The Girl He Needs

by Kristi Rose

  “Shh,” he’d whispered and put a finger covered with dark ink up to his lips, his eyes darting quickly between me and the door I was holding open. “Don’t tell mom and dad. That’s all kinds of wrong. All kinds. Go. You must go. Hurry before you’re seen.”

  It all becomes clear. The odd late night wanderings and rants he’d started having, the angry moments that were unexpected and nonsensical. I pull my hand from his and hurriedly brush away the tears coursing down my face.

  “Yeah,” he says and slides into the booth next to me, his arm coming to rest across my shoulders. “Mom and dad found the stuff in my closet.” He pauses a beat. “And my apartment. But not until after the car accident.”

  “The accident,” I say on a sob. “That’s what started it all?”

  “That’s what solved it all. From what I understand, the cops asked mom if I was taking drugs. I suppose they searched everything and that’s when they found the stuff in my closet. The pictures and words.” His Adam’s apple bobs from the heavy gulp. “I’m surprised they put it together as quickly as they did. It’s because they did that I didn’t go into psychosis.”

  “I didn’t know, Will. I swear it. I would have—” I search his face while looking for my answer. I would have done what? Something more than the actual nothing I really did.

  “I know that now.”

  I look into his eyes and see a person who used to be as familiar to me as I am to myself. But I see more. I see a death in his eyes, a loss of that boy who used to quote Star Trek and the teenager who found his passion as the editor for the school paper. I also see a weary survivor that will persevere. All this time I thought my brother was out living a full life, a grand adventure, and I’m not sure how to process these new facts. I’m not sure what to make of it all because what once was...is now something entirely new.

  Another tear slips out and slides down my face. “After your accident, you left so quickly. I couldn’t help but think that it was all of us you didn’t want to be around. Then I started to look at us. To really look at us and I could see why. But now, knowing this, I feel as if I failed you. You needed us and it was our job to help you.” I brush away more tears.

  Will shakes his head and hands me a napkin. “It wasn’t your job to help me. Besides, even if you could’ve, I don’t know if I was open to it. That night I drove my car off the bridge I was hallucinating. When I came to and actually got in my right mind, the one thing I couldn’t argue was that as mom and dad’s demands became greater, my grip on reality slid further away. My shrinks talked about triggers and in my mind, I couldn’t afford to stay home any longer. All I could think about was getting away so it would never happen again.”

  “Has it? Happened again?” I reach up, grab his hand, and give it a squeeze.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve been vigilant about my meds and have some incredibly good doctors. They manage my TBI and the schizophrenia. In fact, I was selected for this new trial of meds that won’t have this stupid side effect.” He points to his jaw. The repetitive sliding motion he does has become a part of who he is as much as the scar that runs across his head.

  He searches my face. “I’ll admit that I thought you were totally avoiding my diagnosis. Trying to pretend it wasn’t real, but then Daanya pointed out that maybe you didn’t know—”

  I shake my head wildly. “I didn’t! I emailed you all the time. I tried to call too. You answered with short replies and I thought that meant that I was bothering you.” In a flash, everything is clear and the wall between us is suddenly gone. I have scaled the obstacle without realizing it. Or perhaps, Will scaled his side and met me half way.

  Will shrugs. “I was scared you were a trigger for me. That’s why I didn’t show up the other day. “

  The last thing I want is to make my brother sicker.

  “Am I?”

  He shrugs again. “I dunno. We’ll see. But I’d like to have you in my life. I missed you. So until we know we’ll just take it slow. OK?”

  We’re interrupted by the waitress and place our orders. I suspect we all just order the first thing we see on the menu. When she’s out of range I reach across to touch my brother, who’s moved back to sit next to Daanya. “I’m here if you need anything.”

  “Are you? You travel around a lot.”

  I don’t get the vibe that he’s pushing back, questioning my dedication to him, but that he’s feeling me out for my plans.

