Two Weeks

by Andrea Wolfe

  She grins at me, then leans forward and kisses my cheek. "Big tough Juggernaut is nervous around a girl. I guess I do know how to beat you in the ring now. I've found your kryptonite."

  I laugh and then shrug at her. I can feel the trepidation building inside me as I consider telling her the truth about the other night. "You're an alligator, remember? Not a girl." I stare at the screen, perusing the random movie titles. I can't even read them because my mind is thinking so hard about the present situation. "You're a tougher foe than you think."

  She shrugs my remark right off and goes directly for the throat. "How do you deal with rapid fan girls? Do they throw themselves at you after a fight? I mean, a big, sweaty, sexy man like you must be irresistible."

  Ah, shit. That's a tough one. "Let's just say it doesn't involve courtship and dinner dates." I scoff and look away from Ally. I'm not really sure how much I want to say.

  She grabs my arm excitedly. "Tell me some of the gritty details," she says. "Did you, uh... after your fight Saturday? I've always wondered about that stuff with entertainers."

  I almost lose my cool, but I stay under control. "Ally," I chide, "isn't this a bit personal? I mean, you really want to know about that?" I stare into her eyes, and I'm lost again even though I'm a little worked up. The thought of the blonde still unnerves me.

  "I'm sorry," she says, frowning. "I was just kidding around. I mean, I wasn't being that serious. Just curious."

  Seeing her frown almost kills me. Repulsion or not, I want to be honest. "I fucked some drunk girl in a bar bathroom. Okay? I didn't enjoy it. I haven't enjoyed it in a long time. I was drunk too and she wouldn't leave me alone and it just happened. It was stupid." It comes out as one satisfyingly long run-on sentence.

  I feel like I was just dead lifting a ton—and I finally set the weight back down.

  Ally lets out a guffaw and I take it as a good sign. A great sign. "Shit, really? In a bar bathroom? That's crazy. I've never done anything like that in public. Was she hot?"

  I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed. "I don't really remember what she looked like. I mean, she had boobs and a vagina at least."

  Ally continues laughing. "That's good to know."

  "And yeah, it is crazy. And it probably gives people the wrong impression about me." Even with the uncomfortable subject matter, I actually feel good about getting this off my chest.

  I'm confessing my sins and having a genuinely clean start with her.

  "I mean, it's your choice," she says. "You're not hurting anyone. They're just groupies." I'm not sure if her instant acceptance is the real thing.

  "Well, that's why I want to take it slow with you," I say. "I know you're leaving soon, but I'm just being honest. You're awesome and I guess I wanted to, uh... treat you right. You're not like them at all."

  Ally hugs me, pulling herself as close as possible. I feel somewhat suffocated; it's both a great and strange feeling. "Dammit, Jackson," she says next to my ear, "there's a teddy bear beneath all those bulging muscles, I swear."

  I let out an awkward laugh. "I guess so. I'm sorry I'm being so melodramatic about this. I'm still shocked that you came back."

  "I can go," she says sarcastically. "I don't have to stick around in Red Lake."

  "No, no," I say. "I'm really glad that you're here. I don't want to mess it up."

  Ally runs her hand along her head, pulling strands of hair out of her face. She warmly smiles. "I'm kidding too," she says. "I'm not ready to go back either. And you should chill out. I won't bite, I promise. I'm not that judgmental."

  I'm shocked by how well this is going. For some weird reason, I'm acting like a huge pussy, yet she's fine with it. I'm supposed to be some relentless brute, and instead I'm a sniveling loser that can't make up his mind about anything that matters. In such a short time, I've gone through so many phases, from hating her, to lusting after her, to wanting to savor her like a fine wine.

  Buried in the tumult of my thoughts, I'm surprised when I hear a movie starting. Ally chose one and now the opening credits are rolling. I lean over and kiss her cheek. "Thanks," I say. "For showing initiative."

  She smiles and cuddles up to me. I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulder. She nestles into place and I realize I can't pay attention to the movie at all. It's a recent indie drama-comedy, and although it seems like something I'd really enjoy, I'm too overwhelmed by the tranquility I'm feeling.

