by Queau, Amy
I have to end this. I know exactly where this is going. After the look in his eyes last night, I know his definition of ‘unfinished business’ is completely different from mine. I know what he wants, and yet I still want to see him today. I hope he’ll find me, because I’m a hopeless romantic. A hopeless romantic stuck between my love for Samuel and my loyalty to Jess. Because I think I owe him something.
I’m attracted to him. More than I want to admit. And I know that if I let him in again, he’s going to take away my relationship with Sam. He’ll rip it right out from under my feet, because he wants me. And, he will take me. He’ll fight for every last cell in my heart because that’s the kind of guy Jesse is. And then there’s me. Stupid little me. I’m the kind of girl that thinks she can fix everything. Fix everyone’s problems, take away the pain, and somehow relieve them of their sorrow. I pity Jesse and I want him to be happy. But I also know that I failed him the first time.
I’m so selfish. Selfish because I’m doing this all for myself. But what can I say? What can I do? It’s like knowing someone is about to commit suicide and it’s within your power to help them. Do you stop them? Of course you do. And I know that slowly, Jesse will kill himself. Eventually, with the fighting, the abuse, the girls, the liquor, the drugs, the self-loathing, being trapped in his own mind… He’s running himself into the ground on a self-destructive path straight to hell.
She stood with her forehead pressed against the wall as the water ran cold. She turned it off and began drying herself.
Samuel. My sweet, loyal, sexy little ‘kung-fu warrior.’ She grinned at the memory of seeing him in that black uniform for the first time. Such a wonderful man. He fills my heart. He makes me feel alive and knows how I like my coffee. The man I’ve spent every free moment with in the past year. He knows what kind of music I like; he knows my favorite movies, my favorite color, and whether or not I want to sleep in the next morning. The man who has asked me to marry him. Samuel.
Two men, both are occupying my heart and my body. Both are equally beautiful in their unique ways. But one of them makes me feel like I’m needed in a way the other never will; the one that can’t do it alone. The one who can’t fight for what really matters, and needs me to fight for him. Jess.
All I can do now is wait. Wait for someone to give me a sign of what to do next. Samuel will be home tomorrow and I can talk to him then.
In the meantime, just hope like hell you don’t run into Jess. His pull is too strong for you to handle.
*
Wrapped in her robe with a nearly-overflowing cup of very strong coffee, Charlie sat in her living room. The only noises to be heard were footsteps through the hallway outside her front door and an occasional cupboard door slamming from her upstairs neighbors.
Does every woman feel this way? Are we always brought back to thoughts about the first man we fell in l—no, strike that. Not love. It was never love. Was it? Okay, so maybe it was. But it was only because I didn’t know what the real stuff felt like. Jess was the closest I had ever been to falling for someone, so I guess instead of trying to guess what it was, I can just call it that.
She heard a beep indicating a new text message was waiting, which reminded her that she needed to charge her phone. She walked into her bedroom and found it in the pocket of the outfit she had worn to work the day before.
Hey baby. Meeting went well. Sight seeing today. Didn’t want to call and wake you on your day off. Love you xx
p.s. did you ever find a ring?
Her lips puffed out in an exaggerated exhale and she threw off her robe to get dressed. After donning a T-shirt and jeans, she picked up her phone again. She had no idea what to say about the engagement ring, so she only tapped the keys to comment on the first part of his message.
Have fun! See you tomorrow. Love you XX
After pressing send, she heard a knock at her door. Ugh! I hate that all the residents know where I live. Call the damn office, Roxanne is there.
Opening the door swiftly, annoyed, she said, “Yeah?” before she could see who it was. Her eyebrows shot up at the smile on Jesse’s face.
Her hand instinctively went to her chest to ensure her necklace wasn’t showing.
“Mornin’, Foxy,” he said with his smile widening.
He stood in front of her wearing a baseball cap, his hands behind his back. She shook her head but couldn’t refrain from allowing the corners of her lips to tilt upward. A baseball cap? She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to remove her subtle smirk. Her shoulders slouched and her weight shifted to one leg while she crossed her arms over her chest.
He mouthed the words ‘is he here?’
“No, Jess. He’s not here. And you’re lucky he isn’t. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Okay, look. We got off to a bad start since I got here and I want to make it up to you. Let’s go out for lunch or hang out or something.”
“Um, no!” Her brows lifted again and she remained in her defensive stance. “Look, I really don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you and me, whatever we are, isn’t going to happen. Not today, not tomorrow. I am your landlord. You are my resident. That’s all.” She scratched her head and rolled her eyes. “Damn it! I knew this was going to happen. This is why I didn’t want you living here in the first place. You’re like a fucking rash I can’t get rid of. I scratch and you get irritated. You get irritated and then you burn. And I’m stuck with this scabby rash on my face that everyone can see and I’m left standing, alone and humiliated, again!”
His eyes widened. “Wow.” He tugged at his earlobe and exhaled. “Been keeping that pent up for a while, Charlie?”
Oh God, I’m sorry. He looks like I hurt his feelings. Wait! No, I’m not being insensitive! Well, maybe I am, but he deserves it.
