When It Hooks You

by Nicki Elson

Her family and I held onto hope for several weeks, but it became apparent she’d suffered severe brain injuries. Even if she’d woken, doctors weren’t hopeful she’d regain significant cognitive function. I wouldn’t have wanted to be kept alive if it were me in that bed, and I didn’t think she would either. But the guilt of having been the person who put her there wouldn’t allow me to make that choice for her. I turned the onus of the decision making over to her parents, who naturally wanted to keep their daughter breathing for as long as humanly possible.

  I went through a torrent of emotions—guilt, sorrow, even anger that Susan couldn’t have let me go and spared all of us this misery. The darkest part of me was certain she cackled underneath that serene exterior, victorious in holding me trapped. Long nights by her bedside and silent discussion with our Maker at last brought me some sense of peace. I didn’t hate Susan, as I’d feared I had. I’d made vows to her, and I intended to keep them for as long as her soul resided on this earth.

  Work was my haven, the only area in which I felt I could exert any amount of control. My life became an emotionless effort devoted to duty. My chance association with Luis and Elina, during which the first seeds of our joint cacao venture were planted, was the first time I allowed myself to again feel anything resembling happiness.

  Then I met you.

  I should have left things as they were after you bought me that martini. I should have resisted the temptation to message you from the street during my next visit. I can’t explain how it happened, but you became a bright, shining beacon in my darkness. I allowed you to play in my thoughts during the weeks between seeing you. When once again face-to-face, I lost all reason. I quite simply couldn’t resist being with you. I’d never felt so strongly so quickly about anyone.

  I convinced myself it would be all right because of the rules you had in place. There could be nothing wrong with us forming a friendship. If I’d been completely honest with myself, I’d have known this wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop there. Your draw was too strong. But being honest would’ve entailed walking away and keeping our interactions to brief encounters at your desk. That wasn’t something I had the strength to do.

  How foolish to think that laying out my parameters for an “uncluttered” relationship would stop us from becoming so much more. One taste of your sweet mouth was all it took for me to lose my mind completely. Even then, I told myself I had it under control. With the end of our liaison predetermined, I refused to see that there’d be any danger in allowing one final, perfect evening of happiness. I thought doing so would give my heart a chance to keep from drying up during the indefinite stretch of solitude that lay before me.

  At that point it was plain to see you were also forming an attachment. I’d learned by then that you were a determined, independent-thinking woman. I felt certain those qualities would make you resilient when it came time to say goodbye. It was concern over my own resilience that led me to look into my options for ending my marriage. It was the first time I’d considered it since the accident. The fact was, however, I was still married and had no right to drag you into my disaster.

  When you dropped me off at the airport, I had another opportunity to preserve whatever was good between us. Instead I grasped at the chance to cling to you just a little bit longer. If I could rewind back to that moment, I can’t honestly say I’d do anything differently. Though it ended up hurting us both, I treasure our time together in Guatemala.

  By the time of our trip, I understood the complexities of obtaining a divorce under the circumstances. It would require the cooperation of her parents. I planned to discuss it with them after you and I returned from Central America. I hadn’t realized my impulses would again take over, leading me to make promises to you I wasn’t sure I could keep.

  I wish I would’ve explained everything to you that final morning at the treehouse. But I thought it best to wait until I had a clear path and timeframe. When I returned to the States and told her parents of my desire to pursue a divorce, they were surprised, but they’re compassionate people and agreed to support me. I was relieved and knew it was time to tell you everything. I didn’t want to do it during my brief layover at O’Hare. I wanted to be right there while you digested it all so I could absorb every nuance of your reaction and answer all of your questions face to face. I would’ve told you the next time we were together, I swear.

  When you asked me about my family in Maryland, I froze. All the justifications for keeping my secret had piled around me like a fortress. A single flash of betrayal through your eyes sent every one of those rationalizations crashing. I saw how very wrong I’d been to keep any of this from you. My marriage was such an ugly thing. I didn’t want it to mar the beauty of us. But it was a part of me, the albatross around my neck. I had no right to attach it to you. Any words I could’ve said then would’ve been anemic in the face of your understandable fury.

