by Jenna Gunn
“Right.” I step away from the sink; she grabs my plate and opens the dishwasher, which I stupidly realize was right next to me. “I, uh, I’ll head off, then.”
She nods. “All right. Drive safe.”
The dishes clank as Raina arranges them. I watch her for a moment, but she doesn’t look over at me, so I awkwardly back out of the kitchen and head for the door.
I grab my phone off the dining table as I pass it. My keys and wallet lay forlorn on the coffee table; I scoop them up. As I shove my feet into my boots, getting rid of any evidence that I was ever here, I steel myself. She’s acting strange, sure; but if I don’t ask, I won’t be able to forgive myself.
I tug my boots onto my feet and turn back. Raina stands in the living room. She’s watching me; her eyes linger on mine for just a moment before darting away. That gives me hope. Maybe she really is just trying to get to work.
“Hey, um, Raina?” I begin tentatively.
“Yeah?” she replies.
“...can I see you again sometime?”
For a long moment, she doesn’t answer. We stand several feet apart as silence extends between us. She crosses and uncrosses her arms, shifts her weight on her feet. Carmen brushes past her and wanders toward me.
“I...don’t know,” she says quietly, wringing her hands. Her expression looks pained. “I’m just not sure what to do.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
She twists her lip for a second, “that’s the problem exactly. I’m not really into the whole modern way of relationships… you know, just jump right into bed…” She trails off.
“Like we did?”
She nods yes. I think I’ve got the picture now. She thinks I’m that kind of guy.
“I just don’t know if you’re right for me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Is there something I can do differently?”
She looks at me, and I see sadness in her eyes, “I’m not sure.”
I feel a pain bloom in my chest as though I’ve been kicked. I nod and look down as Carmen comes closer to attack the toe of my boots. Even though I have a dozen points I could argue about the fact that both of us did what we did together, I don’t.
I nod again. “Okay. All right.” I bend down and scratch Carmen’s little ears before pushing her gently away; she gets distracted and bounds off into the house. “Well… call me if you want, I can try to-”, but I don’t finish because I don’t know what I can try to do.
Raina doesn’t say anything. I open her front door, step through, and shut it behind me. I walk slowly to my truck, hoping she’ll come outside to explain further, or to say she’s changed her mind - but no such thing happens.
I get into my truck and start it. The smell of Alyssa’s pastries still linger in the cab, tearing a hole in my heart as I remember eating them only yesterday, laughing and flirting with Raina.
I wait for a few more minutes before I back out of the driveway. Her front door never opens. The curtains don’t even twitch like she’s looking out at me from the windows. I head off down the road, blinking rapidly, willing myself not to cry.
How can she say that she doesn’t think I’m right for her? After last night, after we clicked so well? I thought this was a sure thing. I thought I’d be walking out of her house with a date, a girlfriend, a relationship. I thought my future included her.
My grip tightens on the wheel. I have to get her out of my head. She’s driving me nuts. Was Bridges right? Is this girl bad news?
I pull over into a gas station parking lot and lean my forehead against my steering wheel. I’ve been rejected before. Quite a bit, actually. I asked out so many girls in high school and college, and a lot of them - most of them - turned me down for one reason or another. But nothing has hurt as much as Raina’s nervous and confusing refusal in her living room after a fantastic day of talking, laughing, having sex.
I sit in my idling truck for a long time, listening to the engine rumble as I try to clear my head. What do I do to prove to her that we’re right together? Is there anything I can even do to change her mind?
After what seems like hours, I sit up and sigh. There’s nothing I can do right now, at least. I leave my truck running to dart inside the gas station and pick up a candy bar and a soda, neither of which I’ve eaten in years, before I start the drive home.
I think it might be over before it even began.
Chapter 17
I have to take Carmen for some booster shots today. I don’t feel like leaving the house, but this will give me a chance to talk to Trisha, to bounce my thoughts off her.
