by Trudy Stiles
“Sam, what you’ve overcome is tremendous. I’m going to get sappy on you again for a second, and you have to bear with me.” Her eyes are still wet, and I lie back down on my bed, staring up at the solar system poster tacked to the ceiling above me.
“Yeah, your life at sixteen was torn the fuck apart. I completely get that. But your entire outlook on life and how you function day-to-day is remarkable. Your strength is astonishing. You almost drowned when you were seven. What did you do? You got swim lessons and learned pool yoga.”
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. Her analogy is comical.
“Psycho Todd Mitchell tries to feel you up in a pool. What do you do? You nut-crunch him and then become a black belt in kickboxing.”
All of this is true.
Hearing Todd’s name, however, makes me cringe. A few months after the incident in Trish O’Toole’s pool, Todd was arrested for multiple rapes and attempted murder. He’s been in prison since he was convicted of all of his crimes. The faces of the victims are still fresh in my head. Every single one of them. The media played out the story over and over again and it made my skin crawl. I wish I could have hurt him more than I did that day he attacked me in Trish’s pool. I was definitely one of the lucky ones, and I became a stronger person for it.
Cassie continues, “Your parents get killed by a deranged psycho drug addict and you vow to become a nurse to help people get better. You save people’s lives every single day, Sam. You’re amazing.”
Hearing her describe my parents’ murder sends a jolt to my heart, and I take a quick breath and hold it. What little reminders I have of them adorn my room. My bracelet dangles from a hook next to my bed. The blue ribbon is attached to the poster that I fall asleep staring at every night. My Googie sleeps next to me, reminding me of their comfort and love.
I exhale slowly and turn on my side again to look at Cassie.
“I’m done earning my badges,” I say softly. “It’s time for me to give back.”
Her eyes light up with victory.
“Exactly my point,” she says and turns off the light.
Garrett
Past
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Age 25
“I CAN’T BELIEVE HE DID IT,” I say, shaking my head and tossing back my sixth shot of Jameson.
“Dude, I can’t even.” Tristan does the same and clinks his empty shot glass against mine.
“Can’t believe who did what?” Kirsten chirps as she slides onto the barstool next to Tristan.
“Alex, man. Dude got married.” Tristan’s eyes glaze over, and his smile freezes on his face. He’s about to pass out.
Kirsten pokes him in the side, and he sits up with a jolt. “Why don’t you go upstairs?” She nudges him and holds a plastic key in front of his nose. He swipes at it until it comes into focus and stands from the bar stool. “Whoa, I shouldn’t have stood up so fast.” He wobbles a bit on his feet and backs up toward the hotel lobby. We’re in the bar after Alex and Tabby’s wedding reception. It ended two hours ago, and the newlyweds are long gone.
“Where’s Alex?” Tristan acts confused. And drunk.
“He’s upstairs sleeping with his bride, Tristan. Exactly where you should be.” Kirsten waves at him and blows him a kiss.
“Will you be up soon?” he asks, hopeful.
“Of course.”
Tristan stumbles to the elevators and practically falls in. He disappears behind the doors, and I laugh.
“What an amazing wedding,” Kirsten says as she flags down the bartender. She orders a glass of Pinot Noir and turns to face me. “Don’t you think?”
“Sure, it was amazing.” I humor her with what she wants to hear. If she starts talking about flowers and centerpieces, I’m out of here.
The bartender places a large glass of wine in front of her and says, “This is on me.” He winks at her and she ignores his advances.
“I think he likes you,” I joke and grab the last shot of whiskey that was lined up in front of me. I toss it back and take a large swig of my beer.
“Nah, he’s just hoping for a big tip.”
She sighs, raises her glass of wine and says, “Cheers.”
I take another sip of beer and nod.
“There aren’t two people in the world more deserving than Alex and Tabby.” Kirsten is Tabby’s best friend and boss. She owns a bookstore in the city and seems to be pretty successful.
