The Price of Penny

by T. C. Rybicki

  I really felt like it was best if I left that moment. I don’t know what I’d been hoping for this evening but whatever it was, it wasn’t happening. I faced the harsh reality for a change.

  I walked to the coffee table, grabbed my mug and took it to the kitchen. Penny followed. As we stood at the sink, washing out our cups together, she told me something I never expected her to say. “That was Jordan, my fiancé. He died too, a week before our wedding.”

  I don’t know why I told Chet the truth. I never talked about Jordan to anyone that didn’t know the story already. Once I started, I coudn’t stop.

  “He was my best friend the moment we moved to Monterey. We never realized we were even falling in love, we were so young. All I knew, was I had to see or talk to Jordan every single day or my insides ached. He was a military brat same as me, so he knew a lot about starting over, and the solitude of starting fresh in new locations. We clicked in everything: movies, music, books. He wanted to be a therapist too, only physical therapy. We imagined going to college together, and getting jobs at the same place, maybe even opening our own therapy clinic one day.”

  “Of course, I never wanted to be married at seventeen or eighteen or even before I was in my twenties, but junior year, Jordan was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer. He got weak, lost weight and went downhill rapidly, but then he had a brief remission. There was a very short time of renewed hope. I was at his side as much as our parents would allow. The majority of the time he was too sick to even stay at home. I still held out hope. He was strong before the cancer. He’d been on almost every sports team our school had. I thought Jordan was invincible. If anyone could beat this, he could. I believed in him and we were both from families of strong faith backgrounds, so I organized prayer circles at our school and I went to church each and every week to beg God to give him another chance.”

  “Jordan surprised me one night in the hospital. I don’t know how he managed a candlelight dinner, but he did. He had a ring and everything. He was nervous about giving it to me because it was old. He hoped I didn’t mind it was a hand-me-down because it belonged to his great-grandmother. I still wear the ring around a chain that I hide inside my clothes most days. I loved it. The fact that there was a history behind the ring made it even more special. My parents had concerns, but they knew our love was real. Jordan was so ill, we really had to rush the wedding. He had come to terms that he was probably not going to pull through. I never had settled for that prognosis. I still believed in miracles. However, he said he didn’t want to leave this earth without me being his wife and that’s what I wanted too. I wanted to make him happy, so I wasn’t thinking about much else. We weren’t going to do anything grand or elaborate, but even simple plans took a little bit of time and organizing. Our pastor needed a free weekend. We had to get approval from the hospital to hold the wedding in the small chapel and then invite guests, set up a small reception, order food and the cake. We finally had it all put together. Jordan was so happy. It was the best he looked in a month when I told him everything was set up for the following Saturday.”

  “I laid in his arms until a nurse came in and told me visiting hours were up. I kissed him goodbye and he told me he couldn’t wait for the honeymoon. I wasn’t sure that was actually happening but one doctor said a release might be in the near future if he kept showing signs of improvement. We’d never been completely physical like that since we were both a little old-fashioned. The cancer diagnosis came soon after our intense friendship turned romantic. I’d gone from experiencing my first taste of making out with the one I loved to holding a basin in front of his lips, so he could throw up because the drugs were so strong, they wreaked havoc on his body. Everything changed in such a short time, but my love for him only grew. No one could ever be as perfect for me as Jordan. He knew my innermost workings, shared my hopes and dreams. I went home that evening with my thoughts on the silver lining in the midst of our dark cloud. The love of my life would be my husband. We had no other guarantees, but at least we’d share that momentous occasion. It all came crashing down on me by the next day. I slept in for a change. Mum was on the phone with Jordan’s older brother when I came in the kitchen. The look on her face said it all. I screamed and cried. There was no way. He was fine when I left the night before. He was getting better. We were getting married in six days. I was entitled to a miracle. There was just no way that is how it should happen. I wasn’t even there by his side to hold his hand and whisper my love in his ear.”

  I didn’t know where the words came from. I hadn’t spilled my guts like this to anyone, but I stood paralyzed in front of the sink with the water still running and I told Chet every last detail. He remained still the whole time and never interrupted. As soon as I stopped talking, he reached over and switched off the water. The next thing I knew, my face was buried into his shirt and I sobbed openly.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Penny. I’m so, so sorry.” He smoothed down my curls. Usually, by the end of the day, my hair went a little wild. I felt so foolish, this was completely out of character for me. I never planned to talk about Jordan today, especially not to him, but I couldn’t stop for some reason. I wanted to get myself together and push away from Chet, but there was something about his hug that made me want to linger a little longer. I kept saying in my head, three more seconds, then I would count to ten and I still was there, finding comfort in Chet’s arms.

  I took a few slower breaths and finally got the courage to disconnect myself. I quickly made excuses for my emotional behavior. “I am so sorry. This is far more than you asked for. You only bargained for coffee.”

  Chet didn’t look as perplexed as he should be, he wiped a tear off each cheek. He grabbed my hand and walked me back to the living room. This time we sat on the couch together. He never let go of my hand. “If you want to tell me more, it’s okay or maybe you want to cry, don’t worry, I have a mom and a sister. I’m used to women crying.”

