Secondhand Heart

by Kristen Strassel

  “I’m glad you could make it.” The skin around those incredible blue eyes still crinkled when he smiled. Those weren’t my beer goggles playing tricks on me. And damn, did he smell good. Just clean and fresh. We both sat on the little couch, only two cushions and not a lot of room. I braced myself, and tried not to let my nerves get the best of me.

  “Listen, I don’t know what Ev told you, but if this is a complete waste of your time, I’m sorry.” I’d rehearsed that line, and it lost a little credibility since I’d interrupted nothing but his guitar playing. It wasn’t like the restaurant operations were going to grind to screeching halt while we talked.

  Cam chuckled. “Not at all. I want to start by saying I heard about your husband, and I’m sorry for your loss. I appreciate his sacrifice.”

  I nodded, closing my eyes for a long blink. When people talked about the sacrifice that Jordan made, it always made it sound like dying at war was part of the plan. Like an old fashioned Kamikaze pilot or one of those guys who thinks he’s going to have seventy-two virgins waiting for him in heaven if he dies for his country. But it wasn’t. For Jordan, joining the Air Force was the ultimate adventure. He wanted to learn how to fly a bad ass fighter jet and see the world. After he was done with his tour of duty, we were going to try to get transferred overseas. Jordan wanted to be an engineer, and I had been thinking about teaching English as a second language.

  It was hard not to blurt that out, every time, how things were supposed to be for me and Jordan. Instead, I said what I always did, the only appropriate thing, even though it didn’t even begin to cover it. “Thanks.”

  “Have you worked in a restaurant before?” Cam leaned forward, I watched his shorts slide up on his tan thighs, muscle defined just enough with little lines pointing me in all the wrong directions, as he rested his forearms on them.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Between thinking about Jordan and being in a room alone with Cam, my head was anywhere but in the game.

  He smiled and took it in stride. It wasn’t like I was the first bimbo to cross his path. Probably not even the first today. “Have you done this before?”

  His teeth played with his bottom lip as he waited for my answer. I wondered if he realized how loaded his question sounded. “No. I have absolutely no experience working in a restaurant.”

  “What do you have experience in?”

  Butterflies did jumping jacks in my stomach. I just let him off the hook of the façade that this was actually a legitimate interview. He didn’t need to keep asking me all these questions loaded with double entandres. “I worked in a daycare in high school.”

  “What are you doing now?” This poor guy, he must have felt like he was interrogating a surly teenager.

  “I’m living with my parents and going to community college.”

  “What are you going to school for?” God bless him, he still seemed interested.

  “The hell of it.”

  Cam laughed, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair. “You’re honest. I like that.”

  I relaxed a little, he thought I was funny? “Like I said, I know my sister put you up to this. I’m sorry to be wasting your time.”

  “And I said you weren’t.” His eyes met mine, almost like a magnet. He smiled again, softening. “Evey just wants to see you happy. I don’t think that’s a waste of time.”

  I didn’t answer him right away. He meant well, but his words sent so many emotions crashing against me. What had she told him? I didn’t want him to think I was some damsel in distress, waiting for him to save me. “Nobody calls her Evey anymore. It’s kind of nice that you do.”

  “She’ll always be Evey to me. I wish she was still singing. I keep trying to get her to do a night here, but she won’t listen.”

  Some things ran in the family. “I don’t think she’s sung at all since The Spotlight.” That show obliterated any confidence she had in her talent. But at the time, it seemed like such a great opportunity. We never even considered there could be a downside.

  Cam shook his head. “Show business will chew you up and spit you out.”

  So I wasn’t the only one with battle scars in this room. “Is that why you’re here?” I asked cautiously.

  He considered his answer. “Some of it. I want my career to go in a new direction, to take control and do something I'm proud of.”

  I could tell that wasn’t the first time he’d said that. Maybe people asked him questions he didn’t want to answer all the time, too. I almost asked if he wasn’t proud of what he’d done so far, more out of shock. To be so successful and to be unsatisfied seemed like such opposing thoughts. “I understand.”

