Animal Rage

by Kathryn Thomas

  “I say he dangerous. Was I wrong?” Rosa’s hands are on her sizable hips, assessing Isabel with her ‘don’t fuck with me’ stare.

  Isabel sighs deeply, abandoning her pile of laundry. “No, Rosa. You weren’t wrong.”

  Rosa makes a satisfied sound. “But you still don’t answer my question.” She waggles her finger at Isabel, as if she is a naughty schoolgirl. “It don’t matter. I can tell from your face and your sad little green eyes that you do. So, I have a story I want to tell you.”

  Much as Isabel enjoys Rosa’s stories about her time back home in Italy, she has a feeling this particular anecdote is going to have a special message for her and she isn’t quite ready to fend off another attack of kindness from the older woman. At that precise moment, the doorbell rings and Isabel smiles in spite of herself. Never has a sound been so welcome to her ears.

  “Saved by the bell.” She says the words under her breath but Rosa still hears her; the woman has hears like a bat. She swats her playfully on the behind with a dishtowel as Isabel runs up the stairs to answer the door. She tries to tell herself it’s foolish for her to still get her hopes up whenever someone comes to the door. It’s not going to be him; she knows that. But her heart hasn’t quite caught up with her mind on that front yet. So she hurries up the stairs, her heart beating like a drum.

  By the time she gets to the door, she’s breathing heavily but doesn’t even pause for breath before she swings it open, her eyes shiny and full of hope. It’s not Wesley. She’d known that; it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. What she’s not prepared for is the sight of the man standing in front of her, the last man she expects to see on her doorstep.

  “Mike!” She blinks as if he were some kind of apparition. “What are you doing here?”

  “Good to see you, too, Issy.” A warm smile breaks out on his face, highlighting his All-American looks that never failed to make the women around him swoon.

  Isabel opens and closes her mouth, doing a pretty good impression of a goldfish, but she can’t find the words to say.

  After a few moments of just standing there and staring at each other, Mike shifts the duffel bag he’s holding over one shoulder. “So, can I come in?”

  Isabel backs away from the door, opening it wide and gesturing for him to come in.

  It takes another few moments for her to find her voice. “Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry? I bet you’re hungry.” She leads him into the kitchen where she starts opening and closing cupboards at a rate of knots. Now that she’s found her voice she only seems to be capable of babbling.

  “I’m fine.” When she doesn’t stop spinning around in the kitchen like a whirlwind he steps into her path, forcing her to stop. “Issy, I’m fine.” He looks down at her and she sees all the emotion in his eyes; it’s enough to choke her.

  Without even thinking about it, she throws her arms around his shoulders and hugs him hard, feeling indescribably better. Whatever happened between them, Mike is still her friend. They have shared so much together; they have been buddies for longer than they’d been anything else and she feels so grateful to have him here.

  “It’s so good to see you.” She speaks the words against his shoulder and she feels his hold on her tighten as he rubs her back. Eventually she pulls away, smiling up at him through the tears that are threatening behind her eyes.

  “I was worried you might not be all that happy to see me.” Mike shoves his hands in the pockets of his designer jeans, looking a little uncomfortable.

  “Mike, I’m always happy to see you.” She gives him a serious look, ignoring the elephant in the room and hoping that he will, too. But she knows better. Mike has never been the beating around the bush type.

  “Is that why you’ve been avoiding my calls like the plague?” He levels her with a look that tells her she’s not getting out of this confrontation without giving him a real answer.

  “I haven’t been avoiding them!” Isabel shakes her head, not looking directly at him. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t lie to him anymore, but she isn’t exactly getting off to a great start on that front.

  “Issy, come on. This is me.” His voice is gentle, but there’s no doubt in her mind he’s not going to push her for more.

  “I know, Mike. It’s just...” She scrambles around for something that will appease him, for something that isn’t a lie. “It’s been kind of a difficult time.” She shrugs, aware that her explanation could be strong contender for understatement of the year.