  Our chatter is very sparse, and it grows even sparser as the movie continues. Shortly after it stops, I hear Ally snoring beneath me. It's so unbelievably cute. I feel—and study—every nuance of her breathing, every tiny, automatic movement of her body.

  I'm so satisfied that I end up dozing off myself. The next time I wake, I notice that the TV is off. Instantly, I look down, worried that Ally snuck out while I slept—but I feel her before I see her. She's still there, pressed against me. I'm still holding her, protecting her from anything and everything that's around us.

  Our fingers are entwined now too. I don't even remember that happening.

  The TV turned off automatically after the movie ended; I'm sure of this.

  Somehow, I manage to grab my phone on the table without disturbing her. I look at the time—it's just after three in the morning. I don't want to wake her, but I need to at least give her some options since I'm uncertain if she actually intended to stay the night.

  I shift my weight until she's leaned up against the couch instead of me. I gently call her name. "Ally?"

  She's so beautiful as she sleeps. I'm utterly smitten, predictably. Her eyes open slowly and acknowledge me before closing again. "Hi, Jackson," she says, the words slurred together into one sound.

  "It's after three," I say. "Are you staying here?"

  Her eyes open again in slow motion. "I stay here," she says robotically. They close and her deep sleep starts to resume. "Here is fine." She trails off at the end. I'm totally amused by her simplistic responses.

  I lift her legs up onto the couch, putting her into a better sleeping position. I debate giving her my bed, but decide against it on account of how peaceful she already looks. I dig in the closet for some blankets and a proper pillow. No one has stayed here in a long time, so everything is as it was the last time I put it all away.

  She's in a fetal position when I return, and I cover her with a blanket. I swap out her couch pillow like Indiana Jones swapping out a bag of sand on a trap for a prized piece of treasure. Her head never lowers at all and she's totally undisturbed by my deft gesture.

  I lean down and kiss her forehead gently, a gesture that she'll never know about. I grab my water glass and her beer bottle. She barely drank any of it—and my glass is the same. We got so buried in conversation we forgot about our respective beverages.

  I dump the warm beer out in the sink and then head to bed after brushing my teeth.

  I hate that she's alone on the couch and not in my bed with me, but I feel that I've done the right thing. I don't want her to be startled when she unexpectedly wakes up next to me, wondering how the hell she got into my bed. Maybe she'd be fine with it, but I don't want to risk making her feel uncomfortable.

  My sleep resumes promptly. I'm in a good place, finally.

  For how long, I don't know.

  7

  Ally

  I wake very early in an unfamiliar place. The sunlight is peeking in through the shades and forcefully greeting me. I squint and rub my eyes, taking a moment to digest the unexpected surroundings.

  Oh yeah, I'm at Jackson's.

  This is his living room, the same way his parents left it. The wall is still the home of numerous high school and early college photos of Jackson. It's apparent than his parents were very proud of him and made this their personal shrine to his achievements.

  I don't remember much of the previous night, but I do remember it wasn't filled with drunken debauchery. Had I really dozed off that fast? I remember seeing the opening credits of a movie and not much else.

  We wer
e both sober. This is good, because it means I don't feel like shit right now. I pull off the comforter and sit up, placing my feet against the carpet.

  My purse is in the kitchen, so after a few minutes of sitting upright, I stand and go to fetch it. The clock on the stove says six, which means my parents probably aren’t awake. I notice for the first time how sore I feel. My arms and upper body are so tender it's hard to move them. My abs are incredibly tense as well. I feel worse than I did after running into the fence.

  I groan quietly and then grab a sticky note from the stack on the counter. I scribble down a message so that Jackson doesn't get the wrong idea.

  Left at six since I didn't tell my parents I was staying out. Be back later today for sure. I'll text you.

  -Ally

  I stick it to the fridge and quietly let myself out through the front door. It's muggy outside, but at least it's cool. I start the rental car and let it run for a moment, allowing consciousness slowly seep into my brain.

