A hot shower and clean clothes was the perfect way to remedy the Loch Ness monster look I was currently sporting.
I peeled my eyes from Charlie’s face and looked down at her arm. It was bent at the elbow and was pressed against her body stiffly. It was an unnatural pose for her.
Is she hurt?
“What’s going on with your arm?” I asked.
She instantly moved it down to her side, but not before I saw the painful grimace on her face. She was hurt.
“Let me see it,” I said, reaching out.
She shook her head, “It’s nothing—really, my wrist is just a little stiff from how I landed.”
I continued to hold out my hand, giving her a look that said, “You’re full of it”.
She slowly lifted her arm again, biting her lip as she did. Even in the dim light of the hallway, I could tell it was swollen. As I rotated it, she winced again, proving my quick diagnosis.
“It’s sprained, Charlie.”
“Really?” she asked. Her voice held more disappointment in it than surprise.
“Yes, it’s probably minor, but we’ll need to ice it and wrap it regardless. Come over here and sit down, hold it up like this while I g
et you some ice,” I instructed, watching as she elevated it above her heart.
“Can’t we deal with this a little later—Cody’s about to open his gifts.”
She must have picked up on my look a lot quicker this time, because she sat down without saying another word. I laid the ice pack in a towel and gently wrapped it around her wrist, giving her a dose of ibuprofen as well.
“We’ll ice it like this for about twenty minutes to reduce some of that swelling, and then I’ll wrap it for you. Let me go ask Angie where the first aid kit is.”
“Thank you, Briggs, but since I’m just sitting here icing, you should go take your shower. I’m fine to wait,” she said, flashing me a weak smile.
I looked at her, contemplating her request.
“Please…I don’t want you to miss any more of this party over my stupidity,” she said, trying to make a joke.
My hand reached out then, insubordinate to the commands my mind had given it. Since the first day I met Charlie, I had wondered about the feel of her hair—that hair that smelled like an orchard of peaches in springtime. As I touched it, the damp, ginger waves slipped through my fingers like silk, leaving me breathless as it fell against her face once more.
“There’s nothing stupid about you, Charlie,” I said quietly, retrieving my duffle bag from the corner before walking down the hall to Angie’s bathroom.
Maybe a shower would be the best thing for me right now.
Charlie
He touched my hair.
No one had ever done that before—not like that.
My face burned, my pulse raced, and my thoughts were on a man who was not Alex Monroe.
Briggs
After a quick shower, I found Angie’s first-aid kit on the floor of her garage, taking out the ace bandage. While kneeling on the cold cement floor, I squeezed it in my palm, taking a deep breath. In a minute I would be close to Charlie again—touching her again. I exhaled hard and rubbed my forehead with my fisted hands.
How is it possible that a girl I haven’t even known for three weeks could make me feel this way?
The door opened behind me. I jumped to my feet, brushing a hand through my hair.
“Oh—good, you found it,” Angie asked letting the door swing closed behind her, “Did you want me to save you some cake?”
“Sure, that would be fine…” I said, staring down at the bandage in my hand.
“Is everything okay?” Angie asked crossing her arms in front of her.
I looked up briefly, before making a move to walk past her, “Yep.”
She blocked the doorway, scrutinizing me.
“You’re freaking out.”
“I am not—now please move, Angie. I’ve gotta go wrap a wrist.”
“Oh, just a wrist, huh?” she challenged.
“We all got ‘em,” I mocked.
“Yeah, but not all wrists are created equal.”
“Your point?” I asked, meeting her eyes for the first time.
“My point is, I like her, Briggs. And yeah before you say it…I get that she’s very likable, but that’s not what I mean. I like her for you. She has something…something you need, and I’d be willing to bet that you’ve got something she needs, too.”
I shook my head, “It’s not like that, Angie. Charlie doesn’t see me that way—besides, she was engaged five months ago.”
Angie smiled, “Was being the key word. And if he was stupid enough to lose her, then he didn’t deserve her.”
My thoughts exactly.
“And what makes you think I could deserve her?
She laughed softly, and shook her head. “Because the men who don’t would never ask that question.”
**********
“Okay, let’s get this wrapped, Shortcake, and then we should probably get on the road. Angie’s making you a to-go bag of ice for the car.”
I sat down next to her on the couch, carefully taking the icepack off her wrist. The swelling had gone down, but she would be sore for a while. Some bruising had already surfaced on her pale skin.
“We may need to get you some stronger meds tonight so you can sleep. I’m guessing this is gonna take about a week or two to heal.”
“A week? How am I supposed to play the piano?”
“You’re not, Shortcake. It needs to rest, the ligaments are strained and they have to heal,” I said apologetically.
