by Shyla Colt
“Yes, it is.”
“And, I want to get better, Ave.”
“Glad to hear that,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re out having fun. I just wanted to share that.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said.
He hated the distance between them. It’s necessary. When you get your shit together, you can fix it. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Yep. Bye, En.”
“Bye, Ave,” he said, shocked by the desire to do anything but hang up. Whoever said you never knew what you had until it was gone had been a very wise man indeed. A few weeks ago, he would’ve buried himself in pussy, but the thought of any body part that didn’t belong to Aibhlinn had him limp dicked. Not that he wanted to go back. This time was about bettering himself. In a fucked up way, Aibhlinn had given him something to live up to. It was the kick in the ass he needed to get his shit in gear.
His phone rang. He smiled at the name on the screen. “Hey, Mom.”
“Enzo, how are you?” she asked.
“I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m good. I was hoping you could come over for dinner tonight. I feel like I haven’t really talked to you in a while,” she said.
He smirked. That was code speak for I want to grill you. “Mom, I’d be happy to come over for dinner. But you can just ask me.”
“What do you mean, dear?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“It’s not going to work on me. I’m the oldest, I know how you work.”
She laughed. “Okay, did you make an appointment?”
“I did.”
“Praise, Jesus,” she exclaimed.
He’d had counseling and seen a doctor as a child, and been given the thumbs up and pat on the back for working through his major issues, but his mother was always for tune-ups. Issues had a way of creeping up on you, and resurfacing once you thought you’d put them to bed for good. Some of the effects of life never left, they were merely managed. “Tell me how you really feel, Mom,” he said sarcastically.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You’ve seemed sad recently. Maybe this will help?”
“I sure hope so,” he replied honestly.
“I haven’t seen Aibhlinn around lately. Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, her mother hired a new guy, Keir, who’s from Ireland. She’s been showing him around.”
“Oh. Is he a family friend?”
“His mother was to Ms. Leahy.”
“Ahh, that’s nice. I imagine it’d be hard to come to a new place where you knew no one.”
Don’t take his side, Mom, I think he’s trying to steal Ave. “I think Aibhlinn feels the same way.”
“So she’s spending a lot of time with him, then?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
I have no idea. “Yeah, I think so,” he said.
“Do you think there’s a love match there?” her mother asked.
He growled. “I don’t know, Mother.”
“So, it’s possible. I always knew a pretty girl like that couldn’t possibly stay single for much longer.”
“Mom.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Were you wanting to step up and admit the way you feel about her yourself?” she asked sweetly.
He scowled. Of course, his mother had noticed the way he felt. “My decision to go back to counseling wasn’t as spontaneous as I let you believe.”
“You’re slaying the dragon for your lady fair.”
He smiled. “Guess I am.”
“That girl is your soulmate, remember that. Whatever you have to do, however long you have to fight, remember she’s worth it. We were worried about you in high school. You could turn the ladies’ heads and get dates, but you didn’t have any friends. While you had your brothers, they were so much younger. There’s a huge difference between seventeen and fourteen. Then Aibhlinn came into your life, and you lit up, my boy. You blossomed and came out of your shell. You don’t throw something like that away.”
“But you risk losing it all opening yourself up completely. How can you give everything knowing you’re giving someone the means to destroy you?” he asked.
She sighed. “Because if they’re truly the one, the thought of life without them is unimaginable. So, despite all your fears and reservations, you give everything you have to hold onto them and the love you’ve been gifted. I was terrified of failure when I married your father. I grew up with a single mother and a deadbeat father in an era where that was as taboo as it got. I wasn’t sure I believed in love, not really. Then I meet your father in college, and he showed me everything I was missing out on. I was smart enough to not let the fear render me incapable of risk. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I’m reading you loud and clear, Mom,” he said, turning her words over in his mind.
“Good. Now, dinner at six o’clock?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there.”
“Good boy, love you.”
“Ditto,” he replied, hanging up.
