“My uncle had no sons and needed help with his construction business. And if my younger sisters needed to move here later, then I could support them.”
Her forward motion stops and she stares up at me, her amber eyes brimmed with shock and sadness and sympathy. “That’s a lot to put on a kid that young.”
She grips my forearm with her right hand, while the other strokes the back of my hand and wrist. We continue down the path, but now our pace slows and becomes more casual. We’re not cooling down after a run—we’re taking a walk together.
It feels nice.
“Was it very difficult for you?” she asks after a few minutes.
“Well, high school sucked. At first anyway.” I smirk at the memory. “But it did wonders for my English. And once I started wrestling, things got better overnight.”
“Mmm. Were you hell on wheels back then, too?”
“Afraid so.” Yeah. I’m bragging. “I went from the guy who didn’t know English and being the punch line of jokes to a high school badass. Made things easier with the girls, too.”
Sweet Lou groans. “If only the social and emotional problems of high school girls could be solved by varsity sports.” Her light strokes cease as she reaches for her hair and wrings her ponytail into a tight twist.
“Please—I bet you had the guys bent over backwards to get your attention.”
“Far from it.” Her voice is low and haunted. “Trust me, there is no hell like high school for an awkward girl.”
“Awkward? Now that’s hard to picture.” I can’t stop myself. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”
“No, I’m not,” she insists.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Come on, Louise.”
“I’m serious.” She folds her arms and picks up the pace. “I was the tallest person in my class until junior year. I wore braces, glasses, and was flat as a board. My arms and legs are still way too long. I looked like an ostrich, which became my nickname.” I watch a deep breath of air rattle through her ribcage. “God, I hated that.”
“So when did all this happen?” I wave at the knockout beside me.
“This?” Louise’s hands contort in a gesture of confusion. “There is no this. I grew up, that’s all. The braces came off. The extended wear contacts went in. I filled out eventually in college, during clinical rotations when I didn’t have much time to work out.”
“But you never really got over your awkward phase, did you? Or got comfortable with your looks?” I watch her from the corner of my eye. “Bet you even have a hard time believing compliments are sincere.”
Minutes pass as we continue our walk in silence. “It was a long time ago. But it’s not so long ago that I can look back and laugh at it.” She stops and looks up at me with a troubled expression. “I don’t think I ever will. Part of me will always be the Ostrich.” Sweet Lou shakes her head.
“That explains a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Like why you’re such a ballbuster.” I tease her with the truth.
“A…wait…what?”
“You take charge in situations that a woman normally wouldn’t, and you’re indifferent to the commotion that causes, especially with men. You just expect everyone to get over it.”
“Thank you. That’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in a while.”
“Are you serious?”
“That was a compliment, wasn’t it?”
“See what I mean?” It’s not really a compliment or a complaint. At least from me.
The number eleven appears above the bridge of her nose. “Not really. Then again, boyfriends were never my major. Maybe that explains it.”
A wave of relief and excitement surge through me. “That’s not a bad thing, Sweet Lou.”
“I suppose not. Since becoming a nurse, I have a lot more women friends now. But I like guys. In many ways, I’m more comfortable around them. Probably because of sports. I had a lot of guy friends in school.”
“Bet that pissed off the other girls.”
“Sometimes it did. But that never made any sense to me. I didn’t date the guys I was friends with. Many of them had girlfriends.”
I shrug. “Face time is face time.”
“Whatever, I guess. If you don’t trust who you’re with, then you’re with the wrong person.”
“It’s that simple?” I ask.
“For me it is.”
Good to know.
She pauses and after a few minutes, looks back and forth between me and the path we’re walking on, then hesitates before she asks, “Hey, I haven’t busted your…um, you know, blues brothers, have I?”
I laugh. Just a little. “Not too much. Not yet, anyway.”
“That’s a relief. Can’t have those big boy pants of yours all twisted up with worry.”
“You noticed those, huh?”
Sweet Lou’s face flushes deep crimson. She looks up and gives me a death glare, then bursts into laughter. She starts to speak but a loud crash of thunder interrupts her. Seconds later, the slow plop, plop of rain transforms into a biting sleet that stings the skin wherever it strikes.
We both look around for shelter, but we’re on an open part of the path where there isn’t any.
“How’d you get here?” My hand shields the side of her face from the rain.
“I ran.”
“My car’s parked on Webster,” I tell her.
“Webster’s on the other side of the park.”
“Well, we can’t stay here. You want a ride?” I offer.
“Hell yes,” she replies.
I extend my hand and she grabs hold of it. Neither of us looks back as we sprint off together under the gray evening sky.
10
“It’s right here, Louise.” Usalv’s powerful hand pulls me close as I attempt to run past a metallic plum SUV parked on Webster Avenue.
The electronic purr of the door unlocking fills me with all the jubilation of the Chicago chamber choir at a holiday sing-a-long. The freezing rain causes violent fits of shivering as it soaks me to the skin. Despite the nasty weather, Usalv opens my door and helps me up before he scrambles to the driver’s side and jumps in.
“Tha-n-ks.” My teeth chatter as he switches the engine on and cranks the heat up.
