by J. Bengtsson
“Oh, that’s why?” Emma laughed as if she was finding Shelby unbelievably entertaining, and my mother lapped up the attention. “I was wondering about the head.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my head,” I defended myself before turning on my traitorous mother. “You do realize that when you tell that story, it only makes you look like a total shithead, right?”
“Oh, who cares? Look how you turned out.” She then focused her attention back on Emma. “He’s always been real smart, this one. I honestly think the dip in the commode did him good.”
“Okay,” I abruptly clipped off the conversation. “Are you ready, Emma?”
“No, wait,” Shelby protested, clearly not ready to give up the talking stick. Maybe she had other stories lined up: like the time I was a toddler and took a crap in the fountain at the mall. I was three. What the hell was I doing naked in a fountain in the first place? “I was just going to make a box of macaroni and cheese. Are you hungry?”
“Actually, Finn and I stopped for breakfast not long ago, but otherwise I totally would.” She stood up and actually embraced my mother. What the hell was happening here? Had they just made friends? “Thanks for all the information. I’ll be sure to use it against him.”
“See?” Shelby purred. “That’s all I ask for. Finally you found a woman worth liking, Indiana-Jones.”
After taking the stairs to our sixth floor apartment, I swung the door open to find Richie peeking out of the blinds. He jumped when I shut the door. “Shhh! I think I just heard gunshots.”
“You’re fine. Some teenagers were hitting the garbage bin with a bat.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it was a gunshot.”
Okay, I mouthed to myself, rolling my eyes at his paranoia.
Richie moved away from the window, apparently satisfied with my explanation.
“What’s wrong with the elevator?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It hasn’t worked since the earthquake. Be careful – the old people wait at the bottom of the stairs. Took me half an hour to help one guy to his room on the fourth floor. Now I hide in the bushes until the coast is clear.”
“Sooo, how was the whoring?” I asked, grinning.
“Dude. Amazing!” Richie said it with starry eyes. “Vanessa is a smokin’ divorcée in her forties.”
“Vanessa? You know the name of your John?”
“Of course. This wasn’t some alley transaction. I spent the weekend with her.”
“And?”
“I think I might be in love.”
I laughed out loud until I saw the serious expression on his face. “Oh, shit. You’re serious. Sorry. Wow.”
“I know it’s sudden, but sometimes you just know.”
“So then I’m guessing she’ll be booking you again.”
“It’s not like that.” Richie pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’m quitting the business. Vanessa doesn’t want me in the lifestyle anymore.”
“She was your first trick!” I said, my voice pitched with amusement. “Honestly, Richie, you have to be the worst prostitute ever.”
“You laugh, but you won’t be so cocky next week.”
“What’s next week?”
“When we move into our new condo.”
“Have I totally missed a portion of our conversation?”
“Vanessa doesn’t want me living in poverty. She’s putting the down payment on a place today. No more hiding in the bushes for me, my man.”
Still processing Richie’s progression from a cautionary tale to a Cinderella story, all in a three-day span, I’d almost forgotten about my own rags to riches tale until he asked, “So how was your weekend? Anything interesting happen?”
“Um, well, I mean, aside from meeting the woman of my dreams and hanging out with her rock star brother… nah, not too much.”
Richie held the same expression on his face throughout most of my wondrous story. Every once in a while he would close his gaping mouth, but then it would drop open again upon hearing the next fantastical detail. When it was over, I had to shake my own head at the miracle of it all.
“So you’re telling me she met your mother and still seems interested.”
“I didn’t think that was the most noteworthy part of my story, but yeah.”
“I’m still processing. What was Jake like?”
“He was the most reserved of the brothers, for sure, but he seemed totally cool with me hanging out with his sister, at least. And their mom, she was gushing all over me.”
“I don’t doubt it. You’ve got a way with older women.”
“So do you, apparently.”
“What’s your game plan, then? Are you going to see her again?”
“Oh, I’m going to see her again, whether she likes it or not.”
“You think she won’t?”
“Emma’s a little, uh, skittish. I have her phone number, that’s it. Her dad told me what hospital she worked at, though, so I plan to surprise her there.”
“Wow, that was nice of her dad to enable her stalker.”
“Wasn’t it?” I said, laughing. Yes, maybe I was coming across a little creepy, but I didn’t want her slipping through my fingers.
“I’m happy for you, though. Usually you go for the needy girls. This one sounds like she doesn’t need you at all.”
“Exactly. Maybe that’s why I like her so much.”
18
Emma, Present Day: Letting Go
Falling in love was a funny thing. I’d always assumed it was something that crept up on you slowly, a feeling that gradually blossomed into something bigger and better until you knew that, yes, this was the one. But that’s not how it was at all. Not with Finn. Love with him was like a punch in the gut, leaving me dazed and breathless. I didn’t have time to prepare, or to protect myself. He just barreled into my life and staked his claim on my heart, and although I did my best to slow the process down, there was no way to stop it. Love could not be turned off any more than it could be forced on. I knew what Finn and I had could never last, though. Eventually reality would catch up with us and deliver its punishing blow; but for now, for this one incredible moment in time, I was savoring the beautiful disaster.
