Starting From Broken

by F. T. Zele

  I grab a quick shower before I head off to Jade to work on a bunch of long overdue paperwork. Since everything happened with Liz, I have been preoccupied with all things Liz and concentrating on work has been a difficult task. Knowing I have to get this stuff done for the month is nagging at the back of my head. I can’t lose sight of what this place means to me.

  While I’m working, there is a knock at my door. As I get up, Tyler lets himself inside. What would be unacceptable from anybody else isn’t for my best friend, who has been a constant support throughout my life.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?” I ask when he sits down at my desk.

  “Not much. Haven’t seen you much in the last couple of days. Is everything okay?” he asks, visibly upset.

  “Yeah, no need to worry. Things are good. How’s everything at The Hudson?” I ask as I slide my chair away from my desk.

  “Never been better, but you know I wouldn’t have it go any other way. What’s new with you?”

  “Nothing really. I’ve just been busy. How is Sophie?”

  “She’s good. We’re good. How are things with Liz?” he asks as he shakes his head.

  “Things are good. We’ve been talking, taking things slow. She actually met my mom the other day and brought dinner over last night.”

  “By the look on your face, things seem to be better than good.”

  “I still haven’t talked to her about a lot of things, but I’m not letting that mess with my head.”

  “She has you whipped, doesn’t she? I never thought I’d see the day,” he says, laughing with this smug fucking tone.

  “I’m not fucking whipped. I’m just trying not to screw this thing up. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Well, yeah, it is.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence from you, much appreciated. Is there something you needed?” I say, growing irritated with this conversation.

  I thought out of anyone besides my mom, Tyler would be happy, and I wouldn’t have to go through the third degree with him. He has been on my case for a while about finding someone and settling down. He understands I’ll need stability in my life once Mom is gone.

  “Look, dude, I’m stoked for you, really I am. I just want you to be careful with her, that’s all,” he says, alarmed.

  “You know, you sound like your girl now. One thing I don’t think any of you get is that Liz is strong. She’s just had Sophie fighting her battles for her. She hasn’t ever had to do shit on her own before.”

  “I get it. Have you told her about Sasha yet? I know you made the connection between them when you read that note in her trash can.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I think you’re an idiot. You’re ruining things before they even start.”

  “You don’t need to worry. I’ll tell Liz when the timing is right. All right?” I emphasize the last part sternly, making my point that.

  “All right. Man, you think you’d be a little nicer when things are going your way.”

  “Sorry, I’m behind on this paperwork, and I have to get it to the bookkeeper tonight,” I state, feeling shitty about attacking Tyler like that.

  “Want some help?” he asks.

  “Thanks, I think I can handle it. I’ll call you later.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Once he’s gone, I return to my paperwork. I check the time on my phone and realize I’ve been here all morning and haven’t heard from Liz at all. I type out a quick text to her.

  Me: Good Morning. How’s your day?

  As I put down my phone, I receive a message.

  Liz: I’m good. Trying to get some stuff done since it’s the end of the month.

  Me: Yeah, I’m doing the same. Do you have any plans tonight?

  Liz: No, I was just going to veg out at home. You?

  Me: Have to check up on some things, then I’m free. I can bring a movie by?

  Liz: Sure, just no action movies. I hate those. I’m a sucker for comedy, though.

  Me: Okay, it won’t be until a little later, Like 9ish.

  Liz: Sounds good. Have a good day. See ya later.

  Me: You too.

  The next hour flies by as I finish everything. After closing the office, I leave and hurry across town to meet with the builder to go over the plans for the new restaurant. I’m trying to get everything finalized so we can start the construction. It will take about six months before everything is ready, and I’m hoping I can finish it in time for my mom to see it. As it looks right now, I might have to spend extra money to make sure the job gets done faster. When I’m finished with the builder, I head over to The Hudson and check on some orders.

  Once I’m done at The Hudson, I make my way to the video store and pick up the most recently released comedy. I don’t have time to watch movies, so picking out something I have never seen before is easy. I just hope it’s something Liz hasn’t seen either. Before leaving the store, I grab a bunch of snacks and drinks.

  I pull up to her house, get out of my car, and walk to the door. After lightly knocking, I wait for her to answer. She opens the door, and even in sweats and a loose tee that hangs off one shoulder, I’m taken aback by her beauty. Her dark hair is pulled back, showing off features she often conceals, and I want no more than to trail my lips down her neck and across her collarbone. To taste her again.

  “Movie and snacks here,” I say, holding up the bag of stuff I brought.

  “Hope it’s something good. I haven’t watched a movie in forever. Let me see what you got.” She playfully snatches the bag out of my hands.

  “Easy there, it’s all the movie essentials. Popcorn, licorice, gummy bears. I hope you eat at least one of these things.”

  “Sweets are my weakness. I actually stopped on my way home and got my favorite. There’s this little shop that sells mini jelly donuts. You don’t feel as guilty eating a mini one opposed to eating a regular one . . . or five. Come on in.” She steps back in an inviting way.

