Fighting Hearts

by Annabeth Saryu

  “You really didn’t have to bring me flowers.” I scold her a bit as I take the bouquet and give her a hug of thanks. “A Schwartzy with extra pickles and fries is more than enough.”

  Macy laughs. “Same old Louise.” She hands me one of the plastic bags hanging from her arm. “For you, my dear.”

  I take the plastic carry out bag, then wrap my arms around her again. “It’s so good to see you. Thanks for coming over.”

  “You’re welcome.” She hugs me back. “I miss you a lot. It’s great to have Paul back, but I wish we had more time.” Macy sighs. “Hopefully, when things get back to normal, we’ll be able to hang out a little more.”

  Normal? What the hell does that even mean anymore?

  “That would be great,” I reply. “Do you want to eat at the table, or on the couch?”

  “Couch, please. Just like old times.” Macy looks at the fashionable sofa and tables. “Only a little more chic. When did you get these?”

  “I’m renting them. Same with the kitchen furniture. And the TV.” I’d selected them from the website of a company with really high ratings before I’d been discharged from the hospital. They had arrived here the next day. It turned out better than expected.

  “This is…cozy.” Macy gives the place an appraising look while I get two ginger-ales from the fridge of my tiny kitchen. “Cozy, but very nice.”

  “Thanks. It’s working out well for me.” My tiny kitchen is part of an open floor plan that includes the living room. The front door opens right into the living room, too. It’s all done to maximize the use of the small space, which makes it easy for me to get around.

  “How’s therapy going?” she asks as we settle into the living room and dig out our food from Styrofoam containers.

  “Going well, actually.” Unable to resist, I take a big bite of my sandwich before continuing. “Next week is the last week full time. Then it starts to taper down over the following month. I feel a lot better. I’m more sure of myself.”

  “That’s great.” Now it’s Macy’s turn to dive in to her sandwich. “How do you like living alone?”

  “Better than when I first moved to Chicago. But time will tell. I’ve had a lot more visits than I expected. But that’s people looking in on me since… You know. When that stops happening, who knows how I’ll feel.”

  “True.” Macy takes another bite of her sandwich and chews slowly. After a few minutes, she speaks again. “How’s Usalv?”

  My blood pressure spikes at the mention of his name. “He’s good. Good. Twice a day he checks in with me. Once in the morning, again in the evening after he returns from the gym.”

  “That is good.” She reassures me. “Are you two…going to try and patch things up?”

  “There’s nothing to patch up really. We’re just two people after two different things.”

  Macy shoots me a puzzled look. “Have you had sex with him since you got out of the hospital?”

  “No.” I admit, confused by her question.

  “But he comes to check on you at least twice a day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lou, that doesn’t sound like someone who’s just looking for a no strings horizontal workout.”

  “I can’t tell you what he wants, Macy. You’ll have to ask him. I can only tell you what he doesn’t want. And that’s me.”

  “Whoa. That’s really harsh.”

  “It is harsh. It’s also very painful. Can we change the subject please?”

  Macy shrugs. “Of course.”

  “Thanks. Because as long as you’re here, I’d like your opinion on something.”

  “What is it, Lou?”

  “I hate asking you this, especially after the big shit storm it caused the last time we discussed it.” My chest heaves under the weight of a deep breath.” But do you think Mike Daughtry would still be willing to help me find another place?”

  Macy’s mouth widens into an oval and her sandwich falls into her lap with a splat. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Provided I’m not required to date him or live next door to him. Or live in his apartment.”

  Macy smiles. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. He’s trying to fill that slot with someone else.”

  A thousand pound weight lifts from my shoulders. “Kudos to Mike and his new woman. Believe me, no one is happier to hear the news. But…you don’t think my request will cause him problems on the relationship front, do you?”

  “No,” Macy assures me. “But why do you want to move from here?”

  “Because I’m still in love with Usalv. And there’s nothing worse than being in love with a man who only wants platonic sex. He keeps getting his all the while repeating his disclaimer, reminding you how great things are and that there’s no need to change them. Sometimes I can hardly breathe.” The admission tears through my soul.

  “Back up a minute.” Macy interrupts. “Where did you get the idea that he doesn’t love you back?”

  “The night I was attacked, I told him that I loved him. Before I was attacked.”

  “Really?” Macy’s voices raises in shock. “What happened?”

  “He got dressed in world record time and left. That’s why I was walking the streets with high heels at one in the morning. I couldn’t stand to be near him after that.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Macy tells me after a long, stunned silence. “At the hospital, he never left your side. Every time I came up to check on you, he was there. I know he has feelings for you. I’ve seen it.”

  “Whether he does or doesn’t, he sure the hell won’t admit it to me.” Tears flow freely from my eyes. In the last month, there have been so many tears that I just let them flow unchecked now. “It hurts being around him, knowing he doesn’t feel the same way. And I’ve been hurt enough this year.”

  “Yes, you have,” Macy assures me. “I’ll speak to Mike for you. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll help out.”

  34

  “Madman? We need to talk.” Mike Daughtry calls to me from across the gym.

