I'll Do Anything

by Danielle Bourdon

  The shock of suddenly being on my own in the world only added to my misery. It was like a bucket of ice water right to the face. I'd leaned on Jasper so long, in so many ways, that there was a gigantic empty void I didn't know how to fill.

  You'll learn, you're tough. You've always been independent and self-sufficient. It sounded like a hollow argument in my head.

  Smearing the tears off my cheeks, I laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A water stain discolored the paint, and I sought different shapes—a cloud, someone's profile, a feathered hat—just to divert my thoughts from Jasper.

  It worked for all of five minutes.

  My thoughts turned right back to him. To my life. To what might happen tomorrow.

  That was how I fell asleep, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, one arm thrown across my forehead. My dreams were restless, dark, brooding. Full of worry and angst and foreboding.

  Dawn was creeping over the landscape and in through the windows when I finally woke up. I blinked at the display of neon on the ceiling, weaker now that daylight was approaching, and experienced a wicked jolt of agony and loneliness when my memories surfaced.

  So this was what it was like to suffer through relationships and breakups.

  No freaking thanks. I'd known long ago that this wasn't for me. My current inner turmoil proved it. Yes, I was angry. Yes, I missed him. But I was also more hurt than I'd ever been in my life.

  Groaning, I pulled myself into a sitting position and tried to rub feeling back into my tingling legs. It felt like a thousand bees lived under my skin as the circulation returned to normal. Rising once I was sure my legs would support me, I wandered into the bathroom. A few minutes later, done with my usual early morning business, I wandered out again. At the window, I stared at a half empty parking lot and a line of nearby buildings that were as old as this one. A convenience store, a laundromat, a coffee shop. The blue Chevy sat in a slot in front of my motel room door, right where I'd left it.

  Soon, before noon, I would need to drive the Chevy back to the rental place and turn it in.

  Then I would be carless, as well as boyfriendless, and also, apparently, friendless.

  *

  When I arrived at work later that night, I felt as if an alien invader had penetrated my skin. I didn't feel like Finley any longer. In truth, I didn't feel much of anything at all. The anger was gone, the bitterness was gone. In its place—a whole wealth of apathy. I just wanted to work and go back to the motel. 'Home', which made me cringe every time I thought about it.

  As luck would have it, I never ran into Jasper during my shift. Didn't know if he was even at work. Maybe he'd taken the day off to spend it with Asia.

  He didn't call, and I didn't call him. No messages, no voicemail. Nothing.

  The next day was the same, and the next after that.

  As I exited into the parking lot the third night after work, I wondered if the roses were still lying on the couch in the living room, or if Jasper had finally thrown them away. Didn't matter, I told myself. Why was I even thinking about it? I shut my curiosity down and headed for the bus stop. Although I hated to admit it, I missed having access to a car. My half of the money had come to just under three thousand, plus the one grand I won at the slots, which might buy me something old and useable. Except I needed to save a little to pay for the motel room, which was cheap but not that cheap.

  Tomorrow, I supposed, I needed to look for an apartment.

  The thought filled me with dread.

  As I crossed the street and stepped up onto the opposite curb, Jasper's Camaro drove by. The familiar rumble of the engine drew my gaze, until I realized I was staring longingly at the car, and at the driver I couldn't see through the tinted window.

  He didn't honk, I didn't wave.

  The Camaro turned left at the next stop sign and disappeared out of sight.

  I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest. Disturbed and heartbroken, I chose to walk all the way to the motel rather than take the bus. I couldn't tolerate the masses, couldn't handle the noise and incessant chatter, and I sure as hell couldn't tolerate some kind soul trying to strike up friendly conversation. I was about as friendly as a rattlesnake right now.

  My room at Triple Sevens looked exactly like I'd left it, with my bag on the end of the bed and all my clothes still packed. Since I'd forgotten to bring my toothbrush, I'd stopped at a convenience store on the way to the motel to pick up a few necessities. Like a comb, so my hair wouldn't look like medusa after I washed it.

  I took a shower even though I'd had one before work, just to keep my mind busy. Eventually, dressed in my only pair of pajama pants and an old tee shirt, there was nothing left to do but sit in one of the chairs against the wall and watch the neon lights flicker across the ceiling. Television held no appeal. I didn't typically watch it anyway, and tonight I wasn't in the mood.

  I wasn't sure how long I sat there before a noise outside my door drew my attention. A bump, a scrape. No one walked by the window, and I would have seen them because the curtains were open. It was probably a renter for the room next door or one of several stray cats I'd seen on the property.

  Rubbing my eyelids with my fingers, I caught myself before I could cry and got up out of the chair. Time for sleep and, I hoped, a cessation of nightmares.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I opened the door late the next afternoon, I discovered a blood red rose on the cement. Just one, a little limp but not dead thanks to a small vial of water attached to the bottom of the stem. Bending down after a wary look around, I picked it up off the ground.

  No note, no other identifying marker.

