Imagine Us

by Jaxson Kidman

I looked at the screen with blurry eyes.

  Miss you.

  It was from Adam.

  I bit my lip.

  This was the first time in my life when getting too close to him maybe wasn’t such a bad thing. At all.

  Even if my heart was aching, the pieces chipping away like an angry sea at a rocky shore.

  I sat there on the kitchen floor of my house and replied to him.

  Need you.

  * * *

  “So this is home, huh?” Adam asked as he looked around the living room.

  “Don’t,” I said. “This is a disaster, Adam.”

  “I know, sugar. This is weird for me to be here. He’s not coming home tonight?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s out fucking that woman.”

  My chin quivered.

  I hated that it upset me so much. But I couldn’t help it. I loved Chad. I loved him when I met him and right up until tonight. And I’d love him tomorrow. The only thing was the way that love changed. Back then it was that puppy dog forever love kind of thing. But now… I think I loved him just for the time we had together. Maybe to justify the time and make sure it wasn’t a complete waste.

  “Come here,” Adam said.

  He hugged me with the only hug that could sooth me.

  “I’m sorry I texted you to come here,” I said into his chest.

  His shirt smelled clean, his skin smelled like… well, him.

  It was intoxicating and confusing.

  “What do you need here?” he asked. “Any clothes? Furniture?”

  “Adam, I’m not moving my stuff into your house. I should probably find my own place.”

  “I’m sure you know a decent realtor, right,” he asked with a grin.

  I laughed. “Thanks for that.”

  I touched the corners of my eyes. “We need to leave. I need to leave. I need to get out of here.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Anywhere you want,” he said.

  “What am I doing, Adam? I’m always such a mess.”

  “Hey, what’s that back there?” he asked.

  He pointed to the small room that was my writing room.

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s where I would write.”

  Adam walked into the small room. I was never sure what it was supposed to be, but it worked for me as a writing room.

  “Paneling, huh?” he asked.

  “I love it,” I said. “Vintage.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said. “And that’s your desk?”

  “Card table that folds right up,” I said. “Every writer’s dream.”

  He laughed. “So what important scene did you write in here? Give me your best one.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Come on,” he said. “You must have typed a lot of words here. So spill some. Give me something.”

  He was actually excited. About my writing.

  I scrambled to think as I looked at the desk.

  “At least tell me what you’re working on now,” he said.

  “Right now, sort of nothing. Just a bunch of ideas at once. I never really nailed down an idea. I had this one thing started. It was just ten pages though. My agent loved it. I just could never finish it.”

  “What was it about?” Adam asked.

  I looked at him. My cheeks flushed. “It’s… nothing good.”

  “You just said your agent loved it.”

  “It was about you,” I blurted out.

  “Me?”

  “Not you. Based on you. And me. The night of your accident.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “I had this story idea of two people who never made things work. And he leaves and gets into a car accident. While he’s in the hospital, he’s dreaming of her. The life they could have together. And she’s by his side the entire time, realizing, because she almost lost him, that she truly does love him.”

  “Damn,” Adam said. “And that was all in ten pages?”

  “Well, not exactly,” I said. “The ten pages was the part where he gets into the accident. Just this really emotional opening. My agent loved it and wanted more.”

  “Why didn’t you give her more?”

  “I just didn’t.”

  I turned to leave the room and Adam jumped to block the doorway.

  His eyes burned into mine. “Why didn’t you give her more?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why, Elena?”

  “Just because.”

  “Elena…”

  “Move,” I ordered. “I want to leave.”

  “You can tell me…”

  I punched at his chest. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

  Adam touched my waist and eased me back a few inches.

  I stepped toward him but stopped. “It felt like cheating.”

  “Cheating?” he asked.

  “Writing about you. Writing about me. Taking our memories and twisting them into something else. It was just an idea that came to me and I ran with it for a night. I was a little intoxicated…”

  “I bet that’s when the best ideas come to you, Elena. Your heart and mind don’t argue then.”

  “It was after Chad and I had an argument.”

  “Of course,” Adam said.

  I closed my lips tightly. My chest felt like it was going to cave in.

  I knew he never liked Chad, and that was my fault. I never went to Adam with anything good that Chad did. Adam was always my best friend. My best guy friend. Someone I could trust with everything I had to say or how I felt. And I always knew he would never try anything funny.

  Except the night he got hit by the car. When he kissed me and then took off. And the way my mother had wanted us to… whatever. But leaving me standing there, his kiss lingering on my lips. Then hearing the sound of brakes screaming. Then the sound of an engine roaring. Then running to go see him in the middle of the road. And my mother rushing to get me back to the house so when the cops came I wouldn’t get in trouble for being drunk.

