by Dara Girard
The woman’s dark gaze looked at her in awe. “But—”
“No, buts. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
The woman thanked her then left.
“It could be a scam you know,” the clerk said, a young man with a tattoo of a smiling rat on his brown forearm.
“I know.”
“But you did it anyway. You don’t mind looking like a sucker?”
“No.”
“See that’s your problem. You’re a nice lady and people end up using you. Just sayin’ that not everyone needs help. Sometimes they got to fall down so that they work hard like the rest of us.”
He sounded like he’d come from a job fair lecture. She admired his concern if not his advice. “You’re right about working hard, but not about being a sucker. What people do with a helping hand is none of my business.”
“Yeah, but some people get more help than others.”
Caryn nodded, it was getting personal and she didn’t want to address this issue. “You’re doing a great job. Keep it up and you’ll go places, but get bitter and that will hold you down.” She paid the amount quoted then took her purchases and left.
“I wanted to thank you again,” the woman from the line said, meeting Caryn as she exited. “I can pay you back. It’s just that my money hasn’t been deposited yet and—”
“Don’t worry,” Caryn said, seeing the gray clouds coming in overhead and smelling the scent of rain. She hoped it would hold until she reached her car. “It’s a gift.”
“Not everyone would be so generous. You saved my day.”
Caryn only smiled then noticed that the woman’s cart brimmed with groceries and the child still slept undisturbed. “I’m no hero, just glad I could help.”
“My name is Rita,” she said, holding out her hand. “Rita Sanchez.”
Caryn shook the woman’s hand wondering why she felt the need to introduce herself. “Caryn Chandler.”
“It’s a true pleasure to meet you.”
“Same, but I’ve got to dash.”
A rumble of thunder drowned out her words, followed by the pounding sound of rain. As sleets of rain soaked the parking lot, Caryn sighed. She could make a run for it, but then she’d get drenched as would her items. She’d just have to wait it out. She noticed a small group of other shoppers deciding to do the same.
“Come,” Rita said. “There’s a bench over there.”
Caryn briefly sent a look of longing to her car, then followed.
Once they were seated, Rita pulled out a little black book and a white envelope fell out of her handbag. Caryn reached down and saw the word ‘Groceries’ spelled across it and felt the small stack of bills inside. She held the money out to her. “You dropped this.”
Rita shook her head. “I wondered where that was. Keep it.”
“But—”
“You can count it if you don’t trust me.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Good then we’re even.” She opened the black book and grabbed a pen from her handbag. “But one good favor deserves another. What do you do?”
It was an odd question, but since the rain would fall for a few minutes, a chat would make time go by faster. “I’m a professional organizer.”
Rita started to write then stopped and shook her pen. “Just when you need it most…” She shook the pen then tried writing with it again. It still wouldn’t write. “This is why I wish I could do this on my cell phone,” she mumbled to herself. “But rules are rules.”
Caryn opened her handbag. “I may have a pen,” she said not understanding why Rita would need it anyway.
“No, I’ll get it to work.” She dabbed the pen against her tongue before trying again. “See? That’s better. Okay, what do you do again?”
“I don’t see—”
“Just humor me.”
“I’m a certified professional organizer also known as a CPO.”
Rita scribbled something down, turning her body in a way that Caryn couldn’t see. “Ooh I love careers with acronyms. And how long have you been divorced?”
Caryn blinked surprised. “I’m not divorced. Why would you think that?”
“You just have the look of someone who’s in an emotional state right now, as if you’ve lost something or someone that meant something to you.”
I did. “I just have that kind of face.”
“Are you in a relationship?”
“I don’t discuss my private life.” The woman was strange. Maybe she should risk getting wet. She stood. “I’d better go.”
“Wait, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I thought you deserved a chance.”
“A chance?”
“What if you could turn your life, especially your love life, around? Would you talk about it then?”
Caryn paused then glanced at the still sleeping child, surprised that neither the rain nor the thunder had woken her. “That’s impossible.”
Rita shrugged. “Maybe. Isn’t there anything you wished could be different?”
Yes, but doesn’t everyone? Caryn thought, suddenly intrigued, rather than annoyed, by the woman. Her hawk- like features no longer seeming as pinched and harsh, her brown gaze sending her a silent message she couldn’t quite interpret, but wanted to. “Not really.”
“There’s someone you love who could be yours if you really go for him.”
Caryn sat down and stared at the rain. Its ferocity hadn’t ebbed. “He’s in love with someone else,” she said in a soft voice.
Rita smiled. “So there is someone?”
“No, yes.” She shook her head amazed that she’d admitted her feelings to a stranger. “Definitely no.”
Rita’s knowing smile remained. “Which is it?”
“It’s nothing. Unless you’re offering me a chance to turn back time, then you can’t help me.”
“That’s the mistake most people make. You don’t need to change the past to change the future. By changing your present, you change your future.”
“That sounds good, but I’ve done too many things wrong to change my future now. It’s all set.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“And what does your future look like?”
