Here He Comes Again

by Melissa Shirley

  My eyebrows shot heavenward. “What does that mean? I would be home more?” His job demanded as much of his time as my job did mine, and he had to be out of his ever-loving mind if he thought I would ever consider giving up my job. I’d never aspired to become some carpool driving, pearl wearing, make my man a drink after his long day at work June Cleaver. Surely, he knew me better than that.

  His cell rang in his pocket. “Hang on.” He stabbed the answer button, talked for a minute, then said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He tossed the phone into the grass next to him. “I have to go into work.”

  “Yeah. I figured it out when you said you would be there as soon as you could.” I stood up, dusted the grass off my shorts, and stalked back to our building, leaving him gaping after me. It didn’t make me mad that work once again called him away from me, or that he wanted a baby. Truthfully, I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly inspired my fuming and stomping through the grass, but something pissed me off.

  He dropped the picnic basket on the counter a few minutes later and said, “No, it’s okay. I’ll clean up.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Yeah. I guess cleaning up means throwing all the shit in a basket and leaving it on the counter for me to take care of.”

  He walked around to take my hand in his. “What’s wrong?”

  I thought about it for a minute while he caressed my neck with his hand before he crept it down my back to cup my hip. “I’m bi-polar, Keaton.” I couldn’t rationalize any other excuse. I hadn’t been prior to that minute, but even I considered it a possibility as I stared him down.

  “You want to come with me? It should only take a little while. We can go see a movie or go out to eat once I’m done.” He pulled me closer. “I want to be with you today. Please?” He lowered his head to brush his lips across mine.

  I could barely remember the last time we even kissed before now. I grabbed the back of his neck as he pulled away and hauled him back to me. When we finally parted, both of us breathed marathon runner hard.

  “I have to get going, but I don’t want to.”

  “Well, let’s consider our options.” I raked my fingernails down his chest, then used his belt loops to tug him closer. “You could stay here and we could work on that baby thing, or you can go to work and deal with whatever tragedy has struck.” I frowned. “What is the tragedy, by the way?”

  “Dani said a pipe broke in the courtyard sprinkler. I need to go check. Then I promise we’re out of there.”

  “Did you have them shut the water off?” My hands worked the zipper of his jeans.

  He nodded.

  “So, there’s no leaking going on right now, at this minute?”

  He grinned as I pulled him to the bedroom.

  The small amounts of time Keaton and I found to spend together always produced magical diary-worthy moments, but naked time with Keaton surpassed any dream I’d ever conjured. He knew how to use his body in all the best ways to make mine respond with unbridled urgency, bringing me to the edge, then pulling me back until we were both ready to take flight together.

  An hour or so later, we headed off to Midland to deal with his busted pipe. If I knew what waited for me there, I would have stayed home moping around the apartment, but instead, my butt fidgeted in the passenger seat of his new truck.

  Once, long before Keaton started working there, I’d been to the resort to deliver a cake for a birthday party. I knew the groundskeeper earned his money trimming the trees, pruning the shrubs, and weeding flowerbeds, which numbered into the hundreds. The building designer picked pop culture themes and built a hotel, nightclub, and restaurant, but I’d never been inside the main building.

  When Keaton pulled the truck into a space, he cut the engine, turned his body toward mine and said, “I love you.” His hands gripped my waist and pulled me close, and then he kissed me as though heading off to war. We walked hand in hand to the building, and he ushered me off into the bar area. “I’ll be back soon. Have a drink.” With a nod to the bartender, a beautiful tall blonde with a pixie haircut and bright toothy smile, he hurried off to fix this latest problem.

  “What can I get for you?”

  I ordered a soda and said, “This is a beautiful place.” Small talk had never been one of my more practiced skills, but on occasion, I could find a small conversation starter. The building flaunted elegance with exposed trusses lacquered to a brilliant sheen. Rubbed copper fixtures dangled from chains set in the beams. The bar was a polished wood whose surface looked slick, unscarred. Aside from its sophistication, it presented an airiness that welcomed guests inside.