  “I was looking for you. Partly. I was also looking for me.” Such declarations are hard for me. They leave me feeling raw and exposed.

  “You found one, how about the other?” He leans back against the booth, his arm across the back.

  I shrug one shoulder. “Bits maybe. It’s coming together slowly. What counts is having you back in my life, but any time that I’m...” It’s hard to say, knowing I could be a cause to his mental illness. “...a problem, you let me know.”

  “If you are a trigger then you need to be prepared for me to shut you out again. At least until I can get a handle on things.” He meets my gaze, but I can’t hold it and look away.

  I nod my head, blinking to keep back the rain of tears.

  “You can’t take it personally,” Daanya adds softly.

  But how can I not? “Sure,” I say, amazed I’m able to force out the words. I can barely get air in and out.

  “Jo, I live every day on the edge. Fighting chaos and risk with one foot in reality and the other in a world full of hallucinations. Every day I choose to wake up is a risk for both me and the people I love.” He looks at Daanya and strokes a hand down her cheek. “I’ve learned that my journey is found in staying and seeing things out. It’s about living the life that’s been dealt me and making it everything I imagine or more.” He leans over and kisses Daanya gently on the lips.

  I try not to be jealous of what they have together, honestly. But it’s hard not to want a connection like that to a person who feels for you what you do for them. Sure, Brinn and I have a connection but it’s sex-based. When it comes down to the person he wants to take a risk on, it won’t be me. As much as he’s too straight-laced for me, I’m too outside the lines for him. Maybe we’ve moved a little further away from having no strings but they certainly haven’t turned into heartstrings.

  “So you’ll understand if things between us progress slowly?” Will asks as the waitress delivers our food.

  I nod. The truth is a part of me does understand.

  But, part of me doesn’t.

  Chapter 19

  I run my hands down the smooth curves of Zach’s beat-to-shit scooter while trying to tune him out. Zach’s lamenting the woes of the machine while casting furtive glances back at the hangar. It’s clear this is more about what Brinn will say than the flaws of the vehicle.

  Brinn comes out of the hangar, aviator shades already covering his eyes, but I can tell he’s looking at us. I feel it in all my important parts. Zach tries to take the keys but I snatch my hand away and grip them in my fist.

  “He’ll kill me,” he pleads.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Gesturing for him to step back, I straddle the cracked faux leather seat and let my skirt fall open at the part, revealing most of my thigh and the new henna I created from the pattern Daanya drew out for me. After lunch, we spent the remainder of the day together at the beach and later cooking out at my house. It seemed so natural and normal that I almost forgot our relationship was held together with years-old duct tape.

  But it’s hard to forget you might send your brother into a psychotic state.

  “I can’t imagine why you want to sell this. I love it,” I tell Zach as I watch Brinn stride purposefully toward us. I can almost hear his teeth gnash from here.

  “Because it’s a money pit, because it looks better than it runs, because it’s the smart thing to do,” Brinn says and tucks his hands in his pant pockets. “Get off that thing, Josie.”

  “I want it,” I tell him.

&nbs
p; He shakes his head. “You’re not getting it. You’d be—”

  “I already told her everything that’s wrong with it and that I couldn’t sell it to her in good faith,” Zach says.

  “Good man, Smitty.” Brinn nods at him.

  “Hold up, you two. I’m glad you both have it worked out, but you’ve forgotten one important element. What I want. And what I want is to buy this.” I toss my hair over my shoulder, dismissing them both as I slide the key into the ignition.

  “Josie,” Brinn says and takes a step toward me.

  “Shut it.” I put a hand out to stop him. “I already know that the throttle can stick or the brakes may be unreliable. I know there’s a problem with the fuses and sometimes the lights don’t turn on. I still want it. I have an interview with the cruise company and if I get it I’m gonna need something to get around different ports. This is perfect.”

  I turn the engine over. It roars to life.