  “I could use some help with that. I feel like I’m new around here, since I haven’t been back much in the past seven years. I need to get settled in, but I’m still splitting my time between here, Nashville, and LA.”

  “So do you need, like, a personal assistant?” That sounded like a job I could do. And a little glamorous. I pictured my business cards. Daisy Mangold, personal assistant to Cam Hunter.

  Cam shrugged slightly. “I was thinking more like a friend.”

  I smiled. That was even better. “I can do that.”

  Babies wait for no one, that’s one thing we’d already established. We needed to hustle if we were going to get a ring on Ev’s finger before she gave birth, and she chose Labor Day weekend for the big day. Ev wasted no time creating a Pinterest board dedicated to her wedding wishes. My feed was jammed with burlap, chalkboards, and string lights. I learned that you can put more things in mason jars than I ever thought possible. Who knew hipsters were so southern? Talk about irony.

  Ev and Bree had also started an email thread full of ideas for the wedding. The problem with coming into these things in the middle was trying to read the conversation backwards, and a message or two always got lost in the shuffle. Instead of feeling like I was standing on my head and spinning, I usually ignored these types of conversations. This time I knew I didn’t have that option.

  I didn’t have any time to bask in my new friendship with Cam, or whatever the hell just happened. All of this virtual wedding planning bitch slapped my head right out of the clouds. I scrolled through the messages while daydreaming about bringing Cam as my date to the wedding. You know, just as a friend. Kissing those lips under the glow of paper lanterns. Bringing Cam to my house. To meet my mother.

  Alright, I was getting a little carried away. I might not even talk to him again.

  Ev wanted to hire a food truck for her wedding? Okay, that was kind of bad ass. Bree suggested, again, that she should hire Cam. And damn it, Ev talked to him. Cam was in. Could I date the hired help?

  If he even wanted to be my date.

  Had Ev talked to him since my interview? There was only one way to find out. And she probably knew more about what he wanted than I did.

  “I’m kind of in love with the food truck idea,” I said when she picked up the phone.

  “Isn’t it great?” Ev sounded high off of wedding fumes. “I want this to be like one of the block parties we used to have when we were kids. A shut the street down for volleyball type of thing. Tomorrow I’m going to talk to the people at the truck that parks near our office.”

  “You know, half of our family is going to take it personally if you don’t offer them something to eat that had a mother.” I had a feeling I was going to be reminding Ev of her suburban roots often during this whole process.

  “It’s a taco truck. Just because I opt for the beet and goat cheese option doesn’t mean they don’t have gross beef things for people.” I could actually feel her shudder against her phone. “I don’t agree with it, but you’re right. There would be an uprising.”

  “Nah, they’d probably just talk about you behind your back and have pizza delivered.” I laughed. Our extended family may be a lot of things, but passive aggressive topped the list. “Hey, um, I don’t mean to make this about me, but—“

  “How did it go? I�
�ve been dying to ask you.” Ev’s voice automatically went up an octave.

  “Did you hire Cam before or after I talked to him?” In a way, I was hoping it was after. In girl language, that could be translated as he was looking for something a bit more serious. No matter when it was, it meant that I had to make sure I didn’t screw things up with him until after the wedding.

  “Before. I asked him about it when he called looking for you.” Damn. “Stop stalling and tell me everything.”

  “It was…interesting?” I wasn’t sure what word I wanted to use. “He was a perfect gentleman, and tried to go through with a proper interview even though I bring absolutely nothing to the table.”

  “So you didn’t get to first base in the back room?” Ev sounded a little disappointed.

  “Shit. I was only supposed to go to first base? The place has a mechanical bull. I thought that was like the casting couch.” I stifled laughter when Ev gasped in horror. “Believe it or not, I acted like a lady. He wants me to help him get settled in Plymouth.”

