by Aimie Grey
“Alissa, I would be worried if you felt comfortable there right away. It’s just not you. But making yourself miserable over it won’t make life better for anyone else. It’s not like you can sell the condo and its contents and donate the money to charity. Think of it as a blessing which will aid in your journey. You have a safe place to live, and it’s close to the university and the office where you’ll be working. Plus, it’s okay to be happy; if anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
We ended the call a few minutes later, and I fell asleep in the most comfortable bed I’d ever lain in while contemplating the conversation.
The next morning, I awoke and decided to do my best to internalize my therapist’s advice. She was right; misery wouldn’t help anyone, and happiness would keep me in the best headspace to continue moving forward. My mind was made up; I would attempt to embrace happiness.
Carter and I spent the weekend together doing cliché couple things. We went grocery shopping, cooked together, watched movies, and did the crossword puzzle in the newspaper together. It was simple, and it was perfect. If every weekend for the rest of our lives played out the same way, I would be the happiest woman on earth.
Forever was a foreign concept to me, though. Every time I thought Carter and I had been even remotely close enough to touch it, it had been yanked away. Truth be told, I wanted to be with Carter more than anything; something about him drew me in. He was the One, but so many things had gone wrong before, and I felt as if I walked a tightrope with true happiness on one side and utter despair on the other, unsure of which way I would fall.
Living one day at a time seemed to work best for me. With few expectations came minimal disappointment. I could tell Carter was a little hurt by my self-imposed emotional distance, but it was for the best. It seemed to be the only way to keep what we had, which in my opinion, was much better than the alternative. With our track record, moving forward would likely lead to loss, and there was no need to risk it since we were stable, safe, happy—for the most part anyway.
With the arrival of Monday, our weekend bubble burst, and we quickly fell into a weekday routine. Even though Carter had to work every day and I didn’t, I still woke up at the same time he did to make breakfast while he got ready. When he came home in the evening, we made dinner together and settled in to watch TV or a movie. I suspected Carter brought work home with him, but if he did, he must have done it after I went to bed. I enjoyed this little piece of domesticity with him, but I needed to figure out how to fill my time while he was away during the day. At least he wasn’t working as much as he had before he’d left the firm to join the police force.
On the first day, I reluctantly met with the interior designer. Surprisingly, I was glad I decided to help. Fran’s original designs were gaudy. There was no way Carter would feel comfortable living in a place so completely over the top. When she excused herself to “powder her nose”, I flipped through her design book until I found the expense worksheet. When she returned, I debated telling her I was allergic to fabric that costs more than ten dollars per yard, but I likely would have been dead by now if that were the case. I’d done some research before she arrived that morning, and I emphasized that Carter and I would prefer a minimalist Japanese-inspired design. She sighed and made an offhand comment about starting over, but that was her problem, not mine.
Carter passed along a message from his mother, Catherine, insisting I take Tuesday off from the firm so I could continue working on the apartment. Apparently, living with the bosses’ son came with special privileges; however, I would have much rather have been at work. Thankfully, Fran returned with a new design book which was much simpler. The low coffee table and optional floor pillows reminded me of the special picnic Carter had surprised me with in the park a while back. This time, however, she didn’t leave me alone with her plans, so I just assumed less stuff equated to a lower price. I vetoed most of the antiques, after confirming with Carter via a stealthy exchange of texts that his mother would notice they were gone if I sold them and donated the money to charity, using the “we might get a cat” argument.
Once I’d whittled the design down as much as I could, I insisted she find a place for Carter’s autographed concert posters, which she begrudgingly agreed to hang above his king-sized bed. As soon as I signed off on the design, she had a crew of ten come in to measure every inch of the apartment.
Wednesday, another crew arrived shortly after Carter left for work, hauling in furniture and box after box. I kept a close eye on them as they implemented the design Fran and I had agreed upon, only having to tell them to return about a dozen items Fran had “accidentally” forgotten to take off of the order. How she managed to pull it all off in less than a day would forever be a mystery to me; however, I suspected it had something to do with the magic of money.
That brought me to Thursday, my first day with nothing planned. School and the internship didn’t start for a few more months, and I would go insane without something productive to do other than filing for Aaron Perkins on Tuesday and Friday mornings.
While the bacon sizzled, I considered my options. I could clean the apartment, even though it wasn’t dirty. I could lie around and watch TV or read all day, but I worried I’d get bedsores if I made a habit out of that. It wasn’t long before I figured out the best course of action.
“Got any plans for the day?” Carter asked as we sat down for breakfast.
“Actually, I was just thinking about finding a second job for the rest of the summer. Although I’m not sure what kind of temporary work I could get this time of year. Maybe waitressing or something?” I said between bites of scrambled eggs. “The extra money would be nice.”