  “Amazing,” Brinn mumbles.

  “What?” I call out as I rev the throttle.

  “I said you’re lucky it started on the first try. How’s that gonna work for you when you’re stuck in some port and it won’t start?”

  I adjust myself in the seat and push the scooter forward, releasing the stand. With my gentle turn of the throttle, the scooter eases forward at a lazy crawl. I pull my feet up to rest on the running board.

  They watch me ride around the large parking lot, navigating between the cars, over the dirt patches, and looping through again. With trepidation, I slowly increase my speed and revel in the sensation that comes from having my hair whip behind me like a flag.

  “Hey, make sure the brakes work before you accelerate more,” Brinn yells.

  “Yes, Dad.” I test the brakes by jerking the scooter forward for twenty yards. “I think the brakes are OK.” I do another series of stop-starts, making the tires squeak each time. When I pass Brinn, I laugh. His hands are on his hips, his lips a thin line.

  “Did you say there were brake problems?” I jerk by him, smiling and watching the muscle in his jaw tick.

  He shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest.

  I twist the handle and accelerate, pushing the scooter to the limit.

  “Oh, oh no, Look at me. Living on the edge.” I weave around them, shaking the scooter from side to side.

  “Slow down,” he says.

  “No.”

  “I don’t have the time to take you to the ER.” He whips off his shades.

  I weave through the cars and try to get the speed up by crossing the parking lot in a straight line. I hunch low and hear Zach laughing. When I look over, Brinn shoves him in the shoulder. I lean into the curve and catch some gravel that causes the scooter to wobble. When I come out of the curve, I sit up straight and meet Brinn’s glare.

  “Guess what, Dad, the brakes aren’t working.” There’s a patch of gravel ahead of me.

  “Seriously?” He hands his shades to Zach.

  “Seriously. Get ready to catch.” I weave around the patch of gravel and make a large arc, turning back toward Brinn.

  “Catch what?” he calls while walking toward me. Goofball doesn’t think I’m serious.

  “Catch me, dumbass.” Timing is everything. I flip both legs to one side and force my skirt part open wider, knowing I’ve ripped it a few inches. I’d take it off if I could because I’m going to need mobility. I stand on the small running board, one foot in front of the other, distributing my weight so the scooter is balanced, before I bend over the dash, testing the brakes one last time with no success.

  “Get ready, McRae.”

  He steps closer, widens his stance, and opens his arms.

  Fifteen miles per hour doesn’t seem all that fast until you’re speeding toward someone and planning to leap into their arms.

  “I’m coming in hot,” I yell and can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. I’m within a breath of him, certain I’ve run his toes over, when I let go of the handles and spring from the footrest, arms wide.

  Our bodies collide with a thud. He rocks back slightly while pulling me in tight, absorbing the impact. We stare at each other.

  “I knew you’d catch me.”

  He tosses back his head, laughing, but the sound of the scooter colliding with the hanger and the echo bouncing around the parking lot cuts the laughter short.

  Somber, we look at each other.

  I say to Zach, “I’m totally buying that scooter.”

  And Brinn drops me on my ass and walks back to the office.

  * * * *

  The voice memo from Jayne cracks me up.

  “Fuck all, Josie, I nearly want to gouge my eyes out. Please, please, please meet me for food. My life is in your hands. If I continue with this inventory another moment, I can make no promises as to what will happen. I’m holding matches.”

  I text her with the name of a restaurant and a plan to meet there in thirty minutes, then walk to Brinn’s office.

  “I’m headed out. Meeting Jayne for dinner.” I stand in the doorway of his office. He hasn’t looked at me all day, not after shouting some heated words about me buying Zach’s scooter.

  “How you getting there?” His face is impassive as our eyes meet. My car, still in the shop, won’t be ready until tomorrow and he picked me up and brought me to work this morning. Jayne’s food invitation comes at a perfect time. Avoiding him is the right move. It’s time to start laying the foundation for my exit. His anger at today’s events is a clear indication that we’re getting too attached. My one simple goal is to exit from all this on a high note, leaving warm memories in my wake.

