by L. M. Reed
~ * * ~
The sudden knocking on the door caused me to jump nervously, spilling water out of the glass I was holding Since the fire, I couldn’t seem to get enough to drink and seemed to be constantly trying to quench an unquenchable thirst.
Fighting the fear and paranoia threatening to overwhelm me, I checked the peephole to see who it was. Resignedly, I unlocked and opened the door.
“I had no idea what Becky was doing,” Nat denied vehemently as she stormed into the apartment. “I swear I didn’t.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” I replied as calmly as I could, shutting the door.
“The police did,” she pouted. “Thank goodness Dad’s a lawyer or I’d still be in that horrible interrogation room,” she shuddered.
“Perhaps you should be more careful who you loan your car to in the future,” I suggested a tad bitterly.
“How was I to know she was insane?” Nat protested angrily. “Besides, things like that don’t happen in real life, only in the movies.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I sighed, fingering my short hair sadly.
James would miss being able to run his fingers through my long hair, it would take quite a while for it to grow back. Repeated washings had done nothing to remove the smoky smell no matter what shampoo and rinse I used. All week I had put off calling Stefan, but had finally admitted defeat. His tears had fallen freely—and probably still were—as he’d cut off my hair earlier that day. I felt like crying myself although not just about my hair.
Dragging my wandering attention back to Nat I attempted to control the accusation in my voice as I said, “Becky told me about the spiteful comments you were making behind my back.”
For a moment Nat was flummoxed, but managed to recover quickly.
“You know I’m always blowing off steam,” she said defensively. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You blow off enough steam and someone…say someone like Becky…might take you seriously and decide to do something about it.”
“It’s only been the last couple of months,” she protested. “I was just upset that you were being so secretive.”
“Do you blame me?” I asked angrily. “I made one simple request, the only time I ever asked anything of you, and you…you…” I was so furious I couldn’t finish.
“You were making a mistake,” Nat argued. “I couldn’t let you do it.”
“My life, as well as my mistakes, is none of your business.”
“You’re my best friend,” she said desperately, “The only female who ever cared about me.”
“And sending Becky after me was your way of thanking me I suppose.”
“I didn’t send her,” Nat objected violently. “I didn’t know anything about it. It’s not my fault she went off the deep end.”
“That’s the problem, Nat,” I said sadly, suddenly sick of the whole conversation “Nothing is ever your fault, whether you instigate it intentionally or unintentionally, you never shoulder any of the blame. I’m tired of it and I’m tired of dealing with you.”
“Allison,” Nat blinked in surprise “What are you saying?”
“I’ve turned a blind eye to your rude, obnoxious, snotty behavior for years because I truly thought we were friends, that somewhere deep inside of you there was some redeeming quality, something…anything, but not any more. You are the same all the way through and as far as I’m concerned,” I paused wondering at the mix of emotions surging through my body as I continued, “we are done. This is goodbye,” I finished firmly, opening the door.
Nat hesitated, searching my face for confirmation, not believing I actually meant it. After a couple of minutes of complete silence, she left quietly.
Before I could take two steps from the door, I heard another knock. Assuming it was Nat, I jerked open the door.
“Go away…” I broke off abruptly.
“Not much of a greeting for the man who saved your life,” Richard said amusedly. Straightening up from the doorframe his tone became more serious “What did you do to Nat? I’ve never seen her shed real tears before.”
“I told her we were done,” I said with attempted nonchalance. “She didn’t take it very well. Are you coming in?”
I moved out of the way and allowed him into the living room.
“How are you taking it?” he asked perceptively.
“Not as well as I thought I would.”
“You’ve been friends a long time.”
“No” I shook my head decisively. “We were never friends.”
“What about us?” Richard asked softly.
“We’ve had our moments.”
“I suppose we have,” Richard agreed smiling slightly. “Speaking of moments, what did Wilson have to say about my conditions?”
“He’s…okay with them,” I hedged.
James had, in fact, been livid, but gave in once he realized how important it was to me to have Richard walk me down the aisle. He already felt guilty over what he saw as my sacrifice in renouncing my parents and couldn’t deny me the only connection to my past that I had left.
“I’ll just bet he is.”
“He said yes,” I said defensively.
“Because he can’t deny you anything,” Richard shook his head in wonder. “He’s got it bad.”
“It’s called love,” I told him severely “and it works both ways. James wants me to be happy just as I want him to be.”
“Planning my own pleasurable existence is a full time job so it’s just as well that you’re marrying Wilson instead of me.”