THE OFFICE WAS SMALL and homey. It was a ranch-style brick building converted into an office. He walked inside and found himself greeted with cheery Thanksgiving decorations and a grey-haired office manager who sat at the desk with a headset on.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Enzo Jordan here for a three o’clock.”
“Welcome, Mr. Jordan, I have everything ready for you. “ She handed him a clipboard with a stack of paperwork. “Once you’re done, you can bring this back up with your insurance card, and I’ll make copies.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, taking the clipboard and the mini packet of papers to a seat by a window.
His palms were damp and his nerves were frayed. Filling out the paperwork had been torture as he watched the minutes tick by like time had slowed. The woman waiting for him wasn’t what he expected.
Tall, thin, blonde, and young, she had her hair pulled back into a severe bun, but her oval-shaped face was kind. She stood from her desk and he took in her black pencil skirt and white button down blouse. She was professional, but approachable. “Hello, Mr. Jordan, I’m Dr. Castells. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Doc. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“Please sit. This session will be a bit informal. I’m looking to gather information about you and what you think your issue is, and I’ll form a plan.”
He nodded his head. He was used to this, but it’d been a while.
She took a seat across from him in a chair with her notepad. “So tell me, who’s Enzo Jordan and why is here?”
“Well, I’m here because I have a problem with intimacy.”
“That’s a very interesting way to put it, Mr. Enzo.”
“I don’t have a problem with sex. I can fuck just fine. It’s anything after that. I have a woman, my best friend in the world, and I’m in love with her. I have been for years. But as I am, I can’t provide her with what she needs.”
“Can you expand upon that?”
“I get antsy and restless. I start having nightmares and flashbacks.”
Her eyes widened.
“You can see how that would be detrimental to a relationship,” he said wryly.
“What are these nightmares about?”
“My past.”
“And the flashbacks?”
“I can only assume they’re connected in as well. This would be a good time to fill you in on my background. It all ties into that. I never knew who my father was. I’m not sure if my mother knew. She was heroin addict who sold her body and whatever else she could get her hands on for her fix. That led to a lifetime of neglect, periods of abandonment, and some abuse. She never really hit me, but her words were sharp and her habit of ignoring me cut deep and started my habit of never getting to close. When I was maybe ten, she left and didn’t return. I turned to the streets to earn money and did my best to keep up on the house and put food in my belly on a daily basis. I tried to pay the bills, but eventually they piled up on m
e, and when they came to evict us, they figured out I’d been living alone. I was a troubled kid. I trusted no one, and I was constantly in fights, or in trouble for stealing. I thought I had to take care of myself and always have a backup plan, just in case. I was in decent homes, good homes, and not so good homes, but none stuck. Then when I was fourteen, I went into the Jordan home and I learned what love was supposed to me. We had our issues, but they got me straightened out and on the right path. When I was eighteen, they adopted me.”
“That’s an incredible journey, Mr. Jordan.”
He nodded his head. “It is. I was really lucky, we both know the adoption of older children is rare, and I found my passion, art. I co-own a tattoo shop that does pretty well, Jinx Tattoos. I have my own home, and I create paintings on the side.”
“Your life sounds full.”
“It is. Up until recently, random hook-ups were enough.”
“You say you have problem with intimacy?”
“Well hell, Doc, that was just sex. They didn’t even stay the night. I couldn’t risk that.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
“I do,” he replied quietly.
“Do you want to tell me about that, Mr. Jordan?”
“Enzo, please,” he said.
“All right. Enzo.”
“When I was young I attempted a relationship. I needed to keep my mind off the one person I found myself wanting, and I figured I should try it at least once. I didn’t love the girl, but she was pleasant enough to be around. She started spending the night, and the nightmares hit full force. The worst of my memories. It put me on edge. I started going without sleep, and then I had my first flashback. I woke up with my hand wrapped around her throat. It scared the shit out of me.”
“Was she okay?”
“Fine, but terrified. We called it quits, and I resigned myself to casual sex.”
“What changed?”
“My ability to hide the fact that I’m head over heels in love with Aibhlinn.”
“And she’s your best friend?” the doctor asked.