I keep thinking of Alex - even though I desperately try not to. I keep playing the moments over and over in my head: the pastries from his sister’s bakery; the sweet way he held Carmen, and even pet Monroe; his teasing and laughter, so easy, so sincere; his hands in my hair, on my body, his lips on mine; the furrow of his dark brow as I told him that we weren’t right for each other.
That part pains me, though I know it must be true. I almost took back my words at the sight of him, wretched, miserable, his hands falling limply at his sides as he muttered into the floor; the disappointment, the sorrow etched onto his face, the stoop of his shoulders, framed in sunlight pouring in through the glass panes of the front door. A classic Greek statue carved from marble, gleaming, beautiful in his sorrow, his well-muscled arms -
The alarm on my phone beeps itself to life; I curse and snatch it up to dismiss it. It’s time to head to the vet and I’ve spent my whole morning sitting here in my soliloquy.
I hurry to gather up Carmen and Monroe and pack them into the car; I manage to get on the road only ten minutes later than I wanted to originally.
I flex my fingers on the steering wheel as I take the empty highway toward Trisha’s office. The radio plays nothing but garbage; I turn it off, promising myself to not let my mind wander.
I break my promise immediately.
I haven’t told anyone in Rockville about my parents - not even Mr. and Mrs. Logan, who I’m definitely closest to here. I didn’t think I’d be open to talking about it for a long time. Even my agent knows only the basics, the bare minimum so he could understand why I needed time off. He sent me flowers. An empty gesture, but I remember appreciating it nonetheless.
Trisha knows. She was one of the first people I called. She couldn’t pull herself from the vet’s office for long, but she came for the funeral. She’s not the entire reason I moved to Rockville, but its proximity to her was definitely a factor in the decision. I’ve always been terrible at keeping friends; I space out, forget to text or call, and we just drift apart. Trisha’s the only person who has stayed anchored in my life, who reaches out when I don’t. However often or sparsely we speak and interact, Trisha is the person who knows me best now that my mother is gone.
I haven’t told her, of course, that I basically moved here to be closer to her - I don’t want to seem like a stalker - but she can’t think it’s a coincidence.
I pull up to her office and park smoothly in my normal spot. The parking lot is empty, as usual; I have plenty of room to swing my car doors open wide as I sort out the cats.
“You’re my only appointment today!” calls Trisha’s voice from the door.
I glance over at her; she strides out with a grin and reaches for Carmen’s crate. “You don’t have to help every time, you know,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “Honestly, what else do I have going on?”
“Paperwork?” I suggest wryly, and she waves the question away.
“Hannah can do that.” She jerks her head toward the receptionist as we enter, and I stare wonderingly at the girl behind the counter, who doesn’t look up from her phone as we pass. Trisha takes me into an exam room and plops Carmen’s crate down on the table.
I push the door shut behind us. “The receptionist does your paperwork?” I ask incredulously.
“She’s my administrative assistant, thank you very much.” Trisha opens Carmen’s
crate and coaxes her out. “She’s a very good worker.”
“Is she?” I ask, not bothering to mask my disbelief. “She’s always on the phone when I come in here.”
“Well, what do you want her to be doing?” Trisha says with a laugh. “There’s nothing much to do after the paperwork is done. She knows that I’m going to come out and get you, so she doesn’t have to greet you. She does good work, so who cares if she’s on the phone?”
I shake my head, but I’m only half-listening. My eyes wander up the walls, slipping past diagrams of animal anatomy and posters advising pet owners to get their pets spayed or neutered; I don’t particularly care about Hannah the administrative assistant, or her phone, or Trisha’s paperwork that gets done so well.
“Hello? Raina? Hey!” Trisha snaps her fingers directly in front of my eyes; I jump and whip my head around to look at her. She frowns at me, one gloved hand still gently holding Carmen on the table. “Are you okay? You’re even more distracted than usual today.”
“Am I?” I ask.