  As much as I wanted this to just be a quick fling, Jackson's honesty is really doing a number on me. His admission about last Saturday is undoubtedly a little awkward, but I'm blown away that he had the guts to admit it. The idea of him sleeping with another woman already makes me cringe a little bit, a indicator that I'm already getting attached.

  And that's exactly what I'm not supposed to be doing.

  The drive back into town is short, but I still have enough time to think about a number of subjects. Max comes to mind, and I wonder what he's been doing while I've been gone. I think about what he and Angela have been doing in my absence.

  Had they had sex in his bed, the same bed that I'd had sex with him in plenty of times? I almost say our bed in my mind, but I realize that never happened. But it almost did.

  At least my own bed hadn't been defiled by their shenanigans. I had that.

  I'm thinking about beds a lot, and I think it's because of how tired I still am. I'm surprised that I woke up this early at all. It's like an emergency alarm clock that saved me from embarrassment in front of my parents.

  I should probably just tell them. I'm an adult and so is Jackson. No further details are needed.

  I need to resolve the matter... soon.

  The house is silent and dark when I get back, and I thank my lucky stars for that. I sneak inside and go back to bed.

  ***

  I wake a little after ten. The soreness is still there, so I do some stretching on the floor, hoping to alleviate the tension. The sun is much brighter than it was the last time I woke.

  I feel quite happy despite how bad my life has been lately.

  For the first time since I last texted Jackson, I check my phone. I've got several missed texts from Max:

  Max: Ally, we really need to talk. I'll be waiting for you outside your apartment. I know I messed up.

  Max: Ally? Did you get my last message? When should I expect you back? I'll be waiting for you.

  Max: Are you coming back tonight? I've been waiting here for two hours. I thought you said your flight got in at 7.

  I let out a sinister giggle at the thought of him suffering.

  Well, no, Max, I'm not coming back tonight. But if you wait outside the door for about two weeks, you might catch me...

  Really, I don't want to see him ever again. I know it's inevitable that we'll have to speak at some point, but I want to delay that moment as much as possible. At this point, Max is irredeemable. There is nothing he can say or do to turn things around.

  He committed an unrivaled act of defiance, cheating on a whole other level. I can barely wrap my head around it. I even considered having children with that prick.

  The thought makes me nauseous now.

  Honestly, all of this adult stuff convinces me that I'm genuinely not ready to be an adult. I also need coffee really bad.

  I force myself out of the safety of my room and out into the world—after stopping to brush my teeth.

  "Hi, mom," I say as I enter the kitchen. I can still smell coffee, and it's a good sign. She's sitting at the table, paging through a magazine, presumably something related to home improvement or gardening.

  My mom is a fourth grade teacher at the local elementary school, so she's off for the summer. The thought of having three whole months off every year makes me really jealous.

  She looks up at me and smiles. "Good morning, Ally. There's some coffee left. Do you want me to make something for you?" I'm amazed at how perky and excited she is.

  I shake my head. "No, mom, don't worry about it. You're already doing something. I'll just make some eggs."

  "I insist. Get some coffee and sit down. I'll make you an omelet." She rises to her feet and it's clear that I won't be able to stop her now.

  I acquiesce. "Okay. That sounds good." I grab the coffee and pour in some flavored creamer before sitting down. It's still fairly fresh. I'm less sore than I was earlier. However, it's clear that I won't be able to work out with Jackson today, at least not like we did yesterday.

  I'm amazed that he can go through all of that five days a week. It's so much physical intensity. Superhuman intensity, almost.

  "Have anything planned today?" she asks.

  "Not yet," I say. I hear the eggs sizzle as they hit the pan. My mouth starts watering.

  "Can you give me some help in the garden this afternoon? Nothing too major," she says. "But it's hot and it'll go faster if we work together."

  "Sure," I say. "Yeah, I can do that."

  It's almost as if she's holding my omelet hostage or something, because as soon as I answer, she's lowering it onto my plate. "It's mushroom, cheese, and spinach. Your favorite, if my memory serves me."