She’d never really thought about it. What did she want her future to look like? She wanted her business to continue to be successful. She wanted her family to be happy and she wanted her own wedding and a honeymoon and a wonderful marriage. Wait…where had that come from?
“There’s nothing wrong with listening to your heart’s desire.”
Caryn wanted to joke and say how could she listen to anything with all this noise, but the sound of the rain and the sight of the gray clouds made her heart feel heavy and she felt ashamed. Ashamed that she’d dare to dream about something she’d run away from. “My heart is wrong. It’s frivolous and silly.”
“You only think that because you’re afraid. I should know. I was the same way.” She glanced away, her gaze settling on a woman carrying a large yellow, duck shaped umbrella and a boy in a raincoat and blue boots splashing in the puddles. “I was afraid of so many things, especially love.”
“And then what happened?”
Rita closed her eyes. “Then I lost it all. My health, then my business, then some friends, and I realized what truly mattered in life.”
“Love?”
“No, joy. We seek so many things, but all we really want to be is happy and joyous. I pretended for years to be what I thought I should be, even though I was miserable inside.” She tapped her chest. “I won’t say it was misery that caused my illness because that would make it too simplistic, but I will say it helped me to wake up. It helped me to see that I had only one life and I was wasting it. So I decided to change my future at that moment.” She turned to Caryn. “And I’m asking you now, are you willing to make a change?”
Caryn bit her lip.
“It’s okay to be afraid, but it’s not okay to do nothing.”
Caryn nodde
d. “Yes, I do want to change, but I have so many other things to do and I’m—”
Rita’s face spread into a wide grin. “I’m glad to hear it. You’re too young to settle into the routine you’ve created for yourself. You can’t organize everything. Some things in life are a little messy and chaotic, but thrilling.” She jotted some notes in her black book then said, “What kind of man do you want?”
A man I’ve already lost. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.” Rita snapped the black book closed then smiled. “Look, the rain’s stopped.”
Caryn turned, surprised to no longer hear the sound of rain, but instead the wheels of shopping carts, and car doors slamming shut. She looked up and saw patches of blue in the gray sky and watched as the sunbeams made the raindrops glitter on cars, poles, and the tips of grass. Within minutes, the sun would burn all the rain away and it wouldn’t look as if it had rained at all. One moment could wipe away another. Caryn smiled feeling suddenly hopeful. She may have lost Adrian, but perhaps there was someone else out there waiting for her.
Caryn turned to thank Rita, but then saw that she, the cart full of groceries, and the sleeping child were gone.
Chapter Six
“You’re sulking.”
Adrian let his fingers languidly sweep over the piano keys as he played a slow country song by memory. “I’m not sulking.”
Roberta rested her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “You’ve hardly said a word to me.”
He played a little louder. “There’s nothing to say.”
“She seemed as hesitant about taking this job as you are, but I convinced her to stay.”
“How did you manage that? I couldn’t.”
“What?”
He increased the volume a little more, letting his fingers hit the keys with more force. “Never mind.”
“She even offered to do it for free.”
He gritted his teeth. “You’ll pay her.”
“I was going to, I just thought you’d want to know—”
“I don’t want to know anything about her. Ever. If you’re going to use her, don’t tell me about it.”
“You don’t have to shout.”
“I’m not shouting.”
“Then stop playing so loud.”
He changed to another song.
She rolled her eyes. “I hate when you play those tunes. You act like you were born in Tennessee instead of Delaware.”
He chose a song that mingled country and hip hop then shot her a glance. “That better?”
She threw up her hands. “I wish you’d stop playing and listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re sulking. I thought you said you’d trust me to get you organized. I find one of the best organizers around and you respond like this just because you don’t like her.”
He switched to an R&B song.
“She will stay out of your way, you won’t even notice her and it will all be done within a day or two. I’m doing this for your own good, so don’t fight me on this, okay?”
He continued to play.
Roberta sighed then kissed him on the cheek. “Good.” She left.
The moment she left, he stopped playing and slammed the piano lid close.
Eight years. Eight years. He was supposed to be completely over her by now. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He was supposed to feel numb. He’d wiped Caryn from his mind. She didn’t matter. Then why had he stood in the parking lot wanting to shake her? Wanting to force her to look at him and tell him why she’d hurt him? Why she’d run out on him?
But what was worse, was her mouth. She kept licking her lips and distracting him. She always did that when she was nervous. And the sight of her pink tongue sliding over her lush, full lips made him want to taste her. Feel her lips on his, pull her close and feel the soft give of her breasts against his chest. But it was her mouth that had always been the most dangerous to him. Seeing her again had been a shock, but he could barely focus on what she was saying, all he could think of was forcing her mouth to stop moving with one long, wet kiss. Those types of kisses used to be her favorite. “You can never kiss me enough,” she used to say with a smile.
He preferred what the kissing led to—her legs wrapped around him, the soft brush of her breath against his skin as she sighed with pleasure.
