Not peanut butter.
“Uh…I’m allergic,” I lied.
He spun around. “You’re allergic to peanut butter? How did I not know that? That’s pretty serious…” he said, looking miffed.
“Uh…it’s actually fairly mild, but yeah…can’t eat it.” I shrugged.
He looked at me, nodding with brows drawn in. “I make a great strawberry crepe?”
“Now that sounds perfect.” I smiled.
**********
Breakfast with Briggs was wonderful, even if I did have to eat it with my left hand.
“Okay, so…why, with all these mad breakfast and care-taking skills of yours, don’t you have a girlfriend?” I conveniently stared down at my last few bites of crepe while I asked, but I had been dying to know. Had he just been in a long-term relationship? Was he only a casual dater?
“Don’t forget my creepy stand-outside-the-bathroom-door skill,” he said wiggling his eyebrows up and down. I laughed hard.
“Yes, that’s a skill I’d rather you’d not cash in on again,” I said. I shrunk down in embarrassment.
His hand gripped my upper arm lightly, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Charlie. I was just worried about you, but you don’t need to feel embarrassed. I understand that tears are needed sometimes…and I’m here too if you need someone to listen.”
Though I liked the warmth of his touch, I was grateful when he dropped his hand. No man had ever said that to me before. I hated being seen as an overly sensitive, overly emotional drama queen—Alex saw me that way, although he never cared enough to ask me what was wrong. Not once. He claimed my tears were my personal business, not his.
How had I been so blinded to his faults?
Or was the contrast of Briggs the only reason I can see them now?
I smiled at him, “Are you deflecting my question?”
He laughed, “No.”
“No? That’s not an answer. My question started with a why.” I laughed.
“No I’m not deflecting, and… because I just don’t.”
I stared at him incredulously. For being so full of quick wit and easy responses, he was being awfully cryptic now. “I feel like you living here, while playing the roles of guardian, security and medic, should constitute more of an answer than that, Manny.”
His smile reached his eyes as he leaned on the counter, bracing himself with his elbows. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face. A cold chill ran through me as I remembered my conversation with Angie in the kitchen yesterday.
“I’ve wondered for a long time if Briggs would ever stop long enough to let himself be known.”
“What did he need to stop?”
“Lying to himself.”
Maybe I’d made a mistake by asking him—crossed some imaginary boundary line between us.
I was about to say so, when he answered.
Briggs
“My life used to look very different.” I took her plate and laid it next to the sink before coming back to the counter. “I made a lot of stupid choices—living for escape, living to mask my pain, living to avoid the truth in the mirror.” I paused, glancing at her briefly. “What I told you before was true, I wasn’t a good man. I hid behind the honor of my job. When people view you as a hero, they usually don’t imagine that you’re throwing your life away when you’re off duty, but I was. I hurt a lot of people, was careless and reckless—especially with women. I didn’t believe in relationships, I thought they were too much work. I only wanted uncomplicated and easy…but there are consequences to that kind of thinking.”
I felt the guilt start to pull at me the way it did whenever I opened up the box of my past. She stared at me, unblinking, as if waiting for me to continue.
“I don’t want to be that man again.” I stared at my hands. “I take one day at a time now, Charlie. Dating hasn’t really been a priority for me, yet. Changing one bad habit takes self-control, but changing a way of life takes nothing short of a miracle.”
After several seconds of silence, Charlie finally spoke. “It’s hard for me to imagine you that way—the way you described.”
I dropped my head, nodding. It’s even harder to know I was that way.
That’s when she hit me with, “But the only way to overcome our past, is to deny its power over our future.”
I shot my eyes back to her.
“Our past?” I asked.
She picked up her phone and scooted off the stool carefully, bracing her arm. “My past has won more times than I care to count.” She walked upstairs with the phone to her ear without saying another word.
Everything in me wanted to ask her what she meant—why had her past won? What was in her past? But I could not ask of her what I was unwilling to share myself. I glanced at the clock, I only had thirty minutes before I had to meet Kai, and I still needed to shower.
I wrote a note to Charlie and left it on the counter, placing the dishes in the sink before heading up to my apartment.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlie
Briggs left a note for me, telling me that he’d be out for a few hours. Apparently he’d gone to church with Kai.
Church wasn’t a foreign concept to me; I’d grown up attending church every Sunday. And even though I hadn’t graced the inside of one in quite some time, I couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed that he hadn’t thought to invite me. Does he think I don’t believe in God?
Thinking back over the last couple of weeks I guess I hadn’t given him much reason to assume otherwise, nor had I asked that question of him; religion wasn’t something I threw into casual conversations.
Yet the way he had talked to me this morning…
My phone buzzed.
Jackie: Leaving in 20. I’ll bring a movie.
Me: Great. Thx. Let yourself in. I’ll be in the bath downstairs.
Jackie: You’re not expecting my help with that, right?
Me: No, I can manage.
Jackie: Good.
