by Brisa Starr
Unsure of where she’s going with this, I stay quiet and wait for her to continue. Some more runners pass by, calling out loud, “On your left,” and we move to the right so they can pass.
“My mom just up and left us one day. Abandoned my dad and me.”
My chest tightens as I hear her own pain now. I see it on her face, and I’m reminded of that quote, Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.
I grab her hand, wanting to comfort her. How could her mother leave her? How could dickhead Lance leave her?
“And I think,” she continues, “honestly... oh, I just don’t know. I guess I pick the wrong men to date and get engaged to.” She tries to chuckle, but I can see it hurts her. “To answer your question, I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m too scared,” she says and shrugs defeat. “Besides, I have enough on my plate with my dad’s dementia, and I don’t really have the ability to trust anyone right now, with my track record.”
My heart is heavy after hearing her story. I like Ash, a lot, but everything she just shared tells me to cool my smoking, horny jets. The last thing she needs is any complication from me. I have my own issues. Heck, I live in California. Eventually, I’m leaving.
We finish our walk, and despite baring our souls to each other and sharing sob stories, I don’t want our time together to end. Guilt over Jeremy still lurks at the perimeter of my consciousness and threatens to consume me the second I’m out of Ash’s presence. That said, she has given me some things to think about.
We walk back to my car, and I turn to her and say, “I really enjoyed my time with you today. Thanks for listening to me.”
“Me too.” She smiles, and her luminous eyes look like they want to share something, but she holds back.
We stare at each other a moment longer, and I desperately want to kiss her, despite my realization a minute ago that it’d be a terrible idea. A kiss would confuse both of us, and she’s off men right now. I need to respect that. The last thing I want to do is start something with her and then leave her, like her mom and Lance did. She deserves better than that.
So I say, “Can I see you tonight? I haven’t been to a movie in forever, and when we were talking about movies at lunch yesterday, I thought it sounded kind of fun. I’d love to see you again.”
“Sure,” she says, and I see a flash of both uncertainty and excitement in her eyes.
In that moment, I make a decision to just be completely candid with her, and hopefully, put both our minds at ease.
“Ash, I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I’ll be honest with you. I’m extremely attracted to you.”
She flushes and swallows, and I charge on with a shrug. “But I understand that it makes sense for us to just stay friends. I’m not boyfriend material — look at me, I’m a mess — and you’re not looking for one anyway... and I live in California.”
She looks down and shifts her weight to one hip. “I know,” she says, a twinge of dejection in her tone.
“But I love spending time with you,” I say, and she looks up. God, her eyes are so beautiful. “It feels so good, so right. So, if you’re down with it, I’d love to see you as much as I can before I leave.”
She says nothing for a moment, but the look in her eyes tells me I’m right. We’re both attracted to each other, but we need to ignore it, otherwise it’ll only result in heartbreak.
For both of us.
“OK.” She smiles, and says, “Movies tonight. Just friends.”
12
Luke
I question the way we ended it when I drop Ash off at her house. She seemed fine about staying friends, but I saw disappointment in her eyes. I felt my own disappointment, too, but I believe it’s the right thing to do.
I drive over to Maggie’s to talk with her. I text her to let her know I’m coming, and she tells me to let myself in when I get there, and to come up to the bedroom. Her husband, Brent, is out running errands, and she’s too tired to get up and let me in the house.
I walk into her bedroom, and she’s got this exhausted look on her face that screams, “I am ready to give birth to this baby!”
“How are you doing?” I ask anyway. I look around her room and see boxes of baby stuff that she still needs to put away, a baby swing that needs assembling, and a pile of magazines on the floor by her bed. It must be rough being a prisoner in bed, and it has to be driving her crazy.
“I’m fat, and I’m tired, and I’m ready to have this baby.”
I was right. I sit on the edge of the bed. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“Wanna rub my feet?” she asks and smiles, batting her eyelashes at me.
