Part II
Progress
I couldn’t tell you when it happened, but it had to have been a gradual change; I never move too quickly.
If someone had told me earlier that year what I was going to go through, I wouldn’t have believed them. Then again, no one could’ve predicted something like that, because nobody knew me.
He was so different from anyone. Even everyone I’ve met since. And he sucked all the life out of me, in the best—and worst—ways.
To this day, he’s with me everywhere I go.
We don’t get strong overnight. For most of us it takes time. Strength isn’t measured by how high and fast our walls go up, but how easily we can watch them fall.
-Charlie
Chapter One
Jesse
I watched out my window as she drove away, hoping she wouldn’t find the CD I’d stashed for her until another day.
One big white daisy in the middle of a sunflower field. She couldn’t have fit in if she tried.
My sweet Charlie.
After she’d gone, I went straight to the kitchen and popped the medication I should’ve taken hours ago.
Jake was home; the game console could be heard from downstairs. I grabbed a Power Bar and bounded down the steps into the smoky haze.
“Hey,” I said, lifting my chin.
“Oh hey.” Jake paused his game and looked up. “How’d it go?”
“Good. I found her.” The corner of the Morrissey poster on the south wall had peeled down, and I stuck it back to the double-sided tape.
“Well, good. Now we can get on with our lives. No more of this Charlie nonsense. She’s like a rash on your sac you can’t get rid of. I don’t know why you had to go anyway.”
None of your fucking business. “Thanks for the money to get there. I would’ve drove, but—”
“Yeah yeah.” Jake waved his hand. “Your back tire was shot from the other night.” He looked down, wincing with his next words. “You wanna talk about Bree?” he said quickly. “Because I want to get it over with.”
“Not remotely. It’s over. It’s done. Keep moving.”
He nodded, raking a hand through his thick, so-called Italian hair. The wannabe-badass sprung from a good-ole-boy suburban neighborhood. Italian, my ass. Small minds with big mouths pissed me off. But he was good for a few things: weed, women, and…weed.
“Good,” he continued. “Then I wanted to tell you that Julie said she’s got a friend for you to meet. Tonight, if you want.”
I sat down next to him on the couch and picked up the extra controller. “Fine, whatever. So you didn’t tell Julie what happened, then? You two are still together?”
He laughed, taking the game off pause. “She’s clueless. I keep her around for one reason only, man. You know that. Bree wasn’t the first—”
“Fine,” I cut him off. “Just don’t go expecting me to be all sunshine and fucking rainbows with Julie. Once she finds out what you do behind her back she’s going to come to me for answers. They always do. It’ll be easier to ignore her when she calls me wondering where you are.”
“That’s fine. You’re a dick to her anyway. You’re a dick to everyone.”
I shoved the last bite of the bar into my mouth and hit the start button to join in.
“By the way, the bike repair shop called,” Jake said, lighting a bowl and taking a deep pull. His words muffled on the exhale. “The part came in and they’re fixing it today. Should be ready this afternoon.”
***
I’d saved over a year for that bike. The damn thing was more expensive than my car. The Endurance Escape was longer, lower, and slacker than the other bikes I’d tested. The suspension felt right no matter where I took her, whether skipping over the rocky terrain of the trails or racing down an undulating track. It wasn’t the most efficient pedaling bike, but I loved the way she felt in my grip, and I took her out whenever I could. Not surprisingly, she had a name.
I called her Red.
Purely coincidence.
I’d bought that bike months before I met Charlie.
The trail closest to my house was three miles away. As soon as I got the bike from the shop, I drove straight to the trail and brought her wheels to the dirt and mounted her.
And then my mind did what it always does on the trail: it drifted.
She clouds my head—her and her idealism. I wish she could get a snapshot of my life, what I’ve been through; she would start seeing the world a lot differently. Despite her efforts, she’s going to lose. She needs to wake up, open her fucking eyes, and see the world for what it is. I may have been harsh with her about people being assholes, but they’ll walk over her for the rest of her life if she doesn’t figure it out soon.