  Of course, the first person I thought of was Jasper. Yet the Camaro wasn't in the parking lot and Jasper wasn't in sight. It had to be from him. But how could he have known where to find me? I hadn't told him—hadn't told anyone. After retreating into my room, I closed the door and inhaled the sweet scent of the flower. It still smelled fresh. I didn't even like flowers, not really, yet I found myself desperate not to let this one die.

  Picking out a bottle of water from the tiny mini-fridge, I drank half, then eased the stem into the bottle and set the bottle on the desk. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.

  Unsure what to think of the gesture, I departed the hotel some time later and made my way to Olympus. Walking instead of taking the bus, I kept an eye out for the Camaro. There was a small part of me that thought Jasper would make an appearance, would cruise up to the curb and demand I get in. Had I walked on purpose, in the hope he would find me? No, I told myself, I walked because I wanted to. In the end it didn't matter; I didn't see Jasper or the Camaro anyway.

  Maybe the rose wasn't for me after all. Maybe someone else had set it in front of the wrong door, thinking to woo some other woman.

  I didn't see Jasper at work that night, nor after, on my way home. There was nothing waiting on my doorstep when I finally arrived at the hotel, and I chided myself for thinking there might be. I was the one who had walked out, I reminded myself, so why was I entertaining hope? Hope was for fools, just like relationships. Jasper and I were over. Done. And that's the way I wanted it. The loneliness and emptiness would eventually pass. I couldn't expect to recover from a lifelong friendship and a whirlwind romance in one day.

  The next morning I found another rose, red like the first, waiting on my doorstep. Again with no note. This was no mistake, not a flower left for some other woman. This was for me and only me. I added it to the water bottle with the first and went through the motions of preparing for work.

  I didn't see Jasper that day, or the next.

  Every morning for the following two days, however, I found a rose in front of my door. It was a strange place to exist, this in between, thinking of Jasper but not seeing him. Most of my initial anger had faded away, though not the hurt associated with the lies.

  On the sixth morning, a note accompanied the rose. Bringing both inside, I added that flower to a small vase I'd bough
t and sat on the edge of the bed to read the handwritten letter. There was no mistaking Jasper's slashing, abrupt script.

  Fins,

  I thought you would have called or come home by now. I've given you space to think, to let our last conversation sink in, hoping you would realize that I had more to say that didn't get said. Yeah, I've been angry, too, because you actually walked out without having all the information. So here it is.

  I had planned to meet up with Tyler like I said I would. He had to work late, so I waited the extra hour. During that hour, Asia texted me to update me (us) about Kaia. She had questions about possible jobs at Olympus, so when Tyler's shift got extended again, I told her I'd come by and we could go over everything. That's what happened. I was trying to give her the run-down on what to expect. We were not on a date, nor did I spend the entire night at her house.

  As for following me, I went to pick Asia up the following evening at Ramsey's request. I took her back to Olympus but the trip was work related. Ram wanted Asia to get a feel for the type of shows the casino puts on or something like that. I said I would, that it wasn't a big deal. I stopped to get roses for you on the way, even though I know you don't like flowers that much. I was trying to make a statement, to let you know how much I care about you and love you. I wanted something different than tire tracks and candy or cruises up and down the strip in a beat up car. There was no way I could have known you'd follow me and get the wrong idea.

  But that's what it is, Fin. It's not what you thought. If Ramsey had been able to pick up Asia himself, he would have. I did him a favor, that was all. When I told you that I don't want to be with Asia, I meant it. I also don't want to see her on the streets, especially with a child, so yeah, I helped her out a few times—like you did. The divorce is going to go through in a few weeks and that will be the end of that. I admit that I wouldn't mind being a part of Kaia's life, insofar as friendships go. I should have asked you about that before blurting it out to Asia, and I'm sorry I didn't.

  I hope this letter helps explain things. We have a good thing together, Finley. No, it's not perfect, but nothing ever is. I would do a lot to keep you. In fact, I'll do anything. I'll explain all this in person. I'll have Ramsey call you and tell you that he asked me to grab Asia that day. Whatever I have to do. I'll even start over with you if I have to. We can't erase our history, but we can begin again.

  I won't come find you at that rathole motel (what were you thinking?). I'll let you decide when you want to come home to me.

  I hope it's soon.

  I'll love you forever,

  Jasper

  I read the letter two more times and let it all sink in. A few choice retorts sprang to mind—why couldn't he have just texted me to let me know what was going on, for one—but I tempered my reaction because in all truth, I was happy to hear from him. Misery had been a constant companion the last several days and despite my indignation and hurt, I missed him. I missed us. I missed us enough to start gathering my things from the bathroom and the spare pair of shoes under the table. Shoving it all into the duffel bag, I picked up the vase and snagged my key card off the television stand. It was still early enough that if I checked out now, I wouldn't have to pay for an extra day.

  After dealing with the office manager, I set out on foot for the house. I wanted time to gather my thoughts, to prepare what I needed to say. Knowing Jasper hadn't cheated on me with Asia was just part of what we had to work through. Some of it was on my end, problems I had with trust and honesty. But I was also realizing that relationships took work, a lot of it, and that I needed to learn how to bend a little to keep what was worth keeping.