  “I’m walking. It’s just down the street.”

  “I’ll give you a lift.” He closes a file and straightens the folders on his desk.

  “I can walk. You stay here and get caught up.” Because of being short staffed and our unexpected trip south, he’s even further behind on recruiting for a mechanic and a pilot, his Ph.D. application, and the books.

  “I need a break from these books.” He stands then comes toward me. I step away from the door, out of reach. He flicks off the light and gestures for me to lead the way.

  “Avoiding the books seems to be going around.” I think of Jayne. “I can take on some of that for you.” I hope he sees it as the peace offering it is.

  “I might do that actually. I seem to have lost the drive for some of this.” He gestures to the building, looks at me, and snaps his mouth closed. As if he forgot he’s mad at me.

  I want to touch him, run my hand down his arm, and give him comfort of any sort. Lately, he’s become more disenchanted with the business and particularly in the runaround he’s been getting from Mark. But I also want to punch some sense into him and knock his bad mood right out of him. He has so much going for him yet only sees one thing.

  Because I’m torn on which one he deserves the most, I do neither.

  We walk out of the office in silence. Perhaps it the stress of the heavy quiet but I find my patience is thin. I’m not the sort to tiptoe around stuff. Not anymore. To do so rubs me, leaving me raw as if I’m covered in hives.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say. He won’t look at me. His jaw is set. I imagine if I move closer I’ll hear his teeth grinding.

  I’m the one who should be mad. Telling me what I can and can’t buy.

  “Did you hear me? I said, ‘thank you.’”

  “I heard.” He sounds as if he’s pushing out the words between his teeth.

  “Well you don’t have to be rude,” I mumble and reconsider kicking him in the shin.

  I wait for Brinn to lock the hangar and to check and double check to make sure all the doors are secure. The evening is cool and behind the building, the fading sun waits to dip into the waters of the Atlantic. I stretch my arms over my head and entertain the idea of riding my bike to the beach for some exercise, once dinner is over. Brinn finishes his checking routine and gestur
es for me to lead the way to his truck. An idea takes root.

  He opens the passenger door of his truck and offers his hand to help me in. So sweet. Chivalry at its finest in this one. I make use of his hand because the lift helps and I know touching me makes him horny, even something this simple. He slams my door as I reach across the space to pull up the lock and push open the door for him.

  He gets in with heavy movements and sighs. “Why do you even need the scooter?”

  “I told you about the ports, and the scooter will be fun.”

  “Until you’re dead on the road and then the fun will be over.” He puts a hand on the steering wheel and turns to me.

  His worry is sweet, and looking at his face, with his concerned eyes, makes me hot for him. I scan the parking lot and buildings. The security lights are off and the area is void of cars except for his.

  “Remember what I said about having some fun? Spontaneity and all that?”

  “Yeah, but buying a scooter is not being spontaneous.”

  “I’m not talking about the scooter.” I climb up on the seat, pull my skirt up to my thighs, the part opening to reveal my hip, and I step across, straddling his lap. I ease down, facing him, and tuck my skirt around us but have it raised high enough so that my panties are pressed against his jeans.

  “Oh,” he says and wraps his hands around my waist.

  “We have thirty minutes before Jayne will get to the restaurant. Knowing her, we really have forty-five.”

  I work the buttons down his shirt while I press a soft kiss to his mouth. I flick my tongue out and lick his top lip before deepening the kiss and bringing my tongue to meet his.

  He pulls me close; his hands come to rest cupping my rear, pushing me harder against his crotch.

  “Have you ever had sex in a truck?” I ask when we break the kiss. Our faces are close so I whisper.

  “Uh, yeah. Isn’t that where every high school kid has sex?” He laughs and I pull back to look at him.