He took three steps into her apartment, shaking off her words.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing? You’re not allowed in this apartment.” The nerve of this guy! This is my home with Samuel, he’s not allowed in here!
“Just thought I’d look around. Oh hey, is that your dad?” he asked, walking toward the framed photo on the shelf in her living room.
“Jess, I’m serious. You’re really not supposed to be here.” She swung her head in both directions down the hallway to make sure no one saw him enter, and closed the door.
“How is he, anyway? Did you give him the money I repaid, or did you keep it for yourself?” he asked, smirking while holding the photo of Bill.
She squinted, keeping the tears away, and shook her head. She began chewing the inside of her cheek again, but this time it was to remove the frown. Unable to speak, she tried to erase the picture of her father’s smile from her mind, her shoulders dropping. Her eyes darted around the room and she looked down again, shaking her head once more. She couldn’t say the words.
“Oh Jesus, Red. I’m sorry.” He placed the frame back on the shelf. Walking toward her, he stopped in front of her just as she sniffed. Grabbing her hands and bending his knees slightly, he tried to make eye contact with her bowed head. “When?”
She lifted her head and slowly blinked, staring at the parking lot outside the balcony doors. “Three months,” was all she could say.
He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. Encapsulating her limp body, his arms showed their strength and she felt for a moment that he was keeping her from falling. She nuzzled his T-shirt and didn’t care about her tears staining it.
I could stay here all day.
Jesus! What am I saying?
She took a step back, releasing herself from his embrace, and wiped her eyes and nose.
“How did it happen?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head again and broke eye contact. He nodded his understanding that he should change the subject.
“Let me take you to lunch. Please. It’s been a strange year for both of us. Let’s just take a little time and catch up. Please, Charlie,” he pleaded in a whisper.
She nodded in defeat. �
�Okay.”
*
“Do you know what you’re going to order?” He smiled.
“Of course. You?”
“Yep.” He looked around The Crimson and the familiar booths, the new and unfamiliar faces that had replaced him and Charlie, and the dust gathered on the ceiling fans. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he took in the sound of the clinking glassware from the kitchen and the aroma of pepperoni pizza coming from the brick oven. “Is it weird that I miss this place a little?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, taking a sip of her cherry Coke.
“Are you two ready to order?” the waitress asked.
“Yes. I’ll have the Stir Fry Chicken Salad, please.”
“And for you, sir?”
“The Wild Mushroom and Chicken Penne,” he said.
The waitress turned away and Charlie and Jesse remained quiet, the tension building.
“So—” They said in unison, followed by a simultaneous chuckle.
“You go first,” she said.
He swallowed and his face went pale. “I’m really sorry for calling you fat the other day.” He swallowed again.
She opened her eyes wide and looked down. Oh no. Don’t bring this up, please. “Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean it.” She shrugged, trying to stay strong and preserve some dignity about the situation.
“Really? I mean, do you really know? Because…because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look, well,” he removed his hat to scratch his head and replaced it again, “you look beautiful and happy. Even when you were… Well, you were always beautiful.”
She scratched her temple and tried not to let the words reach her. She failed.
“Thank you.” She looked toward the tabletop shyly. Smiling, she rolled her eyes with a grin. “I don’t know what it is about you that feels the need to always be so dramatic. Can’t we just keep the conversation light and fluffy? You know, not so sweet and charming or heavy? Can’t we just get through the rest of this afternoon smiling and nodding? Oh, and no fights, please. Try your hardest to be on your best behavior.”
He smiled and nodded with a genuine laugh. “All right, Charlie. Light and fluffy it is.”
“Good. So, tell me more about New Hampshire. Did you like it there? Are you still riding your bike? Are you—” she said quickly before his laughter made her pause. “What?”
“One question at a time!” he said with a hearty chuckle.
She sighed. “Okay. Let’s start with this then: why did you come back?”
He set his jaw and delayed his response a little longer than Charlie expected. “Well, I lost my job at The Crimson out there last month. So, without a paycheck I couldn’t make rent. So to answer the riding question, no. I had to pawn my bike. And in order to make it back here I had to pawn my drums for the gas money too.”
Charlie showed her concern as she tilted her head to one side. “But, what about your parents? Couldn’t they have—”
“I didn’t tell them. I’m old enough where I shouldn’t be calling Mommy and Daddy for every dime I need. I had to make a decision, so, here I am. They don’t even know I’m back yet.”
She nodded. “So, how did you lose your job?”
He smiled. “I’m sure you can guess.”
“The same way you lost your shot at being a Marine?” She smiled at the fact that she knew him so well.
He frowned. “Yeah, actually. I don’t remember telling you that story. When did I tell you about that?”
“At Karalee’s cabin. On the beach.” Oh, shit. Please don’t start thinking about that night. Damn it! Now I’M thinking about that night.
“I didn’t think anyone knew about that story. Huh.”
“You told me a lot of things that night.” She smiled and bit her bottom lip. “Speaking of, do you talk to Bree at all?”
“Nah. I have no idea where she’s at. I think I Googled her name a few months ago, and she’s an assistant to some hotshot at the Capitol.”