  “Hey, you okay?” Adam asked. “I was just messing with you a little. You don’t have to talk about what you write. You just sort of mentioned that it seems like nobody else cares about it. But I do. I think it’s amazing what you do and you should keep doing it. And if you have a story that-”

  I moved at Adam.

  I reached up as far as I could and locked my fingers over his shoulders. I pulled myself to my toes and pressed my lips to his. There was a time when if I had done something like this, Adam would have shown hesitation. But not now. Years stripped away anything boyish about him and he was all man and wasted no time in touching my sides and pulling me close, taking control of the sudden kiss.

  I kissed him just once.

  But he kissed me again and again… and again.

  I slid my hands down to his chest and pushed away, breaking the kiss and backing up until I hit the desk I used to write at.

  “If you wanted me to shut up, you could have just said so,” Adam said.

  “Good to know,” I whispered. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Today has been another disaster.”

  “Just moments. Not the entire day. Let’s get out of here. Head back to the lake.”

  “Please.”

  Adam stood sideways and let me through the doorway first. My cheeks burned hot as I walked by him. I was a grown adult with adult problems and a broken heart, yet near him I had those butterfly feelings as though I had never been touched or been with a guy before.

  “I’ll be right there,” he said as I opened the front door to the house.

  I heard a noise and then to my shock, my desk appeared, floating through the air.

  Adam was carrying my desk. Working and wiggling through the doorway and toward the front door.

  “Adam,” I said.

  He put the desk down. “You need your writing desk, sugar. We’re taking it with us. And if there’s anyth
ing else you need, we can come back.”

  My lips quivered as excuses came to me but faded away.

  “I don’t know…”

  “Okay, Elena, here’s the deal,” Adam said. “We’re taking this to my place so you have somewhere to write. If you decide to work things out with Chad, I’ll bring it back here for you. I promise.”

  “Work things out with Chad?” I asked. “Why would I…”

  Adam didn’t need to say a word to get to my heart.

  He said that because it had happened before. Several times actually.

  But this was different.

  I stepped out of the house and held the door for Adam. He lifted my desk and carried it right out the front door and to his truck. I watched him as he carefully put the old desk into the bed of the truck and was gentle with it. I bought the thing used for fifty dollars. Nobody gave a damn about that desk but me.

  When he finished and jumped out of the bed of the truck, he went to open my door and he dropped his right shoulder and grabbed it with his left hand. Almost instantly from there, he jammed his right hand into his pocket and took something out of it. He turned so I couldn’t see, even as I approached. It all happened so fast and smoothly, but it was obvious he was taking some kind of medicine.

  “Adam, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

  “Is that the shoulder that…”

  “It’s good, sugar,” he said. “Just aches and pains sometimes.”

  He wouldn’t look at me as he walked around the front of the truck.

  He looked like he was in pain.

  And, as always, it was my fault.

  9

  From the Trees We See

  ADAM

  (now)

  I chomped on the last pill and brushed my teeth.

  I walked out of the bathroom and was surprised to find Elena in the kitchen, helping herself to some coffee. It was still dark outside and sleep was all over her hair and her face.

  “Well, good morning to me,” I said.

  “Hey,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Want to come to the diner and work?”

  “I was thinking of getting coffee and relaxing on the couch.”

  “That sounds better than my morning.”

  I watched as she bit at her bottom lip.

  There was a part of me that still couldn’t believe she was actually here. In my house. Taking claim to my couch as her own. And no matter how many times I offered to give her my bed, she refused. Or if I offered to clean up the loft and set her up there, she didn’t want it.

  Somewhere in her mind and heart she wasn’t over what had happened. And she shouldn’t have been. What Chad did to her now was an asshole move, but it was the last one in a long string of asshole moves that collected over the years.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “I have about thirty seconds until I have to leave.”

  “I’m not going to bother you with this.”

  “With what?”

  “Me.”

  “Elena…”

  “What am I doing here, Adam? I feel lost right now. I cancelled my showings today. I gave them to someone else. I hate doing what I do. I’m sleeping on your couch. We haven’t even talked about how weird that is. What this is with us.”

  “Okay,” I said. I stepped toward her. “First off, you just had your heart broken. That’s the reality you have to face. Now, you have every right to skip a day or two of work. And if you want to quit your job, then quit.”

  Elena laughed. “Of course you would say that. Feed into my craziness right now.”

  “You’re a writer, Elena. That’s what you do. And if you need time to figure it out, then do it. Stay here as long as you want.”

  “How does that work?” she asked. “A day, a week… that’s fine. But to stay longer? It’s not going to work.”

  “How so?”

  “You have a life here, Adam. You own the diner. You own this house. I’m sure you have… you know, arrangements and stuff.”

  “What kind of arrangements?”

  “Adam. You know what I mean. Dates. Nights where you’re not alone…”

  I grinned. “You’re thinking too much into this stuff. I really have to take off. You should stop by today. Maybe grab something for lunch before we close up.”

