The Rescue

by Izzy Daniels

  Jack draws the shades on the window before flopping down on the couch next to me. Tom stretches out on the loveseat. We’ve done this hundreds of times, it’s all familiar. But my racing pulse is a clear indication that I’ve never done it sitting next to a beautiful woman. Definitely not one who has just asked me out. One I really like . I’m at a loss for how to act. I can’t just nonchalantly sit inches away from her. With a quiet exhale, I embrace my newfound boldness. I steadily slide my hand across the soft brown couch, toward the hand resting on her thigh. Immediately, her fingers thread through my own, as if she was waiting for me. She leans a little closer, her shoulder just touching mine. All of my senses are overwhelmed by her proximity, the soft warmth of her hand, her intoxicating vanilla scent, and the sound of her shallow breathing. I try to commit everything about this moment to memory.

  A half hour passes by and I have no idea what’s going on in the movie. Which is just fine, considering this is about the tenth time Jack has picked it. Really, my attention has been elsewhere. I’ve been watching Brooke out of the corner of my eye while simultaneously willing my arm not to move. I don’t want it to even flinch, lest she take that as a sign that I want to stop holding her hand. Which is not the case at all. My fingers are a bit numb but I don’t even care. I’m holding her freaking hand . I am holding a girl’s hand like it’s no big deal. And it’s awesome . I’ve never held anyone’s hand like this. It's more than a big deal, it’s amazing. Other thoughts, new and different thoughts, have started to creep in, too. An alarming urge to nuzzle her takes over and I barely stop myself from leaning over to assault her neck with my nose. I don’t know where those thoughts came from. I’ve never been an affectionate person. I eventually force my eyes away from her smooth skin and my heart hammers loud enough to hear over Bruce Willis. Nobody looks at me though and I finally calm myself down. I don’t have the nerve to look at Jack and see if he has been picking up on the madness that’s taking place inside my head.

  About ten minutes before eleven, I lean over and whisper to her that I’ve got to go soon. She shivers and stands up, pulling my arm with her. Tom is fast asleep on the couch, as usual. When Jack sees us get up, he pauses the movie.

  “Bye, Ems. See you Tuesday, Brooke. Thanks for coming today,” he says. He waves at us and stretches his long legs out on the now empty cushions before unpausing the movie.

  I grab my bag from by the door and Brooke walks me down the driveway. As we approach my car, I start to get nervous about how to say bye to her, but she bypasses any potential weirdness and just wraps her arms around me in a hug. I can’t remember the last time I was hugged. I made it pretty clear to Jack and his family early on that I don’t like to be touched. But with her, I just want it more than anything. So I let myself hug her back, letting my cheek rest against her shoulder.

  “Will you call me tonight after work so we can work out the details of our date?” She asks, stepping back.

  “Yeah, for sure,” I reply, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Is eleven too late to call?”

  “Nope, not at all. Have a good day at work, Emma.”

  “Thanks. Bye, Brooke.” I get into my car and she watches me pull out of the driveway and start down the street. In my rearview, I see her stepping into a black jeep with big tires and I smile.

  ...

  The lunch rush goes by in a blur of Brooke. I keep thinking about her face, the curve of her lips as she smiles. The sound of her laugh. For the first time in my life, I want to stand still and just picture all of those things over and over again. I hear the bell dinging and I know food is up, so I shake myself and try to focus on work. The lull in between lunch and dinner gives me a few more things to fantasize about, like what our date is going to be like, where we will go, what she likes to do. When I finally get to turn the neon OPEN sign off at ten, I am elated. I don’t have anymore tables, even though Bonnie still has one on her side, so I get to work cleaning the rest as fast as possible. Both busboys have done an excellent job with the dishes tonight, so all that’s left is to sweep and mop. When I finish that, I tip out the boys and say goodnight to Joe as I toss my apron in the wash pile. He kisses my cheek and tells me he’ll see me tomorrow. When I get to my car, I pull out my phone from my bag and click on her name in the contact list. I mentally check for nervousness and don’t find any, only eagerness. She answers after four rings.

