by C. B. Stagg
The man staring back at me in the mirror was unrecognizable: sunken cheeks, purple-rimmed eyes, hair sticking out in all directions. And the smell, good Lord, how could she stand being so close to me? That thought brought up feelings I was not ready to contend with.
“Do you mind if I shower?” I attempted to yell from behind the closed door.
“Nope, go for it.” Her answer, almost instant, was loud. Had she been standing right outside the door?
“Thanks.”
I made quick work of washing up, but stayed under the water until it ran cold.
Why was I here? What had happened? And where was he during all this? Because there was a he, wasn’t there? A powerful, off-brand Kennedy wannabe, who acted as if he owned her. The man who sought me out in the dining room of the cafe, when everyone else was occupied, to make one thing very clear—Jillian Walker belonged to him and him alone, and that I was to stay far, far away starting now. Who also assured me that he had the influence and was fully capable of ruining me if I didn’t comply. Then he made sure to throw in that I was yesterday’s trash, and that she only had eyes for him… had for years… and by Christmas, there would be a ring on her finger to prove it. Oh yeah, I thought, then why have I never heard of you before now? But he was right about one thing. I was trash and she deserved so much better than a damaged man with a darkened heart.
I cut the water off and grabbed a towel. It smelled like her, too, of course. Everything did. I should leave. Redressed in the same clothes I’d gone in with, I opened the door. Jillian was sitting on the couch, but popped up as soon as she saw me.
“Is everything okay?” I nodded, feeling water drip down my back from my still wet hair that needed to be cut a few weeks ago. “Do you want me to take you home?”
Without warning, the room started to spin. I swayed, reaching out to steady myself against the door jamb and almost missed it completely. Jill rushed to my side.
“I’ve got you,” she assured, but her words were strained. I leaned heavily on her as she helped me back to bed, knowing I would fall without her support.
“Sorry.” I grunted.
“I’ll take that as a no.” I nodded, unable to speak under the effort.
Vertigo was the worst. I’d gotten it a few times in Kuwait when the temperature hit 120 degrees and the water was too hot to drink. I detested my tendency to get dizzy when dehydrated, but I’d never been happier for it to strike. With all talk of my going home abandoned, I let her help me back into her bed.
Her condo was nicer than what the majority of college students lived in. At least, I imagined it was. Decorated to the nth degree, there was no doubt anyone but a gorgeous girl like Jillian laid her head down here. Her walls, painted the palest of lavender, almost grey, were sparsely adorned with framed pressed flowers, each having the scientific name handwritten below in loopy script. The bed, which sat higher than average, was made of cherry wood, as was the rest of the furniture. It was very tidy, and looked almost unlived in. A set of perfume bottles over here, a stack of books placed neatly over there, and a framed picture of Jillian and a younger adult male that looked a lot like her. They were both smiling at the camera with Kyle Field, Texas A&M’s football stadium, in the background.
I lifted my legs into bed when she pulled the floral comforter up, granting me access. As soon as I was settled, using giant, pastel-colored pillows to cushion my back against the wooden headboard, she covered me from the waist down, fussing to make sure things were situated just right.
“So, dinner? I made you soup. And by ‘made,’ I mean I opened the can, added water, and heated it up in the microwave.” The tiniest of grins graced her lips. That squeaky clean face, free of makeup, paired with her casual, collegiate running pants and T-shirt, made her appear so young and innocent. She was getting to me, so I closed my eyes to combat her womanly wiles. It did me no good. The image of her standing beside me in maroon and grey cotton was as clear as day. I tried imagining latrine duty or mucking horse stalls, palpating cows. Anything to get my mind off the girl less than a foot away. I needed to end these feelings.
“Yes. Thanks.” I looked down, smoothing my covers until she left the room and I could breathe again. I used the seclusion to inspect more of her bedroom. It could have been a magazine feature, the way everything was arranged so perfectly. From the woolen blanket casually thrown over the upholstered, overstuffed chair in the corner… right down to the matching coffee mug on the table beside a giant paperback book with a clock and a kilt on the front. Noticeably absent though, were any pictures of Jillian with him. I wondered where he was right now, while his girl was tending to the needs of a dirty boot unchaperoned.
I don’t remember Jillian ever coming back in with the soup, only waking up with an untouched bowl of chicken, noodles, veggies, and broth sitting on the side table and a not-pajama-clad Jillian laying next to me, her body wrapped around mine like a vise.
Chapter 26
Jill
IN THE WHOLE of my twenty years, I’d only had eyes for Gareth Johnson. Because my parents said so. Sometimes I wonder if my parents whispered his name to me in my sleep to fuel my ambition to make him mine. Once I turned sixteen, I was put on The Pill, then shipped off to Texas for a long weekend each month, tasked with winning his heart. Because my parents said so.
Looking back, a scrawny, underdeveloped high school junior gaining the attention of a college freshman who lived several states away should have been quite the challenge. But it was not. I did what was expected and we were pronounced a couple after a few months. And I was happy, because I was told to be. This would be a diplomatic fairy tale, the marrying of two political families who would become the new hope for the Republican party, now that Reagan’s term was over.
