Lives Collide (Collide #1)

by Kristina Beck

  I run out of the store and feel like I am going to puke on the sidewalk. Why can’t I handle this? I’m such a fool. He finally got what he wanted. Another slap in the face, reminding me of what I already know. Is there a hole around here I can crawl into? I run toward my apartment, keys already in my hand for a quick entrance.

  After dropping the keys twice, I’m finally in my apartment. I slam the door and throw my handbag across the room. I lean my back against the door as I gradually sink to the floor.

  I thought I could handle running into him. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him. Didn’t I come to the conclusion I’m better off without him? But why does it hurt so badly? Here I am trying to help James and other people with their problems, when I can’t even deal with my own.

  I drag myself to the bathroom, strip off these disgusting scrubs, and get under scalding water. I sit down in the bathtub while the shower streams burn my skin. I have no energy left to stand. I rock myself back and forth, just as I did with James. It’s soothing, but I wish Mom were here instead. She would take me for a secret hot fudge sundae.

  After a while my skin is almost raw. I’m clean, but I don’t feel any better when I get out. I stagger into the bedroom to find my pajamas and see the leather jacket hanging over the desk chair. I put on the pajamas and then the jacket. This jacket will get me through the night.

  I wander to the kitchen with a desperate need for a glass of wine. I search and realize there’s not one damn drop in this apartment. Funny, I don’t want James to drink his sorrows away, but it’s the first thing I want to do. Food would be better for me now, but my appetite left the moment I saw the woman’s pregnant stomach.

  It takes me a few seconds to acknowledge the ringing phone in my handbag. I run to get it. It’s probably Tina. She has this weird psychic ability. She always knows when something is wrong.

  “Hello.” I try to mask my misery.

  “Hi, Lisa. It’s James.”

  I want to start crying when I hear his voice.

  “Hi, James. How are you?” I ask with a flat tone.

  “I’m good. Are you okay? You don’t sound good. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, you didn’t wake me.” Before I know it, I break down over the phone. I tell him how I saw Bryant with a pregnant woman.

  “Lisa, I’m coming over.”

  He wants to come over?

  “You don’t need to come over. I’ll be fine when I wake up in the morning. I’m tired from working so many hours.” I’m completely embarrassed.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hangs up.

  I can’t help but smile through the tears.

  He was serious. The doorbell rings in less than fifteen minutes. I open the door, not caring what I look like. He’s already seen me in pajamas. I step aside so he can come in. He saunters into the kitchen and puts a bottle of white wine on the table. He turns around and watches me for a while. Why does he look so damn good all the time? I want to punch him in the face or maybe rip his clothes off.

  I close the door and walk straight to the wine bottle. I can feel his eyes trailing my every move. Is he waiting for me to break down like he did? I will after I wolf a glass of wine.

  I sift loudly through the kitchen drawers, trying to find the corkscrew. When I find it, I slam the drawer shut. James takes the corkscrew from me and proceeds to open the bottle. I grab two wineglasses from the cabinet.

  As he unscrews the cork, he says, “Lisa, tell me what’s going on in your head. I thought you were over Bryant. That you’re better off without him. Why are you so upset he is married or with someone and they’re having a baby?”

  Just hearing him say it out loud makes me boil. I hear the cork release and wait until he pours me a glass. Within seconds, I swig half the wine down and bang the glass back on the table. I take a deep breath and look up at him. “Now it’s my turn to yell.”

  He nods, “I’m listening. Let it out. You have the stage.” He stands there with his legs spread slightly apart, his arms crossed like Superman. I’m sure going to need to be rescued when I’m finished.

  “Let’s see! Where should I start?” I stomp away from the table. I spin around and give him the evil eye. “When I was fifteen, my mom died in a car accident. Well, I was in the car with her. She died and I survived. I only survived because I decided to wear a damn seat belt that day. What teenager wears a seat belt? For some reason, I wore mine. Why did she die and I survive?” I hit my chest with my fist.