  She waits for Mike to push her more, but he doesn’t. Instead he nods in understanding, rubbing his eyes like he’s just woken up. “I get that, and I don’t want to make things any more complicated for you.”

  Isabel can hear a ‘but’ coming. She isn’t quite ready to hear it yet. “So how’re things at school? How’d finals go?” She starts filling up the kettle, taking cups down, going through the motions of making tea, the ritual of the action soothing her, or at least that’s what she hopes will happen.

  Mike sighs, like he knows she’s stalling, but he’s gracious enough not to point it out. “Oh, you know, same old, same old.” He shrugs but can’t help a smile spreading across his face.

  Isabel remembers that smile. They’d first bonded over the fact that they’d both known since they were kids that they wanted to be doctors. They loved it, which is probably also why they were always at the top of all their classes. They had a friendly rivalry at school, each pushing the other on to achieve bigger, better.

  “I kind of miss my study buddy, though.” He sighs deeply. “Is she ever coming back?”

  Isabel keeps her attention focused on steeping the tea, going through the motions, not looking at him. “Honestly, Mike, I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you miss it?” The tone of his voice tells her he knows she does. “I don’t get it, Issy. Being a surgeon, it’s all you’ve ever wanted and you’re so damn good at it. It’s really freakin’ annoying.” He laughs lightly. “How can you be okay with just throwing that all away?”

  Isabel shakes her head, finally turning around to face him. “Because I’m not okay with it, Mike.” It’s the first time she’s ever admitted the words, at least out loud, and there’s something freeing about it. “I miss it. I miss college. I miss my friends. I miss the classes. I miss learning new things every day. I miss it all.” She takes a deep breath. “I miss it so much sometimes that it actually hurts.” Don’t cry, Bishop, don’t cry.

  “So what are you waiting for, Issy?” Mike shakes his head, not understanding her reticence in the slightest. “All you have to do is speak to the Dean. They’d have you back in a heartbeat. You’re the best student they have!”

  Isabel laughs off the compliment. “And what are you, a slacker?” She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head and giving him a look.

  “I just try to keep up with you, Issy.” He shrugs, smiling sincerely. “So why don’t you come back? I’ve never known you not to go after what you wanted. The Isabel I knew was fearless. What’s changed? What are you afraid of?”

  Isabel tries to conjure up a memory of the person Mike is describing, but it’s as if it is someone else. He is right; she had been fearless. There was nothing she couldn’t do, nothing she would have thought she didn’t deserve or couldn’t achieve. Isabel gives the only answer that she can. “My mother died.”

  Mike cringes, as if he’s aware that he’s just committed a giant faux pas. “Ah, Issy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come down on you so hard.” He rests his hand on her shoulder and Isabel leans into it automatically before she remembers it’s probably the last thing she should be doing.

  She straightens up, proud of herself that the tears that used to flow so freely when she thought of her mother finally seemed to be drying up. “You didn’t.” She busies herself with pouring out the tea into two cups, but she doesn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes when, gently, she extricates herself from his hold. The silence stretches out between them and I
sabel tries to think of something to fill it. She hands him a cup. He doesn’t even look at it, just taking it and placing it on the kitchen counter next to him.

  “Issy.” The tone of his voice tells her he’s gearing up for something and she has a feeling she knows exactly what it is.

  “We have a couple of rooms free and you know you can stay as long as you like. How long are you in Chicago for? ” She looks at the duffel bag he’s dumped just inside the kitchen, wondering what his plans are and what’s made him suddenly decide to present himself on her doorstep.

  “I’m not sure yet. That sort of depends on you.” He looks at her pointedly and Isabel bites her lip, knowing the moment of truth is coming and knowing she’s not in the least bit ready for it.

