Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  I’m the first one to pull away and when I do, he frowns and looks up into my eyes.

  “Bye, Jake,” I say and turn and walk toward my apartment.

  “Evie,” he calls, and I turn around. “You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?” He’s smiling.

  “You know, Jake, I think I will.” I smile a small smile back and turn around and walk quickly home.

  As soon as I close the door behind me, I sink to the floor, roll into the fetal position, and I weep for my beautiful boy, my Leo. My tears are tears of sorrow and loss, confusion and hurt. They are tears for the boy I lost and the boy who threw me away. I have been angry and hurt for so many years, but I find that I can still feel grief in knowing that Leo’s beautiful soul no longer walks this earth, and the pain in that definitive knowledge is almost too much to bear.

  Finally I fall asleep right where I am, but I already know from past experience that you don’t have to be awake to cry.

  CHAPTER 5

  Evie is 10, Leo is 11

  Dinner in this place is always organized bedlam. My job is to fill the water pitchers and get the glasses for everyone. I stand at the sink filling the second of three tall pitchers while all the other kids move loudly around me, fulfilling their dinner duties. There is talking, laughing, and some fighting amongst the older kids.

  I sit down at the table in my usual spot, only this night is different as the new kid, Leo, is sitting sullenly to my left where Alex, a twelve year old kid with big ears, used to sit. He left three days ago, off to a more permanent foster home. This place is really just a holding tank for kids who need immediate placement. We’ll all end up somewhere different, eventually.

  This is Leo’s first night here. Leo was in charge of putting the napkins out, and I notice that he put them on the right and they’re supposed to go on the left. I only know this because I like to read books like Ann of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie, and I pick up random things like that from the stories.

  As we sit waiting for the food to be set on the table by our foster parents and their two teenage daughters, one of the other foster kids, a thirteen year old girl named Allie with acne and a muffin top that looks painful to me because of the way she accentuates it with the tightest pants she can find, flicks a pea at me from a bowl that has just been set on the table.

  “Hey, little whore,” she whispers, drawing out the word, and puckering up her lips in a ghastly impression of someone working a kissing booth in hell. “I heard your whore mother didn’t show up in court today. She must have been busy sucking someone’s dick in an alleyway for pocket change. The apple never falls far off the tree, you know.”

  My eyes widen, and I feel tears burning the backs of my eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. I stare down at my plate.

  Of course, there are no secrets here in this house. Those who want to, can easily enough listen in as the social workers meet with our foster parents in the living room at the front of the house. Then the rumors spread. We are all painfully aware of every nightmare each of us has endured to bring us to this melting pot of despair.

  And I know Allie’s secrets too. I know that her mother died and that her father basically lost his mind and couldn’t work and couldn’t take care of Allie and her sister. But I don’t say a word.

  I’m holding Willow’s hand in mine under the table as she sits to the right of me, and she squeezes my hand gently, her wide eyes staring at her plate.

  “I’m just being HONEST, Evie,” Allie says, laughing, an ugly, snorting sound. “It’s better if you face the truth.” And why does every deliberately cruel person describe themselves as the perfect example of necessary bluntness? As if you are supposed to thank them for mowing over your heart with their special brand of honesty.

  I don’t answer and Allie soon enough finds something of more interest than me and my silence.

  After a minute, I look up and the boy named Leo is staring at me. I stare back, but he doesn’t look away.

  “Why are you looking at me?” I hiss at him, my cheeks turning hot, filled with shame for the exchange he just heard.

  He just keeps looking at me for a moment, and then he shrugs. “Because I like your face,” he says, but now a corner of his mouth is quirking up in a half smile.

  I know he’s teasing me, but it doesn’t feel mean, and I like the way his words make me feel. I look away, but I’m holding back a smile now too.

  CHAPTER 6

  I wake up the next morning feeling like a Mack truck hit me. I still feel a lump form in my throat when I think of Leo dying in a car accident. I close my eyes and once again, I picture him, still smiling at me from a roof in wintertime. For the second time in my life, I leave him there in my mind.

  I climb into a hot shower, taking all the time I want, not caring in the least about my hot water bill. Today is going to be about comfort. I’m going to laze around, eat ice cream, read and then head to Nicole and Mike’s house for dinner. It’s just what I need.

  I take time drying my hair until it falls down my back in dark waves and dress in dark, skinny jeans and a white wraparound sweater that hits just below my butt. It’s always made me feel pretty.

  I realize I don’t have any ice cream in the house and so I decide to head to the store for at least two pints. I’ll run an extra mile tomorrow.

  As soon as I step out the front door of my building, I see Jake leaning against a car, arms crossed and smiling straight at me. He’s wearing a pair of worn looking jeans and a gray long sleeved, thermal shirt over a black t-shirt. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him wearing jeans, even during the week he followed me around town. It does not escape me that Jake Madsen fills out a pair of jeans really well.

  I stop and cross my own arms, cocking my head to the right. “Need help ‘finding your puppy’ I suppose?”