  My words remain feeble and my heart continues to bleed.

  Susan’s passing was a blessing to all of us, most of all her. There was nothing but nothingness left for her in this world. I trust she’s in a better place and wish everything good for her. In my freedom, I somehow find myself more battered than ever before. I’m profoundly sorry to have ruined the chance at anything I could have ever had with you. I hope each day has brought you healing and that this letter provides you with some small measure of understanding.

  Sincerely and forever grateful to have known you,

  Adam

  Trish read the letter three times straight through before she became aware that she was sweating. She shrugged off her thick coat and got up to blow her nose. Then she read it again. After staring at the papers for a long while, she resolved to take that walk, after all—and make it more rigorous than she’d initially intended. Somehow being purely angry had been easier than allowing in these new feelings of empathy.

  If only he’d told her earlier what he was going through, things could’ve been different. Or could they have? She didn’t know. The only thing she was certain of was that she needed to get outside into the biting air. It was the only way to ward off her urge to go to him—by phone, or plane, or whatever it took. It killed her to know he’d suffered so much and was now all alone and miserable. Yet his current state was his own fault. If he’d been honest with Trish from the beginning…then…she didn’t know.

  Not being certain things could’ve worked out between them frustrated her even more. She folded the papers into the envelope and went to her dresser. Opening the small, top drawer, she glanced down at the Tiffany heart necklace from Kurt. So much for her plan to keep her heart impenetrable. She dropped the letter next to the pendant.

  “Looks like I’m going to accumulate quite the collection from boyfriends past,” she murmured, staring into the drawer. It sounded strange to refer to Adam as a boyfriend. He’d felt like so much more than that. Yet he’d never really been hers at all.

  Chapter 22

  “YOU THREW THE DATE?” Lyssa asked. She was in town visiting for a few days. Trish had picked her up at the airport that morning and brought her back to her apartment. While they walked to a nearby pub to meet Cliff for lunch, Trish filled her friend in on what had happened the night before.

  “I didn’t throw the date. My boots were killing me, and I wanted to sit down.”

  “Why did you wear those boots when you knew you’d be on your feet all night?”

  “They looked good with my skirt.”

  “And when sweet, young Levi invited you up to his place to rub your feet, why did you turn him down?”

  “Because my feet were sweaty from the dancing.”

  “You know his actual intention was to rub other parts of you.”

  “Also sweaty.”

  “Gross.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You were more than happy to let him rub sweaty parts of you before—” Lyssa stopped abruptly.

  “Before Adam? It’s okay. You can say his name.”

  It had been two mon
ths since Trish had received his letter. After reading it through a fifth time, she’d forced the clenched grip around her nerves to loosen. She let go of her anger. How could she feel anything but compassion for him after learning the whole story? Yet finding out the truth had shined a bright light on how very little she actually knew him. The details of his life had hardly seemed important when she was busy becoming enamored with the mysterious, elegant man who could make her heart thump with just a look.

  Not wanting to drag down her friend’s brief visit by rehashing melancholy sentiments, Trish was determined to keep conversation positive and light. “Levi’s still fun to look at,” she said, “I guess I’m just not into dating younger guys, anymore.”

  “You didn’t let Kevin the chiropractor rub you, either, and he’s pushing forty. Plus he has licensed hands.”

  “And really disturbing choices for dinner conversation. Why do my recent failures on the dating scene bother you so much?”

  “Because it’s not normal for you. Until you get something interesting going with someone else, you’re going to stay stuck on him.”

  “I’m not stuck on Adam.”

  “Then why aren’t you giving any other guy a chance?”