And I don’t know why that pisses me off so much.
I guess we all learn the hard way.
Innocence is a slave to unconditional love. It’s the fairy tales of childhood. And it’s what disappointment is made of. If she thinks she loves everyone, she’s fooling herself.
I’ve read about people like her. Empaths. I’ve just never met one. Note to self: research empaths. I wonder what she feels when I walk into the room. Does she feel what I’m feeling or can she only feel it when I speak to her?
It doesn’t matter. If the shaking is the indicator, then I know what she says is true.
Maybe she has already gotten a snapshot of my life.
I’m good now, though. I’ve been taking my meds for almost two weeks. Not that I’m happy about it or that I’m okay with the dumbed-down version of myself, but if this is what it takes to make Charlie relax, maybe I could come around more often; spend more time with her.
I knew pretty quick there was something different about her.
I won’t deny that she poses no threat. She’s pretty, sure, but there’s no way I could touch her if I wanted to. That leaves nothing for us but friendship. Again, new territory, but a little easier than coming up with a reason to ditch her come morning. Though I’ll admit if I’m not having sex with her, coming up with pleasant things to say is no cakewalk. My general outlook on life is pretty fucking abysmal.
Sunflowers are nice. Cigarettes are good too. Beer, weed, a bike ride in the fall, Rx Bandits and Less Than Jake, laughing until your cheeks hurt, and Charlie: those are all good things.
The rest is shit.
Oh, I forgot Lily. Lily makes the list.
It sucks having a sickness that people don’t understand. Hell, I barely understand it myself. The moods, the anger, the rage, the racing thoughts, the sleepless nights; the need to keep busy, fill my brain, fuck, move, leave, fight; watching everything in fast forward, thinking the rest of the world is in slow-motion, processing things quicker, yet watching the sloths creep around me. And that’s the good stuff. That’s what makes it fun. Easy.
I don’t want to think about the other stuff. The shit that comes with thoughts of death, razors, pills, lethargy, knowing exactly what day it is and how long the past five minutes took to pass. The self-loathing, the energy it takes just to shower, the erosion of thought, the dizziness, the sleeping, the noise, the headaches, the worry, the doubt, and the depression.
It’s all relative, though. It ebbs and flows. Others have it worse. I can’t look at my life and say I’ve had it easy, but I can’t look at Charlie’s life and say she’s had it hard. Everyone’s normal is relative.
Feeling fat and ugly is such a first-world problem to have. Feeling sorry for herself is also a pointless endeavor. It was always the same old fucking sob story with these suburban chicks: “Hold me so I can feel safe. Don’t leave in the morning so I know you care. Fuck me so I feel better about myself.” Newsflash, girls: when something is as bright and beautiful as the sun, it doesn’t need the kind of attention that smaller stars crave. It’s happy just to be shining.
But Charlie is different, isn’t she? She doesn’t want the same things. But is it because of her past, or does she not feel she deserves them? I don’t under
stand. If she’s got a family that loves her, she should’ve been fine.
Maybe I’m pissed off I can’t touch her. Maybe I want to take the necks of the men who have hurt her between my hands and choke them until they’re blue. Maybe I think it’s unfair she can’t cope with the thought of me between her thighs, taking her mouth onto mine, or nibbling on her neck. But maybe that’s just me being selfish. And maybe all we’ll ever be is just friends.
Taking a path less traveled, I cut through the brush and slowed down, not knowing what was behind the next turn. I used to get trapped on the trails for hours, but I hadn’t been lost for years. I had been much more adventurous at twenty than I was at twenty-five. Some things were just better off consistent. Others required knowledge that only came with change.
Can she feel it? Does she know that from the first time I touched her I’ve thought about doing it again? She has the softest skin of anyone I’ve ever touched. Or maybe my fingertips know something my mind doesn’t yet.