  “Well, like I said, you can stay here as long as you want. You know you’re always welcome here. I’m pretty sure my mom liked you more than she did me.” Isabel laughs lightly, remembering how her mother had taken Mike under her wing like he was the son she never had whenever Isabel would bring him home from college for a long weekend.

  “She was an amazing woman. I wish you had told me when the funeral was so I could have been there.” There’s no anger in his voice, just disappointment, which is so much worse.

  “I know. I know. It was all just kind of a blur.” She waves away the memory of that day, watching them lower her mother into the ground and knowing she was never going to come out again. The finality of it had hit home then and it had almost been too much to bear.

  “I understand.” His voice is soft, gentle, understanding and Isabel wonders, again, why a nice guy like him wants anything to do with someone like her.

  “Issy, we could keep skirting around this for days. But I’m done with that. There are some things I have to say and I need you to hear me.” He walks towards her, closing the space between them and stopping so they’re only a few inches apart.

  Isabel gulps when she sees the expression on his face. This is the exact moment she has been most afraid of, the reason why she has been dodging his calls. It was hard enough having to deal with this conversation over the phone but face-to-face it is going to be a whole different story. She steels herself, knowing she’s about to hurt someone she cares about. “Mike, please, don’t say anything.” She holds her hands up, as if that would be enough to stop him; she should have known better.

  “Issy, I have to. Please, just let me say what I need to say.” His voice is harsh, serious, a man on a mission.

  She gestures for him to continue, knowing she at least owes him that much. She can’t avoid him forever. It’s time to let him say what he needs to.

  “Issy, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re funny as all hell. That night we spent together was the best night of my life.” He lays out his hands, laying all his cards out on the table. “I want to be with you, Isabel. I’m in love with you and I need to know if you feel the same, if you feel anything close to that for me.”

  Isabel holds her breath, processing what he’s just said to her. The words are beautiful and the sincerity is shining in his blue eyes, even more so. He’s telling her exactly what she wants to hear. The only thing is, she doesn’t want to hear it from him; they’re the words she was hoping to hear from someone else and she wants to kick herself for being such an idiot. Mike is the perfect man, the whole package, handsome, successful, kind, but there’s one fundamental thing that he’s not. He’s not Wesley.

  “Mike, I don’t know what to say.” She shakes her head, helplessly, wishing there is some kind of a manual for this. The last thing she wants to do is lose her best friend. Her main priority right now is ensuring that their friendship makes it out of this room alive.

  “Anything would be good right about now.” Mike’s lopsided grin is forced, like he already knows what direction this is going in.

  Isabel looks down at the floor, gathering her courage together to say what she really should have said months ago, but with everything she’s had to deal with, it’s seemed like yet another mountain to climb. She hasn’t been ready for it. But she is now; she has to be. There is no more time for evasions or for excuses. Mike doesn’t deserve that. He deserves the truth. She looks up into his eyes and finds the strength to tell him everything she needs to. “Mike, I do love you. Just not in the way you want me to.” Isabel watches the hurt play out across his features. “You’ve been such a great friend to me and I don’t want to lose that.” She reaches out to take his hand in hers and squeezes it, waiting for him to focus back on her and stop looking at the ground as if she’d just taken out his heart and stomped on it.

  “Is that the only reason, Issy? That you don’t want to ruin our friendship? Because if it is, I can give you any number of reasons why that’s a load of bullshit!” The frustration she’s hardly ever heard in his voice starts to come out now and Isabel winces involuntarily, more than aware that she’s the one who caused this calm, decent man to explode. “I want to be with you, Isabel. I want to be a whole lot more than just your friend. I want to take care of you.” He tries to pull her towards him with the hand she’s holding, but she stands firm, knowing it would be a slippery slope. She’d fallen into bed with Mike once before, looking for comfort. That had been a mistake, a mistake she is still paying for, a mistake that could end a friendship she truly treasured.

  “That’s not the only reason.” Isabel’s voice is quiet, but it carries in the small kitchen. She feels Mike’s hand tense in hers.