  I take a step toward her, and another. Once I’m close enough, I place a kiss on her forehead and wrap my arms around her, tightly holding on and longing with everything I have she won’t slip away from me again.

  “You know where the living room is. I’ll make the popcorn. What would you like to drink?”

  “Oh, there are some drinks in the bag. Can I get a glass with some ice?” I yell while making my way into the living room.

  “Okay.”

  When I take a seat on the couch, memories of that night flash in my mind. What an asshole I was, how selfish I was. I’ve been with plenty of women, but I can’t recall a time I was ever that way with any of them. I might not call them, but I never disrespect them.

  I let her down.

  When Liz comes walking into the living room, I get up to help her as she juggles a couple of cups, a bowl, and a little pink box I’m sure is the doughnuts she was talking about.

  “Let me grab those from you.”

  She hands me the stuff and walks over to the TV, putting in the movie before grabbing the remote and sitting down to claim her spot. I finally sit down when she hits Play to start the movie. Sitting this close to her on this couch distracts me from being able to watch the movie. She is all I can think about. I wonder how much she would squirm if I pressed my lips to the bare spot under her ear. I know I need to wait for her to make a move on her time, but sadly with how timid she has always been, I don’t see that happening. I just have to watch for the little subtle signs letting me know when she’s ready for more.

  Every time she giggles when something funny happens, my heart skips a beat. Seeing her be herself makes me realize I’m the luckiest fucking guy around.

  “You aren’t liking this movie much, are you?” she asks me, disappointment flashing across her face.

  “What? No, I’m fine. It’s way more fun watching you enjoy the movie,” I say genuinely.

  “We don’t have to watch it, it’s ok.” She grabs the remote.

  “I’m not big on watching TV
. I just wanted to spend time with you, no matter what we’re doing.”

  “Okay, want to go get some fresh air?”

  “That sounds great.” It really does right now. I think a little break in the cool night air would do well for these thoughts racing in my head.

  Once outside, we sit down in some chairs on her patio. I watch her gaze up to the stars, melancholy imprinted tightly in the lines around her eyes while she squints, looking like she’s searching for something she can’t seem to find.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask softly.

  “Am I that transparent?” she answers, not taking her eyes off the darkened sky.

  “No, I’m just that observant. You know if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m always here to listen,” I push.

  “Is there something you want to talk about? You’ve seemed pretty preoccupied since you got here.”

  “I’ve just been thinking. Thinking about how beautiful you look tonight.”

  “Oh my god, stop it! That’s the shit I don’t like. Those lines are probably ones you’ve used on other girls. They don’t work on me, so just cut the shit.”

  “They aren’t lines, I promise. Even in sweats, you make me feel things . . . Things I have never felt with anybody. It makes me optimistic of the future, but scares the shit out of me at the same time.”

  “It scares me, too, but I don’t want to live like I have been. Alone, scared to take a chance, tired of living on what-ifs, always looking to Sophie for the right answers. I don’t know what will happen between us or just life in general, but I want it to be a choice I’ve made.”

  She finally starts coming out—the true her—and I love what I’m hearing. “Do you trust me, truly trust me to help you and not hurt you?” I ask, needing her to say yes.

  “I do,” she responds, sounding unsure of herself.

  “Look, I’ve apologized over and over, and I will continue to apologize until you feel like you can forgive me for what happened before. I gave you my word. I will never treat you that way again. All I have is my word, and I’ll never make it any less than a promise. Do you trust me?” I say, trying to drill the words into her head.

  I need her to trust me, trust me with everything. Until she talks to me about that letter, I know she won’t fully let me in. At this point, even though we’re having a great time together, it’s always going to be the elephant in the room. I read it, she knows I saw it, and it’s only a matter of time before she figures it out, if she trusts me enough to tell me.

  “Yes,” she says a little more confident this time.

  “You’re getting there. Come over here.” I pat my leg, needing her to sit close to me so she can feel the truth.

  She slowly gets up, makes her way over to me, and gently sits on my lap. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her until her head rests on my shoulder. I turn my head slightly, dusting kisses on her forehead. Even though I haven’t known her for that long, she means so much to me, and I’m falling madly in love with everything about her. Since I can’t express verbally what I’m feeling inside and terrified I’ll scare her off, I carefully try to show her.

  “This is nice. Thank you for coming over,” she quietly says, sounding tired.

  “There isn’t another place I’d rather be.” I scoot forward in the chair so I can lean back more and relax, soaking up this moment with her.

  Her breathing deepens, and I know she has fallen asleep on me, again. Once I feel her body fully relax, I gently stand up, cradling her in my arms as I carry her to her bedroom. She doesn’t stir as I tuck her into her bed.

  I close her bedroom door, walk out to the living room, and straighten up a little. After grabbing my keys and locking the door from inside, I get into my car and drive home.