  "Perfect," I say, smiling. "It is." I cut into it with the fork and take a big bite. The mozzarella cheese is gooey and melty and I love it.

  "I grew that spinach in the garden," she says proudly.

  "I can tell," I say, still chewing. "It's so fresh."

  "And I got those eggs from the Amish."

  "It's really good," I say between rushed bites.

  It's a damn good omelet and far better than the scrambled eggs I would have made. As I sit and eat, I think about Jackson.

  What would it be like to be alone out there, three-hundred sixty-five days a year? What would I do without my mom and dad? If I didn't have Jeff as a brother? If I didn't have a busy city thriving around me?

  I quickly stop myself, trying to heed his advice. No use thinking about something like that, because if it happens, you just deal with it. You don't choose.

  I look over at my mom and smile. She's in her late fifties and she doesn't look a day older than forty. I don't know how she does it. People say we look alike, and I always take it as a compliment because my mom looks great, she really does.

  The omelet is gone not long after that, and I load my plate into the dishwasher. My mom takes a step toward the window and looks at the thermometer mounted on the outside of the window. "Y'know what? Maybe we should get out there right now since it's only going to get hotter. Is that okay with you?"

  I'm in a great mood, so I tell her okay. She reminds me of the fact that garden work is usually dirty, so I go into my room and find an old pair of workout shorts and a raggedy t-shirt in my dresser. I'm thrilled that they still fit after almost a decade of idly sitting in a drawer.

  I assumed I was skinnier back then—but I guess I was wrong. I'm skinnier now.

  My phone is sitting out, and so I grab it and shoot a text to Jackson, wanting to keep him in the loop:

  Me: I'm not going to be able to work out today. Too sore. :( I'll be over later.

  The phone dings before I leave the bedroom, and so I check the response:

  Jackson: Want to have dinner then? And then maybe a movie that we actually watch? ;)

  I send him an enthusiastic yes and then reconvene with my mom in the kitchen.

  We head out to the garden together, and when we get outside, I'm thankful about the decision to start early. It's so hot al
ready. My mom hands me an extra pair of work gloves and I put them on, instantly noticing my fingers sweating beneath the heavy material.

  The garden is in the back corner of the yard, a chunk of the property that my dad so graciously donated for the purpose. There are five roughly twelve foot long rows, separated by a layer of straw in each.

  I help her with some weeding first, and then I help her plant some spaghetti squash plants that she got from the farmer's market. She has an area reserved for them since they won't be ready until later in the season.

  Then, I help her pick cucumber beetles off the cucumber plants. She's trying to avoid pesticides, but she's debating spraying the cucumbers with something non-organic because of the ongoing infestation. They are causing some major damage to the leaves and it's clearly causing her a great deal of distress.

  But all of that aside, I enjoy the bonding. And then she brings up Liz.

  "That's so nice of Liz to stick around," she says, still picking at the beetles and crushing them angrily between her gloved fingers. It's kind of like a really slow, deliberate act of mass murder. "It's good to have friends like that."

  "Yeah, I'm lucky," I say, reflexively continuing the facade.

  "You should invite her over for dinner before she leaves." She's still angrily plucking and crushing as she says it.

  I gulp. "I'll see if she will."

  "That Max really is a piece of work, huh?" She changes the subject and I'm actually glad to talk about it.

  "He's a real jerk. I should have seen it coming."

  "Well, don't blame yourself," she says. "You're young and pretty. And smart. And successful. You'll find someone better."

  "I hope so," I say. "I think I'll probably just focus on my career when I get back. Keep my mind off the guy stuff. Move up in the company."

  She smiles. "That's my girl. Whenever things got tough with your father, I always buried myself in work. My job never let me down."

  "I never saw you guys fight," I say. "What are you talking about?"

  Although she's physically lost in the repetitive movements of her work, she's still mentally with me. "We definitely had our disagreements over the years. We just didn't want to fight around you and Jeff. Didn't want you to grow up in that sort of hostile environment."