Learning to Heal

by Cole, R. D.

  “Yes. Plus it will play along well with the false gossip we are spreading around. So you in?”

  He takes a deep breath and nods his head. “Yeah, I’m in.” Standing up, he walks my way with that confidence I only see on occasion seeping through. When he reaches me he bends down and scoops me up effortlessly. He’s stronger than what I imagined.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and squeal. “What are you doing?” His smile displays his cute dimples and my heart goes pitter-pat. He sure is something to look at. Why the hell am I just now noticing when it’s so obvious?

  “Your room. I want to kiss you but Grace is playing in the living room, so I figured we could go in there.”

  “Mason, we can’t have sex with your sister here. Geez.” Excitement and nerves set in simultaneously and I can’t decide which I want more. We did just agree to a FWB status and let’s face it, people. My body has been craving his for a while now ... but not with Grace just down the hall. That makes it all seem wrong.

  “No shit.” He laughs and I feel the vibrations of his chest against mine. “I said I want to kiss you and I don’t want my sister watching.” Relaxing some, I let the anticipation overtake my nerves and can’t wait to feel his lips against mine again. His smell is intoxicating and makes me dizzy. When he walks into my room, he gently lowers me to my feet and turns me around so we are facing one another. He brings his hands up, much like last night, and pushes an errant hair behind my ear before he tenderly brings his lips to mine.

  I purr loudly when his tongue tickles my upper lip, and when I part my lips it invades my mouth. He does the unexpected and growls when I rub my tongue against his and suck it into my mouth. On their own accord, my hands run through his silky hair and pull him harder against me. I can feel the heat of his skin radiating against my body and it only adds to my own fevered skin. We continue this onslaught for a few minutes when I finally remember Grace down the hall.

  “Mason,” I say on a moan. “We need to slow down.” I hate saying those words because I don’t want to but now is not the time.

  He kisses me one last time and then pulls away, exhaling and shaking his head. “Damn, I know it but I definitely don’t want to.”

  I watch him blush like he can’t believe what he just said, but it makes me feel desired. I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his nose before I turn and walk out my room smiling.

  “So do you want to go out to get some food or something the next time I don’t have Grace?” Mason asks while walking behind me.

  I stop and turn to stare at him. Biting my lip, I think about his question for a few seconds. Would that be more along the lines of a date thing or friends thing? We usually only hang out with other people, so I guess that would be a date if we went solo.

  I look in his eyes and smile to soften the blow. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mason. It would feel more like a date instead of the FWB arrangement we agreed upon.” I see the disappointment in his eyes so I walk up and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re right.” Glancing up at him, I see his smiling face and cute dimples so he must be okay with it. “So when and how do you want to do this?”

  The next few days fly by without Mason and I solidifying our newfound relationship. We haven’t really seen one another because he’s been working on some computer stuff and I’ve been busy with Christmas shopping and packing to head out to my parents’ tomorrow. The other night Mason asked me if he cooked one night would I come over and get to know his mom. I wanted to say “hell to the no,” but since he is my supposed sperm donor, I reluctantly agreed.

  Today, however, is my dreaded appointment with my cardiologist. I haven’t told anyone about this appointment because the last thing I need is for everyone to treat me any differently. I had enough of that shit growing up.

  I walk up to the receptionist and sign in. “Hello, my name is Jasmine Coleman and I have a two o’clock appointment with Dr. Whitney.”

  I chose this particular doctor because he’s good friends with my dad and he knows my history. He was practicing at Sacred Heart in Pensacola for years before he moved out to Mobile. I know he won’t break any laws and tell my dad anything we discuss today either. Thank you, HIPPA.

  After I take my seat in the dark blue chair, I grab a magazine to try and take my nerves off this visit. I’ve been really tired lately and I know it’s a normal symptom with every pregnancy to an extent, but sometimes I don’t even hear my alarm sound. Usually I’m a ball of energy.