  “I bet you are. Wonder how many ladies in the universe you’ve actually made cry?”

  He smiled and it was contagious. We sat there a few moments looking goofy at each other.

  “Thanks, I got it all out for now. I apologize. That came out of nowhere. It’s been a long time, but when I told you, it felt very raw.”

  “I can’t believe you went through a tragedy like that when you were so young. How long ago was it exactly?”

  “Seven years, it all started when I was seventeen, he passed not long after my eighteenth birthday. We buried him the day that was meant to be our wedding day.”

  “Damn, I feel so useless. I don’t know what to say other than I hate you had to experience such pain.”

  I wondered why he seemed so moved by my painful past. I had judged him a little unfairly, calling him self-absorbed and other derogatory names. He was correct that he was very nice and I was extremely rude.

  “Chet, I’m sorry. My family always lectures me about my mouth. I can easily get carried away. You don’t deserve the things I’ve said.” I was convinced he was ready to run for the hills and forget he ever met me. Surprisingly, he wasn’t pulling away. I didn’t even know how to respond that he hadn’t released my hand. I had mixed emotions when he pulled his back to rub both his hands over his face and through his hair. The next thing Chet did rendered me speechless and unable to move. He took two fingers and walked them around my entire face. He caught the last remnants of my tears with his fingertips as they studied my features. For a second, it seemed we might sit there the rest of the night without another word.

  Chet spoke up when he brought his hands back to his lap, “I know we ate a lot of cake and all, but I’m kinda hungry now. You wanna order something? I could go pick it up or we could get delivery. Whatcha craving?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking about food.”

  “But now you are because I brought it up.”

  He wriggled his eyebrows at me. I thought I’d never eat again after all that cake, but maybe an
actual nourishing, balanced meal might help settle my stomach, because I was definitely feeling a bit out of sorts. I thought about what he asked. What was I craving? I glanced his way again. He kept making cute faces. Why was he so good looking? It was such a distraction. I never gave him a second thought before meeting him in person. The camera didn’t do him justice in my opinion. He’d suffered through my atrocious behavior and my impromptu breakdown. Dinner should be his choice. I doubted I would eat much, anyway.

  “Well, what do you like?”

  “Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m pretty easy, I’m not picky. I like everything.”

  Did he mean to make all these innuendos? I kinda think he did. “Okay, then I pick Thai. My favorite place is not too far from here and they deliver. Hold on a sec, I have their menu in the kitchen.”

  It turned out, they were especially busy and said our delivery would take at least an hour. Chet couldn’t handle that. He offered to pick up the food instead. I could wait, but then what would I do to fill an hour with him? I most definitely didn’t want to start any other emotional tirades.

  “I really need food sooner than that.” I shook my head at him. Wasn’t the half dozen cake slices in twenty minutes enough? “Well, you see, I was a little anxious today and I might have skipped my regular meals. So yeah, I need real food. I feel a headache coming on. Let’s drive over.” I hung up because I wasn’t sure what we were going to do.

  I told him to go since the carryout would be much quicker. I already had everything jotted down in front of me, so I would call back.

  “You sure you don’t want to ride?” He had a little mischief in his eyes.

  “Yes, I’m quite sure. I have a couple of things to take care of. Do you want some cash?”

  “Get out. My treat.” I walked him to the door. “Seriously though, you’re going to let me back in, aren’t you?”

  “Hmm. Now there’s an idea,” I teased. He’d given me the perfect out. I told him not to take it personally if he came back to a darkened house and a locked door. He looked back a couple of times on the way out. I would let him back in. I was a buzz kill, but I wasn’t that bad.

  Maggie left me ten messages. Crazy woman. Why couldn’t she shower attention on Keats and not worry about me?

  I finally answered a couple.

  Yes, we’re still together.

  That sounded absurd. We weren’t together. I corrected quickly, but then I goofed saying he was at our place. I tried to explain the whole crowded coffee shop issue in a text when she called.

  “Oh. My. God. No way, he’s there?”

  “Well, technically, not at this minute. He went to grab Thai, but he’s coming back.”

  “Shit, I’m speechless and you know that’s a first.” True.

  I told her how we ended up drinking home brewed coffee. I skipped my crying fit. Let’s face it, the fact that I had a famous hunk in my living room was way more believable than I’d displayed feelings in front of anyone. She would have never believed me.

  “Look, sis. I’m going to grab a quick shower. He’ll be back in less than thirty minutes. I assume you’re not coming home tonight?”

  “Well, I wasn’t but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Mags.”

  “Whatcha taking a shower for, Poppy?” Her voice was high and suggestive.

  “Because, I worked all morning at the clinic. I’m sprinkled in crumbs and sugar. I want to get comfortable.”

  “Don’t you dare put on the holey, PINK sweats. It’s false advertising to call them boyfriend pants. You’ve worn them completely out and are still boyfriendless. If you want to showcase your Victoria’s Secret, wear that navy set I got you for your birthday.”