I lean into the passenger side of the console and soak in the warmth from the heat vent. Wrapping my arms around me, I rub hard to erase the emerging trail of goosebumps along my body. I’m wearing a thermal shirt underneath a light cotton shell and they’re both soaked through.
“You’re freezing.” Usalv removes his baseball cap and waterproof shell before tossing them on the seat behind me.
I nod, shaking uncontrollably. Ice crystals have formed on the collars and cuffs of my soaking wet clothes. The tops of my thighs sting as heat hits where sweat, sleet, and frigid air collided on the surface of my wet cotton-lycra pants.
“Come here.” Usalv grabs a wool varsity jacket from the back seat and wraps it around me. He massages my arms and back vigorously through the thick quilted material.
His touch surprises me with its gentle but powerful warmth. Soon my hands recoil from the vents as I lean closer to Usalv, preferring the heat of his hands along my shivering spine.
My eyes are closed when he stops. I look up to discover my face inches from his chest. One hand stills on the small of my back, the other grips my shoulder.
“You good, Lou?” His face hovers inches from my forehead.
“I’m good.” I shift back into my seat, avoiding his eyes. “Thanks.”
He clears his throat and examines the sleet scratching against the windshield. “Let me take you home. Are you far from here?”
“About a mile North-ish.”
He nods and puts his seatbelt on while I do the same.
Usalv checks his mirrors. “Where to?”
“Larabee, then make a right on Fullerton.”
We ride in silence for a few minutes. I wrap his jacket around me tightly and inhale the rich sce
nt of bergamot and a woodsy fragrance I can’t name. I’m so preoccupied we almost pass my apartment.
“This is me!” I interrupt the sedate atmosphere inside the car. “On the right…up here is me.”
Usalv hits the brakes and checks his rearview mirror. We crawl along in search of a space, but end up double parked. The car stops, but I remain motionless, not wanting to leave. Usalv sits in silence, waiting for me.
“Thanks for the save,” I tell him.
“Anytime, Sweet Lou.” He doesn’t smile, but his voice is sincere.
I start to remove his jacket, but notice the nylon lining and shoulders are soaking wet from my drenched hair and clothes.
“Damn, I’m sorry.” I pull the jacket back as he reaches out for it.
“No worries. It’s fine,” he assures me.
“It’s not fine. What time is it?”
“About four-thirty.”
“Macy doesn’t get home until about six. Pull into that driveway.” I point out the window. “You can park in her space for a bit. Come up and I’ll throw it in the dryer for you.”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
I sigh, irritated. “I’m not sending you out in this with a useless wet jacket.”
“You sure?”
“Up here,” I point. “I’ve got a code for the parking lot.”
Usalv turns into the narrow driveway, and I lean over him to access the key pad. Somehow we manage to avoid touching, which leaves me inexplicably disappointed.
He navigates over to Macy’s empty space in the detached garage. Then we sprint across the narrow driveway to the apartment entrance, where a middle-aged man cradling a frigid Scottish terrier waits for the elevator, and we all ride together up to the fourth floor.
“Please come in,” I tell Usalv after opening my front door. “The living room is that way.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like something to drink? Something hot?” I ask after he settles onto the sofa next to my favorite spot.
“Like what?”
“I know it’s weird, but I’m going to heat up some chicken broth. Otherwise there’s coffee, tea—”
“Chicken broth,” he answers, amused. “I haven’t met anyone else who drinks it.”
“Parsley and garlic salt?” I ask.
“More of a ginger-turmeric guy, myself. But sure, why not?”
It’s my turn to look amused. “I guess you really do drink it.”
“I’m on a diet that would bring most chicks to their knees,” he replies.
Whatever he’s doing, it sure works for him. “Give me a minute. I’ll just throw this in the dryer.” I point to his jacket wrapped around my arm.
“Show me where your kitchen is and I’ll make it.” He gets up and follows me. “You need to go change out of those clothes.”
He follows me into the kitchen and waits by the stove as I pull out a carton from the fridge and some spices from the cabinet.
“We’ve got ginger, but no turmeric. Sorry.”
“No worries.” He points toward the kitchen entrance. “Now go.”
I head toward the closet outside the bathroom where the dryer sits and toss his jacket inside. The closet next to the dryer holds clean towels, and I then grab two of them to take into my bedroom.
I shut the door and strip my wet clothes, which land in a messy pile on the floor. My naked body warms up quickly after being rubbed vigorously with a towel. Several strands of my hair are frozen together at the ends. I’m starting to feel normal again when the loud slam of the front door heralds Macy’s early arrival home.
“Some asshole parked in my space. Do you even believe this shit?”
A heated flush creeps up my spine as Macy’s bag hits the foyer tiles with a familiar thud. I reach into the top draw of my dresser and pull out a black camisole and pale pink bikini underwear.
“…Of all the damn days,” Her angry declaration echoes down the hall. “And it’s this large ass luxury SUV. How the hell they even crammed it into that tiny space is beyond me…”
Macy’s on a rant, and she probably thinks the person making noise in the kitchen is me. I’m determined to get out there before she says anything else or discovers Usalv, but I can’t find my bathrobe.
“Whoa!” Macy exclaims. “And you are?”