  “Hey, you. How was work?” Her voice over the phone so close to my ear gives me goosebumps. I lean back into my seat and smile.

  “It was good. Busy days go by faster than slow days. How was your day?”

  “Yeah, that makes sense. My day was alright. I caught up on some homework. And I thought about you, alot. So what nights do you have free?” She asks jovially. I have to swallow the sudden dryness in my mouth. She thought about me . Alot.

  “Well, on Sundays, I get off at four. Weeknights are a little harder to work with because I use them for school work. I don’t think ‘study date’ is what you had in mind. Would Sunday be okay for your schedule?”

  “Actually, study dates sound pretty awesome if they’re with you. But yeah, Sundays work for me. Is tomorrow too soon?” Brooke asks. I laugh a little at her enthusiastic tone.

  “No, tomorrow is great. I can meet you.” I tell her. “Where do you want to go?”

  “How about you let me pick you up at work and I surprise you with the rest?”

  “Hmm. Okay, that’s works for me.”

  “Perfect.” She murmurs. “This morning was really fun. I like your laugh.”

  “I like your laugh more. I’m really glad you came,” I assure her.

  “Me too. It’s late, you want me to let you go?” She asks.

  “No. I also like your voice. Can we still ask questions to get to know each other?” I inquire.

  “Sure, whatcha got?”

  “Of all the places you’ve been, where was your favorite?”

  “Wow, you don’t make these easy,” she sighs. “Redwood National Park. It’s so beautiful. I got some amazing photos there. Nothing prepares you for the inherent majesty of it all.”

  “I bet it was incredible. It’s on my list,” I remark.

  “You have a list? Where else is on the list?” Brooke asks with surprise.

  “Basically everywhere. I’d love to see the whole world. But first, Italy. I want to see it and taste it for myself.”

  “That makes sense. Italy is on my list, too, my very extensive list. I want to photograph all of that history.”

  “Have you never been out of the states before?” I ask with disbelief. She seems so well-traveled.

  “No, not yet,” she hesitates as if she’s going to say more on that subject, but she changes it. “If you were stranded on a deserted island and could have two things, what would you pick?”

  “Can I say a boat with an expensive navigational system and endless supply of fuel?”

  “No! That defeats the point of the question,” she admonishes.

  “Oh, I see. I didn’t realize there was an actual point,” I tease. “Fine then, I would bring a spile and a machete.”

  “Those are pretty good picks. I would have guessed you were going to pick sunblock and a frying pan,” she says with a laugh.

  “Ha ha. I get it. The Pale Chef. That will be the name of my cooking show. I’ll be famous,” I say sarcastically.

  “I’d watch it. If you start now, you can train me to be your sous chef.”

  “No way, you’ll steal the spotlight, you’re too pretty.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” She asks playfully.

  “Yes, Brooke. Of course I do. You’re gorgeous. You’ll have to get your own show.”

  “Aww. I think the same about you. And I don’t want my own show. I could boost your ratings with my hotness.”

  “Okay, okay. You can be on my show,” I say in defeat.

  “Yes!” She exclaims triumphantly.

  “You’re a major dork.”

  “I’m aware.”<
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  “Good,” I say. “So, as much as I like your voice, I better get home and do some homework.”

  “Alright, thank you for calling. See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Emma.”

  “See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Brooke.” I wait to hear her hang up before I press end. I smile at the windshield and turn the key in the ignition. Before I put my seatbelt on I pull my cash tips from tonight from my bag and take out a third of it. I reach under my seat and pull the duct tape off the concealed pencil bag under there. I shove the third into the pencil bag, zip it up, and replace the tape over it. When I’m certain it’s secure, I click my seat belt into place. Brooke is still on my mind as I drive home. I can’t wait to see her tomorrow for our first date.

