Take 2 on Love

by Torrie Robles

  “I didn’t allow her to do anything. She’s her own person. She has her own mind and her own feelings. I’m never going to tell her that her feelings are wrong.” I glance at Steve, who’s watching the crowd of kids jumping around in the grassy areas of the center. “I’m going to show her that her feelings are wrong.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “By reminding her why we’re so right for each other. Why we’ve always been right.”

  He nods in what I assume is satisfaction. He points his beer towards the direction of the windows. “Well, my friend, you better not wait too long. It looks like you’re not the only one who wants to show your wife who’s perfect for her.”

  My brows furrow in confusion until my eyes follow where Steven’s point his beer. There, at a table, is Whitney with a man I’ve never seen before. She’s talking to him, her face lit with animation, the smile on her face genuine. My heart clenches watching her interact with this man, knowing it’s been years since I’ve been able to put a smile like that on her face.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “Apparently, your competition.”

  Holy shit, I think I’m going to have a stroke.

  Leaning over, bracing my hands on my knees I try to catch my breath. Running is no joke. My legs feel like jelly, and I’m pretty sure I’ve developed a severe case of the shin splints. Maybe I should buy a rowing machine or a stationary bike instead. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I’m sweating in places I have no business sweating in. My lady parts are the wettest they’ve been in I didn’t know how long. I’m huffing, praying that someone finds my body once I keel over because I’d never want my kids to think that I up and left them.

  The toes of two running shoes appear on the ground in front of me, and I close my eyes because I know who those feet belong to. It’s like we’ve had a magnetic pull lately. We see each other on base, at the grocery store. He was even at the gas pump next to mine yesterday morning. I’ve lived in this town all of my life, and I don’t think I’ve ever run into one person more.

  “You know,” he says, “You need to stand, put your hands on your head, and continue to walk until you catch your breath. Being hunched over doesn’t help bring oxygen into your diaphragm.”

  I stand, chest heaving. “And you’re the expert on the respiratory system?” I gasp between breaths.

  “It’s common knowledge to stretch to allow as much air to enter the body. If a hose has a kink, the water doesn’t come out, but once it’s straight, it totally flows, right?” Okay, so he has a point. “Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” he continues to instruct me.

  “What are you, Dr. House or something?”

  He laughs. “Or something. I studied medicine in college. Didn’t finish, but did enough to qualify for the officer program.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know.” I continue to take deep breaths, finally feeling some relief in my lungs. They aren’t burning nearly as much as they were.

  “Feeling better?” he asks.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Bending over, I rub the front of my shins. He squats next to me reaching for my legs, which haven’t been shaved in I don’t know how long. I smack his hand away before he can touch my skin, or feel the hair. “What are you doing?”

  He looks up. “Checking for shin splints.” He reaches again, causing me to smack his hand away for the second time.

  “Stop doing that,” I clip.

  “Okay,” he says as he stands, hands raised in the air. “I was trying to help.”

  “I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary.” I rub up and down my legs, trying to ease the ache. “I haven’t shaved my legs…” Christ, I can’t believe I said that.

  “That’s it?” he says as he drops back down, taking my leg in his hand before I have a chance to smack him away again. “Remember, Whitney,” he looks up at me, squinting a bit from the sun, “I’ve been married. I get that you don’t always have time to shave your legs. It doesn’t bother me.” He rubs his thumb over the front of my leg, making me wince in pain. “Yeah, it seems that you got a pretty bad case.” He picks my leg up higher, inspecting my shoes. “How long have you had these shoes?” he asks as he turns my foot back and forth.

  I grab onto his shoulder for balance. “I don’t know. A couple of years or so.”

  “You can’t run in old shoes. Shin splints are the least of your worries if you continue to do that. You’re going to ruin your knees and your lower back. There isn’t enough support. If you decide to continue this type of exercise, you need to invest in a decent pair of shoes, and you need to make certain to replace them at least every six months.” He drops my foot, and then stands up.