  “I got to see it in slow motion—our car slid off the road and crashed into a big tree. Right on Main Street in my town. She died instantly. I tried to get help as fast as I could. Some guy helped me. I sat in his car while he called for an ambulance. I had blood all over my sweatpants. I only remember his eyes—green, like yours. I woke up in the hospital, and they told me my mom died.” I squeeze my eyes shut, as I replay every horrible detail of the accident.

  I take a deep breath. “I wore my seat belt, the kind that only had a lap belt. Due to the pressure of hitting the tree, I was severely injured by the seat belt. That’s why I had blood all over my sweatpants.

  “The doctor told me one of my ovaries was severely damaged and had to be removed. Then he proceeded to tell me my uterus was severely injured as well. It was not removed, and I had surgery to repair it. Due to the injury, the doctor, and many more after that, told me I will never be able to have children. So my mom died, and I found out I couldn’t have kids all in one fucking day.”

  I walk back to the table and drink the rest of the wine. I go to refill it, but my hands are shaking. James gently removes the wine bottle from my hands and stuffs the cork back it. He puts it in the refrigerator. He’s the one who loves his alcohol, and now he’s taking it from me. Real nice.

  “They told us if that guy wasn’t there to call for an ambulance as quickly as he did, I could have died along with her. That was a lot to handle for a teenager. Why did I wear my seat belt? Why didn’t she wear hers? Why did I survive?” I spew questions out like they taste disgusting on my tongue. I growl in frustration as I pull on the collar of my leather jacket.

  “At that young age, I didn’t fully understand. But as I got older, I had to come to terms with it. It was much harder to accept once I understood. Ever since then, I’ve felt like I’m never going to be good enough. No man will ever love me, because I’m broken.

  “I’ve been to countless psychiatrists, psychologists, and therapists to help me get through this. They helped me in many ways, but there wasn’t much more they could do for me. Well, other than putting me on medication. I refused to go on meds. I’ll never fully accept the outcome, but I’ve learned to deal with it.” I walk over to the sofa and start fluffing the pillows roughly because I can’t stand still. James follows me into the living room but doesn’t interrupt.

  “I never want someone to feel like I do. I want to help people who have gone through a horrible experience. That’s why I vowed to become a psychiatrist.

  “Bryant was the first guy who made me feel something physical. We had a good connection, so I let go of my fears. I saw the flags the first months we dated. He loves kids. Of course he does—he’s a pediatrician. I tried to ignore it. After we were dating for a while and I thought we were serious about one another, I broke down and told him. He was mad I didn’t say anything, but he promised he didn’t care as long as we were together. I thought he understood and meant he loved me.” I throw the last pillow across the room, just missing a lamp. It’s probably more exhilarating to throw a glass of vodka at a wall.

  “Long story short, we drifted apart. I decided to confront him, but before I could, he dumped me. He admitted he’d met someone else. He thought he could accept that I couldn’t have children, but he was wrong. He wanted a family of his own.”

  I walk across the room and pick up the pillow and toss it back on the couch. “So you see, I’ll never be enough for any man. I’m not saying there aren’t men out there that don’t want kids. But
it sure does feel like it. My married friends all have kids now. One big fucking happy family. I can’t provide that to anyone.”

  I rub my forehead to relieve the pounding in my head. “It kills me, knowing I’ll never have kids. I’m broken—I always will be. I never let myself fall for anyone until Bryant came along. We had instant chemistry and just clicked from the second we met. But it was all an illusion. It was probably just sexual attraction. But what did I know then? Or now? I have nothing else to compare it to. I don’t know what love feels like.

  “Only when I met you did I realize Bryant and I were never in love.” My eyes drift over to James as I play with the zipper of my jacket. He looks terrified.

  Chapter 25

  James

  My feet are stuck to the ground. Did I hear her correctly? Can this even be possible? Was she the one I helped at that car accident years ago? I’ve wondered this several times but just ignored my instincts. It doesn’t matter, because I need to listen to what else she’s saying. She’s crying and talking, so it’s hard to understand her sometimes.