  “Yeah and Keaton is great to work for.”

  I believed it. Kindness and diplomacy went a long way with employees. Being easy on the eyes didn’t hurt, either. “How long have you worked here?”

  “About three years.” She polished glasses with a pristine white towel while we spoke. “Keaton hired me.”

  I looked out the window at the massive courtyard. Trees swayed in a gentle wind and rows of potted flowers bloomed in the summer sun. Keaton knelt at the edge of a sidewalk with a wrench in his hand. Over his shoulder, beyond a row of trees, I could see a stream of water spraying another grassy area. The problem disrupting my time with my husband.

  A flash of bright blonde hair caught my eye, and I strained to see more. Keaton leaned back, watching the water stream high, before he reached forward, used the wrench in his hand, and stopped the bursts shooting upward.

  “Yeah.” The bartender’s tone went dry. “That’s Dani. She can’t do a thing without Keaton right there.” Her face reddened. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

  “No. It’s okay.” But my eyes never left the spot.

  “I didn’t mean… What I meant is Keaton’s always professional with all of us. She’s the one calling him for every little thing. I don’t want you to think I am saying he’s doing anything inappropriate. I’m sure nothing is going on. I mean, he gets hit on all the time by customers, and he flashes his wedding ring around like it’s a badge of honor.”

  Her speech flowed out in a single breath.

  I smiled, thinking she feared she’d made one of those job-ending kind of mistakes in gossiping about the boss to his wife. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” And I meant those words with my whole heart until the flash of blonde stopped right in my view and the blood stopped flowing in my veins.

  In that split second, the whole world changed. Danielle Ranier, the girl, who in kindergarten pushed me into a mud puddle and told everyone I pooped my pants, worked with Keaton. Dani and Danielle Ranier were the same person. What the hell? He lied to me.

  Well, the Dani he knew I believed to be a man had been my nemesis since kindergarten. My body vibrated with anger. Did omission count as a lie? The ache in my chest said yes. “Would you mind telling Keaton that I left?” Fiery anger burned my eyes, or maybe it was tears.

  Without waiting for an answer, I shoved the door open with authority and stormed outside, straight to his truck. I yanked his extra keys out of my purse, climbed inside, and started the engine. The truck’s exhaust roared, and I sped out of the lot, flying at zero altitude toward home.

  When I got home, I slammed the door open, then paced, fumed, and cursed, not just angry but hurt. And for me that combination foretold combustion. Danielle? With Keaton?

  He’d never understood our feud. But then, it wasn’t his to understand. In my mind, a good husband wouldn’t care why we hated each other. He would simply take my side, no questions asked. I snatched the ice cream out of the freezer, jerked open a drawer for a spoon, and dug in. The more I ate, the louder I cursed.

  And the longer he stayed away, the angrier I got until I’d convinced myself I’d reached my limit. I stomped to my room, changed into the absolute sexiest outfit I owned, and sat to wait. I planned to leave, and I wanted him drooling and begging me to stay while I did it. Two and a half hours later when Keaton and Simon walked in the
door, I greeted them with a fast-pitched stiletto.

  “Damn, Jocelyn. You could have killed me with that thing.”

  “I wasn’t aiming to kill. I was aiming to maim.” The shoe stuck into the sheetrock, heel first at waist height.

  “What’s your problem?” he yelled, as he glared first at me, then the shoe sticking out of the wall.

  “You are a liar. And probably a cheat and I’m leaving you.” Yeah. In one fell swoop, he’d finished us off. I’d been too blind and too stupid to see my husband preferred to spend his time with a woman who lacked morals, ethics, or clothes that fit, but damned if I would sit back and be the hot topic of conversation at my own mother’s salon.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I almost believed the raised eyebrows, slacked jaw, and the clarity of innocence in his eyes. Almost.

  “Jocelyn”--Simon stepped around Keaton with his hand outstretched--“calm down.”

  “This isn’t your business, Simon. Go home.” As an afterthought I added, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Simon edged toward me, his hands in the air. “I told him not to tell you. He wanted to.”