“Um, not really. That’s what husbands are for.” I smile back, batting my eyelashes in return.
“Yes, fine,” she says. “Anyway, let’s get to you. How are you? How’s Mom?” She closes the crossword puzzle book she was working on.
“Mom is doing well. And, me? Honestly? I’m not too bad,” I say and take a comfortable breath. “It’s been hard staying in Prescott, but I’ve had a few moments where I’ve felt better than I have in a long time.” I get up and walk to the window overlooking her backyard. “It’s confusing the hell out of me.”
“Well, that’s good to hear then. Maybe some things are finally healing,” she says, and I turn around to see hope shine in her eyes. “Maybe being back here has helped you face some things you’ve been avoiding all this time.” She grabs a hair tie from her nightstand and twists her hair into a bun on top of her head.
I walk back to her bed and sit down again. “I don’t know. It still hasn’t helped me absolve the guilt I feel about it.”
“Luke, it wa…”
I turn to face her. “Don’t say it, Maggie.” I hold my hand up. “I know everybody says it wasn’t my fault, but it feels like it was. I know I didn’t make him take those drinks, but I encouraged it. And I wasn’t there when he left.”
I stand up, frustrated, and it feels like I’m back at square one. I rub my hand over my face and pace at the end of her bed. “Even if you could convince me it wasn’t entirely my fault, it was at least partly my fault, and I carry that guilt with me everywhere. Every goddamn day.”
She sits up straighter in bed. “Then what would you say if it were me, Luke? What if I were in your position and it were my best friend who died? Would you want me living my life, year after year, like a zombie? Avoiding love, avoiding friends, avoiding life?”
I stop and look at the floor. I scrunch my toes, gripping the beige carpet between them. I sit back down. “No,” I mumble, and I grab one of her feet to rub. She moans in appreciation and I chuckle.
Concentrating on her foot, I say, “I don’t know, Maggie. I’d probably tell you the same thing... that it wasn’t your fault.”
“And you’d be right, Luke. But you know what? Even if you can’t believe that yourself, yet, you can at least forgive yourself. Life is full of mistakes and wrong turns. If we can’t forgive, then we can’t love, and you of all people know that life is too short.”
I don’t say anything. I’m too deep in thought chewing on her sage words. How is it that my little sister has such wisdom?
“Luke, I think about a lot of these things because I have a baby coming. I want to teach my child about forgiveness and unconditional love. Even if I don’t agree with you that it was your fault, you believe it was, and I don’t know if that will ever change. So... fine. But that doesn’t mean you can’t forgive yourself. Jeremy would want that.”
I close my eyes, and a tremor passes through me. It’s the second time Jeremy’s name came up that way today, and it gives me pause. Maybe she’s right. Jeremy’s life was too short. Anyone’s life can be taken from them without warning.
I drop my head back and sigh, letting these ideas drift around me. She’s right about another point, too. I wouldn’t wish the darkness I’ve lived in the past decade... on anyone. In fact, if this had happened to Maggie, or my mom, or hell, Ash, I would’v
e spent all my time pulling them up so they wouldn’t miss out on life the way I’ve missed out.
I’ve never thought of it this way. I never considered forgiving myself, accepting the blame and still forgiving myself for it. I’ve always just taken the blame, thinking forgiveness wasn’t an option. It’s true, Jeremy would never have wanted me to live like this, just like I would’ve kicked his ass from the grave if the roles were reversed.
I grab Maggie’s other foot and start rubbing it, deep in thought, and chewing on possibilities as I process the ideas. I don’t accept them yet, but I don’t reject them either, which is promising. A tiny spark of hope blooms in my chest.
“Think about it, Luke, please.”
“I will. I’ve been thinking about a lot the past couple of days.”
“So, with that in mind,” she says and sits up straighter, tugging on a blanket, “let’s talk about Prescott.”