Too late.
“I’m Usalv. You must be Macy. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m sorry…who?” she asks.
“I’m the asshole parked in your space.” Usalv’s calmness can be annoying. I wonder if it’s natural or if he does that on purpose.
“You are?” Macy replies.
“Sorry about that. Sweet Lou didn’t think you’d be back for another couple of hours. Do you want any chicken broth?” he asks.
“Where is Louise?” Macy asks.
“She’s in her room getting dressed.”
The entire apartment goes stock-still. In the sober silence, I remember my bathrobe in the dirty laundry and dive into the pile to retrieve it.
“Oh.” Macy breaks the stillness. “Well. Of course she is. Um…nice meeting you Usa… Us-salv? And don’t worry about the parking thing. I…think I’ll go get mine washed. Or something.”
I open the door, tighten the belt of my robe and dash into the kitchen. Macy and I collide as she’s backing out of the doorway.
“Hey, Macy.” I’m blocking her exit. “You’ve met Usalv?”
Macy turns to face me and her eyes bulge as they take in my wet hair and bathrobe. When she looks up at my face, her expression is brimming with shock and questions.
Oh God.
“Sorry about the parking thing,” I stammer. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Clearly.” With her back to Usalv, her bottom jaw drops to her chest.
“Louise got caught in the rain. I gave her a ride home.” Usalv pulls two clean mugs off the dish rack. Taking his time, he fills them both from the sauce pan of boiling liquid on the stove. When they’re full, he takes two strides toward us and hands me a mug.
“Thank you.” As I take it from him, my fingers brush against his hand.
He smiles down at me. “You’re welcome.”
Macy rolls her eyes at me.
“So… where are you parked?” I blurt out before she speaks again.
“I’m in Scott’s spot and he’s gone until tonight, so no worries for now. But…” Macy glances over at Usalv, who’s retreated to lean against the kitchen sink. He watches us over the rim of his mug. “Are you…going out?”
I peer over Macy’s shoulders and fixate on Usalv. He gives me an expectant look, but when I say nothing, it fades as he takes a drink from his cup.
“Um…no.” I tell her, breaking eye contact with Usalv. “After a very hot shower, I need to study.”
“Good. That’s good.” She pauses. “Well, if you’re going to be home, Mike’s coming by a little later.”
Not my idea of great news. “Why?”
She hesitates. “Well, I thought he could help us both out.”
I glance at Usalv, before nodding toward the kitchen door. He nods back in understanding, and I usher Macy out, following behind her.
“Damn it, Macy, no you didn’t.” I tell her when we reach the living room.
“Listen… Paul’s coming home in the next ten days. Have you got a new place yet?” she pushes.
Ashamed, I answer, “No,” then set my mug on the table.
“That’s what I thought.” She chews her bottom lip.
“I know this sucks for you. And I’m really sorry. But truthfully, you couldn’t have asked me to do this at a worse time. My schedule sucks, so it’s hard to find a roommate. And now that I’ve got tuition payments to worry about, finding a decent place by myself hasn’t panned out either. I am trying, though.”
Damn it, I didn’t want to say that to her. Not like this anyway.
“I get it,” she replies, placing a gentle hand on my forearm. “That’s why I called Mike. He’s g
ot a lot of connections in real estate and I think he can help.”
My voice conveys a mix of frustration and irritation. “Macy, I don’t want his help.”
“Are you kidding? Why?”
“Because it’s Mike. Hello? We both know he’ll think I have ulterior motives for asking him.”
Macy removes her hand from my forearm and rubs her temples. “Lou, we’re both getting a little desperate here.” Her voice rises. “Can’t you suck it up and deal with any blowback later?” She pauses, then adds, “You could do a helluva lot worse, by the way.”
“Not this again. Please.” Her comments force me to recall our uncomfortable argument in the ER.
“What do you think of that guy?” Macy cornered me in a supply room during one crazy St. Patty’s Day shift.
“What guy?” I asked.
“The big blond with the arm that needed stitches?” she replied.
“You mean Mister ‘I-don’t-need-no bottle opener, I’ll just bicep-curl the top off? You want my opinion? Seriously?” I asked.
“Be nice, Louise. That’s Paul’s cousin.”
“My condolences.”
“He thinks you’re smoking hot,” said Macy.
“It’s the beer goggles. His vision will clear up just before the hangover sets in,” I replied.
“Can I give him your number?” she asked.
“Hell no.”
“You’re missing an opportunity here.” Macy bobs her head in encouragement.
“More like dodging a bullet.”
“Louise, sometimes you’re really harsh.”
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t treat him.”
“Okay, so he got a little out of control on St. Patty’s Day. It was stupid, but he’s really a good guy. You’d like him.”
“You think it’s a good idea for me to date someone who’s here to be treated for drinking game related injuries? Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Fine,” she replied before whooshing past me and out the door. She didn’t speak to me for the rest of our shift.
“Mike Daughtry?”
Macy and I turn together to see Usalv propped against the wall next to the kitchen with his arms folded.
“Yeah.” Macy’s tone is puzzled. “How do you know Mike?”
“We work out at the same gym,” he explains.
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