  “Hey, you completely shaved your beard off.”

  “Yeah…” He rubs his hand up and down the side of his face. “I think Talia’s finally getting used to me, so I felt it was time.”

  I try to hold back a laugh, but I can’t. “You know that you have a bad case of the farmers tan on your face?” The golden skin that adorns most of his body, well, the parts I can see, is totally lacking where his beard used to be.

  “Yeah, I know. I think I’ll buy some of that self-tanning lotion until my skin evens out. I’ve gotten hell from the guys in my squadron.”

  “Make sure you get the right shade. You don’t want to turn your face into the color of an Oompa Loompa. I’m sure the guys will have a field day with that one. No matter how attractive you are, no one can pull off an orange face. Just ask Trump.”

  He takes the hem of his shirt and wipes his forehead. His stomach, like I suspected, is golden brown, and tight with muscle. He has a soft splattering of hair that thickens slightly the further south it goes. He drops his shirt, cutting off the peepshow and looks at me. “You think I’m attractive?” There’s a bit of vulnerability in his eyes that makes me want to reassure him about anything he’s ever doubted in life.

  “Come on, now. Do you really need me to boost that ego of yours?” I ask, totally sidestepping the question. I’m not ready to enter that zone. I’d like to think the few encounters have been friendly ones, and I don’t want to make this awkward between us. Needing to end the situation, I look at my watch.

  “Hey, I need to get going. I’ve got to get ready for class.”

  “Sure.” He nods, stepping out of my way. “Have a good day, Whitney.”

  I give him a smile. “You too, Liam.”

  I step past him, deciding to walk the rest of the way home. Stupid unsupportive shoes.

  “Hey.”

  My head snaps up from the papers I’ve been grading when I hear Heath’s voice as he enters my room. I’ve been living in my condo for one month yesterday. In that time I’ve been writing like crazy, spending time by myself and actually enjoying it. The kids have settled in nicely, and they’ve adjusted well. The time with Heath has dwindled into seeing him in passing as we drop the kids off. He’s told me work has been crazy, but I wonder if this is him being him.

  “Hey. Why are you here?” I push back from the desk, but I wince when a pain shoots up my shin.

  “What’s wrong?” He scurries over, bending down in front of me. “Is it your hip?” He knows that I get a pain in my hip from time to time.

  “No,” I grit, bringing my leg up to rest on my thigh. “I’ve picked up running, and I’ve gotten shin splints,” I say as I rub the pain away.

  “Here.” He takes my foot in his hand, pulling off my shoes before running his fingers from the arch of my foot, up the back of my calf. My head falls back against my chair. “Do both legs hurt?”

  The massage feels so good, I can’t seem to open my eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Why are you running? You’ve never been a runner before.”

  “I know that. But I thought I’d try it. It shouldn’t be too bad. Besides,” I peel one eye open. “I heard it relieves built-up frustrations or something like that.”

  He places one leg on the ground before starting on the other
one. “There are other ways of relieving frustrations, you know. You don’t need to kill yourself by running.”

  “Yeah, well the only other stress and frustration relief I’m familiar with calls for a little bit more than I’m willing to bite off these days.”

  “I’d be willing to make that sacrifice to help you out, you know?” He wriggles his brows at me.

  “Come on, Heath. That’s not the way this is supposed to go.”

  He gives my foot one last squeeze before gingerly setting it down. “I know. I apologize.” He stands before he leans against my desk.

  I only then realize that he’s dressed up in dark denim jeans and a freshly pressed dress shirt. “So what’s up?” I ask.

  “I was hoping to take you out to an early dinner and a movie.”

  Of course, now that he has the time, I’m too busy. I sigh. “I can’t. I have these papers to grade and that stack over there,” I lift my hand to point to the essays my class turned in last week, “should have been graded at the end of last week. I need to get those into the system before I have parents calling me threatening my life.”

  He looks around my desk for a moment. “Well, I guess I’ll just order pizza and keep you company.”