  “Like a personal assistant?” she asked. “That would be really cool. We’d kind of be working together.”

  “No, like a friend. I am the first woman in history to get friend zoned during a job interview,” I sighed.

  “Oh.” Ev clearly didn’t know what to make of that. “That’s a good thing, I think. Let’s face it, you’re not exactly ready to start dating, and I’m not even sure if Cam is totally divorced yet. Both of you are just getting back on your feet.”

  “Maybe we can talk about our therapy sessions when we hang out.”

  “Daisy, come on. You blew the guy off, and now you’re upset you didn’t get more out of meeting with him? You’re not being fair to anyone, especially yourself.”

  I knew that better than anyone else. Just because Jordan had died didn’t mean I had to. But the push and pull threatened to rip me apart. Half of me wanted to live, and the other half felt guilty as hell about it.

  I thought about that long and hard for the rest of the night. I went back and forth between being mad at Ev and mad at myself. Mad at Ev for throwing me a hot potato. Mad at myself for not being able to handle the situation. Mad at Ev for wanting more for me. Mad at myself because I wasn’t sure if I did.

  It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t my fault. I had to remember that. I tried to focus on my essay about the public’s influence on national policy, but that wasn’t easy, either. My anger moved away from my indecision to national policy, to the war. It didn’t matter what side of the aisle you were on, you never wanted to have to pay the price of freedom in your own home. All of us were much happier reaping its benefits and taking it for granted.

  Jordan and I got married two summers ago, our anniversary was coming up soon. It was a tiny party, just our immediate families and the JP, more of a convenience that anything else. He’d completed basic training and tech school, and in order for me to live on base with him, we had to be married. The military also pays married soldiers more than their single counterparts. So it made perfect sense to get hitched. Neither of us saw the future without the other one in it, a sick joke now that I was sitting here alone in my parent’s back yard, gazing over the fence that separated our yard from the one that used to belong to Jordan’s family.

  I wandered over to the fence, careful not to step in any of the flowering bushes or solar lights my mom planted every year. We were friendly with our new neighbors, but not anything like we’d been with the Mangolds, but enough that it wasn’t weird for me to be looking into their back yard. The pool water stood still in the twilight, begging for someone to break its calm. For me, that pool was a memorial to all the summers I’d spent with Jordan. All the games of Marco Polo, and when he caught me and kissed me for the first time. My breath hitched in my throat every time I heard someone splash the water. My parents had gone over to have barbeques with the new neighbors a few times, but I could never bring myself to do it. This was as close as I could get.

  Every so often, on nights like this when I missed Jordan the most, I’d look over the fence at the yard, and I could feel the energy of the ghosts of summers past. In a way, it comforted me, knowing that Jordan was always with me. But at the same time, it shredded me, since I knew nothing I could do would make Jordan come back.

  Jordan would laugh his ass off if he could see me now, mooning over the fence at things that didn’t even belong to him anymore like some kind of creep. Things never really mattered to Jordan. He just liked to do stuff. He was a military kid, and nothing scared him.

  When we were together, nothing scared me, either. I wished I could still say that.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?” I whined to Bree as we sat on the bench at the park. Ever since I’d met with Cam, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. The way he tried to take me seriously without pushing me. That he’d thought I was funny, even though I wasn’t trying to be.

  He left me wanting more.

  We’d waited until after dinner to bring the boys to the park, it had been hotter than balls all day.

  “Did you make plans?” she asked.

  “No. He just gave me his card. The ball is totally in my court.”

  A business card. Worse than friend zoned. Have your people call my people.

  “Text him. It’s way easier than calling.” Bree jumped up to rescue Lucas from getting run over by some of the bigger kids in the pirate house thingy.

  “What am I supposed to say? I’ve never had to do this before.” I followed her over to the swings with the boys, and sat on one so I could let Lucas ride in my lap. “I have absolutely no game.”