Her big blue eyes cut through me, begging me to tell her things I can’t. Her short, red, sassy hair keeps me in check, reminding me that the bitch has some bite when she wants. And that little dimple that forms on the corner of her mouth when she pronounces the letter W…
Enough! That’s enough, motherfucker.
I can’t touch her. Period.
It’s beyond that now. Now that I know the truth behind her hesitation, there’s nothing I can do about it. Chasing fairy tales never got me anywhere.
Facts—those are what I thrive on. Who needs fantasy when they’ve got a pack of cigarettes in their pocket, a bed to sleep in every night, and food in their stomach? I’ve got everything I deserve and then some. No use wasting thoughts on such trivial pursuits. Charlie is far too bright of a star for me to chase. Not when she carries the light from a thousand others in her heart.
The woods were thick, and I hadn’t kept my speed in check. I cleared a row of pines and a large boulder stood in my path. But I couldn’t turn quick enough. As I swerved to avoid crashing, I lost control, skidding out and scraping my calf against the rocky terrain.
“Fuck,” I yelled, picking myself up from the ground and inspecting my leg. She stung like a bitch and the wound ran deep, with small pebbles and dirt caked inside.
Just another example of what could happen when my head wasn’t in the right place. My life was full of them: bad choices, dishonorable endeavors, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Figuring out early in life that people didn’t stick around had only helped toughen my skin. I was a pussy before then. A family and four foster homes were exactly what I needed. But getting shit right on my own was never my gig. Maybe that’s why I stopped trying a long time ago.
“Busted wheel,” I mumbled, and walked Red the rest of the way back.
Thankfully, it was only a mile.
***
I made it back to the house in time take my second dose of meds and grab something to eat. The scrape on my leg was superficial, and cleaned up well in the shower.
“Hey Jess!” Jake called from behind the bathroom door. “Double date with Julie and Eve in fifteen. We’ll go when you’re out of the shower.”
“Give me a minute.”
After wiping the foggy mirror, I bandaged my wounds. The split lip was healing nicely, but those stitches above my eye were going to take a while. The hole in my chin was what pissed me off the most. Assholes. If any of those cops were in my position that night, they would’ve done the same. It wasn’t about Bree—fuck her—it was the principle of it. Bree shouldn’t have been there. She should’ve been off sucking the congressman’s dick like she did in her day job. A girl like that had no business being around scumfuckers like Jake. She was way too classy for this dump.
She had a future.
I couldn’t blame Jake. He thought about two things: the next time he was going to get laid and the next time he was going to get high. There wasn’t much I could do to excuse his thought process on the situation.
I think I expected more discretion from her. But then there’s nothing like a girl who can’t let go of the past. Moving on wasn’t something Bree knew how to do.
Maybe that’s why Charlie’s words in the car had hit me as hard as they did. Maybe she reminded me a lot of Bree, but stronger. Feistier.
Charlie was too dangerous for me. She was too kind and generous. She was too sweet.
I didn’t do sweet.
Never again.
Fuck it.
I’d figure it out another day. There was only one place I wanted to be that night, and it was buried between the thighs of a girl named Ellie.
Errr, Eve.
Whatever.
***
“So, Jesse. Tell me a little about yourself,” Eve said. “Jake tells me you ride a bicycle.” She was dressed in a short white skirt and T-shirt, and the top showed off her tits. She didn’t seem like the high-rent type, with her thick eye makeup and a hairstyle I hadn’t seen since ’97. My first impression was she didn’t need a lot of fancy words to impress her.
Perfect.
I stuck out my jaw, shooting a glare toward Jake. “Oh yeah?” I scratched my chin. “What else did Jake tell you?” The green floral carpet and orange walls of the restaurant didn’t do much to create a relaxing ambience for the night. The colors chipped away at my mind, and I couldn’t keep my knee from bouncing.
“He told me that you like music, long walks on the beach, and cuddling.” Eve giggled.