  Since when did my brother make decisions in my relationship? It added fuel to my inferno. “And what are you? His spiritual advisor? His marriage counselor? His freaking pimp?” I reared back to throw another high-heeled weapon.

  Simon grabbed my hand and pried my fingers from the shoe.

  “Joss, calm down,” Simon commanded in his no nonsense tone, which meant squat to me.

  “Screw both of you.” I walked closer to Keaton and jabbed my finger into his chest. “You want her bad enough to lie to me about it, go get her. I’m sure she will fill your house with screaming, diaper-filling little poop machines. I’m done with you anyway.” I marched into the bedroom and slammed the door. The amount of pleasure I got from clicking the lock into place almost chipped away one little corner of the hurt squaring up around my heart.

  Simon’s voice boomed loudly as he wished Keaton good luck and the door clattered shut behind him. I snatched my suitcase out of the closet, along with a handful of my clothes, and stuffed them inside.

  “Open the door, Jocelyn,” Keaton said, jiggling the knob. After a moment, he said, “I’ll break it down.”

  “Screw you, Keaton.” I heaved a drawer out of the dresser and emptied its contents into the suitcase, which towered to mountainous heights, then tossed the wooden drawer on the floor.

  He must have put his shoulder into it, and the frame splintered as the door swung open.

  “What the hell?”

  “I’ll fix it,” he said quietly. “Can we talk now? Like adults?”

  I shook my head. “No. You could have talked to me a hundred times about this and you didn’t. Now, it’s too late.” I continued smashing clothes into the already overflowing luggage. “Honestly, Keaton, if you wanted her, you should’ve said so. I wouldn’t have stopped you. I woulda said go with God pal, ‘cause you’re gonna need him.” I added, “And probably some penicillin.”

  What did I care anyway? There were other guys out there, honest guys who never met the trashy slut and wouldn’t have their heads turned by her bottle blonde hair, fake boobs, and flashy wardrobe.

  “Jocelyn, there’s nothing going on between me and Dani.” His voice quieted, and his eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

  I looked at him and my heart reeled at the hurt in his expression. My resolve weakened and a sigh escaped my lips. “I know.” I shrugged and plopped down on the bed. “But you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to fight with you.”

  I would have smiled at the irony if the hurt hadn’t fogged all of my good common sense. He’d never so much as glanced at another woman since we’d gotten together, not because he didn’t have opportunities, either. Women of all ages crushed on Keaton. When he walked into a room, heads turned. And he ignored them all. The knowledge mellowed my anger, but not enough to change my mind. “How’d it work out for you?”

  He shook his head. “Not so well.”

  “Good.” I flipped the top to the suitcase over to cover the heap of clothing hanging out the sides. I didn’t have a prayer of getting it to close, yet I labored heavily. He stood back and watched with crossed arms. I grunted and struggled to clasp the closures. Not that I expected his help, but the smug smile pissed me off. With a grin of defiance, I plopped on top of the suitcase lid. I needed time to think, and being in the same apartment with him had always been counterproductive to logical reasoning. Standing up, I punched my hands to my hips and glared at my clothes hanging out the sides.

  Finally, he reached a hand out, and I side-stepped his grasp. “Jocelyn, you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved. I don’t want her. I never did.” He reached out again, and this time, left his hand hanging in the air.

  It would be up to me if the fight continued. If I reached out and grasped his fingers, this whole ordeal would be over.

  I looked at him from beneath damp lashes. “Then why didn’t you tell me it was her? I might have been okay if you would’ve told me, now it looks like you were hiding it.”

  He sat down heavily on the bed, hands at his sides, bracing his body. “I hid it because you get so angry about her.”

  “Because she keeps popping up in every part of my life. She dated my brother, and you. She’s evil, like some bad damned rash that keeps itching and itching and driving me crazy!”

  “I’ll quit my job if it’ll make you believe me, baby.” His voice softened, dropping to his I’ll-do-anything-you-want tone. He usually only used it when he wanted sex.