  “Thank him for the interview.” She shrugged when I gave her a dirty look. “Okay then, ask him how he’s settling in. He kind of spoon fed this to you.”

  “I told you I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” I’d known Jordan since I was eleven. He invited me over so we could play Olympics. After that, we were inseparable. So there was no first dates, no game playing, none of this bullshit my girlfriends always complained about.

  “You’re making it weirder than you need to. He kept it totally non-threatening. Text him now.” Triple dog dare.

  “I have your baby on my lap,” I protested.

  Bree took Lucas away from me. “Not anymore. Text him. ‘Hey, it’s Daisy. How’s it going?’ That’s all you have to do. Then it’s his move.”

  She made it sound so easy.

  My fingers shook as I added Cam’s numbers to my contacts. Then I punched in the message, just like she told me to.

  Then we waited.

  The boys started to wear out, mission accomplished. Bree looked exhausted. She showed up with dark circles under her eyes and yawned through our playdate. Somehow, I got blamed for it. She said she still hadn’t recovered from going out with us on Saturday night.

  We brought the boys over to the pond so they could feed the ducks. This was the whole reason I came with them. The ducks were bad asses. We weren’t supposed to feed them because there were unconfirmed rumors flying around of ducks eating children who ran out of bread, but until one of them tried to take a bite out of Landon or Lucas, we’d take our chances.

  I jumped and grabbed my pocket when my phone buzzed.

  Getting there. Lot of work. Dying to go out and have some fun.

  Bree and I stared at the phone, then looked at each other. My heart was pounding.

  “Ask him what he likes to do!” she suggested.

  “What if the answer is creepy? Then he’s got my phone number.”

  “He’s not creepy, Daisy. He’s been nothing but nice so far.” Bree rolled her eyes then softened a bit. “Give him a chance.”

  I started typing a couple times, but erased it, groaning. “Everything I write is really presumptuous. Like ‘Oh hey, you must totally mean you want to take me out.’ And that’s probably not what he means at all.”

  “Tell him that you’re out with us, it will be conversational, and you won’t be assuming that he
’s trying to put the moves on you.”

  That made sense. Although, if Bree was so good at this, one of her baby daddies might still be in the picture.

  I bet. Out with Bree and the boys. Feeding the ducks at the park. Finally, a response that worked.

  Sounds fun, he answered.

  It is. I love coming here with them.

  When is the next time you’re free? Okay, now he was asking me out. I squealed and put my hand over my mouth. Landon got distracted and his duck made away with the rest of the bag of bread.

  “Oh my God.” Bree took the phone from me to look at the message, then started typing.

  “What the frig do you think you’re doing?” I grabbed the phone and she shrieked with laughter before reaching down to comfort Landon, who hadn’t recovered from the duck robbery.

  She’d typed I have class on Tuesday and Thursday nights, other than that I’m free. It wasn’t bad, so I shrugged and hit send.

  Do you like baseball? he answered.

  Did I like baseball? Ev had to have coached him. Eh, who cared if she did? Love it.

  Want to catch a Plymouth Pilgrims game with me?

  “He wants to take me to a Cape League game,” I told Bree.

  “Awesome. Perfect. Amazing.” She approved. “This could be the beginning of something beautiful.” She sang beautiful, making us both laugh.

  I’d love to.

  I helped Bree buckle the boys into the car. Lucas fell asleep before we left the parking lot. I kept looking at my phone, waiting to see what Cam would say next. Radio silence. Maybe it was just hypothetical. Maybe he regretted asking me.

  Bree dropped me off at home. There was no Sox game tonight, but my dad was still in front of the TV with the dog, watching some reality show with a lot of hillbillies in it. Total deal breaker. I went up to my room, so I could stare at my phone and not have Dad think I’d lost my mind.

  I jumped when my phone buzzed. I’d given up on hearing from him, and cracked open my Pre-Calc book to rub some dirt in the wound. There’s a game Monday. Can I pick you up at six?