His expression darkened as if a storm cloud floated above his head. “The thought of my intelligent, determined girl coming home every night exhausted and sore from being on her feet all day is completely unacceptable. You’ve had enough of that in your life.” As his eyes darted back and forth, I knew from experience he was scanning his mental hard drive. The dark cloud floated away when he landed on the bit of information he was searching for. “Oh! There’s a group home for foster kids three or four miles from the office; I used to drive past it every day on my way to work. The director came in a few weeks ago to see Aaron about one of the kids who lives there. Since you have an undergrad degree in social work, maybe you could see about volunteering for the rest of the summer.”
My smile hadn’t been as wide in god knows how long, and I was certain my face would crack. “That’s an amazing idea!” Just as quickly as my smile had formed, it fell. “But what about the money? Waitressing doesn’t pay very much, but it’s something. I need to contribute to the household expenses, and I’ll need to buy new clothes for the internship. A paying job of any kind would help keep me from burning through my savings.”
“Please don’t worry about money. Right now, I’m making enough to easily support a family of six, and you’ll get paid well when you start the internship. We aren’t paying rent, so our living expenses are minimal.” The indecision he must have seen in my eyes seemed to hurt him. I’d always been fiercely independent, but something inside of him desperately needed to take care of me, provide for me. “It’ll get you out of the house, and you’ll get to help the kids. It’s only for a couple of months, and think about all of the experience you’ll gain.”
Relationships were all about compromise—at least that’s what Dr. Wyles had told me many times. “I guess I could tighten my budget; maybe look for work clothes at a thrift store. They might have appropriate things over in the nicer suburbs.”
“I wish you’d let me help you, but if that’s what it takes to make you feel comfortable doing this, then I’ll be happy to drive you there and help you look.”
I pushed away and rounded the table to his side. He scooted his chair back, and I nearly jumped into his lap, straddling his thighs. Our lips collided, and my fingers worked through his soft hair, which had grown out a little over the past month. God, I wante
d him, but I refused to do anything that might mess up what we were trying to build. He must have been thinking the same thing, because he pulled away a second before I did.
“I love you, babe, but if you keep that up, I’m going to have to go take another shower so I’m not in pain the rest of the morning, if you catch my drift.” He rocked his hips up to put a very large exclamation point on the end of his statement.
Even though it only lasted a brief moment, I hoped the warmth in his expression meant he could feel the words I still couldn’t say out loud. “Oh, sorry. I’m just so excited! As soon as you leave for work, I’m gonna go get ready and head down there. Can you text me the name of the place and directions?”
“Will do. You don’t have to wait for me to leave; go ahead and get in the shower. Just be sure to call me later and tell me how it goes.”
After one more hot-as-fuck kiss, I practically skipped back to my room.
*
The front door of Saint Jerome’s Children’s Home was locked when I arrived; however, there was a sign instructing all visitors to push the button below it for assistance.
“Can I help you?” a female voice squawked over the ancient intercom system.
“I’d like to talk to someone about a job,” I replied.
“Sorry, we aren’t hiring.” Her words were meant to dismiss me, but I wouldn’t give up so easily.
“I’d like to volunteer.”
“Stay right there,” the voice said with a slightly brighter tone.
Less than a minute later, a woman who appeared to be about ten years older than me opened the door. “You’re interested in volunteering?” she asked, getting straight to the point. Her smile was warm, but her dark brown eyes were tired.
“Yes. My name is Alissa Ross. Is there someone I can talk to about possibly volunteering for the rest of the summer?”
“I’m Desiree Martin, the director. Come on in.”
I followed Desiree through the door and around a corner to a small office with two large windows providing a line of sight into what must be a common room. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her cluttered desk. “Please excuse the mess; there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”
“No worries; I totally understand.”
“Tell me a little about yourself,” she instructed as she settled into her worn-out chair.
“I’m starting law school and an internship in the fall, and I need something to keep me busy for the next few months. My boyfriend, Carter, works for Smith, Lewis, Hastings, and Perkins and suggested I stop by to see if you need any help.”
“Oh, that Aaron Perkins is a godsend to our girls. He always makes time to help them, even if it means stopping by in the evenings or weekends. Bless his heart.”
“I work in the file room for him two mornings a week, and I’m going to be interning with him once school starts,” I said, glad to find a way to connect with her.
“You couldn’t be in better hands. What kind of work are you looking to do here?”
“Well, I have a BSW, and I want to work with kids when I graduate and pass the bar, so I was hoping to get to work with them one-on-one. But I’ll do anything to help.”
“Saint Jerome’s has room for twelve minors at a time. Right now we have two open beds because a set of twins recently turned eighteen and chose to leave the system. Those spaces will be filled within the next week. We don’t have the space or resources to have separate facilities, so we only take in girls ages thirteen and up right now.”
“Saint Jerome’s—is it affiliated with a church?”
“In the beginning we were, but now we are secular. Since we receive subsidy payments from the state, it’s just easier that way. The founder named the place after Saint Jerome, the patron saint of orphans.”
“What kinds of girls stay here? Are they kids waiting to be adopted, or waiting for foster families?”