“Yeah; I’ve asked you the same question at least eight times. Normally it only takes three.”
I shrug and shift my weight, dangling my feet off the counter. I let my heels bounce a little off the cabinets beneath me. “Something happened the other day.”
“What day?” Trisha asks.
“Day before yesterday.”
“All right. What happened?”
“I slept with Alex again.”
“The fireman?” Trisha squeals, and I wince at just how high her voice gets. She claps her hands; Carmen attempts to make a break for it, but she expertly catches the kitten without even looking at her. “How did that happen?”
I take a deep breath and tell her about the fire at the Logans’, which she has the decency to look serious about. I tell her about Alex asking to visit the next day -
“And you said yes? And you hugged him.” Trisha beams at me.
“It’s not - I was grateful,” I stammer out.
“Then why didn’t you hug the other firefighters?”
“I - they were...busy?” The excuse sounds weak to my own ears. I let Trisha have her sly grin as she turns back to Carmen. “Anyway, he brought pastries from a bakery in Charleston. He said his twin sister runs it.”
“He’s got a twin sister?”
“Apparently so, and she can bake.” I kick my feet a little. “We talked...pretty much all day. He was getting up to leave, and we had a little fight about cleaning up, and I bumped into him, and…”
“And then you did the nasty,” Trisha crows.
I feel heat creep up my face. “Don’t say it like that.”
“You want me to use another word? You want me to say that you f - ”
“Anyway,” I interrupt loudly. Trisha laughs; I let her quiet down. “The next morning, he asked if I wanted to go to dinner with him.”
“Oh my God!” Trisha exclaims. “No wonder you’re distracted! You have a date with - you said no, didn’t you?”
I nod sheepishly.
She sighs so disappointedly I feel like a first-grader that didn’t do their homework. “Raina, what the hell?”
“He’s not right for me,” I tell her.
“Right.”
“He’s not!” I insist, though at this point I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself. “He’s so modern, he’ll just fall into bed with me any time he sees me! That’s all he wants! I want chivalry, I want to be swept off my feet, I want a hero - ”
Trisha whirls to face me, snatching her gloves off her hands. “You and this Mr. Hero crap again,” she snaps. “I’m so sick of it. Mr. Fantasy Hero doesn’t exist, Raina. He’s a fictional character from a novel.”
“They’re are actually out there - ”
“Oh my God, shut up. That’s not the point.” She tucks Carmen under her arm and crosses the room to her trash can to slam her used gloves into it. “He’s so modern - what does that even mean? It means literally nothing, Raina. And as I understand it, you’ve been falling into bed with him every time you see him, right?”
I purse my lips and look down at the floor. She does have a point.
“And chivalry? What is chivalry if it isn’t rescuing animals you hate? We’ve been over this, Raina. You’re being stupid.”
“Trish,” I gasp.
“I can’t sugarcoat it anymore,” she says, setting Carmen in her crate. “You’re being stupid. Actually, moronically stupid. You’re stringing this guy along and pretending he’s not right for you because you’re too scared to commit. Now,” she continues, her angry tone unchanged, “are you gonna have lunch with me or not?”
I nod weakly.
I’m aware that I’m driving five miles below the speed limit, but I don’t care. I have a lot to think about. Let the cars behind me honk.
At lunch, Trisha was...standoffish. I remember the way she leaned over the table of the tiny, beat-up restaurant and shoved her fork near my face.
“You’re in love with this man,” she growled.
“I am not!” I protested.
But I’m thinking about it now. Trisha has been rooting for me to date Alex since day one; maybe her opinion is biased. Is she one of those women who has a thing for firemen? I can’t remember her showing any clear preference for them when we were in high school...but everyone changes once they graduate and become an adult.
She brought up some good points that I know I don’t want to think about - things I’ve been forcing myself not to think about. Alex drove all the way to Charleston to pick up what he described as the “best breakfast” he could imagine, just to bring it to me. He rushed in without hesitation to save Mr. Jimmy. He’s always saving cats even though he hates them.