  “I was actually just going to offer you some candy. It’s in my van over there.” He’s grinning now. Jesus, seriously, is it just me or has he gotten better looking overnight?

  I can’t help it, I grin back, shaking my head.

  I start walking, and he falls in step next to me, as I inhale his clean, woodsy scent. God, he smells good. I open my mouth slightly, wanting to taste his smell in my mouth too. Oh my God, did I really just do that? My cheeks heat. Please don’t let him have seen that! I don’t know what came over me.

  I turn and look up at his perfect profile. He must be at least six-two. I’m five-five. He’s looking straight ahead though. I exhale in relief.

  I break the momentary silence. “You know, I’m sure there are girls all over the city who would love the opportunity to be stalked by you. It really doesn’t seem fair that you focus all your creepiness on me.”

  He smiles. “I’ve decided I like focusing on you though, Evie.” He’s not smiling anymore. He glances over at me almost nervously, studying me with those soulful brown eyes.

  I stop walking and cross my arms over my chest. He stops too, and I catch him take a quick glance at my breasts, now being plumped up by my arms. Oh, smooth. But I like that he looks, I can’t help it.

  “Look, Jake,” I say seriously. “You caught me by surprise yesterday, about a person I haven’t thought about in a long time, but I’m okay. You don’t need to check up on me anymore. My life is fine. It’s not exciting, it’s not glamorous. But I have everything I need. I’m, um, happy.” This last part comes out sounding a little bit more like a question than the statement I meant it to be, but I decide to let that go.

  Jake does his hand-through-hair, unsure look, arrgh! deal sealer! and says, “I just thought maybe you looked a little upset when you left yesterday. And I did that to you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay today, not in general, but today.”

  He looks so sincere, like he was truly worried about me, that I can’t help but smile. “I was fine yesterday,” I lie. “I don’t like to hear about anyone meeting a tragic end, even someone I don’t know anymore. But it’s nothing that a little ice cream won’t take car
e of. That’s where I’m headed. Want to follow me to the grocery store? One last stalking for old time’s sake?” I wink.

  He laughs as we start walking again. “I don’t think it’s stalking if I get an invitation, but yes, I’d love to accompany you to the store.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for this huge jump in status,” I tease. “From stalker to chaperone in a day? You’ll think I’m easy!”

  “Just lead the way, smart ass,” he says, grabbing my hand.

  I jolt slightly and look down at our joined hands. Hand holding? Okay, this is a little weird. And there’s that warm feeling again when our hands touch. Which only serves to further weird me out. He’s just being nice, Evie, because he thinks he’s unbalanced you. Get yourself together! It makes me uncomfortable though, so I pull my hand away, pretending to search through my purse for my sunglasses. I pop them on even though it’s not sunny at all and latch both hands onto my purse strap so he’s not tempted to resume the hand holding again.

  I steal a glance at him, and he’s frowning slightly but doesn’t say anything as we continue walking.

  This whole situation is weirder than weird.

  “So,” I say, to make things less awkward than they’ve suddenly become, “what does your father’s company do?”

  “We make a product utilized by the Homeland Security division of the government. Essentially it’s an x-ray technology that’s used by airports around the world. There are several smaller applications, but that’s our main focus.”

  I nod and he continues, “My father started his company thirty years ago and has a division here and in San Diego, but in recent years, the division here was struggling. I started working with him a couple years ago, and I moved here to get the Cincinnati branch back on solid ground. It was really just a matter of restructuring and replacing some top people who were more interested in lining their own pockets than in the strength of the company.”

  I nod again as we turn the corner onto the block where the grocery store is. “Your father must trust you a lot to give you responsibility for such a big task so quickly,” I say.

  He stiffens slightly beside me. “I never gave him much reason to trust me. But he actually passed away almost a year ago, six months before I moved here.”

  He’s frowning again and I don’t know what he did to need redemption in his father’s eyes, but for some unknown reason, all I want to do is make him smile.

  So I grab his hand and hold it between us again as I grin up at him. “I’m just glad you had something to fall back on after the crash and burn of your short-lived creepster career.” I bat my eyelashes.

  He bursts out laughing again, his brown eyes warming, and there’s that damn pull. Good grief, my stupid hormones need to relax already.

  Things seem to have gotten mighty friendly between Jake and I pretty quickly, and a part of me feels just fine and dandy about this. After all, he’s gorgeous, and he seems like a nice guy. But another part of me is a little worried. I really don’t know anything about Jake other than the few things he’s told me, and his connection to Leo is sending all sorts of confusing messages to my heart, messages I decide not to investigate too much further, at least not now.

  I see a beautiful girl with long, red hair walking out of the store as we’re walking in. She does a double take as she catches sight of Jake, but he doesn’t seem to notice her at all, which makes me smile to myself.

  I decide to pick up a few more things than just ice cream since I’m here, and my cart is holding several items when we make it to the ice cream aisle.

  “What flavor do you like?” Jake asks, opening the freezer door.

  “Butter pecan,” I say, opening a freezer door a couple down from where he’s standing.