  She’s throwing pillows and roaming around the living room and kitchen. I finally comprehend what she’s focusing on. She can never have children. I understand now. It’s not just the death of her mom she suffers from. This explains a lot.

  It’s so quiet right now I could hear a pin drop. As seconds go by, she begins to play with her jacket zipper. Zipping it up and down. Then I notice it. She’s wearing my old leather jacket! After all this time, she still has it. I’m completely blown away. I didn’t notice it when I arrived.

  She looks up at me, and I see it now. Her eyes are just as radiant blue and sad as they were years ago. I knew it was her, but I didn’t believe myself.

  How do I approach this without sounding like a lunatic? I’ve always wondered what happened to the girl I helped that day. Now she’s standing in front of me. This would explain the strange bond between us. We have met before.

  As I stare at her, I know she doesn’t want me to show pity. What I’m going to say right now will be far from it.

  “James, why does it look like you have seen a ghost? Did I say something wrong?”

  I close my eyes to calm myself. “The day of your accident, was it on Valentine’s Day?”

  “Yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asks with fear in her tone.

  “Was it bad weather? On a Saturday morning?”

  “Yes. James, how the hell do you know these things? You can’t possibly know! Who are you?”

  I don’t respond.

  “Fucking answer me!” she demands, shaking her head, moving a few steps away from me. Her eyes pierce mine as she waits for an explanation.

  I lift my hands up in peace. “Please don’t be angry or frightened. Just listen and let me explain myself. Okay?”

  She nods and crosses her arms over her chest.

  “I was on my way to work that Saturday morning. I told you I worked at the gas station on Main Street. Remember when I mentioned it to you? It’s not too far from where the accident occurred.”

  She lifts her chin. I guess that means yes.

  “I was in a rush because I thought I was going to get fired if I arrived late again. It was snowing heavily and cold as hell. It was quiet on the roads. I was driving down Main Street when a black truck pulled onto the road without stopping. Your car lost control and hit a tree head on. I drove around your car and saw you trying to run away. By impulse, I drove up next to you to help you. The leather jacket you’re wearing now is the one I gave you.”

  She looks down at it and wraps it tighter around her.

  I focus on a speck on the wall as I recall everything. “I put you in my car to help keep you warm. I ran to the nearest house to call for an ambulance. When I got back, you were shaking and crying about your mom. I went to check on her, but fear took over when I saw her. I had no idea how to help her or you. I just prayed the ambulance would get there in time.

  “When I got back to the car and opened the door, you were screaming about blood. There was blood all over your sweatpants.” My eyes connect with hers. “You looked at me the way you are now. I remember your eyes. They have been engraved in my memory ever since. I’ve thought about your accident several times since we met a couple of weeks ago. I believed I was going crazy, thinking you were her.” A chill runs up my spine.

  “I’ve always wondered what happened to you and your mother. I’ve always questioned my actions. Did I get help in time? Was it okay to have you sit in my car? Should I have pulled your mother out of the car? Were your injuries worse because of me? I read the newspaper for days to see if your accident was reported.”

  She interrupts me. “I tried to find out who you were. I searched this jacket to see if your name was in it. I went to the police station and asked around. Your name wasn’t in the police reports, which I found very strange, since you were a witness.”

  The need to touch her is becoming too strong. I continue to distract myself. “After that experience, I vowed to become a doctor. I never wanted to be in that type of situation again. I felt so helpless. I’m sorry your mother died and you had to experience something so terrifying. And your injuries…I wish I could have done more for the both of you.” Every muscle in my back and shoulders is tight.

  She drifts toward me. Her watery eyes look up to find mine. “I can’t believe it’s you. I waited for you for so long. Never, ever apologize for helping us. There was nothing that would have saved her. However, you saved my life. I could have bled to death if you weren’t there to help me. Tina called you my guardian angel. I believed that then, and now more than ever.”