  After about another forty-five minutes and a few levels of Candy Crush completed, I’m finally called to the back. I sit at a nurse’s desk while she takes my blood pressure and weight. “How are you today?”

  “I’m good. Just getting ready for the big ol’ fat man.” She looks at me funny and quirks her brow in my direction. Obviously she doesn’t get it. “Oh no! I mean Santa, not Dr. Whitney.” I laugh because let’s face it, it’s funny … especially with the face she’s giving me. I really needed that to help calm my nerves.

  After that she leads me into an exam room. Its green floral wallpaper is outdated but the pictures and equipment look pretty new. Dad loved getting new heart models or charts when I was growing up. Every time one came in the mail he’d sit us down and explain how it works to push oxygen through our bodies. I loved his enthusiasm but definitely not the subject matter. It reminded me too much of what made me different. Jax on the other hand fell in love with the heart and chose cardiology as a career.

  My eyes focus on the machine sitting in the corner and I know immediately I’m having another ultrasound. But this one is for my heart and not the baby’s.

  “Put on this gown and leave it open in the front. Make sure you remove your bra and shirt but leave your pants on.” She hands me a hospital gown and walks out the door.

  After I undress in the small changing nook, I look at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall and my eyes are immediately drawn to the scar that haunts me physically and emotionally. No matter how much I tan or apply those creams they advertise on TV it never changes or fades. Running my index finger down the center, I feel the thick tissue as it descends down and to the left. My first surgery was done swiftly and some mistakes were made, but only cosmetic damage was done. I remember the first time the look of it really affected my self-esteem.

  Everyone was at the beach, including Brett. He was so cute and I couldn’t wait to show off my new bathing suit. Maybe he’d finally notice me. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, admiring my first bikini—a milestone for any thirteen-year-old girl. I practically had to beg Mom for it, but it was so worth it. It was bright lime green with teal blue polka dots and I wanted to turn heads. I puckered my lips and posed in the mirror, trying to do it like the models on the magazine covers. Maybe if I looked like that he’d ask me to be his girlfriend. A huge smile formed with that thought.

  Brett had never noticed me before at school. He was always into the athletic girls and not … not me darn it! I knew I wasn’t allowed to date, but maybe … just maybe he’d take notice today and maybe even kiss me. I squealed and felt tingles in my belly from the thought.

  “Wow, Jazz, that color looks so good on you. Especially with your tan and blond hair. Brett is going to flip.” I glanced up from posing in the mirror to see Julie—or Jewels as I liked to call her because it sounded so cool—standing there in her purple bikini, smiling with her braces shining. She was visiting from Kansas and her parents rented the beach house next door. We had hit it off right away and it didn’t hurt that her older sister had a crush on Jaxon so I was always invited over.

  “Thanks,” I said beaming and turned around. “You ready to walk down. I really want to get there before the snob squad shows up and takes the good spot. Don’t want to miss watching the guys.”

  I grabbed my bag off my bedroom floor and noticed she still hadn’t answered me. Looking in her direction, I observed her big, brown eyes staring at my chest and my stomach dropped. Suddenly
, I felt filleted open. Everyone will notice that I’m a freak. Dropping my bag, I placed my hand in front of my newly developing chest, which forced her to look at my face.

  She turned into a blurry purple blob as tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want her to see me cry. I didn’t want her to see my scar or anyone else to look at me like she just did. I was feeling normal a few minutes ago but it was ruined. I ran past her and went to the bathroom, wishing once again that I was normal.

  The exam room door opens and brings me back, but I feel a wet tear running down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away and throw on the gown before I step out to see Doctor Whitney.

  “Hello, Jasmine. How are you?” He shakes my hand and gives me a warm smile.

  I sit on the exam table and try to get comfortable even though I know these things aren’t made for comfort. “I’m good.” Even though I’m not, it’s just the generic answer.

  “Okay, so rumor has it you’re having a baby. Is that right?”