  He pulls out a carton of butter pecan at the same time I pull out the same flavor of another brand.

  “Why that one?” he asks. “This one is twice the price. It’s gotta be the best.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not about price, Jake. This one is the World’s Greatest Ice Cream. Look, it says so right on the carton.” I’m completely serious.

  He looks between the two. “Evie,” he starts, as if he’s explaining something to a five year old. “You do know that they can say whatever they want to on the package, right? It doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “Well, see,” I counter. “You’re right. But you’re also wrong. I think that ninety-five percent of knowing you’re the greatest is all about confidence. You might suspect you’re the greatest, you might hope you’re the greatest, but if you don’t have the balls to proclaim yourself the greatest in bold packaging, and let your critics test you if they dare, then you probably aren’t the greatest. Who can resist the guy who really, truly believes in himself?”

  He’s staring at me in that intense way again, but I just drop the ice cream in my cart and walk away down the aisle toward the checkout lane, my point made.

  When we’re finished checking out, Jake pulls out his wallet and tries to pay for my groceries, but I shove his money away and give my own to the clerk, glaring at him until he shakes his head and puts his cash away. Maybe I don’t run what sounds like a multi-million dollar company, but I can pay for my own damn groceries.

  We make our way back to my apartment, walking in companionable silence, holding two plastic grocery bags each.

  “So, can I ask what you meant when you said you didn’t give your father much reason to trust you?” I ask, going for casual but hoping he’ll clue me in a little bit more about the comments he made earlier. If he’s an untrustworthy person, I’d like to know that right up front.

  He sighs. “I was a screw up of a kid. I was selfish and messed up, and I did everything my father hoped I wouldn’t do. If it was self-destructive, I was first in line. Not exactly any parent’s dream.”

  I give him what I hope is an understanding look, and he glances back at me, sadness in his eyes. It doesn’t seem like he expects a response, and so we continue on in silence.

  When we get to the front door of my building, I nudge the door open with my foot and pass through.

  “There’s no lock on the outside door?” Jake asks. When I look back at him, his face is tight and there is a muscle ticking in his jaw. He looks pissed.

  “Ah, no. I’ve called the landlord several times, but clearly, it’s not his first priority. It’s okay. This is a pretty safe neighborhood. No one’s gonna step up and call it World’s Greatest, but it’s decent,” I joke, trying to lighten Jake’s suddenly tense mood.

  Jake follows me, and we walk to my apartment door.

  I stop just outside as he sets the bags on the floor and looks at me expectantly. “Um, so, thanks, Jake,” I say, no intention of inviting him into my tiny apartment. “It was a way more enjoyable trip than I expected it to be.” I smile and continue looking at him, not moving a muscle.

  Both of our heads turn as Maurice, my neighbor across the hall, a big, beefy black guy who works construction, opens his apartment door and stands there with his arms crossed, looking suspiciously at Jake. He looks like he could bench a semi, but he’s really a big teddy bear. In exchange for the occasional batch of blueberry muffins (his favorite), or orange cranberry muffins (his second favorite), he looks out for me.

  “Hi, Maurice.” I grin. “This is Jake. I’m good. It’s good, um, we’re good,” I say, awkwardly.

  Maurice continues to look at him as if he recognizes him from a registered sex offender website as Jake takes a few steps and extends his hand, smiling. “Maurice,” he says.

  Maurice finally relents and shakes Jake’s outstretched hand and says, “Jake.”

  I guess in man-speak, this means things are good until further notice.

  No one says anything for a minute until I break the silence with, “Ah, thanks, Maurice. So I’ll see you later?” I smile.

  Maurice pauses another minute and then, “Right. I’m just inside the door here, Evie. You need me, you call, yeah?”

  “Yeah, Mauri
ce,” I say softly.

  Maurice closes the door to his apartment, and Jake looks back at me. He glances between my door and me and finally sighs, running his hand through his short hair again and furrowing his brow in that heart stopping way he does. “Okay, I get it. I’m not invited in. Can I at least have your phone number, Evie?”

  I pause. Oh, okay, why not? I like him. He’s handsome and nice, and he makes me feel good in a way no one has in a really long time. Okay, if I’m truthful, maybe ever. Not since Leo… but I’m not going there. And that was eight years ago. I was a kid then. In my adult life, no one has affected me the way Jake Madsen affects me. I’m sure it’s highly common in Jake World, but it is most definitely not in Evie World and it feels nice.

  “Give me your phone,” I say, and he hands it over. I program my number in and hand it back.

  He grins at me and turns to walk away, saying, “I’m done stalking you, Evie. We’ve just elevated our status for real.”

  I laugh. “You take all the fun out of everything. You know that, Jake Madsen?” But I’m smiling like a loon, and as I catch his reflection in the front glass door, so is he. Oh God, Jake Madsen is going to call me. I really want Jake Madsen to call me. Damn.

  CHAPTER 7

  Nicole picks me up a little after five, and I get in the passenger side of her small, silver Honda, a bottle of red wine and a plate of brownies in hand. Kaylee loves brownies, and I love Kaylee.