  She leans up to me and pulls me into her arms.

  She feels so good in my arms. She is so petite but fits perfectly against me. I instantly relax.

  “I remembered your eyes. They were so big and green. I didn’t remember your hair color, how tall you were, nothing. Your eyes were what stood out the most. There were times when I thought I saw your eyes. But I always figured I was imagining things. It flashed through my head when I met you. But I put it behind me like you did. I believed it would be impossible.”

  She leans away and props one hip and shoulder against the wall. “Now I can finally say thank you after all these years. The only thing I had from you was your jacket.”

  “I can’t believe you still have it. I’m surprised it wasn’t thrown away.”

  “This jacket has been my sanctuary. When I’m sad, angry, lonely, or in need of comfort, I put it on. It makes me feel safe. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I needed something to hold on to at that time. So much changed. The smell of your jacket was so soothing. A mixture of leather and pine. It doesn’t smell like that anymore, but I think I would still recognize it if I smelled it again. After all these years, I couldn’t part with it. Call it my security blanket.” She smiles warmly.

  “I tried to forget about the jacket when I was with Bryant. I had to learn to lean on something else. It worked for a while. But as soon as we broke up, I immediately pulled it out of the closet. I’ve been wearing it again ever since. Please don’t make me give it back,” she pleads, gripping the jacket tightly.

  Knowing what this jacket means to her, I would never take it back.

  She leans against the wall. She lowers her head and puts her face in her hands, laughing like she’s crazy. “Why is this happening? I don’t understand.”

  I move carefully toward her. “Don’t be afraid. I’m just as confused as you are.” I pull her hands away from her face and pick her chin up with my finger. Her tear-filled eyes look into mine, and I feel it. There’s a connection between us I can’t ignore anymore. We can’t ignore.

  I close the gap between us as her eyes close. My thumbs caress her cheeks as I lower my lips to hers. She’s resistant for a split second, then starts to reciprocate the kiss. Her hands move up my arms. She dips her tongue into my mouth as my tongue desperately searches for hers. Our mouths are dancing to a tune I have never heard. We
kiss in unison without hesitation, drenched in the heightened emotions swirling around us.

  She wakes up my body with her taste, her lips, her touch. I don’t want to stop. I lift her so her legs are around my waist. I push my body against hers as we lean against the wall. She responds by rubbing against mine. I kiss a path down her neck, hearing her breath catch.

  Then the moment is over. She breaks our kiss, so I lower her down. She presses her fingertips to her lips and looks away from me. “I’m sorry, James. I can’t do this. I’m not in the right mind, and neither are you. We’re both overwhelmed by what we have discovered. I don’t want to ruin anything between us by getting involved this way. You are still grieving, and I’m upset over seeing Bryant.”

  She looks back at me. “I have thought about kissing you so many times. When our lips briefly touched at Cloud Nine, I knew I was in trouble. It was so hard to push you away just now. If we want to do this, it has to be for the right reasons—because we care for each other, we are attracted to each other. Not because we are sad, lonely, and horny.”

  I exhale deeply. “We also need to digest all this. It makes me happy it was you all those years ago. I can’t comprehend how odd this all is. What are the chances we would ever meet again? And why now?”

  She puts her arms around me and squeezes. Her touch is comforting. I breathe in the fresh scent of her hair as I hug her back.

  “Things happen for a reason. If you didn’t get in that car accident, maybe I wouldn’t have become a doctor. I wouldn’t have met Jessica. I wouldn’t be suffering so much, and I wouldn’t have met you, and I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now. If you didn’t get into the accident, you would have a mother, you would be able to have children, you might not have become a doctor, you wouldn’t have met Bryant, and you wouldn’t be standing here with me. No matter what the scenario, would our paths have crossed anyway?” My head is fucked up thinking about all of this. I need a glass of the wine I brought.