  Instead of speaking, I reach into my handbag and pull out the first ultrasound picture of my jellybean. Licking my dry lips, I hand it over. He congratulates me and tells me that every case is different and most women have no complications. I just hope I’m a part of that majority. Unfortunately, my good mood is ruined during the echocardiogram when he sees a possible valve leak, but thankfully it looks minuscule. He further elaborates the disadvantages it could cause the farther along I get if the leak gets larger. I tell him I’m keeping the baby come hell or high water, and he finally ends his rant. He wants me to follow up every month to check my condition, but makes me promise if I feel any changes I’ll come in sooner. After I agree I head home, depressed once again.

  Celebrating Christmas morning at home with Grace and Mom is great. Quiet is definitely not the word I’d use to describe it. With Grace’s new toys everywhere while she continues to shred every piece of wrapping paper and Mom blasting Christmas music, I feel as though my brain might explode. However, all the noise can’t drown out my thoughts of Jazz.

  Yesterday I tried calling her so I could tell her Merry Christmas, but I only got her voicemail. Plus, I wanted to give her the gift I bought her. It’s not much but I spotted it a couple of weeks ago—a pair of sterling silver hoop earrings with different charms you can attach. I purchased two charms to start it out. One is the letter J and the other is January’s birthstone since her birthday is New Year’s Day. I’m sure she has jewelry out the ass and any other thing a girl could want with her money, but it drew me in when I saw it behind the display glass. It cost a little more than what I’d usually spend, but I’m hoping her reaction will make it worth every penny.

  Watching Grace destroy the house and laughing while I sit on the couch, I see Mom sit down beside me. Glancing at her wide smile and the crinkled edges of her blue eyes, I become aware that I haven’t seen her this happy in a while. “Thanks for my earrings, Mason. You didn’t have to get me anything, but I do love them.”

  “It’s the least I could do for you. If I could do more, Mom, you know I would,” I say, looking at the small cross earrings in her lobes. I can’t wait to rid her of the worry she’s always carrying on her shoulders.

  She kisses my cheek before she starts to clean up the mess and begins to cook. I stand and text Jazz.

  Me: Merry Christmas. Was Santa good to you? I wait a few minutes and start to think she might still be avoiding me but then my phone vibrates and lights up.

  Jazz: Merry Christmas. Hope it’s Gr8 for ur fam & u. Santa was okay. I think he’s still pissed at me. What bout u?

  Me: He’ll get over it. He still luvs u. Mine is good. Grace is happy. I feel like sumthin is missing tho

  Why did I just send that? It’s too soon. Shit! Too late, though. I rub my face hoping my forwardness doesn’t scare her away. Standing still, glancing at my phone for a few minutes, I hear a knock on the door. I realize she’s not answering my text and fear maybe I did just fuck up. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I go and answer the door and see Chanda standing there in her pajamas. I notice she’s colored her hair green and has a big smile on her face.

  “Merry Christmas, Mason,” she says with her hands behind her back.

  “Merry Christmas.” I’m still distracted by what Jazz might be doing this very second. Will she be staring at her phone thinking of that text and me? Will she be picturing the kiss we shared? I really just want to get in my truck and drive to see her for myself but I restrain myself.

  “Mason? Don’t just stand there. Invite her in,” I hear Mom shout and my eyes focus once again on Chanda who’s still smiling.

  I move to the side and let her pass. I’m still not paying attention until I shut the door and she’s directly in front of me. “What?” I know my tone is short but I’m really not in the mood.

  She shrugs her shoulders and looks like she has a secret she’s dying to tell me. “Nothing. I just wanted to give you your Christmas gift.”

  I notice she raises the hand that was behind her back above our heads. Glancing up, I see the mistletoe and get ready to back away. However, it’s too late because I feel her lips on mine before her tongue invades my open mouth. I swiftly back away and wipe my face, ready to rip her a new one, but then another knock at the door sounds. I give her an annoyed look before going to open the door. I try not to feel bad for being a dick and acting like her kiss made me sick, but it did. She’s not Jazz.