I stand up and walk over to the head of the bed and help her fluff her pillows. “I need you to stay for at least a month,” she says. And then she whispers, “Ideally two months.”
“I know, Maggie. I’m considering it.”
“Really?” she asks, her brown eyes shining. Her excitement is palpable.
“And?” I say, walking back over to the window, “I’m thinking it might not be as bad as I originally thought.” I turn around, and she’s beaming.
“So, OK. I’ll do it.”
“You will? Oh my god! Luke! Thank you! Thank you!” Her eyes fill with tears. “I can finally rest now, like, really relax. You have no idea how much this means to me — and to Mom. Once the baby is born, Mom will be busy helping me, which will be a wonderful distraction for her, but until then, it’ll be nice having you there at the house.”
The look on her face, and the relief in her eyes, make my heart expand three sizes. I’m glad I decided to do it. Knowing I can help her, and maybe making up some for being gone for so long... I take a deep, comforting breath, and it feels good.
And?
It means I get to see Ash more.
Trouble is... how am I going to keep Ash in the friend zone for a month? This might be harder than I thought. Sticking around for a week would’ve been easier, but now, a whole month? I have to see her as much as possible, too. I want to. She’s one of the main reasons I’m even saying yes to staying here. Not just because I want to see her, but because she makes me feel physically well enough to stay in Prescott. If she weren’t here, I’m still not sure I could handle it, whether my family needs me or not.
I turn my attention back to Maggie. I’ll think about Ash later.
“Maggie, I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you more over the years. I’m still a train wreck in my head, but maybe some healing is finally starting to happen.” I walk over to her. “I wish it hadn’t taken so long, but you, my wise little sister, have helped me more than you could know.”
“Better late than never, big brother. I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.”
Before she starts crying, I say, “I have to run back to California for a couple days to get Blitz and my second computer display, for work. And some more clothes and things. I’ll drive home tomorrow, grab my stuff, and I’ll stay the night. Then I’ll drive back the next day, so I should be back Tuesday.”
I bend down and give her a long hug. I feel the relief in her shoulders, and it makes me proud. I can finally be the big brother she deserves.
I head downstairs and go out to my car. I climb inside and sit there for a moment, without starting the ignition. It’s been one hell of a day. I breathe easier. For once, I feel like I have clarity, purpose, and even some happiness. Some of the shadows have cleared — enough to give me hope. Something I haven’t felt in ten years.
And now? I’m going home to shower, shave, and take Ash out to the movies. I wonder what she’ll say when I tell her I’ll be staying longer after all.
13
Ash
Shit. I can’t believe Luke put me in the friend zone.
Well, it’s probably for the best. Even though my heart and body want more, I don’t want to get hurt again. And he’d just abandon me later to go back to California.
Still. What is it about him? Or maybe, the question should be, what is it about us? I see something in his eyes I never saw in Lance’s. Or anybody I dated. And, although it seems ever-present, it still disappears during those moments when he gets that haunted look on his face, from his past. But that look seems to be there less every time I see him. Maybe he is healing.
And right now, he’s here. And we have a movie date. As friends. The smart play.
Right?
I allow myself a secret smile. The truth is, I’m still crazy about him. I know we’re going to keep it as just friends, but I don’t care. He turns me on, so I’ll just keep my dirty thoughts to myself.
I have some time before I need to get ready. My dad’s door is closed, so he must be taking a nap. Some days, he sleeps most of the day, and that concerns me. He should be more active. I wonder what kinds of activities I could get him doing. Maybe I could get him into the habit of going to Sally’s café for coffee, and he could read the newspaper there, maybe socialize a little. He can still drive; he just chooses not to go anywhere. It would be good to get him out into the community more, and Sally would love to see him. In fact, she could help me keep an eye on him.
I decide to take him to her café tomorrow to see if I can make a routine of it.
I take a shower and shave my legs, and I use my mint shampoo to wash my bush. I have no idea why. No one’s nose will be down there anytime soon. But I like to pretend.
