Transfer_An Urban Fantasy Romance

by Jordan C. Robinson

  Twenty-Five

  Will

  The next morning, I woke to an empty bed for the first time in about a week. It was odd going back to sleeping alone, even if she had only been there for a few nights. I rolled out of bed and got ready for the day, the entire time spent thinking about Kristen. My thoughts ran wild—the possibility that she had met another guy at the bar, or that Cooper had shown up. Anything and everything that could have come between our budding relationship made an appearance.

  The last text I received from her was an acknowledgment to my saying I couldn’t make it. It was a simple, “ok thanks,” accompanied by a smiley face. Smiley faces didn’t get sent when there was a problem. Once again, I was being irrational. I shook my head in the mirror and finished brushing my teeth. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the most paranoid of them all?

  And now I was quoting Snow White. It could have been worse, I suppose. I threw on my jeans and T-shirt and headed outside to make it to my appointment. I sent a quick text to Kristen before leaving, a quick, “Missed you last night,” making sure to include the smiley face.

  I arrived at the doctor’s office and checked my phone for the thirteenth time. No response. The worry started to creep in, but nothing worth panicking over. Sitting in the waiting room, I struggled not to let my mind flash back to the Molly situation. That had been heartbreaking on a few levels and too similar to this moment to want to dwell on it now.

  Fifteen minutes into the wait, and I went full flashback mode.

  The closing shift at the call center made eight hours feel like twelve. After five p.m., hardly anyone called, so it was nice to mess around on your phone, but time dragged beyond belief. On this one particular shift, I hadn’t received a text from Molly, whom I had been seeing for the past few weeks. I had texted her that morning before I made the dreadful forty-five-minute commute to work and had heard radio silence ever since. We usually texted throughout the day, so my worry flag was up, but only slightly. I managed to busy myself with work.

  Eventually, with about two hours left in the day, she had finally texted me. It was a typical message, and I didn’t sense anything was up. My response message, after I had audibly sighed with relief, was one that joked about my worry that she was breaking up with me. Imagine my surprise when I opened her next text and it went something like “Well . . .” with a wall of text behind it. My gut was right and my spirit was crushed. Those final two hours I couldn’t focus on anything work-related. I was devastated.

  And so as my new psychiatrist called me back, snapping me out of my daydream, I was worried that I had blown it already with Kristen. I placed a hand on my stomach, willing it to relax as I walked back into the office.

  An hour later, I was out of the office with my prescriptions and a bitter smile. I had checked my phone after the session and Kristen had responded. She said she had missed our sleepover too and that she had slept over at her friends. She also asked what I was up to today. Drained emotionally, I told her I was at my new psychiatrist. I didn’t have the energy to beat around the bush. I didn’t think I had mentioned any mental health issues, but now she knew for sure.

  I hailed a bus home, and along the way I attempted to tell myself it was a happy ending for the day. She had responded and hadn’t Molly-ed me. We seemed to still be going strong. But if that’s all it took to give me what felt like an ulcer, could I keep doing this? Led by my emotional scars of the past, my irrationality would continue to torture me.

  I should protect myself. I pulled up the motto I had tried to adopt once. “Be ready for the detach.”

  Could I do that? This morning was torture and I didn’t want to spoil my last year. I’d stop the river of my feelings with a dam if it was the last thing I did. For once, I’d stop my heart before I got crushed.

  As the bus neared my house, I ran my hands through my hair and gave a small manufactured smile. I stood up when the bus came to a stop, taking a deep breath. This was what I came to Portland for. A new start where my demons wouldn’t follow me. Here, building a wall around my heart would be possible.

  I neared the stairs to exit the bus when the elderly driver spoke. “Watch your step, wouldn’t want to see you get hurt now.”

  I reached the sidewalk and, turning back to her, gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you.” I’d do my best not to get hurt. I’d do my best.

  Kristen

  Will had never come outright and said it, but I should have known. Maybe I did, but I just pushed it away. There were hints. Did I know all the details of what made him struggle with One Year Left? I couldn’t say, as I had never stopped to think about it. Regardless, it wouldn’t change anything. But I was worried. I didn’t want to misconstrue anything or jump to conclusions, but maybe I should be more careful with him. I had come quite close to giving myself over to this almost-stranger. Granted, he was incredibly wonderful, but I had only known him for two weeks. Was that hesitancy why it took me so long to text him this morning? I couldn’t be sure; my hands and brain didn’t seem to be in sync today.

  The exterminator had called me today and told me my bedroom was ready. I could sleep there again until we had a chance to talk in person. It would be good for us to figure out where we were going and what was holding us back. Although I hoped he was able to articulate his concerns better than I could mine. My thoughts were a whirlwind.

  Why couldn’t I trust him completely? I had to admit that although a lack of trust was fueled by guys I’ve known in the past, the original fire was started within.

  Years ago, my father and mother split up. My dad had cheated on her. I saw the way it affected her, day in and day out. I cried along with her many of those days and nights. She did her best to hide it, but I’ll never forget the day the ember for my mistrust truly sparked.