  “There’s someone else.” The words come out through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if it is something he had half-expected.

  Isabel nods quickly, wishing there is something she can say that will make this all better, something that would take them back in time, to before the night when everything between them changed. Isabel thinks she would give anything to go back there now, so she didn’t have to see the hurt plastered all over Mike’s face and know she’s the reason for it.

  “Who is he?” Mike keeps his voice low, cold, and it’s a million times worse than if he had just shouted at her, railed against her and told her he hated her, that she misled him.

  Isabel shrugs. “He’s just a guy, Mike. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just sort of...did.” She knows how lame it sounds, but it also just happens to be the truth.

  “You’re in love with him.” It’s a statement of fact more than a question, but Isabel nods anyway, knowing there’s no need to be coy.

  “So where is he?” Mike looks around, as if he expects said guy to pop out from one of the kitchen cupboards.

  “He’s not here.” Isabel looks up at the ceiling, wondering why the ground never swallows you up when you want it to.

  “When will he be back? I’d at least like to meet the guy who managed to do in a few months what I haven’t been able to in years.” Mike huffs a mirthless laugh, but his smile looks more like a grimace.

  “He’s not coming back, Mike.” She keeps her voice even, proud that she manages to stop it from breaking.

  Mike gives her a confused look, not making any effort to pretend that he doesn’t believe her. “He’s not coming back.” He repeats her words as if he might have misheard them.

  She plants her feet firmly on the ground, looking up into his baby blue eyes and telling herself that under no circumstances is she allowed to cry. “That’s right. He left about a month ago. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

  Mike blinks at her, clearly wondering what it is he’s missing from this story. “But you’re waiting for him.” He watches as she shakes her head sadly.

  “No, not really.” She sighs, pushing the curls that have come loose from her ponytail out of her face. “At least, I’m trying not to.” She smiles without humor. “I know he’s not coming back. I know he’s gone for good, but I can’t help hoping.” She shrugs, knowing she sounds like some pathetic heroine from a cheesy romance novel.

  “And what if he doesn’t come back, Issy? Are y
ou just going to hope forever? Are you really willing to throw what we could have away in favor of something that may never happen?” Mike shakes his head, raking his fingers through his expensively-cropped blonde hair. “It doesn’t make any sense, Isabel. It’s not logical!”

  “No,” she agrees, “it’s not. But then from what I’ve heard there’s not a whole lot that’s logical about love.”

  Mike chuckles lightly. “Ain’t that the truth.” He gives her an appraising look, as if he’s really looking at her for the first time. “You know, this would really be a whole lot easier if you looked like crap.”

  Isabel smiles and shakes her head. “I could say the same about you.” She stares at the man in front of her, with his handsome face, his lean runner’s build and she asks herself what woman in her right mind wouldn’t want him?

  “I guess I should get going.” Mike moves to pick up his duffel bag.

  “What do you mean?” Isabel shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Mike gives her an amused look. “Well, Issy, I can’t stay here, not after...” He lets the phrase trail off; there’s no need to finish it. They both know what happened.

  “The hell you can’t!” She moves round to block his way out of the kitchen. “You listen here, Michael Anthony Curtis, there is no way you’re coming all the way to Chicago to stay in some depressing, bland hotel when you should be staying here. I won’t allow it.” Isabel just manages to stop short of stamping her foot.

  “Issy, I can’t.” He shakes his head sadly, lifting his hand up as if to stroke her cheek before letting it fall. “It’s hard for me to be around you, knowing you don’t feel the same.” He shrugs his shoulders and the action makes him look so sad that it pulls at Isabel’s heartstrings.

  “Mike. Please. Just stay.” She lays a hand on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer, knowing she might not want to hear his response. “It’s getting late and you must be tired. We can talk more in the morning when we’ve both had a chance to sleep on everything.” She gestures vaguely around her as if to encompass ‘everything.’ “I don’t want us to leave things like this.”