The Fear That Divides Us

by M. N. Forgy

  “So, you wanna go grab a bite?” Shane asks, leaning against the counter. He is almost as relentless as Bobby, but I have no problem telling Shane no, unlike I do with Bobby. Shane is a good-looking guy and has a lot going for him, but I don’t want a relationship. Judging by the behavior of Shane since he has been here, he wants something serious, and I’m not the kind of girl who wants serious. I don’t want love, or the heartbreak that accompanies it.

  “Nope, I don’t,” I reply flatly, looking over discharge papers the nurse just gave me.

  “Come on, Jessica. You can’t turn me down forever,” Shane chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the counter.

  “Oh, but I can.” I look up from the papers and smile wolfishly at him.

  “Dr. Wren, I’m sorry to do this, but you were put on call for the night,” a nurse informs me. I look over the desk with disbelief, my eyes burning a hole through her. I was supposed to have tonight off. I know for a fact I’ll be called in five minutes after leaving this place.

  “What?” I all but shout.

  “Don’t kill the messenger,” she replies meekly, walking away.

  “Shit. I was supposed to take Addie to pick out movies tonight,” I mutter, sliding my hands through my hair in anger. My job has impossible hours, making the time I have with Addie limited. She is going to be livid when I tell her. I’ve canceled movie night three times already because of having to work extra hours unexpectedly.

  “You go on a date with me and I’ll take your shift. You can go home to your daughter with no interruptions,” Shane show-tunes, focusing on his clipboard and feigning nonchalance.

  I throw my head back and growl in frustration. The only dates I do are one-night stands. No strings attached. No complications. But I don’t want to skip on movies again with Addie. What harm could one date with Shane possibly do? We’ll go eat and then I’ll head home. Maybe he’ll see I am not who he is looking for in the end and leave me alone.

  “Or I can settle for a quickie in the supply closet,” Shane suggests. My head snaps over and looks at him, trying to read if he is joking or not. His head tilted to the side, and his brown eyes are staring at me intently.

  “Oh, my God, you would,” Shane whispers, his eyebrows lifted. My hesitation making him think I would be as easy to give a quick rump in the closet.

  “What? No, I—”

  “Date it is. See you this weekend,” Shane chuckles, walking away.

  ***

  A guy rushing into the ER who had stapled his thumb to a board at the end of my shift means I’m home late. Surprisingly, we get a lot of those cases. I love the ER, the adrenaline that pumps through my veins when someone rushes in after a chaotic experience, depending on you for their wellbeing. However, it’s not that thrilling when it happens right before you’re about to clock out.

  I go to key in the code to the security gate at my apartment and the gate pushes open before I even have a chance to press a button. I scowl and try to shut the gate, curious as to why it’s not locked. It’s not shutting at all. It’s broken.

  “What the hell?” I yell, flinging the gate open.

  Damn slumlord is letting this place go to shit. Some kid in his early twenties who just likes to sit around and get high inherited the place after his dad passed away. It has been a ‘fix it yourself’ ever since. I head up the stairs to my apartment and find a note taped to my door saying Addie is staying with Bree, since her niece came over for the night. Addie loves playing with Bree’s niece so it doesn’t surprise me she wants to stay over.

  I look over at Bree’s door contemplating knocking so I can see Addie. The security gate not working is going to have me up all night worried. I know it’s late though and she’s probably asleep. I open my door and slam it shut with my foot, dropping my groceries to the floor. I fish out the bottle of wine and head to the kitchen to remove the cork. I don’t even bother with a glass; I just drink from the bottle. I’m classy like that.

  I drink alcohol more than I should. It helps forget the pain, the memories, and the fear. That and what single mother doesn't need wine occasionally? I don’t have a problem with it though. I never drink when I am on call, or around my daughter. Heading into my bedroom, taking a big swig from the bottle I stop in the doorway and inspect the drawers of my dresser all pulled out. My clothes sprung from one end of the room to the other. Looks like Addie played dress up again. My shirts are mostly strung out, along with all my lipsticks scattered along the top of the dresser. I swear she’s nine going on sixteen. I’m going to have my hands full with her. Maybe I should start buying gothic lipstick, leaving it in her reach, then she can run around looking like a member from KISS; it would be better than the bright pink or red she obviously was wearing.