  The skies were a dreary gray with a wind that played a loud percussion beat on the shutters of the house. It was the type of storm that made pets cower. The rain had been pouring down for hours and showed no sign of stopping. I watched out of the window as I hoped to see my dad’s car pulling into the driveway. Seven o’clock came and went with no sign of him. The pit of my stomach knotted and continued to tighten until my mom came up the stairs, calling for me. I went to her, and she told me to quit watching the window. She walked into my room and closed the blinds. She asked me to come read with her. We went down to the living room and tried to lose ourselves in books by the fire, but the book didn’t hold my attention. I couldn’t resist glancing at my mother every page or so. The tear that slid down her cheek broke my heart. I wanted to throw my book in the flames and curse my father. I wanted to punch something. That night I went to sleep with clenched fists and tears staining my pillow.

  I cursed my father that night, and as other men began to hurt me, I cursed them as well. That ember my dad had created was now a full-grown forest fire, and I’d have to do something about it, or I’d have nothing left.

  For now, I would have to play it safe until Will and I could talk.

  Twenty-Six

  Will

  So there I was Saturday evening, putting on my big boy pants before the big event. I didn’t know anyone who was going to be there. Kristen had said to bring Daichi, but he was busy with Erin. Kristen had texted me, saying that she had wanted to talk, but we didn’t get the chance before her birthday party.

  I hated waiting for social events. My stomach fluttered with the wings of a thousand butterflies as I waited for the clock to tell me it was time to go. It ticked slowly as I sat on my bed, my hands clammy, and my stomach churning. I couldn’t tell if I was nervous or if I had a stomach ache.

  With my unease building, I left the house so I’d show up a little early to the bar. I was sure to take my time along the route and managed to take a roundabout-enough way that it was actually dark when I arrived. Dark, but still too early.

  I walked up to the bar and went right in. Still too early for a bouncer, apparently. Was this a bar or a club? I hadn’t asked. I chuckled internally r
egarding my absolute ineptitude at having a social life. Farther inside, there were people eating at tables situated around the room. I looked around and didn’t see an upstairs, so I imagined the tables would be removed shortly to make room for a dance floor. I took a seat at the bar.

  The bar itself looked typical, as far as I knew. All the alcohol was stocked behind the counter, and the bartender was outfitted with one of those bottle openers tucked into a sweatband. Turning around on my stool, I scanned the rest of the bar. There weren’t many decorations, just black walls and fixtures that I presumed would be used later for dancing. In the back, there was a small stage where a DJ could set up and play. Or girls could get up and dance—maybe both, I wasn’t sure.

  “So what’ll it be?” the bartender asked when she reached me.

  “Yeah, uh . . . I have no idea. Can you surprise me?”

  She smiled and gave a small laugh. “Okay, how’s an Orange Crush sound?”

  “Isn’t that a soda?” I asked with a smile that said, ‘Don’t think I’m an idiot.’

  She shook her head, laughed, and gave me the drink. I then tipped her, my favorite part of getting drinks, probably the only good part actually. Sports were playing on most of the TVs set up behind the bar. So I utilized my skill of watching sports to pass the time. I sipped my drink and watched sports until I realized my drink was completely gone.

  Fortunately, I was saved from having to order another by a hug from behind.

  “Will! You look like you’re at a funeral,” Kristen’s voice wafted over me.

  “Bars are not my forte.” I turned around in my seat. She took the one next to me.

  “Here, let me introduce you to my friends so you can get it over with. Just remember they think you’re cute, and compared to the other guys they’ve met, you’re a Greek god.”

  I’ll take that, I thought as a few girls came over. Chris was the only one I recognized.

  Kristen introduced me to all her friends who were nice enough. They asked me all sorts of questions, my favorite being the ones about the forest date. I actually felt pretty good when they were complimenting my wonderful date-planning skills. But maybe that warmth was actually my first drink kicking in.

  I didn’t know how long the girls were there. I had lost track of time, but they left soon enough to go dance on the newly revealed dance floor. That left me alone with Kristen again. An awkward silence fell over us.

  “So when is this talk gonna happen?” I asked, playing with my empty drink.

  “That’s a good question. The girls told me to ‘make it quick’ because they want me to come dance with them.”

  “We can just have fun tonight, forget about everything and talk tomorrow—whatever comes from it then won’t ruin your birthday.”

  She smiled and hugged me again. “That sounds like a winning plan.”

  I hopped off my seat and gave her a proper hug before pulling her in for a kiss. “And no matter what, you’ll always remember that kiss. No, that one wasn’t memorable enough. One second.” I gave her my best smoldering eyes that just ended with a goofy smile on my part.

  “Oh, that’s definitely memorable.” She winked.

  “Go have fun,” I said. “I’ll see you around once I’ve had another drink.” I began to turn back toward the bar. “Actually, wait. What kind of thing should I be ordering here?”

  She gave a beautiful-looking laugh that I regret not hearing due to the music. Then, she leaned over the bar and said a few words to the bartender. What a relief—I don’t have to order.

  Kristen finished ordering, ran her hand over my leg, and took off to join her friends.