Just one look at her again had stripped all the years away and his heart burst and bled as if he were still that twenty-seven year old groom jilted at the altar. If he hadn’t been so broke, he would have left town, traveled for a year until he’d felt certain that he’d forgotten her. Unfortunately, he’d had nowhere to go, so he buried himself in the new food truck venture he and his friend Ken had devised. Deadly Delectable Pies, which sold pies by the slice. It wasn’t an instant hit, but through diligence and consistency they gathered a devoted following. Soon they added a successful bakery, a restaurant and had invested in a food-delivery service. He wasn’t broke anymore and in a city of more than a hundred thousand he’d believed it was unlikely he’d ever see her again.
Then there she was.
In the early days, he’d practiced what he’d say to her if they ever bumped into each other. He’d be cool and distant, hopefully have a hot girlfriend at his side and pretend to struggle to remember her name. And his wish had almost come true. He had a good looking girlfriend and money to throw around. He was an unmitigated success and he could flaunt it and show Caryn what she’d lost.
Instead he’d barely been able to speak. Why had she nearly killed herself sneaking out of his apartment? Why was she wearing a wig? Why wouldn’t she look at him?
When he saw her limping, rage stirred up in him again. Because he cared. Why the hell did he still care? He wanted to lift her up in his arms and carry her to her car and check to make sure she was okay. He wanted to hold her close and feel the weight of her head on his shoulder. He wanted to be her hero.
And soon rage mingled with pain. That’s what bothered him the most. She could still hurt him without doing anything. He hated that he’d let her capture his heart so completely and that he was still piecing back its remnants.
Adrian lifted the piano lid and began to play again. A calypso folk song “Yellow Bird” that his mother used to hum to him to get him to sleep. It always calmed him. And as he played he thought of her, her soft hands as she stroked his forehead, the smell of nutmeg that clung to her apron and he felt his pain fade. In his mind he heard her humming. He closed his eyes and soon heard singing, a clear beautiful voice. He remembered a soft caress on his cheek, and then he remembered Caryn singing the song too. She’d sung it to him when he’d been in bed recovering from the flu. And he remembered her singing it in harmony to a song on his stereo as she prepared a meal of curried rice and chicken.
Adrian opened his eyes, angered at the feel of stinging tears and pounded the keys with his fists. He. Was. Over. Her.
He shoved himself from the piano and stood. He wasn’t going to go through this again. He was glad Roberta was forcing him to face this. He had to make himself not care. He didn’t care that he could smell her scent linger on his couch…or was that just his imagination? He didn’t care that he could see where she’d straightened a painting, or book or plant…or was that just from his memory?
The Caryn he’d seen was far from the woman he’d remembered. The beautiful bride who’d held his hand and looked up at him in tears and whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Please don’t do this.” He still hated himself for asking her to stay. He remembered grabbing her hand, feeling her shaking, seeing the tears in her eyes, feeling the gathering tears in his own. Then he remembered her turning and running out of his life.
No this Caryn was a faded memory of her former self. Adrian fell onto his couch and turned on the TV, eager to remember all her flaws. Roberta was definitely prettier and slimmer. Although Caryn had always been on the curvy side and he liked her round cheeks and puffy raspberry lips. No, he had to
remember what he didn’t like. He didn’t like her clothes, but she’d never been stylish. Roberta matched him there. With her crooked wig Caryn had reminded him of a chipmunk. Although he’d always found chipmunks rather cute…
Adrian grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Damn it! He didn’t want to think of her as cute. She wasn’t. She was just eight years older, wearing a wig for goodness sakes; dressed as if she were handing out pamphlets to save somebody’s soul. He’d never fall for a woman like that again. Damn. What had made him fall for her in the first place? No, he wouldn’t answer that. He knew why, but…He. Was. Over. Her.
He’d been angry, but he wasn’t anymore. She wasn’t a threat to him. If he ever saw her again, which he planned not to, he wouldn’t be rattled. His life was good and she wouldn’t be a part of it. She’d hurt his pride that was all. His heart was safe. Completely.
He hadn’t felt anything when he’d seen her at the wedding. He still didn’t know why he’d gone. He hated weddings. But Roberta had convinced him, as she usually did, and he’d enjoyed the ceremony and wished the couple well. He hadn’t expected to see Caryn’s sister there. What were the chances that she’d be the stepmother? Fortunately, there were enough people for him to stay out of view. He’d tried to convince Roberta to leave early, but she was determined to attend the reception.
They’d arrived early and he saw Caryn taking charge as usual. He overheard someone say that Caryn had saved them because the wedding planner had double booked. The irony wasn’t lost on him. She saved one ceremony but couldn’t stay for her own. He had no desire to see her again, but then saw her being accosted by a chubby little cherub and offered to help. He should have let the kid break her back.
He turned off the TV and grabbed a jump robe that he kept in the corner with some weights and began jumping.
He didn’t want to admire her. He’d already made that mistake. He was smarter than that now. He increased his speed until the jump rope whistled as it sliced through the air as a blur.
He. Was. Over. Her.
And he continued to jump, bouncing like a spring, until sweat soaked his shirt; repeating his mantra, wanting it to be true.