  When I pull into the driveway, I see the light is still on in the living room. Sometimes, Uncle Robert has a few of his work buddies over. There are no other cars in the driveway now though, so they must have already gone for the night. The usual sense of dread kicks up as I push the car into park. I do my best to ignore it and grab my bag, double checking the locks on my doors. As I reach the front door, my pulse pounds. The worst part is not knowing exactly what I will be walking into. Though I expect it, how it happens is always slightly different. I hate surprises. I push open the door and I immediately realize he’s been waiting for me when I feel his wooden cane hit between my shoulders blades. Probably because I’m home later than normal. He shuts the door with a bang as I stumble into the wall, my back ablaze. He turns me around and I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he leans in close to my face.

  “Give it to me, you worthless shit,” he shouts gruffly. He emphasizes it with a fist to the stomach. I gasp and fall to the floor. I hold my stomach with one hand as I pull my bag closer to me. I pull out the wad of cash and push it into his waiting hands. He snatches it, as if I’ll try to take it back, and hobbles past me. I watch him as he attempts to count it, but he’s far too drunk and just shoves it in his jeans’ pocket. He settles back down on the recliner. “It better be enough. You’re a pathetic human being, get outta my sight.”

  I don’t say anything, just nod in agreement. I roll myself to my knees with all the effort I can muster. I can barely breathe, but I force my legs to work, managing to stand. Still hunched over, my stomach hurting too much to do more than that, I use my shoulder and the wall to guide me to my room. Once inside, I close the door quietly and lock it. I push my chair in front of the door just in case.

  I collapse to the floor and wait for the fire in my spine to ebb. Time passes, I don’t know how much, before I attempt to sit up. My stomach and back are tender enough to pull gasps from me as I struggle into pajamas. Breathing heavily, I listen at the door carefully. I can’t hear over my breathing, so I get myself under control before opening it quietly. I tiptoe down the hallway, staying flat against the cold white wall, I peek out. He’s asleep in his recliner. I delicately walk back, this time to the bathroom where I brush my teeth and wash my face. After returning to my room and replacing the lock and chair, I climb into bed with my phone. I turn it on to check my alarm for the morning and see that I have a text from Brooke.

  Can’t wait for our date tomorrow.

  It came in nearly thirty minutes ago, so I decide not to text her back in case she’s already asleep. I set my alarm and bring my phone close to face. My thoughts are of Brooke as my eyes flutter closed and sleep overtakes me.

  …

  The vibration of my alarm wakes me. It’s only been a few hours since I fell asleep, but I want to take a shower without any issues. I have a date tonight . Holding on to that happy thought, I try to sit up. My muscles are tense and my back screams at me, but I manage to make it to my dresser. I pick out my usual work outfit but then hesitate. Maybe I should bring something different to wear for the date. Something that doesn’t smell like garlic and sweat, preferably . Jack’s mom gave up a few years ago on getting me to dress girly, but she has gifted me with a few outfits over time that I would never ordinarily wear. I have only pulled them out for holidays. I glance to my closet. Somewhere in there is a long, soft cotton maxi dress that I haven’t worn yet. It’s a pretty floral print with a cinch at the waist and a gentle flowing fit that just reaches my feet. I tried it on once, when Gail first gave it to me, but when I realized how much of my shoulders and back the spaghetti straps left exposed, I quickly put it in the back of the closet. I think about the possibility, probability, of a bruise on my back and decide that now is not the time. Instead, I pick out my nicest pair of black pants and a soft gray sweater from my drawer and put them, carefully folded , in my bag.

  I move my chair away from the door and listen closely. When I ease the door open, I can hear my uncle’s snores coming from the living room. I dart across to the bathroom. Gently, I remove my pajamas and inspect my stomach and back. My stomach has no marks as usual, but my back is a different story. It’s a dark red color, splotched over my upper back from shoulder to shoulder. Glad I decided against the dress, I get in the shower and attempt to get every speck of lingering flour off my scalp. It takes a rinse and repeat before I’m satisfied.

  When I’m all dressed, I grab my bag and my school work and tread carefully down the hallway. I make sure Uncle Robert is sound asleep before sneaking past him to the front door. I shut it as gently as I can behind me and exhale forcefully when I’m finally in my car. I have a few hours until anyone will be at work, so I drive to a coffee place in town. It’s farther away, but it opens super early, even on Sundays. Coffee sounds so good. So, sooo good . I park at the Java Hut, grab my stuff, and hurry inside.