  I wake up in the middle of the night confused. The last thing I remember is sitting outside with Braxton, but I don’t remember going to bed. I turn on my lamp on my side table, then walk out to the living room to see the mess has been cleaned up. As I head to the front door to lock it, I notice the bottom has already been turned, so I latch the top.

  Once I’m back in bed, I send Braxton a quick text, thanking him for cleaning up and putting me in bed. I don’t wait for a response, because once my head hits the pillow, visions of Braxton kissing my forehead consume me.

  After waking up feeling like a truck ran over me, I go back to sleep for a little while longer, trying to feel somewhat like a human, but that doesn’t happen. I’ve been working a lot, and I’m sure I’m just tired, but I can’t seem to get out of bed today. Thankfully it’s Saturday.

  My phone buzzes, and I grab it, checking the messages.

  Braxton: You keep falling asleep on me. I’m starting to think I’m boring you.

  I chuckle at his response.

  Me: Sorry, I’m not feeling well. Think I’m getting sick.

  Braxton: I’m sorry. Do you need anything?

  Me: No, I just need to rest. I’ll be fine by Monday.

  Braxton: Feel better. If you need anything, let me know.

  Me: I will. Thanks.

  I put down my phone and head to the bathroom to see if I have any medicine. Finding something, I take it with me to the kitchen and grab some water before making my way to the living room. I swallow the medicine with some water and get comfy on the couch while I turn on the TV. I guess watching some mushy romance movies is in my future, and it’s been forever since I’ve vegged out.

  A knock on the door wakes me up. I look out my window and notice it’s now dark outside. I have never slept this long in my life. I get up and answer the door, greeted by Braxton standing there with a couple of bags.

  “Hi, what are you doing here?” I ask, groggy voice and all.

  “Oh shit, did I wake you? I’m so sorry. I’ll come back.”

  “No, I needed to get up. I fell asleep on the couch hours ago, and I don’t know how I slept so long. What do you have in those bags?” I try to see through the thin plastic.

  “Just your average cure-all. Soup, tissues, orange juice, medicine, maybe a jelly donut or two.” Sporting a satisfied smile, he lists everything in the bags.

  “Well, come in. Just don’t get too close. I wouldn’t want you getting this or giving it to your mom.” Pulling my shirt over my nose, I shield him from my germs.

  “You don’t need to do that,” he says, as he walks to the kitchen and drops off the bags before opening every window.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Letting in some fresh air. You don’t want to sit here and marinate in these germs. You need to get them out, and it’s a really nice night out.” Once he’s done, he walks to the couch where I’m sitting and places his hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up. When was the last time you took something?” he says as he rushes off to the kitchen. I hear the bags being wrestled through, and he returns with something and a glass of water. “Here, take this.” He hands me the water and two pills.

  “I’m okay, really. You don’t need to do all of this. Thank you, though,” I say as I take a sip and swallow the pills.

  He walks out of the living room again, and I’m tired from watching him going back and forth. He returns this time with a wet washcloth, gently pushing my hair away my forehead and placing it on my head.

  I seem to have found something he doesn’t deal well with, sick people. He looks frantic rushing around doing everything to make me feel better. It breaks my heart once I realize why he’s doing all of this. It must make him nuts that there is nothing he can do for his mom, and he can do this for me.

  “Hey, relax. It’s just a head cold or something. I’m going to be fine,” I say as I grab his hand, trying to calm the craziness going on inside him.

  “I just want to get you feeling better.” Defeat is written all over his face.

  “Did you say you brought soup? I’m feeling a little hungry.” Listening to my stomach growl, I decide to change the focus of the conversation.

  “Yep, stay here. I’ll get it for
you.”

  I can sense what his concern for me is doing to him, and it’s not a great sight seeing him stressing over something so trivial. I know he won’t stop, so I keep my mouth shut, if this is something that makes him feel better. Although it sounds crazy, I do somewhat miss the asshole. Now I feel like he’s watching everything he says and does, trying not to repeat what happened before, and it seems off. It was better when I wasn’t feeling like I was being treated with kid gloves.

  Braxton navigates his way around my kitchen, looking for bowls and silverware, not asking me where anything is located. He’s making sure I don’t get up to help him. Minutes later, he comes in with a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of orange juice, setting it onto the coffee table in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I say, eating a couple of bites and drinking as much juice as I can stand, so I don’t worry him any more. “What do you have planned tonight? You going back to the bar?”

  “This is what I’m doing. Taking care of you and making sure you have what you need so you can rest.”

  It’s cute and sweet, but I’m capable of taking care of myself. I don’t want him feeling like he has to stay here and take care of me when I know he probably has things to do.

  “Braxton, I’m fine. You can go back to work. I’m most likely going to sleep this off. Thank you so much for bringing everything. Really, I appreciate it,” I say, trying to sound convincing.

  Braxton and I have spent every day together since lunch that day. I don’t want him ignoring things he needs to do because he feels he has to get us back in a better place. As far as I’m concerned, we are better, and things are going great. I don’t want him messing up the things most important to him because of me.