I loved him because my parents said so, but that wasn’t love. Love couldn’t be prescribed. It couldn’t appear at will, nor could it disappear on command. Love was something that grew from a carefully planted seed. In its own time, in its own way, love bloomed for all to see and, if nurtured, love could stay lush and beautiful for a lifetime.
I knew this only because that seed had been planted in me. I’d felt it grow for weeks and weeks. But love could be a lonely journey. Because it didn’t take two to love. And love could only truly thrive if the feeling was returned.
Rejection wasn’t a word I was familiar with. The idea of loving someone who didn’t love me back was foreign. And the pain associated with it was indescribable. My heart was a gaping wound and having to care for Bennett, knowing he chose to send me away on Thanksgiving, was like pouring salt right into it.
“Bennett?” I called to the man beside me. I’d slept beside him all three nights he’d been with me, in an attempt to keep the terrors at bay. Most of the time his calls were unintelligible—sometimes names, places, commands. But this time, he yelled my name. Over and over again, he yelled my name, revealing a crack in the cold, aloof armor he insisted on wearing to distance me. “Bennett!”
He flailed, sweat pouring from his brow. His hair was dripping, and often he’d moan, squeezing his eyes tight when he did. I’d done all I could and I couldn’t heal him. It was time to call in the experts. I found the phone on the kitchen counter and, taking a deep breath, dialed 9-1-1.
Chapter 27
Bennett
I’D RESIGNED MYSELF to the fact that, as long as I stayed with Jillian, I’d wake up with her arms around me. Should I mind? Yes, I should. Very much. Did I? Hell, no. But did it make it near impossible to freeze her out while awake? Yes, yes it did. Still, her touch in the darkness was more welcome than she could ever know.
“Ouch!” What the hell was happening to my arm? Was Jillian squeezing me? And why? My eyes flickered open and I turned my head as a blood pressure cuff continued to strangle my arm.
“Oh, hey! There you are! Welcome back, hon.” An older woman, dressed in light blue from head to toe and round all over, whispered, looking up from her task. She finished writing something on a clipboar
d before unfastening the cuff from my arm, the sound scraping against my eardrums, which had become accustomed to gentle silence. “I know someone who sure will be happy to see those pretty golden eyes of yours.” She nodded to my other side as she exchanged an empty IV bag for a full one while I watched on, wordlessly, trying to figure out where I was, why I was here, and who she was talking about.
I turned to look around, pain shooting through my neck and head. I found Jillian seated in a padded chair, bent at the waist using my arm as a pillow. She was sound asleep, but had a firm grip on my non-IV hand, so I used the other one to stroke her head. I could feel the rhythm of her breaths on my arm and she looked like she’d been crying. She was perfection.
“She rode with you in the ambulance and she’s been right here ever since, refusing to leave your side even for a minute.” My throat constricted and I wondered… “Good thing, too. Those are some mighty hairy dreams you’ve got playing in that head of yours, but luckily she knew how to calm you right down.” I leaned over and placed my lips on the top of her head. Perfection.
The chatty nurse placed the clipboard in a slot at the foot of the bed and came around to place a white blanket across Jillian’s shoulders. She stirred, but didn’t wake. “You’re a lucky man, you know. She sure loves you a lot.”
I cleared my throat to speak, sending more bolts of pain through my head. With that, Jillian raised her head and dropped my hand as soon as she saw I was awake. “Hey.” Her sleepy voice was one of my new favorite sounds, but I’d never let her know it.
“How long have I been out?” Tone steady, face clear of emotion. I’d been trained to make myself unreadable. This should be second nature.
“About twenty-eight hours.” She said, checking her watch. She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it down but making no difference at all, other than being adorable.
“Why am I here?” I uttered huskily, needing to clear my throat, but unwilling to try again after the pain that shot through my head the first time.
“I couldn’t get your fever to come down. It was out of control and I didn’t… “ She covered her mouth and took a few shaky breaths. “I thought you might… that you might not be okay, so I called an ambulance. You have viral meningitis.”
Meningitis was serious, I could easily have died. I hid my shock and tried to maneuver my body higher in the bed. Jillian handed me a corded control that allowed me to raise the bed to a sitting position. She reached out to touch my face, but I flinched, so she stopped. I was afraid one more touch would be the end of my resolve. “I feel better.” Lie.
“Good.” She swallowed and looked away.
“You don’t have to stay here and mother me.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to witness the effect my cold words would likely have on her.
She breathed in deep, letting it out slowly. “I’m not here because I have to be Bennett. I’m here because I—”
“Stop.” Just like in the kitchen when she wouldn’t leave me alone about spilling the hot water all over me. The word echoed in the silent room and I pinched my eyes closed tight. “Look, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about this. A year ago, maybe I’d be up for some fun and games, but that’s not for me anymore. I’m not that man anymore.”
She sniffed. She was crying, and my will was slipping, like grains of desert sand through my fingers. “You need to leave my room. Now.” I turned my head away from her and closed my eyes again, waiting. Her initial footfalls were slow, hesitant even, but gained momentum the closer she got to the door. Within a few seconds, I was alone again, the way it should be. It was the right thing to do. She deserved so much more than I could give her.