I made my way to my parent’s bedroom down the hall. My mom had recently won the battle of which room in the house to remodel first: their bathroom, which now included a giant soaker tub. Today I was very happy for her victory. Dad had wanted to change the guest room into a home gym, but he caved in the end. There was never any question that he would, of course, but he put up a pretty decent fight. The truth was that he would do anything for my mom.
After doing a one-handed jig to get undressed, I slid down deep into the tub, keeping my wrist elevated out of the water. It was still wrapped, yet the throbbing had gone down with the meds I had taken with breakfast.
If I could only choose two hobbies in all the world, they would include: playing the piano, and soaking in a bathtub full of bubbles. Dorm-life hadn’t quite provided me that luxury. I would have to get my fill for the year while I was home.
I leaned my head back against the cold porcelain and closed my eyes. A minute later my mind found its way to Briggs. I thought again about what he had said earlier in the kitchen about his past. I wanted to ask him more questions, but how could I do that when I had never shared the secrets that lurked in my own. What I did know, though, was that whoever he used to be, whatever former life he had lived before, didn’t match the definition of the man I had come to know. I hoped he could see that.
It had taken nearly ten years of intermittent therapy for me to recognize the difference between the girl who had been born into hardship, versus the girl who had been rescued from it. Those lines were easily blurred—feelings, memories and physical reminders, seemed to pull me back every chance they could.
It’s a common misconception when adopting a young child from a hard circumstance, that life will resume back to normal fairly quickly. But to a child that has never known normal… life starts over. Day one starts the re-birthing process. Trauma doesn’t extend extra grace to children—it only changes the symptoms.
Though I was fortunate to gain a family in the Lexington’s, the road had not been easy.
A lady that smelled like wild flowers drove me to what she called, “my new home.”
I didn’t talk. I was afraid of talking. The last time I had, mama died.
We drove for a while. The flower lady turned on the radio when I wouldn’t answer her questions. I liked the music. We parked in front of a big white house with more grass than I’d ever seen. She said this was it.
Mr. and Mrs. Lexington stood on the porch watching us as we walked up to the house. I had no bags, no things to carry—except for one ratty blue blanket.
It was mine.
They spoke softly to me, their words kind and thoughtful. I climbed the stairs with them as they opened a door to a lavender bedroom with a white princess bed against one wall, and a play kitchen on the other.
They said it was for me.
I blinked.
I didn’t know if this was just another story in my head…or if it was real.
After taking the first warm bath I could remember, they told me it was time to sleep. But that bed wasn’t my bed. Once they left and closed the door, I pushed back the unknown blankets of the unknown bed. I crawled down onto the floor and slid underneath its metal frame, pulling with me a single, blue blanket.
I slept that way for two years.
**********
A knock at the bathroom door brought me back to reality.
“Charlie, I’m here.”
“Hey Jackie…I’ll be out in a minute, just need to rinse my hair.”
“Alright. I’ll be downstairs—hey, is hottie home?”
“No.”
And he’s not your hottie.
**********
I gave up on any article of clothing that had required a hook, clasp or button, and finally settled for yoga pants, a sports bra (which took some creativity to get into) and a t-shirt. I met Jackie downstairs a few minutes later. She was already lounging on the couch, looking like a Greek goddess. It was sickening the natural beauty that some people were allowed to flaunt to the rest of the average world.
Jackie had brought over the latest Pride and Prejudice remake, as well as several others. Apparently, she was planning on staying for a while. I found myself growing anxious as the hours passed, thinking about when Briggs would arrive. I reminded myself to be grateful for Jackie’s willingness to help me…even if all she had done was watch TV, even while I had loaded the dishwasher.
I had to keep reminding myself.
I smiled as my phone buzzed.
The hottie who lives above your garage: What can I bring you home for lunch?
I wasn’t sure if I was happier that he had thought about bringing me lunch, or that he referred to my house as “home”.
I smiled and lifted my phone. Texting with my non-dominant hand suddenly didn’t feel so difficult.
Me: Oh um…let me think, thank you! Jackie is here btw.
The hottie who lives above your garage: Jackie from the club? Interesting choice, Shortcake.
Me: Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Didn’t you just leave church? Isn’t judging looked down upon…?
The hottie who lives above your garage: Yes, but God gave me eyes, ears and a brain to use them. I call it like I see it. Okay, so is fast food out?
Me: Was it ever in? Yuck.
The hottie who lives above your garage: Fine. I’ll pick up some sandwich makings, then. You make things SO difficult.
Me: And that’s why you love me J.
A full minute went by and I started to feel nervous about my lame joke—maybe I should have included a row of hahahahaha after it?
The hottie that lives above your garage: That’s just one reason.
I stared at the text like it held the answer to all life’s mysteries. My stomach dropped to the floor. I just might save this text forever.
“Why ya smiling so big over there? Is that lover boy?” Jackie cooed, as she crossed her ankles on the coffee table.
“Not lover boy, just Briggs.”
I put my phone down, not wanting to draw any more of her attention to it—or to him.
“Hmm…okay.”