“Yeah, so happy together,” I muse.
“What about you, Garrett? When do you think you’ll finally settle down?”
She can’t be serious. Settle down? Me? I nearly choke on my words. “Let me say this in a way that you’ll completely understand. Never. Ever.”
“I don’t believe you. Beneath that womanizer exterior is a soft and tender heart. I’m convinced of it.”
“Fuck that.” I finish my beer and wave my hand for another.
“What are you so afraid of?” she asks. “Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?”
I have to think about it for a second. “Nope.”
“What about the sister of that girl on tour?” she asks.
“Her? No way. We were just regular fuck buddies.”
She huffs and sips her wine. “I have faith, Garrett. You’ll stumble into love one day and you won’t even realize what’s happening to you. I predict love will find you at a time and place when you least expect it.” She waves her hand in the air as if she just cast a spell on me or something.
“Whatever.”
She looks down at her phone and swipes through some messages. “Who are you expecting to hear from at this hour? Tristan’s passed out cold right now.” I look at the clock. It’s almost two in the morning, and the lobby bar is still jammed with guests from the wedding reception. The party’s still going strong.
“I’m compulsive about checking for messages from Tabby. She looks like she’s about to give birth any second. She’s bursting at the seams.”
“I’m sure you’ll be the first to know when she does go into labor.” Gross. “Besides, she’s just upstairs, so I think the entire hotel would know if it happened.”
She raises her eyebrow when she sees the expression on my face, which I can only imagine is pure disgust.
“How many children do you want?” she asks.
“Are you kidding me? I just finished telling you I’m never settling down. Why the hell would you think I’d want kids?”
She ignores my response and continues talking. “I wanted five kids. I’ve always wanted so many that my husband and I would be outnumbered. The thought of the chaos excited me. The more kids I could have, the happier I’d be.” The smile melts from her face. “But since I can’t have kids, that dream went right out the window.”
“Bummer,” I say, surprised by her admission.
She raises the wine glass to her lips again. “I wonder if I’ll ever find someone who will love me anyway. Even if he knows I can’t give him children.”
“I don’t think Tristan will care either way,” I say. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with this entire conversation. My skin is getting itchy, and I think it’s about time I got out of here. I didn’t sign up to be Kirsten’s personal therapist, and I certainly don’t want to know anything about her ability or inability to have kids.
“You’re so sad, Garrett. I just don’t get it. What kind of family do you have that you would have such a rotten outlook on your own future?”
“My mom and stepdad are cool. My bio dad was an asshole and killed himself.”
“Oh?” she looks surprised. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. There’s no need to talk about this.
“Whatever. It is what it is.” I drink some more beer and pull cash from my pocket, laying it on the bar to cover the drinks.
“Goodnight.” Kirsten sighs into her wine glass.
“Hey, I don’t mean to bum you out, but you really have the wrong read on me, okay? I’m not the settling down type of g
uy, and I’m certainly not someone who wants a brood of kids. I like my life just the way it is.”
She smirks at me, and I’m not sure if it’s a drunk smirk or she really thinks she knows something that I don’t know.
I shrug it off and walk through the bar. I scan the room to see if the hot blonde from the wedding is still here, hoping for a warm body to bring upstairs with me. I don’t see her anywhere, and the remaining prospects here aren’t my type. Oh well.
I make it to my room and strip down to my boxers. My pants get stuck around my feet, and I almost tumble to the floor. Is the room wobbly or is it me?
I fall to the bed and feel the plush mattress suck me in. As I’m drifting off to sleep, Kirsten’s words keep ringing in my ears.
Love will find you at a time and place when you least expect it.
Sam
Present
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 24
I HEAR THE BACK DOOR SLAM, and I’m startled awake. I’m sprawled out on the large couch in the den, and I crane my neck to see if Kai’s still asleep. He’s out cold in the pack and play in the middle of the floor.
“Sam?” Aunt Peggy says from the kitchen.