“So I’m telling the lady that I’ve got her medication and she holds out her hand. I say, ‘No, hun, I’m going to put the Pepcid in your IV,’ and I shit you not, Emma, she says to me, ‘If it’s not too much trouble, I prefer Coca-Cola.”
I laughed at Frannie’s story, but my mind was elsewhere. Concentration had been a challenge since meeting Finn, and I found myself reading the doctor’s note over and over because I couldn’t seem to focus on the words. I didn’t need a lengthy diagnosis to know that I was suffering from withdrawal – of the scruffy, swoon-worthy kind.
Francesca continued on with a rant about the sheer stupidity of the world today and how it would benefit the human race if there were lifeguards manning the gene pools. I nodded my agreement, but really, I wasn’t paying attention until she came to an abrupt stop and gripped my arm. “Um, Emma…”
“Huh?”
Francesca rarely halted in mid-paragraph. Typically she found nothing more interesting than the words coming out of her mouth. This had to be good. I followed the trajectory of her gaze to find Finn at the other end, standing there in a snug-fitting black t-shirt and black denim jeans with no holes and no grease. His hair was a pile of reckless bends and waves, and that smile… both Frannie and I gulped back our appreciation.
“Sweet mother of god. Emma, do you see him too?”
Finn immediately arrived at my side, wrapped an arm around my waist, and kissed my cheek.
“And that answers my question,” Frannie said, turning her bugged eyes away.
“Francesca, this is um…my…” How did I present him? Who was he to me exactly? We’d only just begun whatever it was we had going on. It was too early, and reckless, to call him my boyfriend, but certainly, with our nightly romps front and center in our emerging relationship, Fi
nn was far from best bud material.
“Hi, I’m Finn, Emma’s man crush.”
Well, that was one way to describe us… and really just perfectly articulated.
“I certainly hope so.”
Frannie nudged me in the side, a nonverbal complaint filed against me for not sharing this very special secret with her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Finn. Emma failed to mention you.”
“Oh, really?” He grinned that dimpled smile. How this man was not booking movie roles right and left was beyond me. “Apparently I didn’t make the impression I’d hoped.”
“No, no. You more than impressed. I’m just still in the processing stages of all that is Finn.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“So this is the lady you’ve been waiting for?” A nurse and her friend walked up to our little group, startling me. I wasn’t used to friendly voices anywhere near Frannie and me. Of course the adoring looks on their faces were directed squarely toward my man crush. Apparently, while I’d been all hands on deck in a urethral catheterization, Finn had been chatting up the locals and raking in more friends in one hour than I’d made in four years.
“Yes, it is. Didn’t I tell you she was beautiful?”
I blushed, unaccustomed to such displays of affection. He nuzzled my neck enough to let the others know that whether they agreed or not with his assessment of my physical appearance, he expected an affirmative answer. And the nurses obliged, celebrating my ‘beauty’. Then, surprisingly, they stuck their hands out and introduced themselves, confessing that they were so happy to finally meet me. Okay, what in the world was happening here?
“This one’s a keeper,” my new best friend said, gesturing to Finn. “And he’s got it bad for you. You’re a lucky lady.”
I looked to him for confirmation, and he nodded as if his infatuation with me were common knowledge. And really, that was what it became. Finn’s charm traveled at lightning speed through the female-fueled rumor mill. He must have dropped information about his profession, as he was routinely referred to as ‘the stuntman’ in conversations around the hospital. And even though only .01 percent of the nurses had met him, boy, did they love him. Strangely enough, the goodwill projected toward Finn reflected positively on me, and for the first time since starting at the hospital, I wasn’t feeling like such an outsider.
While my co-workers continued to sing his praises, I was busy trying to fight him off with everything I had; but damned if Finn wasn’t an expert at pulling the very best out of me. When I was with him, gone was the uptight perfectionist and in her place was an open, ridiculously happy young woman without a care in the world. It didn’t take much on Finn’s part. No grand gestures were needed. In fact, it was the smallest acts of kindness that chipped away at my heart the fastest.
A prime example of such sweet moments was the night he wanted to have dinner with me, but I was too tired to go out. Finn offered to pick us up something to eat and asked what I wanted. My reply was a simple, “Surprise me.”
And, of course, he did. It wasn’t so much what he brought me that impressed so much but the enormous amount of thought he’d put into his choice.
Upon opening the door to find my man holding a familiar looking white bag, I asked in amusement, “You brought me In & Out Burger?”
“Okay, so hear me out before you judge my choice as cheap and immature.”
“I would never do that.”
“Uh huh, right. So remember when you said to surprise you? Well, I actually gave it a lot of thought. I figured you’re the type of girl who tries to eat healthy – not necessarily because you want to but because you think it’s what you should do. So if I brought you a salad, you wouldn’t be surprised. Then I thought what about bringing you something expensive, like steak or lobster, but then I was like, you might expect that because you’d think I was trying to impress you… and naturally, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be surprised. So then I started thinking, what would Emma not get for herself? If you had to pick up dinner on your way home, what place would be the most unlikely for you to stop at? And then I remembered how much you hated waiting in line – and what restaurant always has the longest drive thru line? That’s right, In & Out Burger. So I took a chance, and here you go. Surprise!”