I step out of the shower and towel dry before rubbing lavender lotion into my legs and arms, giving myself a nice, moisturizing massage. Then I blow-dry my hair, but I still have a couple hours before Luke picks me up, so I wait to apply my makeup. I want it to be fresh.
I look around for something to do and decide I might as well read. I sit on my bed with my books. What book should I read?
Non-fiction… dementia?
Or fiction… romance?
Despite the “friend” label Luke slapped on my forehead, I go for the steamy romance, and I imagine him as the hero in the book. Two hours fly by, and I finish the novel. As always, it’s got a happily-ever-after ending, and I smile. That’s why I love reading these, because it allows me to daydream and imagine that kind of happiness for my life.
I get off my bed and see the time. I should make dinner, as Luke didn’t say anything about eating. I head downstairs to the kitchen and see my dad’s door is open. Good, he’s up.
I make us a couple of huge salads with romaine lettuce, topped with hard-boiled eggs and bacon. Dad will be a happy camper with this recipe. I whip up a dressing in the blender with avocado, fresh lemon juice, pink sea salt, and plenty of fresh rosemary and cilantro — both herbs that are good for the brain.
But no garlic!
Just in case.
I mean, friends could kiss, right?
I shake my head slowly and sigh. Wishful thinking.
Then I shake my head with gusto. I do not want to kiss Luke. It would be a disaster. For both my heart and my mind.
“Dad! Dinner!”
“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he calls, and I hear the creak of his recliner chair as he swings down the leg-rest portion.
“Dinner is early tonight. Luke and I are going to the movies.”
“Luke?” he asks and raises his eyebrows.
Fear grips me. Oh god, he’s forgotten Luke already!
“I thought maybe he’d gone back to California by now.”
Phew! He remembered!
Then, a small frown tugs on my lips. His question is a stark reminder of the reality I face. Luke will soon be gone.
“No, he’s still here, but he’ll be leaving soon. We went for a walk today and decided to catch a movie tonight.”
My dad wiggles his eyebrows at me in exaggeration, and I can’t help but chuckle as a smile spreads acr
oss my face. I hold my hands up and say, “No, it’s not like that. He’s just a friend.”
I repeat the sentiment in my head — again and again — convincing myself it’s true.
“Uh-huh,” he responds, with razzle-dazzle mischief in his eyes, as he stuffs a giant bite of romaine lettuce, dripping with green avocado dressing, into his mouth. I see where I got my eating habits.
What precisely did my dad mean when he looked at me that way, asking about Luke? I mean, I know he’s eager for me to get out and do things, find a relationship even, but come on, Luke doesn’t even live in Arizona. How ridiculous would that be? Is my own father suggesting that I…?
I push the thought from my mind.
Besides, Luke doesn’t even want me that way. Just friends.
Part of me wishes he wanted more, though. He did say he finds me attractive. But my heart would get trampled. Would I be willing to suffer that, if it meant being in his big, muscular arms, having his hard body pressed against mine, kissing me...?
I look at my dad, and he’s staring at my daydreamy expression. With salad dressing on his chin.
I clear my throat and ignore his absurd facial expressions. “Do you like the salad?”
“Mmmmm,” he grumbles over his mouthful of food. Then he smiles, and I see green dressing all over his teeth.
“Ew, Dad. A thumbs-up would’ve sufficed.” I chuckle and add, “Let’s work on your eating habits.”
“I’m perfect just the way I am,” he snorts.
“Hey, I was thinking we’d start going over to Sally’s Café each day to read, have a coffee or tea, maybe even a piece of her cheesecake?”
I threw in the cheesecake as a bribe to get his ass out of that chair. He chews, thinking, and then swallows. “Sure, that would be fun. I think the guys still meet there on a fairly regular basis, too.”
“Yeah, I see Don and Jim playing cards in the morning when I get my iced tea.”