  One very tired-looking guy is behind the counter and he doesn’t even bother to say anything, he just gives me a wave as I open the glass door. I have my trusty mug tucked inside my bag, but they don’t do discounted refills for school cups, so it remains there as I order the largest size coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. When it’s ready, I take my order and sit into a booth in the back of the seating area so I can sit with my back to the wall. I pour my coffee into my mug and take a few sips. I spread out my two textbooks and my spiral notebook and start rereading my notes as I eat my oatmeal. I resurface to stretch, go to the bathroom, and get a coffee refill around seven. I’ve made great progress reading my assigned chapters and taking notes, but there’s still more to be done in case I don’t get the chance tonight. With a fresh, hot cup, I get back to work.

  An hour later, my mind is energized from the caffeine but I can’t read another sentence with my body so sore. I pack away my things and stretch gingerly as I walk back to my car. I still have time, so I drive through town to the big pond about ten minutes away. It’s one of the more peaceful and pretty spots around. It has a jogging trail around it and sturdy wooden benches. To the far right of it is an area with grills and picnic benches under a big pavilion. Later on this afternoon, there will be kids running around throwing frisbees in the grass, dads grilling hotdogs, and at least one birthday party. But for now, it’s quiet and tranquil. I pull into the deserted parking lot and find my usual spot. I brush the leaves off my favorite bench before taking a seat across from the pavillon. I pull out my phone and reread Brooke’s message from last night. My heart rate picks up a little just thinking about her. It’s still early, but I want to send her a reply so she doesn’t think I’m ignoring her.

  Me too. Also, good morning.

  I set my phone on the bench next to me and stare out at the pond. I can hear the bugs buzzing at the edges of it and I watch as a lone mallard glides across the surface of the water. The ripples cause the glittering reflection of the sun to scatter in a million different directions. It’s beautiful. The duck’s head darts under the surface as I watch. There are tall trees surrounding the water with only the asphalt jogging trail between them. I see an adorable dark gray bunny hop out from the trees, pause and then hop straight back in. The jogger coming around the bend must have startled it. The buzz against the hard wood jolts me from my observations. I snatch it, hoping to see a response from Brooke. />
  Good morning, beautiful. It’s so early... why are you awake? She texts. My stomach flutters over the word beautiful. It takes me a full minute and many rereadings before I remember to reply.

  No rest for the wicked. Did I wake you, sleeping beauty? I tease her.

  Wasn’t she woken up by a kiss? I like the sound of that. You seem more princess than ‘wicked’ though. If you’re not getting rest, it might be because of that damned pea. She jokes back. My cheeks heat at the image of kissing her awake and the beating of feet on pavement alert me to the jogger’s approach. I nod as he jogs right on by, I don’t see if he nods back because I am already working on a reply.

  Noted, checking for peas now. I should have pegged you for a fairytale lover. I type out quickly.

  What can I say, I have a thing for princesses. They’re hot. A startled laugh escapes me. I’ve really never met anyone like her.

  Well, enough said then. I’ll definitely remember that. I’m heading to work shortly, I’ll see you around 4?

  You bet you will. Hope you have a good day, Em.

  Thanks you too, B.

  8

  Brooke

  Longest. Day. Ever. It’s still only three and I’ve been counting down the seconds until I can finally go see Emma. I tried to distract myself by going over to In Bloom and showing Barbara the new site and how she will receive her online orders. It might be antiquated, but I wanted to bring Emma a flower for our first date. I can only assume that, since she’s never been involved with someone, she has never been given flowers as a romantic gesture. I had no idea which ones sent the right message as I didn’t want it to come across as corny or trying too hard. Barbara gave me a brief tutorial and I was drawn immediately to the cornflower: the beautiful blue reminded me of Emma’s eyes and Barbara said that it often symbolized friendship and its color calmed worries and expressed a sentiment of ‘be gentle with me’. Those were all things I wanted Emma to know, that I wanted her friendship and that I would treat her with care. I picked a single flower, for simplicity’s sake, and Barbara insisted it was on the house before wishing me luck with my date.