I stretch and sit up. What time is it? I find the clock on the wall and see it’s almost five o’clock.
“I’ll be right there,” I say quietly and stand up.
When I get to the kitchen, Aunt Peggy is unloading groceries. “Hi,” she says through a warm smile. “I’m surprised to see you up here. Isn’t it time for Kai’s occupational therapy?” Garrett has a home gym downstairs in the basement that we’ve rearranged to make into Kai’s play area. We moved out all of Garrett’s exercise equipment and filled the room with padded floors and climbing toys. His therapist comes to the house two times a week and today is usually one of those days. We’re working on helping strengthen and tone his arm and leg muscles to counteract the tightening of his back. For many months, his frequent crying and pain caused him to overdevelop the muscles in his neck and back and neglect his arms and legs. Since developmentally, he should start crawling in a month or two, we need to make sure he stays on track.
“No, Nadia had to cancel today. She’s sick.” I help her empty the bags.
“Oh, that’s too bad. The day after OT, Kai tends to have a great day,” she says.
“That’s because Nadia works him out hard,” I chuckle. “He’s physically exhausted after his therapy sessions.”
“Is he asleep?” she asks.
I look over my shoulder to check on him. “Yes, we both passed out about an hour ago.” I massage my lower back and then stretch my arms into the air. “That couch is not comfortable.”
“Neither is that chair upstairs, but you sleep in it more than you do the bed,” she replies and closes the refrigerator.
She looks at her watch. “Darn,” she says and shakes her head.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It looks like I’m going to miss my hair appointment.”
“Why is that? You still have time, right?”
“I told Garrett I would make him dinner tonight.”
“Really? I haven’t seen you cook for him in a while. He can take care of himself,” I say and slide onto the bar stool.
“Sam, that boy doesn’t cook. You know better than that. I fill his refrigerator and freezer with tons of food for him to heat up. I’ve been doing it for years. Besides, I promised him I would make him something tonight because Heath is coming to work on some band stuff.”
“I’ll do it. You go and get your hair done. You deserve it,” I grin, and she doesn’t waste any time gathering her things. She hugs me quickly and heads toward the front door.
“Thank you! See you tomorrow,” she calls out, and she’s gone without even telling me what she was planning to feed them. Crap.
I look into the den again to make sure Kai is still asleep and begin rummaging through cabinets. I find flour and a couple of jars of sauce. Pizza. I can do that.
Now I need to Google how to make dough. As I’m swiping through my phone, Garrett comes in from the garage door into the kitchen. “Hey,” he says, surprised to see me.
“Hi.” I find the flour recipe and place my phone down on the center island.
“I hope you and Heath like pizza,” I say and grab the olive oil from the cabinet.
“Uh, yeah we like pizza. Why?” he looks puzzled and tosses his keys onto the counter.
“Aunt Peggy said she was supposed to cook for you both tonight and she had to run out, so now I’m cooking for you.”
“You don’t have to cook for me, Sam,” he says and walks toward me.
“What are you guys going to eat then?” I ask.
“There’s been a change of plans. Heath can’t make it, so I’m solo tonight.” He grins and he notices the flour and oil. “You’re going to make homemade pizza?” His eyes light up. “I haven’t had homemade pizza in forever.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Me either,” I say and brush past him to find the rest of the ingredients I’ll need to make the dough. “I hope you have yeast here,” I say.
“What?” he asks.
“Yeast. I need yeast for the dough.” I open the pantry and immediately find all of the baking supplies. You can tell my aunt is in charge of food shopping and organizing the pantry; it makes it easy to find things. “Here it is,” I say and swipe the small packet from a plastic bin on the shelf.
He raises his hands in the air and says, “I’m no good here. This is all you. But you really don’t have to make me anything. I can order something.”
Everything else I need is within reach, and I have the ingredients arranged on the center island, ready for me.
“Where’s Kai?” he asks.