  Seeing the delivery man standing there with a mechanical clipboard in his hands for me to sign, I shake off my guilt and take it from his hands. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” Once I’m finished signing, he goes down the steps. When he comes back he has one large box wrapped in expensive silver and blue paper with an extravagant bow and two small, red envelopes.

  “Um. I think you might have the wrong apartment. And when did delivery men work on Christmas morning?”

  He smiles and arches a bushy eyebrow. “You Mason Reed?” I nod my head in affirmation. “Well, this is the right place. I am probably the only delivery guy working today, but you’re my only stop. I get an extra Christmas bonus if this is delivered today.” He hands me a card and walks away.

  I glance at the package with the two cards before I focus on the card in my hand.

  Merry Christmas. Hope it’s wonderful and full of laughter. Since I won’t see you before to give you and your family the gifts, I made arrangements. See you in a few days.

  Jazz

  I smile and stuff the card in my pocket before I take the gifts inside. Chanda and Mom are talking quietly as I place them on the table. Their eyes widen at the same time.

  “What is that?” Mom comes over and rubs her fingers across the blue velvet ribbon.

  I look up and see Chanda leaning against the counter with her arms crossed across her chest. I ignore her look and answer Mom’s question. “Jazz arranged for Santa to make an extra stop.”

  Looking at the name tag in the pretty wrapped box, I feel something bump into me. I glance down to see Grace staring at the colorful paper and bows, smiling. “Hey, beautiful. Let’s go sit down and see what else Santa brought you.”

  Taking her hand, I lead her into the living area again and place the largest box in front of her. I watch as she shreds the expensive looking paper, which is her favorite part. When she’s done I see a brown box so I take it from her while she continues playing with the wrapping. Opening it, I see another note.

  I hope this works. I know how much she loves to swing and this way she can do it rain or shine.

  I pull out the paper that shows what’s inside and see some sort of hammock swing with braces for the ceiling or a doorway.

  “What is it?” Mom asks from behind. I hand her the paper because I’m speechless. I’m sure this wasn’t cheap and I’m stunned that Jazz would buy something like this for my sister. Grace would spend all day swinging if she could. She loves it and it helps calms her during her outbursts.

  “Send it back.” I turn and look at my mom like s
he’s crazy while she hands me back the paper.

  “Why?” I’m not understanding how she can’t see that this is perfect for Grace.

  “Maybe because she doesn’t want her charity.” I look at Chanda standing beside Mom with a sneer on her face. Why she thinks she has a right to join the conversation, I don’t know.

  I point my finger at her because I’m still pissed from the kiss. “You, butt out.” Looking at my mom I ask again, “Why?”

  “It’s too much. I don’t need handouts, neither does Grace. I don’t need some rich girl trying to one up me on supplying for my child.”

  “Mom, listen to me. This will help Grace. It’s perfect for her.” I stand up and grab her shoulders so she’ll look at me and hear my words. “You know how much she loves to swing. And if it’s raining she gets really upset because she knows we can’t walk to the playground. It helps her calm down when she’s agitated and gets violent. It will keep her from hurting herself.”

  She huffs out a breath and I can feel a victory dance coming along, but I need to push a little harder. “Look. I’ll pay her back, but I think we should keep it. Okay?”

  After having a stare down with her, she finally gives in. “Okay,” she whispers and gives me a hug. I watch over Mom’s shoulder as Chanda rolls her eyes and leaves, slamming the door behind her. That is perfectly fine with me. I don’t know why all of a sudden she’s interested. She’s been back home for months and never approached me about starting back where we left off. Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve even if she did.

  Christmas day goes on and little while later I finally convince Mom to open her card from Jazz. When she does she sees a spa day gift card at a fancy place downtown. I hope she uses it because she works too hard and deserves a day of pampering. I’m hesitant about opening mine, so I buy time by putting Grace’s swing together. After an hour I finally get it up in her room and sit down to text Jazz again. I haven’t heard from her since this morning and I miss her.