  “Aftershocks, I guess.” Lyssa was right—throughout Trish’s dating history, one luscious pair of lips had always been easily replaced by another. Yet Adam’s mouth seemed to have ruined her appetite for any others. Temporarily. “I’ll get over him. But you realize your pestering won’t get me there any faster, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.” Lyssa sighed. “I’m excited to see Cliff again. Seems like you two have gotten close.”

  Trish smiled. “Cliff’s great. He’s pretty much become my Lyssa with a dick.”

  Lyssa laughed. “You still don’t think there’s any chance of you and him…”

  “Never say never,” Trish said. “But after our disastrous attempt to get physical, you can put us in the ‘highly unlikely’ category. Speaking of the dashing, young attorney, there he is.” She waved through the large glass window at the front of the pub. Cliff waved back from the tall, round table he’d secured for them.

  The moment the girls came through the doorway, he broke into a huge grin. “Miss Lyss.” He slipped off of his chair to wrap her in a hug. “Boston must agree with you. You look fantastic.”

  “Thanks,” Lyssa said, pulling back and eyeing him up and down. “You’re lookin’ pretty spiffy yourself. Thanks for taking such good care of our girl while I’m away.”

  Cliff gave Trish a wink and resumed his seat. “She’s had an interesting year.”

  “She certainly has.” Lyssa cast a sidelong pity-glance at Trish. After the girls took their seats, Cliff and Lyssa batted questions back and forth to catch each other up on their respective lives since college. When the waitress came to take their orders, they hadn’t even cracked open their menus yet.

  “Sorry,” Cliff said. “We’ll get right on that.”

  After several moments of contemplating food choices, Lyssa asked, “Did you know she’s been purposely sabotaging dates?”

  Trish opened her mouth to defend herself, but Cliff turned to her and cut her off. “Another one? You haven’t had a decent date since what’s-his-nuts broke your heart.”

  “It’s not my fault there aren’t any good men left in Chicago.”

  “Hey!” Cliff said.

  “Sorry, Cliffy. You know what I mean.” Trish rubbed her hand up and down the ball of his bicep. “Have you been working out with James?”

  “Maybe.”

  The waitress returned, and they placed their orders. When it was just the three of them again, Lyssa and said, “It’s possible I’ve been looking at this the wrong way. Maybe you don’t need to open your heart to another guy to get out of your funk. Maybe what you need to do is open your heart back up to Adam.”

  “What?” Trish and Cliff gasped at the same time—loudly enough that several of the pub’s other patrons turned toward them.

  “Relax. I’m not suggesting you run off into the twilight with him forever and ever. I’m merely saying…Trish, he’s the first guy who’s ever made you so much as consider tossing everything else aside to be with him. That says something.”

  “You told me that was crazy,” Trish said.

  “Because I knew he was hiding something. I thought you should find out what that was before taking any big steps. Now you know.” Lyssa swished her hand in the air as if that should be that.

  Trish could only chuff, shocked at her friend’s sudden change in attitude.

  “His secret was a pretty freaking bad one,” Cliff said.

  “Was it?” Lyssa asked. “I mean, yes, of course it was…but…was it really that bad?”

  Trish nodded, still dumb. Cliff spoke for her. “Yeah, it was.”

  “He messed up royally,” Lyssa admitted. “But he owned it, and he seems really and truly sorry. What else can he do?” When Cliff rolled his eyes, she asked him, “Have you read the letter?”

  “Trish told me the gist of it. Did you read it?”

  Lyssa nodded. “She scanned it and sent it over after she broke down crying when she tried to read it over the phone.”

  “Oh? And why did she break down?” Cliff asked. “Because he made her happy? I know you’re her best friend, but you didn’t see her during the weeks right after Tropical Storm Adam blew through. She was a scalding, hot mess.”

  Trish scowled at the assessment, but neither Cliff nor Lyssa seemed to notice.

  “Because she misunderstood his motivation,” Lyssa said. “Now that he’s explained, maybe he’s forgivable.”