Chapter 28
Jill
THE SOUND OF SILENCE settled between the walls of my home like a poisonous gas ready to smother me. I could have turned on the TV or the radio, but I didn’t. I would gladly be smothered, rather than feel the pain I was experiencing. His absence was a living, breathing thing… like another person occupying the space with me.
I’d been sitting on the couch for minutes, hours maybe. I had no clue. The sun was starting to set and I’d arrived home midmorning. I had yet to face the bedroom, knowing that seeing the spot where Bennett had slept, still holding his shape, would choke me.
The phone ringing from the kitchen was the first sound I’d heard in hours.
“Hello?” It was weak. I was weak. I was missing a part of me.
“He’s agreed to take you back.” Fresh tears hit my cheeks at the enormity of everything.
I just couldn’t.
“I don’t want him back, Mother.” I was exhausted and it sounded like it. At that moment I realized the sun wasn’t setting… it was rising.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s gotten into you, that you’re willing to give up marrying a Harvard Law graduate, with a family as important as the Kennedys—if not more—and enough wealth to pay off the national debt? Tell me, for what?” She clicked her tongue when she was finished and delivered a deep, ‘woe is me’ sigh.
“For love, Mother.” I shook my head. It was something she knew nothing about. She couldn’t honestly think I believed she and my father were in love. I think they respected each other, but outside the public political arena, their lives couldn’t have been more separate if they lived on different planets.
“We have been over this, Jillian. The love will come, but the power behind a pairing like yours and Gareth’s is like nothing this country has ever seen. He will be president some day. That is a fact. He was groomed to take the office, just as you were groomed to be by his side.” She was frantic. I couldn’t remember a time my mother had ever been out of control.
“That’s not what this is even about… I can’t marry Gareth. I just can’t.”
“That makes no sense, Jillian. Why can’t you?” She was grasping, but as she always said, Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.
“Because, I’m in love with someone else.”
Then deafening silence, the kind that physically presses on the ear.
“Well… ” She cleared her throat to mask her emotion, finding her balance once again. “You are not the daughter I raised.” That made me laugh.
“Thank God for that!” Call waiting beeped and I switched over to the other line without so much as a goodbye.
“Hello?” Then, seconds later, I replied to the caller on the other end of the line. “I’m on my way!”
Chapter 29
Bennett
“WELL, MR. HANSON, it looks like this will be an easy discharge.”
“Easy, you say?” Nothing about this was easy, as I sat staring out the picture window that faced five or so other medical buildings. The sun had set, then risen again, and my condition was stable. But the new day did not bring new hope. Because I was still me and she was still her. And she would always deserve more than I could give her.
“Yes, sir. Everything has been taken care of so just sign here, and here, then we’ll get you out and back home… just in time for Christmas, too!” And with that, another hundred pound weight fell on my shoulders. Christmas. I told Rosie and Doc I’d come home. I’m sure they’ve been expecting me and are worried sick. I was just so tired of disappointing everyone.
“Wait, what do you mean taken care of ?” I asked, as I waited, impatiently, in the wheelchair they insisted I ride down in. The same chatty nurse from the day before said she’d call a cab and I assumed it was on its way. I was perfectly fine to walk, though. I never again wanted to be viewed as fragile, but she wasn’t having it. She made it clear that it was against hospital policy to let me walk out on my own and if I wanted to leave, there was only one way out. And I wanted to leave, that was for sure.
“Oh, the bill dear. Someone settled your bill.” She used the table by the bed to neaten her stack of paperwork I was to sign, but I shook my head and made no attempt to take it from her.
“I think there’s been a mistake.”
She flipped through the paperwork,
a line forming between her brows. A slight frown settled on her face as she skimmed the half-ream of paper in her hands.
“Nope, no mistake.” The voice came from the hallway, but soon she was standing right next to me. The nurse and she exchanged looks and Nurse Chatty smiled, clipping the papers back onto the board. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose.
Jillian.
Why was she here? She refused to look at me. “Thanks for getting him ready, Barbara, but I’ll take the patient from here.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going home with you.” I looked toward the nurse for support and repeated my statement. “I’m not going with her.”
Chatty’s knowing smirk grated on my nerves, like this was all some big game to her. Clearly, Jillian had an ally in the older woman. “Well, I don’t rightly care where ya go. Alls I know is, ya can’t stay here.”
The woman bounced out of the room and down the hall, the squeaks of her shoes becoming faint before disappearing all together. When she was good and gone, Jillian wheeled me out into an unfamiliar corridor. I must have come in this way, but I certainly had no recollection of it.
Jillian pushed the down arrow and we waited in silence, but once we were in and the doors were closed, I looked back at her. “I am not your hostage.” My teeth were clenched, and a whole new level of headache radiated between my ears.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I have paperwork in my bag that sings a different song. You’ve been released into my care and in my care you will remain.”
As if on cue, the doors to the elevator opened, and she pushed me out into the freezing cold air. “Damn it!” Oh, I was mad, and since she’d cut my shirt off I was still in a paper-thin scrub top and pants made of coffee filters. I had half a mind to jump out of the chair, but really, where would I go? And how would I get there?