  I fall on my bed landing on my back, my hand holding the bottle of wine dangling over the bed as I look up at the ceiling. I wonder what Bobby is doing. I wince at my internal thought, and close my eyes tightly.

  “This is your fault,” I whisper to the bottle of wine in my hand. The wine helps with a long day, but often brings me to thinking about Bobby. I hate how he makes me want him; has me thinking about him all the time. Not to mention, Bobby’s a rock star in the sack, making it that much harder to stay away. I’m usually so high on desire from his skilled fingers and the affection he shows my body, that I don’t realize what I’m doing until it’s over. He’s not the one afraid of taking what we have and complicating it. Bobby has made it clear, as I have, that he has no desire to take things further. That’s not what I necessarily want, but absolutely need. What we have works: no attachment, no broken hearts.

  I groan and sit up, taking another big swig, the fruity goodness numbing my senses. My phone vibrates in my back pocket making me jump and spill wine all over myself.

  “Shit!” I yell, licking my fingertips to get every drop.

  I slide my finger across the screen bringing my phone to life, cursing it at the same time. There’s a message from Bobby.

  Bobby: Naked?

  I should tell him I am wearing tan granny panties, and a nightgown my grandmother gave me. See if that gets him all hot and bothered. But knowing Bobby, it probably would turn him on.

  Me: Hardly.

  Bobby: I can help with that!

  Me: Going to bed.

  Bobby: Think of me, Hummingbird.

  I sigh. I hate it when he calls me that. He says I hum a lot, reminding him of a hummingbird.

  I toss my phone on the floor, and take another big gulp of wine, letting it slide down my throat, praying it helps numb this feeling of grief in my soul. I ran to the club a few years back, my last resort in saving my daughter and me from Travis, my deceased husband. I never thought I would trade a life of danger for the temptation of another hell.

  I roll over and see my closet lit up, my eyes catching my forbidden shoebox at the top.

  “Don’t do it, Jessica,” I whisper to myself. I know nothing in that box will help with what I’m feeling. The box that keeps little snippets from my past. I don’t know why I keep it. Actually, I do. It reminds me why I’m doing all of this. Living carefully and loveless. I’m caged by fear and tormented by recollection, making my life pretty monotonous.

  I take another big gulp, my head lightening from the wine’s effect as I stand from the bed, and make my way to the closet. My fingers brush against the brown box. As a tear slowly escapes my tired eyes, the scars across my back blaze from terrifying memories.

  “Your life as you know it will be mine. It’s up to you how long that life is to be endured and how. You will learn your role as my wife, and your happiness will depend on that,” Travis whispered, his voice calm and solemn against my ear. My body raised in fear when I heard the slight noise of something trailing along the floor as he paced behind me.

  Wine splashes my feet, along with a loud crack, waking me from my dreadful memory. I look down and notice the wine bottle has slipped from my grip, landing next to my feet. I remember that night more than most. I went out with
my girlfriend, Heather, and we got a little crazy and drank too much. A police officer drove us home so we didn’t have to drive. Travis was furious when the officer dropped me off. As soon as the door closed behind us, he grabbed me by my hair, and pulled me down to the basement.

  Bobby

  I am blowing on my cup of coffee when Jessica walks into the clubhouse. Her pink scrubs snug against her body and her blonde hair pulled up into a tight hair tie immediately draws my attention. Her vivid blue eyes spot me on my stool and she smiles. Her smile is contagious, holding me hostage for a moment before I manage a smile in return. Her face is round in the sexiest way. The hint of neutral red on her defined cheeks speak of the summers she stayed outside as a kid, staining her cheeks with a permanent glow. I swear every time I see her, my chest cramps and my dick swells painfully.