  I straighten in my chair. “You don’t have to do that, Heath. This stuff is boring.”

  “I know I don’t have to, but I want to spend some time with you. I’ll be here, in case you need some help with the grades.” He gives me a wink and pulls out his phone. “Shit,” he curses almost under his breath.

  My body tenses at his tone. “What? What’s wrong?”

  His lips thin while his nostrils flare. When he takes his eyes from his phone to gaze at me, I know what’s coming next. “Whit–”

  I throw up my hand, stopping him before the excuses roll off his tongue. “Work?” I ask already knowing the answer. “Just go, Heath. It’s fine.”

  His shoulders fall as his head drops. When he looks up, I can see disappointment swirling so prominently in his eyes. “I’m sorry, babe. I really am. I’m trying. Believe me that I’ve been working my ass off trying to get this aligned at work. I don’t want to cut down on my projects. I don’t want to turn customers away, and as much as it’s a headache, I’m enjoying watching the company grow. I may have bitched and complained about not needing the acknowledgment in the industry, but I was wrong. I just need help, and I swear to Christ I’ve been looking for the right guy for the past two weeks. I’ve been interviewing guys—.”

  “It’s okay–”

  “No, it’s not. I want to be here with you. I want to watch you grade papers.”

  I laugh. “Now you’re lying.”

  “Maybe about the papers, but not about you.” I hear the buzz of his phone. He looks so torn, and that’s not what I was trying for.

  “It’s all right. Some other time. I’ve got a lot of work here to do before I head out. Don’t worry about it.”

  He nods and takes a step towards to door, but stops. When I realize he’s changed his course and headed towards me, I grip the armrests of my chair. He leans over, placing his hands over mine as he leans his forehead. “Please believe that I’m trying. Even though I’ve been scarce, I’m still trying. Don’t forget that.”

  I swallow. “I know.”

  “Good. I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” he tells me before he places a kiss on my forehead, making my eyes close.

  Damn, I miss this man.

  “I’ll be right there,” I yell as I turn on the dryer. Someone’s knocking on my door at ten in the morning, and I have no clue who it is. When I hear the knock again, I run to the door so I don’t miss them. Pulling on the handle, I’m greeted by a postal service worker.

  “Morning, ma’am. I have a couple of packages for you,” he says as he hands me something to sign.

  I didn’t order anything, but I take the clipboard and sign my name. “Thank you,” I tell him as I grab the boxes and shut the door.

  “Who was that?” Jenna asks as she leaves her room with phone in hand, earbuds in one ear. When her eyes land on the boxes in my hands, a smile breaks across her face. “Ohh, did you get me something?” she vibrates with excitement. She’s bouncing on the tips of her toes, eyes full anticipation.

  “No, I didn’t,” I respond as I drop the packages on the table.

  “Oh.” Her face falls.

  “It’s not always about you, Jenna. I’m sorry to say, but it’s true.”

  “Geez, no need to be all bitch-mode, Mom.”

  My body turns towards her. “Since when have I told you that it’s all right for you to one, cuss, and two, do it at me?”

  Her shoulders drop. “It’s no big deal. My friends do it all the time.”

  This is where I want to ask her if her friends jumped off a bridge would she do it too, but unfortunately, as smart as she is, I know how important being accepted is, so she’d probably jump without any question. These are the times when you need to pick your battles. “Don’t cuss in front of me again. It’s rude and disrespectful, and I know I’ve raised you better than that.”

  “Trevor cusses all the time. That’s a total a double standard.”

  “He doesn’t cuss at me like you just did.”

  “He still cusses. You had to tell him to stop just last week.”

  “Again, Jenna, he wasn’t doing it towards me. He was playing games with his friends.”

  “You still heard him.”