  With my attention back on the bar and its multitude of TVs, I couldn’t discern how long I spent there with my second drink. I looked down, and soon enough had three empty drinks in front of me. The first hour or two was a blur until someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Hey, man,” said a guy sitting next to me. I hadn’t seen him come in or sit down.

  “Hey,” I replied.

  “Adam.” He extended his hand.

  The guy leaned back and the girl next to him offered hers. “I’m Anne. Looks like you’re a little down, pal. Need two kind strangers to help you out? We offer free consultations between the hours of ten o’clock and dawn.” She smiled, displaying all her teeth.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” I turned and was shocked to see the dance floor absolutely packed.

  “Yep, it got pretty busy in here while you were in your trance. What’s got you down?” Adam asked.

  “Girl troubles. But one where I’m the issue . . . I think.”

  “Ah, those can be a problem, but Adam and I have a pretty good success rate with our consults. Let’s hear it.” She hopped down from her seat and leaned against Adam.

  I told them everything. I started with how I initially came to Portland to live out the last year of my life and proceeded through to how my irrationalities were breaking the foundation of a good thing. I told them how I should have never gotten into it, how my gut was right, and I was dumb to taint my Portland year with the same nonsense that had corrupted Maryland. As I wound down with the story, my body felt lighter, and even though I was no closer to a solution, it felt good to vent.

  “I’ve been beaten down every which way. I can’t afford to try anymore. I am so damaged that I exhaust myself thinking about this. I honestly don’t know how I can do this when I feel like no one operates like I do. No one understands. Mentally, I am so alone.”

  When I finished, Anne nodded and Adam ordered drinks for us. Anne was the first to speak.

  “Hey, Will, it seems like you’re swimming against the current, and I understand—your feelings are totally valid. But you can beat this.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said, handing me a bottle. “Anne is pretty messed up in the head.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I’m probably even worse. But it is possible to beat it, just like my big-grinning buddy here said.”

  “Here, take our numbers down. We’re gonna blow your mind with advice, but you might need further consultations. Love wasn’t built in a day,” Anne said.

  “Rome—love—same thing, right?” Adam said to me.

  “Anyway,” Anne said, ignoring Adam. “The way to tackle this is as follows. We are only bar psychologists, but it sounds like you two could be good for each other. You two did well with the “have fun tonight” pact. Don’t want to grumble up her birthday. But tomorrow when you talk, I want you to lay it all out on the line. Tell her what you need, which sounds like communication and openness. Honesty, basically. A lot of it.”

  “Yes, I agree. Although I’m not sure if grumble was the right word to use there, but hey, who knows?” Adam threw up his hands in mock exasperation.

  “We’re gonna go dance now,” Anne said. “But do use those numbers.”

  “Yeah, buddy. Use those numbers!” Adam exclaimed, turning to Anne. “Let’s go move, woo!” He chugged the rest of his drink, and the two of them disappeared into the dance crowd.

  An undetermined amount of time later—it could have been a second or five minutes—I blinked, snapping out of processing the information from my new friends. It was good advice. Better than anything I would have said without them. What did I have to lose by putting all my cards on the table? Well, other than my heart. Would that be just opening me up for further pain?

  I dismissed my thoughts, and for the first time since I walked in, I hopped off my seat, put down my drink, and danced into the sea of people. I danced until my feet were sore. I danced with Kristen and actually enjoyed being in public. That night I discovered the key to enjoying bars was to go with someone whose company you loved. That was a wonderful discovery. I just hoped it wasn’t too late. I even danced into Adam and Anne. They were even wackier on the dance floor. At the very least, even if I didn’t take their advice, their energy was contagious. I wasn’t used to dancing, but I pushed through my anxiety and surprised myself with a good time.

  Twen
ty-Seven

  Will

  Eventually the night came to an end and it was time to go home. I decided to walk, I couldn’t say that I was entirely over the car crash.

  A few minutes into the walk, I couldn’t tell if it was my paranoia or if I was actually being followed. I looked back countless times but there was always nothing there. Had my followers ducked into an alley? I continued walking, regretting my choice more every second. I used to enjoy the walk home from college parties; it gave me a chance to decompress and think. However, I didn’t have a deranged organization after me back then, so I likely wasn’t going to get any good thinking in.

  Looking at my phone, Google Maps predicted ten more minutes of walking. I picked up the pace. The closer I got to home, the better off I’d be. Although on second thought, I was almost killed on my front porch last time.

  A tinny noise rang out from behind me. I turned and watched as the wind took a can from the alley into the street. It flipped end over end and I found myself analyzing whether it was indeed a wind flip or flips caused by someone kicking the can. I shook my head. The paranoia was real. What if PISP never attacked me again? Would I never be able to walk alone without peeking over my shoulder at every sound?

  Smiling grimly, I faced forward and resumed my walk. A man turned the corner. We would cross paths in seconds. My heart thumped in my chest. My mind raced for the best action here. Cross the street? Just walk by him? My indecision caused me to simply walk by him, tense as a guitar string about to snap. He wore a coat, one that was on the edge of being too warm for the weather. A black hat sat atop his head, leaving only a small view of his face. I wouldn’t be able to recognize him in a lineup.