Charlie glanced down as she felt a small vibration on the table. Is that my phone? Where is my phone? Damn it, it’s charging on my kitchen counter. Where is that vibration coming fro—…oh no.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine. Why?”
“You’re bouncing your knee again. Is there something…I mean, are you nervous?”
He stilled his leg and smiled. “Yeah, a little.”
“Why? I mean, what do you have to be nervous about?”
He shook his head and with a tight smile said, “Nothing, I guess. It’s nothing.”
The waitress delivered their meals and quietly left the tableside. Charlie took the first few bites of her salad and set down her fork.
“Can I ask you kind of a heavy question? I know what I said earlier, but I’m just a little worried.”
Swallowing a forkful of penne, he nodded.
“Tell me about the table. Why do you have…Did you make it?”
His lips parted and he cleared his throat. Conflicted with the answer to her question, he wiped his mouth then folded his arms on the table. “When I left here, it was a bad time for me.” He furrowed his brow and looked down to his hands. “Jake had kicked me out of the house, and then there was you and me.” He paused again, taking his hat off to scratch his head. Leaving his hair messed, he set the hat on the chair beside him. “Things kind of came crashing down for me. I went to the beach one day last summer. I don’t know what I had in mind or the reasons I had for going that day, but once I got into the water...” He shrugged and looked at Charlie. “I just wanted it all to end. I wanted all the shit to just go away. My depression hadn’t shown any signs of easing for months. I wasn’t riding, I wasn’t eating—hell, the whole time I was there I didn’t even unpack my drums. So anyway, I was out there in the middle of the ocean, bobbing back and forth, and I just tried to…end it.”
Charlie closed her eyes and tried to imagine Jess in the water. Her forehead creased and when she opened her eyes again she nodded, urging him to continue.
He shook his head and looked down. “I woke up on the shore lying next to a piece of wood. I don’t know if it saved me that day, or even if I wanted to be saved, but I brought the wood back to my apartment and started building.”
Charlie cleared her throat. Realizing she still wore a grimace, she removed the expression and took a deep breath. “And, how are you now?”
“Better. I mean, as good as I can get, I guess. Now I’m stuck a bit more on the other side of it all. But, right now is about as normal as I get. Today is a good day.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by that. The other side? You mean the manic side?”
“Yeah. It’s still there. Both of those demons, fighting for my attention. I’d like to say I’m strong enough to fend them off when I want, but well, you know very well how I don’t usually succeed in that.”
Trying to grasp at the concept, she asked another question. “Explain it to me. Tell me about your normal. I mean, aren’t you just like the rest of us?”
“Yeah, sometimes. But, I’m a sort of prisoner of my own mind. It decides how it wants me to be. For example, sometimes I’m somewhere in public—a restaurant, the gas station, wherever—and my thoughts start overflowing. It’s almost like whispers, only…none of them actually form words. It’s like static, very quiet static that all started with individual thoughts that began to overlap each other. At some point it morphs into a shushing. Almost like my mind has too many things it’s thinking about at one time. Then the volume will start to pick up, until it starts flushing out everything else. First the Musak goes. Then, the chatter of other people. Until pretty soon all I can hear is myself screaming. So loud that I want to grab my chest and pull my hair. And then I look around, waiting for someone to kick me out of the place. And that’s when I realize that even my own screams are in my head. I try to regroup and tell myself that nothing just happened. No one is staring at me. Just hand the man you
r money so you can leave.” His tone began to soften. “And so I hand him the money and I exit quietly, no one knowing what just happened or the battle I just fought with my own thoughts. It’s just easier to avoid those situations. I’ll wait to go into the gas station to buy something if there are more than three people in the store, keeping the witnesses to a minimum if I am unable to control it. Sometimes I can stop it. Sometimes I can’t. It puts me on edge. It makes it difficult to filter words. It makes me impatient. It makes me paranoid. It’s a fucking nightmare.”
Charlie tried to slow her breathing and removed the frightened look on her face. “That’s what you call your normal?” she said quietly.
He smirked. “No, normally I’m just like you. It’s not like that all the time. Just the times when it’s most inconvenient,” he said, winking and taking a bite of his now cold pasta. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Her jaw dropped. “No! Not at all. Why would you say that?”
“I’m not an idiot, Charlie. I know how it sounds.”
“No, Jess. Never. It doesn’t sound crazy, it sounds…miserable,” she said, dipping her head down again.
“Well, it’s all relative. I suppose your mind does things that you don’t logically approve of. You never really get used to it, but you learn how to cope. When I’m having a good day, I don’t think about what it feels like to be manic or depressed anyway,” he said with another shrug.
She pushed her salad plate away, suddenly not wanting to finish. God, I wish there was something I could do for him. I wish there was a way I could help him.
“Knock it off,” he said causally, chewing his last bite and pushing his plate to the edge of the table.
“What?”
“You’re looking at me like I’m part of your caseload. I’m not something to analyze and pick apart, Charlie. And no, there’s nothing you can do to help.”
There has to be something.
He rolled his eyes with a grin. “I’m changing the subject now, okay? What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Oh, um…” Her head shook, trying to follow the shift of subjects.