  As I sit up on the weight bench and reach for the towel tucked inside the waistband of my shorts, Lucky Mike beelines over to me, his expression a mask of irritation and impatience.

  “What is it, Mike?” I ask when he reaches me.

  “You want to do this here?” He looks around the weight training area.

  It’s about ten in the morning and I’m just getting started, while the amateurs and before-work crowd have all but cleared out. It’s been over a month since Louise was attacked and things still aren’t back to normal, at home or here.

  I wonder if they ever will be.

  Louise moved right into the downstairs apartment after arriving home from the hospital. A company dropped off some rental furniture, and Louise paid them extra to drag her stuff out of my house. Within an hour of being home, she was gone again.

  “Sure, I guess.” There’s not much I give a shit about these days. “What’s up?”

  Mike takes a quick look around the gym and when he sees we’re by ourselves, shoots me a nasty-ass glare. “You are a major fucking dumbass, Markovski. You know that?”

  “Christ, Mike. Tell me what you really think.” I get up from the weight bench and lean against the stacks. “Who the hell pissed in your cornflakes today?”

  “You know, it took a lot for me to give up on Louise without acting like a total asshole.” His hostile eyes bore into mine. “But I told myself, and so did others, that I was being a good guy, respecting both of your feelings, letting it go. Giving up on her without a fight, gentleman-like.” He snorts in disgust.

  “That’s all true. What’s your point?” I remain calm and certain while my teeth grind the tender flesh of my inner cheek into hamburger, checking the hot flash of temper that courses through me.

  “My point? Here’s my point. Fuck. You.” Mike flips me the bird, jabbing at me in rhythm with his words. “You blew it for both of us, dumbass.”

  “What the hel
l are you talking about?” My mouth tastes like blood.

  “I’m going to tell you this.” Mike starts pacing in circles. “Man to man, the way you didn’t tell me when you moved Louise into your house up the back stairs like a thief in the night.”

  “Tell me what?” I stand to my full height and take two steps toward him.

  “Louise asked me to find her a new place.” Mike’s hands rest on his waist. “Like, yesterday. Sooner if possible.”

  “What?” My voice fills with shock as the blood drains from my face.

  “Yeah. And I’m going to help her.” He tells me without flinching. “Not because I still want her. Hell no. God knows that I couldn’t take much more of this anyway.” Mike shakes his head. “But I’m going to do it because I feel sorry for her.”

  It’s my turn to flinch. I back off Mike and lean over the barbell and try to catch my breath.

  “How the hell do you fuck something like that up?” Mike throws his hands in the air. “Fuck that, don’t answer me. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “The truth is, I don’t myself.” I shudder as a deep sigh erupts from me.

  “Jesus, you had her in your house, in your bed.” He spits out in a mixture of clueless exasperation. “All you had to do was keep her there.”

  “From the moment I saw her, not slept with her, I haven’t even looked at another woman, let alone been in anyone else’s bed.” I shake my head in misery.

  “She loves you, asshole.” Mike voice becomes calm. “Or at least she did.”

  “And when was that? When I let her stay in my house without cashing her rent checks because she had no other place to go? How about when I dragged that sick fuck off her and beat his ass into next fucking Christmas? Or staying at the hospital until she woke up?” I glare at Mike with a helpless expression. “Don’t my actions count for anything? Because if they don’t, then maybe I’m not the right man for her.”

  “Hell, we both know how the goddamned posers get laid,” Mike replies. “They whip out the I-love-yous faster than their dicks and soon they’re getting all they can handle. Depending on how fast a woman wises up, they can get a lot of mileage out of it, too.”

  “I’ve never lied to a woman about loving her to get sex.” It’s the truth. “Louise is the first woman who’s so damn obsessed with hearing the words.”

  “It’s true that some of us don’t need to work it much to get sack time. But it’s a mixed blessing. Especially when you fall for a woman who insists on certain conditions. It can seem… Overwhelming? Demanding? Compared to how easy it was with others before her.” Mike’s words ring with truth and unfamiliar wisdom.

  “I check on her twice a day, every day. Just to see if she’s okay.”

  “So you do love her, don’t you?” Mike’s voice is calm and leading.

  “I never kiss or touch her, or bring up sex to gauge her interest.”

  “Mmm.” He nods. “Have you told Louise that you love her?”

  “Not in those words,” I admit.

  “Right. That’s a big hell no.” Mike cracks his knuckles. “When she decided to move out, what did you say?”

  “The first time Louise mentioned it, she was upset and I told her we should talk after she calmed down. Instead she took a walk and got attacked.” Guilt sickens me from the inside. “In the hospital, she asked to rent my downstairs apartment. Louise insisted it would be best for her recovery, so I did what she asked.”

  Mike remains silent for a long time. “So you never told Louise you loved her, or that you wanted her to stay?”

  “No.” My mood turns somber.

  “Jesus Christ. Madman, you’re a good guy, but a real dumbass.” Mike’s words are harsh, but his voice is filled with pity.

  “Fuck that. I went over to the hospital all set to propose. But then Louise said she wanted to move out. There didn’t seem to be much point after that.” I shut my eyes at the devastation a no from Sweet Lou would have caused.