  “Really?” I would have preferred he fire her. He nodded and reached for me again. This time I took his hand and let him pull me down beside him. I leaned in close and kissed him softly. “You don’t have to quit. I trust you.”

  “It doesn’t seem much like you do.” Hurt replaced the fear on his face. I'd wounded him with my jealousy and guilt settled in the pit of my stomach.

  I looked around the room. Clothes piled up on the floor. Heels and boots lay haphazard, tossed out of their boxes at the bottom of the opened closet. My face clouded in embarrassment, and I hid behind my hand as I chuckled nervously. “I know. I’m sorry I got so crazy.” I couldn’t argue the point while one of my shoes still stuck out of the drywall in the front room.

  Taking my hands in his, he grinned his heart-stopping, white-toothed smile. “I like crazy.” He pushed me back onto the bed and shoved my suitcase onto the floor, spilling the contents all over the carpet. Somehow, though, it didn’t bother me one bit as he kissed his way up my body. When he reached my lips, he pulled back and said, “It has always been you, Joss.”

  Later, in bed with my head on his chest, he said, “Babe, did you mean what you said about babies being screaming poop machines?”

  I shrugged. “I want you all to myself.” More than wanting him for myself, though, I shook when I thought of the kind of mother I would be. My own mom provided such a bad example, and I wouldn’t be able to bear it if my children had a relationship with me that mirrored the one I had with her. I couldn’t share my insecurities with him and turned away. He gently turned me back.

  “Well, I think we’d be great parents.” He stroked a hand down my spine. “I can see you sitting on the bed in a perfect little pink room, reading a bedtime story to our little girl while I make sure there are no monsters under the bed.”

  He painted such a pretty picture. “What if I’m bad at it, and she hates me?”

  “What if you’re awesome at it, and she loves you?”

  “I’m not maternal, Keaton.”

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head lightly. “Remember when I was sick, after our honeymoon? You took such good care of me.”

  “Keaton.” I forgave him his warped memory, but in truth, the hospital had taken care of him. I’d sipped coffee in the waiting room, unwilling to wa
tch him heave and puke all over the machines and nurses.

  “Please, can we think about it?” He batted his unfairly long eyelashes, waiting for my answer. To anyone else, it may have seemed flip, but no one else knew him like I did. He suffered from an unscratchable itch to procreate, and I lost all power to deny him. Even if I had to start buying granny panties and driving the soccer carpool.

  Chapter 18

  Present August 2009

  Simon stayed lost in his teenage years, but he’d come back to me, and I said many a prayer in thanks. Keaton and I went in together for our hourly ten minute visit.

  “Wow,” he said to Keaton. “You look old, dude.”

  Keaton laughed. “Well, I’m thirty now.”

  “I heard.” Simon closed his eyes. “It’s strange. I don’t remember any of it.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” The doctor said Simon defied all laws of science and medicine simply by the fact that he’d lived, more that he could speak. Worrying over memory loss seemed silly. Yet, my curiosity piqued.

  “Well, yesterday?” He grinned. “You told Mom to go to hell over that guy from work, and I vaguely remember homecoming night with Danielle.” He wiggled his eyebrows, then immediately winced in pain. When I gasped, he held up his hand. “It’s okay.”

  New guy from work? Homecoming with Danielle? “Wow.” He’d devolved back to seventeen. The last thirteen years of his life disappeared.

  He tried to pull himself higher in the bed, and his eyes closed. He exhaled sharply and leaned harder into the pillow. Through clenched teeth he asked, “What did I miss?”

  I waited until he opened his eyes, then pretended my heart hadn’t taken up residence in my throat. “A lot. Mom let that guy, Tim, move in. She married him, then kicked him out. Keaton and I got married, and we got divorced. You went to college and got elected Chief of Police.” He grinned around the yellowing bruises on his face as my voice waivered through the next words. “That’s how you got shot.”

  “They told me that part. Am I still going out with Danielle?” His enthusiasm seemed to block his pain. He sat straight up and looked at me with such hope I almost laughed.