  Apparently Cliff didn’t have a comeback to that. He stayed silent and both he and Lyssa turned to Trish, the question lurking in their tentative gazes.

  “Well, look at that,” Trish said. “You remembered I was sitting right here. I guess I better seize this moment of silence to ask the favor I need from both of you.” Her friends remained silent, continuing to stare at her, so she trudged on. “I’ve come to the conclusion that the whole Adam affair wasn’t a complete waste of time. Something good did come from it.”

  Lyssa shot a triumphant glance at Cliff. He responded with a furrowed brow.

  “I don’t know exactly how,” Trish continued, “but during our time together, he lit a spark in me to do more with my life. I’ve been on cruise control, biding my time at a job that doesn’t challenge me, avoiding long-term commitments with guys.” Tilting her head toward Lyssa, she said, “Meanwhile you’ve gone on to grad school and started a new life in a new city.” Turning to Cliff, she added, “You’ve finished law school and are an up-and-comer at a great firm. Even JoAnne’s gotten herself a big promotion. It’s time I put on my big girl panties and grow up. I want more than a job—I want a career.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Lyssa said.

  “So this favor you speak of,” Cliff said, “do you want us to do some networking for you? What kind of career are you leaning toward?”

  “You’re not mad that I plan to abandon you at River South?” She’d been especially nervous about breaking the news to Cliff.

  “A little sad, I’ll admit. But how could I be mad? You deserve to move forward like the rest of us.”

  “Great. Because the favor I want to ask is for you two to be my references. I don’t want to let anyone else at the firm know I might be leaving until things are final, but…” The rest of her words came out in a gush. “I’ve made it really far in the interview process for the management training program at Mji Teas, and I think I’m going to get it because they’ve asked for references. One of the partners hinted that it was just a formality, so…”

  Cliff and Lyssa laughed.

  “What?” Trish asked.

  Cliff shrugged and smiled. “It’s nice to see you so excited about something. Mji’s a great company.” Mji Teas and Coffeehouses was a young, quickly expanding chain of coffee shops serving high-end tea and coffee grown in developing nations throughout the
world, primarily in Africa. “Tell us more about the management program.”

  Trish went on to explain that it was a three-year training process that would involve one year as an assistant manager at a local shop, a year traveling abroad to meet and work with Mji’s partners in Africa, and a year at the corporate office learning various marketing and financial aspects of the business. At the end of it all, she’d sit down with Mji executives to determine in which role she’d be most effective going forward.

  Their food arrived, and as they passed the condiments around the table, Trish said, “They don’t care that I have very little experience in any of these areas. It’s more important to them that I can learn and that I fit in well with their corporate culture—which is very laid-back but still passionate.”

  “Why’d you keep this a secret until now?” Lyssa asked.

  “I don’t know.” Trish let out a laugh, but her lips tightened and the corners of her mouth drooped. “I guess I was afraid to hope anything would come of it.”

  The sober look exchanged between Lyssa and Cliff indicated she didn’t need to explain why she’d been afraid to hope. The Adam debacle had left its scars.

  Trish had never before been the vulnerable one in a relationship. She’d always cared for the guy just a little bit less than he’d cared for her—not intentionally; that was simply the way it had worked out. She’d figured that dynamic was to be her fate, making the three-date rule the perfect plan for her. Adam had wrecked all of that. He’d shown her that she had the ability to swoon like the lyrics of the sappiest love song. Now that she knew she was capable of caring with such strength, she wanted to swoon again one day…with someone else…eventually.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this.” Cliff set down his burger and wiped the ketchup from one corner of his mouth. He leaned back and examined Trish with his discerning, dark eyes for a long moment. “Maybe Lyssa’s right. Maybe you should give Helms another chance.”

  Lyssa smiled. “I knew you’d see the light.”

  “It makes sense,” Cliff said. “He slammed the door of the relationship firmly in her face. She’s the kind of person who prefers to shut it for herself. Maybe the only way she can get her closure is by opening the door again.”