There was an easy formula to picking up a trick like her: Talk, but not too much. Make sure she notices you watching her. Touch lightly. Then give her one measly compliment just before you go in for kiss at the end of the night. The fact that she’d been used probably wouldn’t cross her mind, not even for how quickly you ran from her apartment in the morning. I’d bet she’d seen enough one-night stands to realize what happened later the next day when you didn’t call.
Score one for Julie for finding another. Low self-esteem was the only reason I got as much pussy as I did. That didn’t say much about my opinion of myself, but I was more of a realist. We worked with what we had.
“Excellent,” I said, taking another glance in Jake’s direction. “Were you quoting directly from your Christian Singles profile or did you merely want to make me sound like a golden retriever?”
“What?” Jake shrugged, holding up his hands in question. “You don’t like the beach?”
Julie snickered and Eve bit her bottom lip.
The dull conversation made me only wish I’d called Charlie. The present company took too much thought, too many things I needed to remember in order to conduct myself as a normal human being: joke, make small talk, breathe, make eye contact, smile once in a while.
While Charlie was probably fast asleep in her white bed dreaming about a prince to sweep her off her feet, I was there, in a dirty restaurant, trying to score a twenty-minute fix to my salacious hunger.
I would’ve liked to have blamed Charlie for it; she was the one who had absorbed my energy that weekend. I didn’t even have to touch her. Lying beside her was enough to remind me what a solid sleep after a good fuck felt like. I didn’t have to remember how to make small talk, smile, or breathe.
“So you ride a bike,” Eve continued. “And I think it’s safe to say that sand and water are scratched off the list.” She crossed her arms over the table and leaned in, narrowing one eye. “What’s your story, Jesse?”
“So what’s your story?” Charlie said.
“My story?”
“Did I stutter?”
With her trembling hands and snarky attitude, I had known Charlie was going to be a spitfire. I found myself smiling at the memory and the way she looked when she said it. Adorable.
I focused my vision to find three sets of confused eyes staring back at me.
“You awake, man?” Jake said, snapping his fingers.
“Oh.” I cleared my throat, shaking my head to remove my grin. “I don�
��t have a story,” I bit out and rose from my seat. “I’ll be right back,” I said, heading for the front of the restaurant in sudden desperate need for a cigarette.
The door slammed against the wall when I hadn’t thought I’d pushed it that hard. Swiping my Zippo from my back pocket, I lit my smoke and slipped it back in.
I couldn’t very well get into Emma’s panties if I had Charlie stuck in my mind.
Errr, Eve’s panties.
Whatever.
A picturesque young couple—one dressed in khakis and shiny black shoes, and the other in a pink sundress with flowers and shit on it—walked up the sidewalk and through the door arm in arm. She had a nice ass, but from the way her boyfriend glared at me, it was obvious he didn’t appreciate my appreciation.
Too bad for him I didn’t give a shit about what he thought.
I sucked down my cigarette, pull after pull, and lit another with the butt of my old one.
If I stay, I’m going to have sex with this girl. All I need to do is smile and wink and I’ve got her. So predictable. So bland. The setup is perfect. I can do this. I just can’t access any part of my brain where Charlie resides. Should be easy enough.
There was really only one place that Charlie hadn’t gotten to.
I’d just have to think with my dick.
Chapter Two
Jesse
There was no pressure to be someone or something with Charlie. Why did I always feel like I needed to be someone better? Why did the people I wasted time with—every teacher I’d ever had, the doctors, the lawyers, the meds—all want me to be someone I wasn’t? Why couldn’t I just be? It didn’t seem to bother Charlie. I was who I was, and that was good enough for her.
I wanted to go back to when I was a kid. Or at least go back to a time when shit wasn’t so complicated. I didn’t need medication then—why do I need it now? I was a free spirit, had a lot of energy, and told the truth. If I did that as an adult I’d be a fucking nutjob.
Progress (Progress #1) Page 14