She sighed as I started the wrap.
“Spread your fingers as wide as you can so I can get the tension right. I know it hurts, but the pressure of the bandage will help a lot.” I smoothed the tail of the bandage out and clipped it into place.
Feeling her hand in mine was the reminder of everything I hoped to be, along with the reality of everything I was not: A man good enough for Charlie.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie
Angie and Cody walked us to my car to say goodbye.
The sun had set a couple of hours ago, and the partygoers had all gone home. Cody was more than thrilled with his birthday loot and had thanked me profusely for the gifts I had given him. Briggs rolled his eyes at me, but I was grateful we had stayed through the present opening.
“Bye, Uncle B, and thanks for the tickets!”
I looked at Briggs for clarification, but Cody answered instead.
“He’s taking me and my friend Dillon to opening day at Six Flags! It’s only two weeks away—Mom, lets mark it on the calendar!” Cody said looking at Angie.
“Okay, sweetheart. We can mark it,” she laughed before leaning in to hug Briggs, “Thank you both for coming tonight. Sorry about your wrist, Charlie, I hope it won’t keep you from coming again. Running in the mud is not the norm around here—despite what Briggs may tell you.”
“I’m very glad I came—sorry to have caused the medical drama of the party…but someone’s got to do it, eh?” I laughed.
Angie hugged me as Briggs opened my door to help me inside. He was extra careful to keep my arm from bumping into anything as he pulled my seatbelt across my lap. I felt a zing of electricity shoot through me as his hand pressed against my hip to secure it. When he pushed himself upright, the warmth I had felt went with him.
“Let’s leave the top down on our drive back,” I said to Briggs.
“Charlie, it’s barely fifty degrees out right now, you’ll freeze.”
I watched him give one final hug to Cody before he ran to catch up with Angie at the front door. Briggs turned back to me.
“No, I won’t, I promise…it will be so fun, please. I have a blanket in the trunk and we can blast the heat and turn on the seat warmers,” I begged.
He shook his head as he reached into the backseat. I could see that half smile of his start to take over his face.
I win.
I wished I had put my sweatshirt on before my wrist had really started to hurt. The once dull ache had turned into a constant throb like a child beating on a drum. The idea of putting anything over my head that would require arm coordination was completely out of the question.
A blanket would work just fine.
Briggs went to the trunk and unfolded a large fleece blanket. He laid it over me, tucking in the excess underneath me like I was one of my Aunt Carol’s hot tamales.
It was nice.
He was nice.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I looked at him.
And then, despite the pain of my wrist, I started to giggle.
Briggs
“Have you been drinking? Is that what you were really doing when I thought you were ice-ing?” I looked at her, surprised by her sudden bout of hysterics. She was an explosion of sounds and snorts. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she would launch into yet another round.
“Nnnoo….I ssswear. Angie…told me…something ffunnnny!”
Oh great, about me no less.
Finally, she took a deep breath, securing her bad wrist closer to body. I felt a tightening in my chest as I looked at it. The idea of Charlie being in any sort of pain was
not one I wanted to dwell on for long.
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lift her head off the seat and look at me, “The story of the pickle juice ice cubes!”
Ah yes, now that was a good one.
“Hey, those kids had it coming. How were we supposed to know Mrs. Brown would be there, too?”
She laughed again, and I joined in, remembering.
Angie and I were in the third and fourth grade when we had decided to start selling lemonade at the sports field near our house. We had each saved some of our lunch money so we could buy the supplies we needed. We were determined to get a pool for the summer, one that didn’t take our parents to set up. We had started selling in April, and were hopeful that by the end of school we would have the funds we needed.
Sales were going great, as both parents and kids would pass us each time they came on and off the field—that was, until Jimmy Han started coming around. At first he seemed to be complementing our efforts by bringing us customers with his verbal advertisements, but that quickly changed.
One Saturday, Jimmy beat us to the field and took our set-up spot. He and his big fifth grade buddies were not only selling lemonade, but cookies too.
We had been nice about it at first, telling him we could all work as a team and share our profits, but Jimmy was not the negotiating type. It was almost funny now to think back on a time when I resolved conflict without the need for physical blows, but I wasn’t a match for size then.
I was however, a match in wit.
Angie and I went back to the house and I thought up a plan: Pickle Juice Ice Cubes.
By the next weekend, we had stocked up at least a dozen ice cube trays filled with frozen pickle juice. We poured them all into a large bucket and walked over to Jimmy and his gang of idiots, pulling our special bucket and supplies in a wagon. It was then, that Angie put on the show of her life.
All She Wanted (Letting Go) Page 9