“Most of our girls have been kicked out of several foster homes for behavior issues and can’t be placed with a family. We become their family. I have six full-time employees, usually only one is on duty at a time, and six part-time assistants. We also have a few people on our registry list who fill in if someone is sick or on vacation. Our volunteers usually help answer the phones and do light clerical work, but we only have one right now, and she’s only here ten hours a week. We could really use extra help during the summer since the girls are out of school.”
“This sounds like a perfect fit for me.” I moved my hands to my lap, crossed my fingers and toes, and prayed she’d give me a chance.
“Do you think you can handle girls who can be rude, disruptive, and sometimes violent?”
“For sure. I’ve had my fair share of dealing with those traits over the years.” I left out the part about my experience coming from poorly behaved johns.
“You know what; I like you. I’ll need to run a background check and get some references from you, but unless something major comes up, I think this will work out nicely.”
Excited to begin this new chapter of my journey, I eagerly filled out a few forms and shook Desiree’s hand.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Carter
The two months that passed since Alissa and I moved in together had been the happiest, and most frustrating, months of my life. Having her so close was wonderful, but not sleeping with her in my arms every night, along with not getting to be inside of her, was torture.
Soon, I reminded myself.
Juggling a tray full of food, I somehow managed to turn the knob on Alissa’s bedroom door without spilling anything. I stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching her chest rise and fall in a state of utter relaxation.
Startled when she nearly woke herself up with a random snore, I firmed my grip on the tray and chuckled. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I said, stepping the rest of the way into her room.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, pulling the pillow over her head when I flipped the light switch with my elbow. “It’s too early to be alive, let alone awake.” I laughed at her muffled words.
“Today’s the big day.” I placed the tray on top of her dresser and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. “We need to be there by seven.” I pulled the pillow from her head and used my fingers to brush the crazy mess of brown hair away from her face. “I made you breakfast.”
“Why are you so fucking happy?” she grumbled. I stood and crossed the room as she reluctantly sat up.
“You know why.” Bringing the tray over to the bed, I popped open the legs and set it across her lap.
“You’re excited to get laid?” she asked, crooking a perfect brow. God, she’s beautiful.
“And you’re not looking forward to getting back into my bed?”
“I didn’t say that.” She grinned and took a bite of bacon. Her moan of pleasure over the crispy goodness immediately got my dick’s attention. “Thanks for this, by the way. It’s very sweet.”
“You’re welcome,” I croaked as I adjusted myself. “Now hurry up. This is the only day of the week the doctor’s office is open this early, and if we wait too long we’ll get stuck in traffic.”
“Can’t we go after work instead?”
“They’re only open until six on Thursdays since they open early, and we have an appointment with Dr. Wyles at five. If we want to go after work, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow, which means we’ll have to wait an extra day to get the results.”
“My god, you’re impatient. We’ve waited this long, what’s another day?” The corners of her mouth tightened, but I could see the teasing smile fighting to escape.
“It’s bad enough it will take at least a week to get the results back. I’m hanging by a thread here. If this doesn’t happen today, I’m buying the largest box of condoms I can find, and your ass isn’t leaving my bed all weekend. We’ve waited long enough.”
“All right, all right. Get out of here. I’ll be ready in plenty of time.”
*
After
we finished at the doctor’s office, I dropped Alissa off at Saint Jerome’s and then drove the short distance to the high-rise building which housed Smith, Lewis, Hastings, and Perkins, or Smith and Lewis for short. Each time I stepped through the large glass doors to the office, I felt a little bit more of my soul being sucked out of my body.
As usual, I didn’t even make it to my office before I was bombarded by the cubic ton of shit that comprised my job. Alissa is worth it. Alissa is worth it.
“Hey, Carter,” Brandy, the firm’s receptionist, said as I walked past her desk. She started out as a file clerk with Smith and Lewis about seven years ago, right after graduating from high school, and since graduating from community college, had moved up the ranks to be the first person new clients meet.
It may not sound like a prestigious job, but in reality, she was the most valued and respected member of the support staff. All of the partners, including my parents, loved her. Not only was she the face of the firm, she also coordinated the schedules of the part-time staff who weren’t assigned to a specific attorney and filled in when any of the secretaries had an unexpected absence—all from her post out front. I wasn’t sure how this place would function without her.
Brandy and I met when I was in law school. I had come to use the firm’s library when the stacks on campus were crowded, and part of Brandy’s job had been to help maintain the library. We’d been good friends ever since. My first official day on the job, she took me around to meet people I didn’t know, since my parents couldn’t be bothered to do it.
“Here are your messages.” Brandy shoved a stack of small pink papers at me, remorse written all over her face; she knew how much I fucking hated returning phone calls.
Son or not, my parents didn’t give me any special treatment in the office; I had to work my way up the ladder just like everyone else. In some ways, I’d had to work even harder since they expected more from me. Being a senior associate, I wasn’t high enough on the food chain to have a personal secretary, but since we were friends, Brandy helped me out by pulling off my voicemails before I arrived. One of the secretaries in the administrative pool could have done it, but Brandy liked taking care of me.