  “I’m here to dress Tom’s leg,” she explains, holding up her black bag. She has been here every day for the last few days since the wreck happened. I’ve been here every time, and I’ve tried every day to get her to stay afterwards, go for coffee, anything. My efforts have been turned down, as usual. But when I do finally break her wall, she’s worth every painful stab to the chest caused from the countless rejections. I know she’s afraid, terrified of giving her heart to someone she trusts only to have it violently ripped from her chest. She needs to be pushed past her threshold of security to know I’d never hurt her. However, I’m terrified too. I fear pushing her to the breaking point and her never returning back to me. So I tell her what she wants to hear… that we’re just friends and nothing else. No complications.

  “I’ll go get him,” I reply, getting up from my stool, giving her a wink.

  I walk down the hall and open the door to Tom’s room without knocking. Tom is passed out, hanging halfway off the bed, naked. I lift my boot and kick the side of the bed.

  “Get up. Jessica is here to replace your bandage.”

  He groans and rolls over, his bright-colored tattoos running up his arm catching my eye. I swear he gets the color in those touched up every few months.

  “I’m up,” he groans, running his hand through his long, tangled hair.

  I make my way back to the bar finding Jessica drinking my coffee. Her slightly pink lips curve over the rim of the cup, taking a small sip.

  “Help yourself,” I clip.

  “I did, and it tastes like crap.” She twists her face in disgust.

  “Made it myself,” I reply proudly.

  “I figured,” she says, laughing, before turning and grinning.

  “Club is having a party tonight. You should stop by,” I suggest, brushing my finger against her cheek.

  She blushes and her back stiffens from my touch.

  “Can’t,” she answers flatly. Her rejection feels like a horse kicked me in the fucking chest.

  “Can’t or won’t?” I ask. She looks at me, setting the coffee cup down.

  “Can’t,” she replies softly, with a weak smile.

  I smirk and nod. Guess I’ll call Diamond from Wicked Birds. Looks like I ain’t breaking Jessica’s resistance this time. Before me and the boys left the club the other day, Diamond grabbed me by the arm and wrote her number on my palm with a magic marker. She kissed me on the cheek before walking away, swaying that fine ass of hers.

  Jessica knows I sleep around. Jessica and I are nothing but late night booty calls to one another. We’re not serious and don’t have a label on what we are. But, even so, I still find myself coming back to her, always thinking of her. I can’t for the life of me fucking figure out why. I’ve slept with a bunch of girls; I can hardly remember any of them, and for damn sure, I forget their names. But I’ve never forgotten mine and Jessica’s first time, or any other time after that.

  It was at the club about six months after she came back from playing the grieving wife. She seemed reluctant to my advances, as if she wore a repellent to my charm. That night the club had some random party and she actually stayed. I finally broke through her defenses.

  “It’s so loud in here!” Jessica yelled, her forehead creased with little wrinkles as she looked around at the club. She was sexy as hell, wearing a tight black long shirt, some cut-off shorts, and sneakers. Every time she bent over, my eyes darted between her cleavage and her ass like a Ping-Pong ball.

  “You wanna get out of here?” I yelled back, leaning into her so she could hear me. She nodded, causing her blonde hair to fall in front of her face, her cute nose scrunched up. I grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd of people before she changed her mind.

  As soon as we got outside, it was near silent. The only thing you could hear were crickets chirping within the depths of the darkness the street lamps glow didn’t reach. There was nobody around; everyone was in the club, leaving just Jessica and me standing out front of the building.

  “You wanna go for a ride?” I asked her, nodding toward my bike. She looked over at my ride, her eyes widened, and lips parted as she took in my motorcycle.

  “I don’t know,” she sputtered, looking up at me under her thick eyelashes.

  “Come on, just a short one,” I encouraged, my chin raised and eyes at half-mast as I persuaded her.

  She laughed, her mouth turning into the cutest fucking smile I had ever seen on a woman. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked at me. Adorable little dimples forming below her cheeks.

  “Just a short one,” she breathed heavily, biting her bottom lip as she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her cut-off shorts. God fucking help me. This woman was going to bring me to my knees.