  “That’s fucking underwear, looney.” My sister insisted I needed some matching sets to have for special occasions. I had matching bras and panties. She didn’t know. Stupid cow had been spying in my drawers one day and said if I did, they were long gone. I did love the dark satin and lace one she got me. I never told her I picked out a few more sets in the same style as a Christmas present for myself. None of this mattered. I intended to wear the pants she mentioned. I had two pairs and I knew for a fact the gray ones were clean in the dryer.

  I cut her off, told her to get out of my life and rushed like crazy since I was down to fifteen minutes or less factoring in how long it took to drive over and how long they said the food would take.

  As I was towel drying my hair which was a fifteen minute endeavor in itself, I heard the banging. I should’ve never talked to Maggie. I didn’t have time for that. Her imagination was running wild either way. Chet’s banging and the doorbell ringing became more urgent each second I tried to pull dry cotton over wet skin. I double checked before exiting our bathroom that nothing was exposed. My top kept falling to the side, showing my pink bra strap, but I pulled it back in place. Maybe I picked the wrong top for this occasion.

  He didn’t look thrilled when I jerked open the door, but before the apology was out, he housed a glint in his eye. Seriously, did guys think women bathed only for their benefit? I guess my sister was just like a guy because she thought the same thing. I had not showered for Chet. However, if I said that out loud, it would seemed like a lie, so I pretended nothing was up.

  “All that was missing was the darkened house. You had me worried for a minute, Penny.”

  Grrr. He needed to stop saying my name.

  We pulled out all the containers on my kitchen counter. I got down plates. Chet and I both agreed on a cool glass of water to wash it all down. I offered him a beer just in case, because Keats always kept some in our fridge, but he declined.

  Chet asked why I didn’t have a television?

  “It’s in Maggie’s room. I don’t like the distraction since I’m often working at the kitchen table.”

  “So this is why you aren’t really impressed with what I do? You don’t like the entertainment industry in general.”

  “No, not at all. I don’t have time to get caught up in weekly shows, but when I hear about a good series, sometimes Mags and I binge watch on a free weekend.”

  “What makes a good series in your eyes?”

  “I like the ones that are complete with good writing and enjoyable characters.”

  “Why does it have to be complete?”

  “It’s more worth my time if I know they stuck it out and finished, so there won’t be any cliffhangers or unresolved issues.”

  He nodded like he understood, but that wasn’t what he said, “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

  I didn’t think he meant that as a compliment. He certainly wasn’t comparing me to a priceless piece of art. I got the distinct impression his ‘piece of work’ comment equated to straight up nuts. His eyes were at my shoulder yet again. I kept pulling the shirt back up. Why was my bra strap a magnet for his eyes?

  We finished eating. It was late. There really was no reason for him to stay. Come to think of it, there was never one reason for us to see each other today either. I hinted around I was tired. He insisted on cleaning up our dishes. I offered to let him take the leftovers, but he insisted I keep them instead.

  We washed with a joint effort once more. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

  “What?”

  “My comment earlier. It’s just you won’t take a chance on something unless you already know the overall outcome. I have a feeling that’s the way you approach life in general. And if no one else has ever told you before today, that ain’t living.”

  Of course, I’d heard similar assessments from family and friends. I disputed him just like all the rest. “I’ll have you know, I live just fine. I make a difference in children’s lives, not all of them but many. I’m very good at what I do.”

  “I’m sure you are, but who makes a difference in your life, Penny? Life doesn’t come with a guarantee, you found that out in the worst way imaginable, but you still should be willing to take another risk occasionally. Are bad things still going to happen? Wil
l people let you down? Can you get hurt in the process? Hell yes, to all those things, but that’s what the journey’s all about. You told me some heavy duty shit earlier, and frankly, I’m still not over it. I really like you and wanted to get to know you better, but I can tell, that’s not what you want so I’m going to get going. I had a nice time tonight, just in case you couldn’t tell.”

  He was right, I saw no point getting to know him better. Some actor. Chet was a terrible liar. No way, could my thirty minute crying and misery session make for a nice time. Of course, I wasn’t taking life advice from someone that spent the majority of his time playing pretend. That was ludicrous. I dried the plates and sat them down on the counter. We both started outside. Pepper woke up from her nap and wanted out one last time. I walked him to the side gate.

  “Thanks for coffee.”

  “Thanks for the take out.”

  I prepared to wave, but he stopped me and pulled me into a full body hug. It continued much longer than it should. Chet needed to let go of me, of any ideas that this might turn into something. However, the longer he hugged, the more I didn’t want him to let go. His hand on my back, his face pressed into my hair, his entire presence did funny things to me.

  “You, take care now.”

  “I will.”

  He pulled away, but we were still pretty close. I tried not to stare, but he was a damn near perfect male specimen. Seriously, a slew of girls would drop their panties for that jawline alone. I was sure his eyes were hazel now. I didn’t know at first, mostly because I avoided eye contact, but now I knew for certain. I made a vow while I was in the shower not to look at his full lips again. Why were they such a perfect shade, anyway? A man shouldn’t have such a perfect mouth like that with no effort. Women spent thousands at times to acquire the perfect lip shape. At minimum, they spent hundreds on the right cosmetics.