A car honks; I put my hand out the window and wave them on. They roar past me in their little sports car. The driver inside flashes me a very rude hand gesture, which I’m tempted to return, but I just flex my fingers on the steering wheel and ignore it.
It seems that I spend years in my car, just driving, thinking, trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings, which keep formatting themselves as discussion questions I would find in one of my high school English textbooks.
Do I like Alex? Why or why not? If yes, why did I sleep with him twice?
Is Alex chivalrous? Give examples to support your answer.
What does it mean to be a “modern man”? Discuss.
When I finally pull into my driveway, I’m mentally exhausted. I’d like nothing more than to fall asleep right here in the driver’s seat - but Monroe and Carmen both begin meowing insistently as soon as they feel the car come to a stop, so I scramble out to get them in the house.
I started this drive with a lot of questions and no answers; it looks like I ended it the same way.
Chapter 18
Ben bumps into me, startling me; I jump and look up at him.
“Sorry, bro,” he says absently, passing by my chair.
I sit back, just now realizing how terribly I was sitting. I’d been leaned forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped, with my thumbs jamming into my temples. My back cracks as I settle into the chair a little more comfortably.
I’m jittery; my foot is tapping; my knee is jiggling. I can’t make either of them stop. Luckily, only Ben is around to notice all the noise I’m making - everyone else is either out on a call, teaching kids at an elementary school, or helping to train new volunteers at a smaller firehouse in another town. Even the chief is out right now.
There haven’t been any cat rescue calls. I glance over at the radio; I’m sitting right next to it. Every time it buzzes or crackles to life I sit up ramrod straight, but it’s usually just chatter.
I lean my head back in the chair and slide my feet as far out as they can go, still jiggling my leg. No cat rescues at all, which means I won’t have a chance to see Raina.
What’s wrong with me? Why do I keep thinking about her? When I talked to Bridges after my latest encounter with her, he clicked his ton
gue and shook his head. “I told you to steer clear,” he’d said with a sigh. “That girl’s just stringing you along.”
Maybe she is. Maybe I should just move on. But I’m finding that harder than I ever have. Not even my first love, my college girlfriend, had me going this crazy when we were on the rocks. And Raina and I aren’t even officially a couple!
I glance at the clock. My time will be over soon, and then I’ll be off for a while. Who can I talk to about this? It’s eating away at me; I have to get it off my chest, get some advice. I already know what Bridges will say.
I sit up straight and smack my own forehead so hard that Ben jumps and tears off his headphones. How could I be so stupid? I can talk to Alyssa about anything. She’s my twin, for one; but she’s also a woman, and she can give me a woman’s perspective on this.
I’m even more jittery as I watch the clock. Why haven’t I talked to her about this before? I haven’t even called her about it. Have I really been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I couldn’t even talk to my twin?
The fat hand on the clock hits the five, and I jump up from my chair, making Ben jump again. He looks over at me and tugs one headphone off his ear.
“You gone?” he asks.
“Yep. You gonna be okay?”
He glances at his phone. “Yeah; Carlita just texted and said she’ll be here in five minutes.”
“All right, cool.” I’m walking out before he can finish his sentence.
I’m tired. Today was a long, boring shift after two long, stressful weeks. But I know that if I go home, I won’t be able to sleep.
I glance at the clock as I take my usual exit toward Charleston. It’s a half-hour drive, closer to an hour with traffic, but it’s mid-afternoon; Sweet Thing should be open when I get there. I could use a cupcake, a coffee, and a long talk with my sister.
Sweet Thing’s tiny parking lot is absolutely packed with cars, so I swing around back to the employee lot. I see Alyssa’s new SUV - an anniversary gift from her husband, Grant - alongside her best friend Dan’s old Mustang. I’m glad they’re both here, if I’m being honest.