She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder, combing through it with her fingers.
Did I just give her more ammo or less by my reply? I couldn’t tell.
I pushed the thought out of my mind and decided that I was being way too paranoid and jealous over someone that wasn’t even mine.
But I wish he was…
The rebellious thought shocked me.
Sure, I thought Briggs was good looking—okay, I thought he was very good looking. I also thought he was nice, funny, caring, kind, strong, and loyal, but did that mean-
Do I want Briggs?
My stomach flipped again, as if answering my question.
Is this what being on the rebound feels like?
Am I not broken over Alex anymore?
I didn’t know the answers to those, but I did know that I thoroughly enjoyed our friendship. And if I wanted to keep that, then I needed to stop thinking like a typical girl. Besides, dating wasn’t a priority for Briggs, he had made that perfectly clear this morning.
Friends, that’s all we are.
Briggs:
“How’s my little Captain Hook doing?” I called out as I walked through the front door. I laid the grocery bags on the counter and looked around for Charlie.
Barbie jumped up instead.
“Oh, hi Briggs! Aren’t you so sweet for bringing us lunch?”
It wasn’t meant for you…but whatever.
“Its just sandwiches, no biggie. Where’s Charlie?” I asked flatly.
“Think she’s in the laundry room,” Jackie said, shrugging.
I narrowed my eyes at her, “Doing what?”
“Um…laundry I guess?” She shrugged as I felt a blaze of frustration burn in my veins. She took the bread from my hands as I set the bag on the counter, deciding to check on Charlie (or scold her for doing laundry with a sprained wrist), yet before I could, I was distracted by what felt like a trailing of a finger on my back.
Jackie’s hand gripped my shoulder, and a second later, her breath was hot in my ear, “How can I help you?”
There was so much more than a friendly offer to make sandwiches within her tone. It made my skin crawl. I brushed her hand off, reaching into the bag to grab the brick of cheese.
“Nothing. I can manage.”
She hopped up onto the counter, her rear about six inches from where I was laying out the plates. She crossed her legs toward me.
Wow…she sure is determined.
“Ya know, my girlfriend Francesca dates a fireman,” Jackie began.
“Hmm…that so.”
I started slicing the cheese, hoping that my obvious disdain for her would speak for itself.
No such luck.
“Yeah, she has plenty to say about it, too,” she cooed.
Within a second, her foot that was nearest to me was on my hip…and traveling quickly.
That’s when I was done playing nice. I set the knife down and grabbed her foot—hard. She seemed stunned by the change of events.
I looked at her square in the face. “Jackie, you seem like a smart girl, and I appreciate whatever help you might have offered Charlie today, but this,” I said gesturing from her to me, “is never going to happen. And when I say never, I mean the kind of never that parallels a snowstorm in August, or the end of Elvis impersonators in Vegas. Is that clear enough for you?”
I let go of her foot as she stared at me, opened-mouthed. Had no one ever told the girl no before?
There was a first time for everything.
“Fine,” she hopped off the counter and grabbed her purse, “You can tell Charlie she can have you. I don’t do leftovers, anyway.”
I would bet otherwise.
I heard the front door slam about five seconds after she passed me—her last sentiment was a gesture that she showcased on her hand for me, quite dramatically I might add.
Hope the
door doesn’t hit ya on the way out—
My attention was immediately diverted when I looked up again. Charlie was standing in the hallway, only a few feet away.
Suddenly, I was nervous.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlie
I blinked a thousand times, trying to decipher what I had just witnessed.
What did I just witness?
In the course of what was likely no more than ninety seconds, I had experienced a flip-book of human emotions: jealously, anger, fear, anxiety, insecurity…betrayal. But as I started to step out of the shadows to unleash my Hulk-rage on them both, I heard Briggs turn her down.
He turned her down.
Jackie.
That’s when a giant wave of guilt came crashing over me, pulling me under its tide and washing my every assumption away with it. Our eyes locked onto each other. We both turned our heads toward the driveway a second later—the sound of squealing tires peeling down the street, likely alerting the neighborhood to the estrogen rampage that was occurring.
“I’m sorry.” We said in unison.
We found each other’s eyes again.
“Why are you sorry?” Again, we spoke at the same time.
He laughed nervously.
I walked over to the counter where he stood.
“After everything you told me this morning, I can’t believe I was so stupid to invite her here—not when I know what she’s like. I feel horrible-”
“Stop, Charlie…none of that was your fault.” He nodded toward the front door where Jackie had exited. He stepped closer to me. My heart hammered inside my chest.
“At first I thought—I was afraid that you would…” I let my eyes fall away from his face, but the gentle touch on my chin guided them back to his.
“Afraid that what?”
“Afraid that you would…want her.”
As if completely caught off guard by my reply, he started laughing—bellowing actually—like I had just told the world’s best joke. I could not find the humor in it though. I put my good hand on my hip, waiting impatiently for him to finish. He calmed himself quickly once he realized I wasn’t going to join in.
All She Wanted (Letting Go) Page 11