“I did promise him one thing in return.”
“And here comes the rub,” Richard smirked knowingly.
“It’s a reasonable request,” I replied in irritation. “James asked me if I would agree not to meet you alone after we’re married, that’s all. He could have asked me to totally dump you, you know, and I would have, for his peace of mind.”
“Big of him…his generosity knows no bounds.”
“You either promise to abide by that or the whole thing is off and I will walk myself down the aisle,” I said angrily, tears filling my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Allison,” Richard said contritely, putting his arms around me and pulling me close. “I promise to abide by your fiancé’s rules. My lack of self-control around a beautiful female is well-documented so it’s probably for the best.”
“I look more like a boy than a girl now anyway,” I said in disgust as I put some distance between us, my hand automatically patting my hair…or what was left of it.
“I’m sure Stover doesn’t think you feel like one,” the tightly leashed anger in the familiar voice behind me was unmistakable.
Whirling around to face James, my delight was just as unmistakable.
“James,” I ran unhesitatingly into his arms. “You’re back.”
His arms automatically wrapped around me as mine found their familiar position around his neck pulling his head down until our lips met. I was dimly aware that Richard hadn’t left, but didn’t care. The fact that James was there when I hadn’t expected to see him until he was to pick me up for church in the morning pushed every other consideration out of my head.
“I guess I’ll be going now,” Richard announced loudly to no one in particular.
James raised his head reluctantly, looking a bit dazed. I was sure my features mirrored his.
“Um…sorry Stover,” James murmured. “Allison gets a bit…enthusiastic when we’ve been apart any length of time.”
“I didn’t see you protesting,” I threw back at him, relieved to see his anger had dissipated.
“No man in his right mind would” Richard sighed. “You’re one lucky man, Wilson.”
“I know,” James nodded soberly.
“And you don’t look anything like a boy, Allison,” Richard corrected me decisively as he headed for the door. “But I’m sure you’re more likely to believe Wilson than an
yone else.”
“Thanks for stopping by, Richard,” I called after him.
“Gotta get all my unsupervised visits in before the wedding,” he winked at me as he pulled the door shut behind him.
“So you told him,” James said diffidently. “He seems to be taking it well.”
He released me and made his way over to the couch…limping.
“James, you’re hurt!”
“I’m fine,” he reassured me as he sat down, “Just scraped up a bit.”
“Do you need anything? What can I do?”
“I’m fine,” he repeated patiently “but I could use some loving sympathy,” he added mischievously patting the couch beside him.
“Is that why you’re here when you should still be at the track meet?”
“There was no reason for me to stay,” he shrugged, “I wasn’t going to be able to run in my last race so…”
“How bad is it?”
“I did quite a number on my leg, it’s scraped up a bit and I’ll have a whopper of a bruise tomorrow,” he admitted, “but I should be fine for the next meet. I’m just glad this one was at our home track so I didn’t have to hang around for the rest of the events.”
“Should I put something on it?” I jumped up off the couch determined to play nurse.
“The trainer took care of it,” James put his arm around my hips and pulled me down on his lap. He winced. “Maybe you should sit on half of my lap,” he joked as he shifted my weight.
“James,” I reproached him “this isn’t funny. I can see you’re in pain.”
“Allison,” his voice was gentle “this is a very minor injury. I’ve had much worse.” I flinched. “You’re marrying an athlete, it happens; especially during football season. Are you going to be able to handle it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, burying my face in his chest. “Do I have to go to your games?”
“Not if you don’t think you can deal with it,” he held me tightly. “In fact, I think it may be better for both of us if you didn’t watch any of my games,” he said thoughtfully. “Knowing how worried you would be might be distracting for me.”
“I just want you to be safe,” I mumbled against his shirt.
James put his hand under my chin and lifted my face.
“I’ll introduce you to my offensive line and let you give them a talking to,” he offered smilingly. “They wouldn’t dare allow me to get hurt after that.”
“I just may do that,” I warned.
“They won’t know what hit them.”
“As long as they don’t let anything hit you,” I returned seriously, “that’s the main thing.”
“I’m pretty sure the coach would agree with you.”
“Good…I like him already.”
“He’ll be relieved to hear that,” James chuckled.
“Stop that!” I exclaimed in frustration. “I don’t find any of this funny. You could get…”
James effectively halted my furious tirade in a way only he had the power to do. I couldn’t help myself, passionately returning his kisses, molding my body to fit his, all thoughts of injuries and football forgotten as I gave myself up to our mutual need.