  I smirked and grabbed her hand.

  “I’ll give you one hell of a ride,” I remarked, my smirk turning into a wolfish grin.

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you will.” She dragged me toward my bike.

  Heading toward the ocean, her arms wrapped around my waist and her fingers trailed along my abs as she took in the passing buildings. I couldn’t help the fucking smirk that slipped across my face, the feeling of her on my bike and her arms around me was thrilling. Jessica was different. The way she drove me wild, I couldn’t help but feel on cloud fucking nine at that moment that she was finally giving into me. I pulled back on the throttle a little, a cocky smile taking over my smirk. I knew she’d give in eventually.

  I rode us under a wooden bridge with the beach and ocean feet away. Throwing my jacket down on the sand, I turned toward her. Taking me by surprise, she jumped in my arms and clung to me.

  Pulling away briefly, she leaned in and kissed me, her soft mouth taking mine with a passion I had yet to experience. I had made love to girls, at least I thought I had, but never had that unspoken connection like I did with Jessica. Until that kiss, I never really knew what I was missing. Kissing a woman before was nothing compared to the way Jessica’s mouth and mine connected. Her lips fitted against mine perfectly. The way my gut fluttered with excitement when her tongue tasted mine was an experience I wanted to experience over and over again. She consumed me.

  She pulled from our kiss leaving me breathless, and walked a few feet away. Mesmerized, I watched on as she pulled her top above her head, revealing her naked tits. Knowing she hadn’t been wearing a bra made my mouth instantly go dry, thirsty for her. She looked down at herself, and then peered up at me nervously. Her hands slid over her abdomen reaching the buttons on her shorts, unbuttoning them, and lowering them down her long legs.

  Unable to resist any longer, I leaned in and tucked my hand behind her neck pulling her toward me.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous,” I whispered, looking her body over.

  She released a soft laugh, causing me to smirk. I lowered my hand, feeling her warmth behind my palm. The soft touch making my dick swell with eagerness. My hand slid further down her shoulders onto her back, feeling rough grooves. I frowned, and looked over her shoulder finding her beautiful body marred with scars.

  “What the fuck?” I questioned, trying to turn her so I could get a better look.

  “It’s
nothing.” She shrugged my hand off her, and crossed her arms, trying to hide her body. She reached down and grabbed her top, pushing her arms through its sleeves. I felt my chest seize as she tried to hide, to end what we just started.

  “Whoa, whoa.” I grabbed her shirt and pulled it from her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Bobby,” she huffed.

  “We don’t have to talk about it,” I agreed. I slid my hand under her chin lifting her face up to look at me.

  “You are fucking beautiful. Don’t ever feel ashamed of your body. Ever.”

  I pulled her arms away from her body and caressed her breasts. Hissing between my teeth at their firmness. Her body instantly reacted to my touch, causing her to wrap her arms around me, whispering my name. I lowered her onto my jacket slowly, pulling my shirt above my head as she made herself comfortable. When our eyes met, I knew I was done for. She looked at me with such reliance, like I was her world. Everything around us was black and white, and standing still. Nothing mattered but us.

  She taught me the emotional side of being with someone intimately. The way she touched me with such care, and her body igniting from the simplest of touches, I was taken into another realm while having sex with her and I responded by drowning her in pleasure. Making her feel admired and wanted… because she was.

  I made love to her that night. It was incredible and mind altering. I didn’t know what to take away from it; she brought a side out of me I never knew existed. She didn’t show up at the club for four weeks after that. I thought I had my heart broke as a kid, but having Jessica not return my calls, and acting as if nothing had happened; it was fucking brutal. When she did finally come back to the club, it was to tell me we could only be friends; that she couldn’t be anything more even if she wanted to. I have complied since then. I’d rather have what I can of her, than nothing at all.

  4

  Jessica

  I wait outside of my apartment for Shane to collect me. The night, thick with humidity, causes sweat to bead along my legs. It’s only spring but summer is making an early appearance.