And like an idiot, my lips trembled as my eyes misted over. Finn’s smile immediately faded as he took in my emotional response.
“Oh, shit! You don’t like it? I’m sorry.”
Shaking my head, I stepped into him, draping my arms over his shoulders and kissing his thoughtful lips. The minute we connected, I felt the familiar excitement of our bodies pressed against each other, and my physical hunger was replaced by something more primal. Pushing him against the wall, my hands went to his waistband and into his jeans. Still clutching the fast food bag in his hand for dear life, Finn gasped in surprise as I showed him just how much I appreciated his efforts.
Love was an entity unto itself. I knew how it felt in the platonic sense, having loved my family all my life. And I knew what it felt like to love the inanimate – a particular piece of music or a book or a pair of shoes. But nothing could have prepared me for love in the romantic sense. As so many others had discovered before me, this type of love could not be described in words. It was a feeling… a look, a touch. I think I knew for sure the night we were sitting peacefully together on my couch, fingers entwined, with smiles on our contented faces. I remembered thinking there was nothing more I needed in the world – just he and I sitting quietly beside each other forever. That’s when I knew I loved Finn, and that I would do anything to ensure his happiness – even if it meant sacrificing my own.
I had hoped we could have a longer run, that our fingers could remain one for just a little bit longer, but when the heart of the one you love was in need of protecting, time was of the essence.
“Where are we going?” I asked for the hundredth time as we rolled down the Pacific Coast Highway.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, shaking his head at my impatience, all while enjoying the power he had over me. He knew damn well I hated surprises, and so he made sure to always pepper our dates with one or two just to keep me off guard. Planning and preparing had always been incredibly important to me but lately I’d been forced to relax on the rules and it felt good, for a change, not be a slave to the order.
My house was still immaculately clean, of course, but if a dish needed to sit in the sink for a few minutes longer so Finn and I could get it on in the bedroom, I was okay with that. And if Cynthia hacked up a hairball, it could wait… no, never mind, a hairball could never wait. That shit got scooped up mid-fuck if necessary.
“But is this surprise a fancy one, like I’m going to be embarrassed by my choice of clothing, or will it be a surprise where I pretend I’m excited but I’m really not?”
“Way to be romantic. I pour my heart into these surprises, and that’s your attitude?” The smile on his face told me he wasn’t offended. In fact, getting Finn riled up took way more than a simple insult.
“So what you’re saying is, this surprise is crap?”
“No. I’m saying it’s not a surprise if you know what it is. Now shut up and let me entertain you.”
I settled back in my seat, a contented smile on my face. Finn really did enjoy doing nice things for me, and it felt amazing to be pampered and cared for. What I liked best was he didn’t feel the need to wow me with the expensive. Finn’s surprises were more heartfelt. He put effort into his choices for no other reason than to put a smile on my face – like the dopey one I was wearing now.
Finn pulled off onto the shoulder of the Pacific Coast Highway. I knew where we were, and I smiled at him. I’d been here plenty of times as a kid.
“The sandhill.”
Finn’s surprise was a two-hundred-foot vertical climb up a sand dune. A rite of passage for any native Southern Californian, as kids the sandhill had been a McKallister ‘must stop’ on our way back from the Malibu
beaches. We’d race up that hill at full speed, gradually losing that child-like energy, and crawl the remainder of the way up.
He nodded. “You ready for a hike?”
Looking up at the mountainside, I hadn’t remembered it being so high. Or maybe the height issue hadn’t been as much of a problem for me as a child. I knew I’d grown more cautious over the years, but seeing things I used to easily conquer terrifying me now made me realize just how much I’d changed. I no longer wanted to be a scared, world-weary Emma, and it had taken Finn’s surprises to make me realize it.
“Let’s do it.”
The climb was brutal. There was nothing like a giant sand dune to make you feel out of shape, and while I had to bend over and catch my breath, Finn was barely winded. We stood at the top, holding hands, and looked out over the ocean. Peace was the only word that came to mind.
We plopped down into the sand, and I lay back in Finn’s arms as we watched the waves roll in and sun dip lower over the horizon.
“Tell me more about your family,” I asked. “I’m curious about Rocky.”
He tensed. Finn, as open as he was with me, seemed to have a few skeletons in the closet, and those bones appeared to have something to do with his brother.
“He’s younger, right?”
“Yeah, by fifteen months.”
“Do you look alike?”
“God no. He’s way better looking.”
“No way is that possible,” I said, snuggling in closer.
“Oh, trust me on this one. He may be a total screw up, but he’s not lacking in the looks department. We’re half-brothers, and when we were kids, we used to imagine what our fathers looked like. Rocky insisted his was some medieval Viking because he was big and broad and fair. Growing up, no one ever believed we were brothers, what with me looking like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket my whole life.”
I reached up and gently ran my fingers through his curls. Once reviled, they were probably my favorite thing about him now.