  Yes, last weekend while I was in bed, writing, Trevor was on the living room television, gaming with his friends. I guess things got heated and before I knew it, a slew of profanities, some I’ve never heard of, came flying from the front room. By the time I got into the living room, he was pissed, chest heaving as he was beating his controller into the carpet. I had to cut him off and send him to bed. He wasn’t happy, but I was afraid my TV would suffer the wrath when he got so upset, and I didn’t want to see a gaming controller sticking out of the screen of my TV.

  “I’m aware of that. I’m really not arguing with you. Please do as I say. If I hear that word or any other words like it directed at me, then we’re going to have an issue, and the way I’m going to solve it is to take your phone away.”

  I turn my back on her, but I don’t miss the grumble of ‘whatever’ as she leaves me and slams her bedroom door. I see the familiar name and address on the return sender label and my stomach drops. I go to work on the box, using the force of my frustration to tear back the bindings. I pull the packing paper, revealing a black and white shoe box. Heath bought me a pair of shoes. I smile to myself, at his thoughtfulness. So unlike him, that’s for sure. I pull open the black and white box seeing there’s a note tucked inside.

  I know how you love ADIDAS. If you insist on running, at least wear these trainers.

  I love you, Heath.

  Wow, my heart does a flip that he actually went out of his way to help me out by buying me running shoes. Heath hasn’t been the type of man who buys a ‘just because’ gift. Not in a long while.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull at the cardboard of the next box, using the same force as I did with the first. Once I lift the packing paper, I see a black and yellow book titled, Shin Splints for Dummies. I can’t help the laugh that breaks from my chest. Amusement rolls through my body as I take the book in my hand, looking it over. When I pull the packing slip from the box, I see it’s from Liam, which I already knew. I grad the yellow piece of paper from the bottom of the box and unfold it.

  It’s not your typical reading, but I thought you’d make an exception.

  ~ Liam

  Wiping the tears from my eyes, I continue to giggle at his jester. He’s a funny guy. Shy too, I can tell by the brief encounters we’ve had. Not the persona of what I expected out of a pilot. Sighing, I drop the book on the table and break down the cardboard before sliding the boxes next to the trash for Trevor to take out later.

  I walk over to my purse and pull out my phone and take a couple of pictures of my shoes, I send it t
o Heath with a ‘thank you’ and heart emoji attached to it. After I drop my phone back into my purse, I pad across the room to where the hall is. “I’ll be back,” I holler to no one in particular since both kids are tucked away inside their rooms. Grabbing a small plastic bag I’ve had on the table near the front door, I exit and head to my neighbor’s house.

  My heart races a bit as I reach his front door. I know it’s rude to show up unannounced. I hope he’s not busy. After I knock, I hear someone yell that they’re getting the door, and I jump a little by the force in which the door is swung open. Dillon. His eyes skate down my body.

  “Um, hi.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, suddenly shy under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Is your father home?”

  “Dad,” he calls out without taking his eyes off me.

  Liam’s fingers wrap around Dillon’s shoulder, pulling him back as he steps forward. He’s wearing worn jeans that ride low on his hips, and a pink T-shirt with what I’m assuming is his squadron logo stretched across his chest.

  “Whitney.”

  “Hey.” I glance to Dillon who’s still standing there.

  “Dillon,” Liam turns towards his son, “this is Whitney James. She’s Ben’s teacher and a neighbor a few doors down.”

  “Ohhh… You’re Jenna’s mom. I was wondering why you looked familiar. You guys look almost identical. It’s crazy.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t tell her that she looks exactly like a forty-year-old, or she might die of embarrassment.”

  He laughs. “No way. You’re gorgeous. She should be proud.”

  Heat creeps up my neck, my cheeks warm.

  “All right, Casanova, that’s enough.” He pats his son’s shoulder before maneuvering him out of the doorway. “Move on. There’s nothing here for you to see.” Liam takes a step outside the house, crowding my space, so I step back. “Sorry, I’ve got a house full right now, and there’s no way I’d invite you into the chaos.”

  “It’s okay. I totally understand. I didn’t let you know that I’d be stopping by, and really, I couldn’t let you know since I didn’t have your number or anything.”