  “Hold up a minute.” Mike shoots me a surprised scowl. “You were going to propose? Like, with a ring on a bent knee, propose?”

  My only response is a silent nod.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Mike smacks his hand against the barbell. “You can’t let her leave without knowing that. You need to sort this shit out and fast. Pick up the pace already.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the whole thing is just isn’t meant to be.”

  Mike sighs, then leans over the weight bar next to me. “Women need to hear the words, Madman. That’s how they’re wired.”

  “What if she says no?”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  35

  “Hey lady, there’s some big guy out there who won’t let us load your things,” the mover with a gray goatee complains from the doorway.

  “What?” It’s nearly noon and Usalv should be at the gym now. What’s he doing here?

  “Says he needs to talk to you first.” His barrel chest lifts his entire body when shrugs. “You want to take care of this, or should I call the cops?”

  “No, don’t do that. I’ll be right down.” I fumble with the tape on the moving box, smoothing it down before squeezing past the barrel-chested mover standing on the porch checking his smartphone.

  Damn. I’d hoped to avoid a confrontation. Being so physically close to Usalv while remaining emotionally distant has become intolerable. Over the last month, he’s brought food and picked-up prescriptions from the pharmacy. He stops in twice a day. But through it all, our interactions are brimming with a sober sterility that’s killing me.

  Down by the street, Usalv paces alongside the moving truck. It’s a crisp fall day, but he’s only wearing a black T-shirt over his dark blue denim jeans. His black leather court shoes make scuffing sounds on the pavement as he turns around to stride back in the other direction. He’s so preoccupied that I’m almost run over after stopping in his path.

  “Louise.” He stands straight, quickly masking the nervous surprise in his eyes.

  “Usalv.” I take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it go. “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” He makes an open-handed gesture toward the moving van. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “We both knew from the start that this was only temporary.” I fold my arms. “Right?”

  “Did we?” Usalv’s eyebrows arch so high that his scar almost touches his hairline.

  “Yeah, we did.”

  He starts to stay something, then shakes his head and resumes pacing. At the ramp of the moving van, he turns back around and continues before stopping a few feet in front of me. “Okay, so maybe the real estate part of this was a little shady, but what about the rest of it?”

  “I-I…don’t know what you mean.”

  “Liar,” he goads me with a raspy whisper. “You can’t leave. Not like this.”

  “I can’t stay.” My voice starts to crack. “Not like this.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like in an open-ended, casual relationship.” God, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. “I can’t stay here, close to you, living like this and waiting for you to remind me one day that this wasn’t for real.”

  “Shit.” He shakes his head as he looks down at the sidewalk. “This whole damn thing stopped being casual a long time ago. I think we both know that.”

  “No, we both don’t know that,” I reply. “You know how I feel. I don’t know how you feel. Hell, maybe you don’t even know yourself.”

  “Really? I know how you feel? Because you told me and that’s that? ‘Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.’”

  “What?” My throat goes dry as I recognize the reference.

  “I wanted to talk about what happened in your room the night of the party.” He shoves those huge fists down into the pockets of his dark denim jeans. “But you needed some fresh air and went for a walk instead.” Usalv closes his eyes for a moment. “At the hospital, you announced your plan to move downstairs. You ask
ed, but you didn’t discuss. And now, you’re moving out at a time you’d thought I’d be gone. Your feelings are as clear as mud to me.”

  “How did you know I was leaving today?”

  “Mike.” He tells me in a quiet, gentle voice. “Even he thinks I’m getting the shaft in all of this. Which says a hell of a lot, by the way.”

  A rush of guilty fury courses through me. “That’s not fair. It wasn’t his place to say anything.”

  “Fair? Shit, Louise. If I’ve been untruthful about my feelings, you’ve been dishonest about your desires. How fair is that?”

  “That’s not true.” My defense sounds unconvincing even to me.

  Usalv reaches out and cradles my head between his two large hands. “Do you really want to move out of here? To break up with me? To stop having sex?” His eyes bore into mine, refusing to let me look away. “Am I that shady? Is this all that unpleasant? Because if that’s how you really feel, then go ahead and leave. I won’t stop you.”

  “You know it’s not,” I confess.

  “How do I know that?” he presses me. “The same way you know I don’t love you? Fuck that.”

  “That’s not fair. I told you when I moved in, friends with benefits didn’t work for me. You said let’s see how things go. When our careers started to tank, and I said we should take a step back, you stormed off. When I said that I loved you”—my voice cracks—“you set a world record for the speed-dressing sprint. You know how I feel. You just don’t know you feel about my feelings.”

  “I know how I feel. It’s just hard to say it the way you want me to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone in my life—my mother, sisters, even my first love—told me that they loved me just before they left for good. And when I even considered saying it the night you stormed off, I damn near lost you.”

  Oh God. “I had no idea about any of that. Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

  “Because, because, how could you not know how I felt?” His voice is filled with disbelief. “The things I did for you, what we…did together, all we’ve been through. Can you honestly say you had no clue about how I felt?”