  “Thank you. You’ve always been so good to me.”

  “You deserve it, sugar. Then and now. I’m sorry your heart always seems to be in the crosshairs of life. Just take it easy. Let things work out for themselves.”

  “Is that what you did?” she asked me.

  “What?”

  “Just let it work out on its own? Is that how you got the diner? This house?”

  I thought about it for a second. From the charred ashes of hell to what I had now.

  I slowly nodded. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I did.”

  I reached up and gently touched her chin.

  Fuck, I wanted to kiss her goodbye so badly.

  Having her kiss me at her place was one thing. Having her in my house was another. I could never take advantage of her sadness and heart, as tempting as it was. So the most I could do at the moment was keep her close.

  “Enjoy your coffee,” I said.

  “Enjoy your morning,” she offered back.

  I left the house and took a deep breath.

  Having Elena at my house proved one thing to me.

  I hated to be alone.

  * * *

  “Can I finish this?” Chris asked as he nodded to his cigarette.

  “You’re good,” I said. “That will kill you someday.”

  “Oh, come on, man,” he said with a laugh. “And what you do won’t?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Punk kid.”

  “I’m not a kid, Adam.”

  “I know. How’s it going at home lately?”

  “Tiring,” he said.

  He took a deep drag of his cigarette and stared straight ahead.

  Chris was thrown into a rough life and worked hard to keep himself going. He took care of his mother and his younger sister, who had a baby last year. She wasn’t even eighteen yet and was learning how to be a mother. All the while Chris worked at the diner and was saving money to go to college in the fall.

  The work at the diner was to cover up what he really did to make a living.

  He flicked his cigarette and stretched his neck.

  He looked really beaten up today. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

  I stopped him at the door. “Hey. You okay today?”

  “I’m fucking perfect,” he said in a rough voice.

  Chris had two voices. His normal talking voice. Then his street voice. His street voice was deep, rough, with the edge that he would throw a punch without thinking. I knew that attitude and lived it for a long time.

  I still had height and size on Chris as he looked up at me.

  “You didn’t go home last night, did you?”

  “I stayed out and did my thing,” he said. “Have to take care of those who need me.”

  “Chris…”

  “Check your desk, Adam,” he said. “Now let me go wash some dishes and get out of here.”

  He pushed at me and I backed up.

  The diner was in full swing and busy.

  I walked to the small office that was basically a glorified closet. I opened the top right drawer and saw the pills waiting for me. It was the only way to keep the shoulder pain dull enough to function. I was told to get surgery done a long time ago but kept putting it off and finally decided to ignore it.

  I slammed the drawer shut and went back to the front of the diner to keep myself busy. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to look in the mirror and face my own truths. But if I didn’t keep the diner going, the town would probably fall apart. So the name of the game was the same across the board.

  And that was survival.

  Only now, having Elena around made
that a little harder.

  Having her around made me want to trade one addiction for another.

  * * *

  I had a chair flipped over on a table near the front window when I spotted Elena walking by. I stopped right away and sucked in a breath, feeling like I was suddenly floating. She didn’t realize I was standing right there as she walked. Her hair was pulled back, but loose strands danced behind her. She wore a gray hoodie and had a large bag hanging from her shoulder. Big enough for a laptop. So maybe she had been writing.

  But just the sight of her from the side. Those pristine and angelic features, the curve of her jawline and way the rest of her body made her look like all woman; it was impossible not to stare and follow her as she walked right to the diner door.

  My mind flashed with images as though I was sorting through old pictures. The flat-chested girl wearing a dress with flowers all over it, with a big smile, her mouth full of braces, but her green eyes so striking. And how the summer between middle school and high school, she lost the braces, realized she was becoming a woman, got new clothes, and did everything possible to drive me insane, without even realizing she was doing it.

  All the way to right now.

  Coming through the door to the diner, seeing me, instantly smiling, those same green eyes grabbing at whatever edges of my heart that were still left.

  I gave a quick wave as she walked to me.

  I finished tightening the legs on the old chair and flipped it over and slid it back into place.

  “Hungry?” I asked. “I can make us something.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Anything good here besides pancakes?”

  “I guess you’ll be the judge of that.”

  I pulled the chair right back out and Elena took a seat.

  Two turkey clubs later, I sat across from her at the table at the front window of the diner. Behind the counter and in the kitchen, everyone was closing up and getting ready to leave. All the chairs were on the tables, except the ones Elena and I sat in. Chris worked through the front of the diner with a mop, earbuds in, shoulders dancing and his lips moving to whatever he was listening to.

  “How is it?” I asked.

  “Delicious,” Elena said.

  I nodded to the bag. “Laptop?”

  “And notebooks,” she said.

  “Did you get any writing done?”

  “No,” she said. Her cheeks flushed.