“In there. Asleep.” I motion toward the den and pick up my phone. He’s watching me with amusement as I re-read the recipe. I open the flour, measure out what’s needed for the dough, and dump it into the stainless steel bowl in front of me.
“How was he today?” he asks.
I look up and swipe my hand across my forehead. I should have put my hair up.
“His day was okay,” I say and dump the rest of the ingredients into the bowl.
“Just okay?” He looks disappointed. “Where’s Nadia?” he asks, and I look up again. A large curl has fallen in front of my face, partially blocking my view of him. I attempt to brush it away and at the same time get the flour mixture on myself. His smile grows and he takes a couple of steps toward me.
“She had to cancel tonight,” I say and tense up as he gets closer. Why is he looking at me like that? “And Kai had his ups and downs.”
“You’ve got… something on your face.” He grins as he reaches out. He softly brushes the flour from my face, and I feel like I’m swaying in place.
“Th—thanks,” I stammer as he tucks the nuisance curl behind my ear. His hand lingers for a moment and then he steps away.
“I think I should help,” he says. “You’re a bit of a mess already.”
“Why don’t you grate the cheese? There’s a brick of mozzarella inside the top drawer in the refrigerator.” I assemble the hand mixer and plug it in.
“Do I have a cheese grater?” he asks, and I try to stifle a giggle.
“You really don’t spend much time in your own kitchen, do you?” I ask.
“I’m in here all the time. I just don’t know where anything is. Your aunt makes sure I don’t have to worry about any of that.” He seems embarrassed and drops his head.
I tap the drawer next to me. “Cheese grater’s in here. It’s a flat, rectangular, metal thingy,” I say, just in case he’s never seen one before.
“I know what a cheese grater looks like, Sam. I just didn’t realize I had one.” He brushes past me and opens the drawer. “See.” He points. “It’s right there.” He’s standing next to me and starts his chore. I smirk as I turn on the mixer. His elbow bumps into mine as he’s working, but I don’t move.
“So
rry,” he says, and I look over at him. Now he’s grinning, and I know that I didn’t really hurt his feelings. I bump my elbow into his on purpose and he smiles. He’s feverishly grating the cheese, and soon a large pile is on the plate in front of him.
“Enough?” he asks, and I nod. He brushes up against my side and peeks into bowl. “That doesn’t look like much dough,” he says.
“That’s what the yeast is for,” I reply and dump the packet into the mixture. “Once this is all blended together, the dough will begin to rise. It should take about an hour and then we’ll be able to make our pizza.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Our pizza?”
“I’m not putting all of this effort into something not to get anything out of it,” I say and bump my hip into his. What am I doing?
“Really?” he says and turns to wash his hands in the sink. “I guess that seems fair enough.”
“What do you want on top?” I ask.
“What?” he chokes out.
“Toppings? What do you want on top of your pizza?” Oh my God. My cheeks are burning as I stretch plastic wrap over the bowl.
“Oh.” He pauses. “I’m good with just cheese and sauce.”
“Me too,” I say. My hands are covered in flour, so I join him at the sink. “Can you leave the water on?”
“Sure,” he says, and I place my hands under the warm stream.
“Too hot?” he asks.
“No, it’s just right.”
He squeezes soap into my hands, and I rub them together, building up the lather and scrubbing off the flour that’s caked on. “Thanks,” I say. Our shoulders are touching. He remains next to me as I finish washing up. He turns off the water and places a towel over my wet hands, his strong grip patting and squeezing my hands dry. My knees are weak, and I swear his hands are the only thing keeping me upright at the moment.
“Dry?” he asks hoarsely. I look into his eyes and nod slowly. His hands remain wrapped around mine, but I don’t want to pull them away.
Suddenly Kai cries sharply from the den and I jump. Garrett drops the towel and we both rush in to calm him. Kai’s lying on his back, and his arms and legs are outstretched. His screams grab me in the chest and I lift him up. “It’s okay,” I whisper as his body tenses against mine. I rhythmically pat his back and bounce him in my arms.