  And Jasper Lowe was worth keeping.

  A half hour later I walked up the driveway. We might not own the house we lived in, but it felt like ours in that moment. It felt like home. A knot took shape in the back of my throat; I swallowed it down.

  As I approached the small porch, the door opened. Jasper stood there, leaning against the frame, one arm braced above his head. I stopped five feet away, taking in the familiar shank of hair over his forehead, the lean muscles under the heather gray tee shirt and the narrowness of his hips encased in dark denim. The appealing shape of his pensively set mouth made me want to run forward and kiss him. What a ridiculous, girly thing to think.

  “Hey,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “Hey.”

  Jasper stepped away from the door after a silent moment went by, and closed the gap between us. He stroked his fingers and palm over my cheek, catching my chin in his hand.

  “There's been a hole in my life the last few days, Finley. A giant, gaping lonely abyss that only you can fill. I've missed you every second.”

  “I've missed you, too.” I had missed him. More than I wanted to admit. I let my duffel bag slide to the ground and stepped closer. Close enough that we touched down the front. The small vase remained in my other hand, secure in the grip of my fingers.

  “Look. I know this hasn't been easy for you. Because I knew who you were before we became an us. So I appreciate that you love me enough to try. We've had disagreements before, and arguments, and we've gotten through never doubting that we would still be best friends on the other side. That's what best friends do. That's what we're for. Our relationship has put a bit of a strain on that, because when we're mad at each other as lovers, we can't just ignore that to talk as friends. I get it. But I wanted to call you all the time you were gone. You're the person I go to when I need someone, when I need to vent or rant or just be with. This has been impossible, the space between us. I want to work through it. I want you to ask any questions you have or voice any troubles. We can figure it out. We have to.”

  I licked my lips, lost in the seriousness of his eyes. “It's bothered me, too. Losing you as a friend through all this. I didn't know how to bridge that gap though. I didn't want to experience any more hurt—because it did hurt. Thinking that you didn't want to tell me you'd gotten married really got under my skin. You know everything about me, Jasper. Everything. Something as huge as vows—I just never thought you'd do that and I wouldn't know. That's all. I'm trying to understand your side of it, and I think I get it now more than I did at first. And yeah, I know I was being bullheaded the night I walked out. I didn't listen when I should have.” I set my hand on his hips, faced tilted up to his. He brushed a kiss across my mouth, tender and light. Warm.

  “Maybe I should have tried harder to make you listen, too. I'd been so caught up in how to smooth over the initial shock of me being married that I didn't think that dropping her off at work or getting texts from her was any big deal,” he said.

  “It looked bad,” I admitted. “And I jumped to the wrong conclusions, like you said. Even if you would have sent me a text, or just woken me up and told me what happened, I wouldn't have had that reaction.”

  “Do you actually know how cranky you are when I wake you up for no good reason in the middle of the night?”

  “That's a crappy excuse,” I said, amused despite myself.

  “I know, but I can see you trying not to smile, so it worked.”

  “Is it always going to be like this, Jasper? These ups and downs?” I asked after acknowledging his comment with the smile I'd tried to hide.

  “Yeah. Any relationship I've ever been in has been work. It's trial and error and evolving together. I think we've got a jump on most other people because we were friends before we were lovers. On the other hand, there's more risk of hurt feelings, too. We'll be more careful with that from now on.” He smoothed his fingers along my jaw and into my hair.

  “I didn't know what else to do but leave. I needed space to think. Mostly, I was miserable the whole time,” I confessed.

  “I'd be afraid if you hadn't been upset. I think that might mean you didn't care as much as you thought you did. But you do, and you're here, and I want us to make a new pact. No more driving by without stopping, no more not listening, no more walking out. We had to go through it once, now it's done and we kn
ow we don't want to do that again. Right?” He searched my eyes.

  “Right. We won't do that again. I'm sure we'll disagree and we'll argue, because that's what we do. But it's not usually breakup arguing, which is different.”

  “Exactly.”

  I wanted to ask Jasper if he was sure the amount of commitment I could give would be enough in the long term. It had preyed on my mind during the split. But I was the only one who always recoiled from talk of the future, and in reality, if he was happy to just be with me now, then I was happy with that, too. One day at a time, Finley. That's what he would say.

  Reaching down, Jasper picked up the duffel bag and kissed me again. “Ready to come inside? We can put your wilting flowers on the counter.”

  “More than ready. I'm glad you left me the roses. And the note.” I glued myself to his side, for a change, and let him lead me in through the open door. The house looked clean and neat, not a thing out of place. And it didn't smell like the seventies, a plus to be sure. I set my small vase on an end table for the time being.

  “I wrote about ten different ones, trying to figure out what to say. The first one was mad and angry, the second pleading and ridiculous. I finally settled on honest and sensible,” he said, knocking the door closed with a boot.

  I spotted another vase on the kitchen table. Three red roses. Meeting Jasper's eyes, I asked, “Honest and sensible worked great. I see you intended to leave more flowers if the note didn't work.”