“And more. We had a fake friendship. We did everything a couple would, except make out. If there’s a wedding, we’re each other’s date. We have the keys to each other’s homes, talk daily.”
“And why do you think she allowed that?”
“I know she loves me, too. We admitted it about a month ago, gave the relationship thing a try. I didn’t last a day. That night, I had a flashback.”
“Is that what prompted you to come here?” the doctor asked.
“It was a catalyst, but it’s time I get right for myself. I’m thirty-five. If not now, when?”
“That’s a good outlook. What are your goals?”
“To let go of the past, so I can have a future,” he said.
“Hmmm.”
They continued to talk and he couldn’t help but feel like he was purging fully for the first time. As a child, he’d held so many of his memories in. Now, all he wanted to do was get them out. Don’t give up on me, Aibhlinn. I’m working on it.
Aibhlinn
She pulled the navy blue and black cheetah print scarf closer to her neck and scanned the area. She loved Fountain Square during the holidays. The landmark bronze and granite two-tier statue of a woman holding out her arms had been around since eighteen-seventy-one. Designed to rival the masterpieces of Europe, the woman on the top of the statue appeared proud and strong, with outstretched hands that made her think of freedom. Waterfalls ran down from her fingertips into the lower basin where four figures sat around in classic poses, holding water vases.
Originally a drinking fountain, the fresh water pumping through made the act of drinking from the streams still possible. She loved that her new city was steeped in history, much like her hometown had been in Ireland. During the winter months, the water was cut off, a trail of lights were then hung from her fingertips, and around the basin. Everywhere she looked, she saw signs of Christmas. Giant wreaths with bright red bows hung on buildings; lights turned the trees into something from the land of faeries.
Over fifty booths surrounded the ice skating rink in the center of the plaza, emitting delicious scents and offering up unique handmade gifts. Hot chocolate and strudel were a holiday tradition she planned on sharing with Keir. She scanned the area for the Irishman. Over the past few months, she’d kept in contact with Enzo but rarely saw him in person. It was harder to distance herself when they were one-on-one, so all visits had been group events. It was painful but necessary.
Sophia, Keir, and her work had been godsends. She’d hooked up with a local author to work on an independent graphic novel that left her more time to peruse her interests. The big leagues demanded much more. Their timetables were shorter. The fans were critical and at times, downright vicious. They’d been fans of their favorite heroes since childhood. It made pleasing them harder. More often than not, she ended up traveling multiple times before completion. She loved her job, but right now it was slow down or burn out.
“Hey, love. Sorry to keep you waiting. It was hell to find a parking space tonight.”
She turned toward Keir and smiled. “No worries. I was enjoying the view.”
“It’s quite a sight,” Keir agreed with a grin.
Her stomach flipped. She’d been spending a lot of time with Keir over the past few months. It was easy with him—he understood her humor, her language, and they had the love of art in common. He’d made it no secret he was interested in more. So far, she’d resisted, but Irish men were notorious for their charm, and Kier especially, had it in spades. She’d enjoyed it. But tonight felt different. Things were shifting between them, and they were on the cusp of what could be considered dating.
“How’s your new sculpture coming along?” she asked, hooking her arm into his as they slowly did a lap around the square.
“Good. Everything here is so new. I feel inspired, and part of the longing for home works toward creativity, too. I’ve got an Emerald Isle theme going.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” she said.
“How’s your new contract going?”
“It’s fun. I love doing indie comic books. They’re always so interesting, creative, and fresh. It’s not the storylines I’ve grown up with.”
“Have you ever thought of making your own?”
She smiled. “I have. Never had the right story, though.”
“You should start working on one. I’ve seen your work. You’re brilliant, Aibhlinn.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me,” she chided.
“Simply speaking the truth.”
“Uh huh,” she replied as they paused to examine handcrafted wooden toys.
“My nephew, Patrick, would love this,” Keir said, picking up a small wooden train car with brightly painted red wheels.
“You could put your own design on it. Give it a hometown touch and then send it,” she suggested.
“Oh, you’re brilliant, love.” Keir purchased the train car with a smile and a sparkle in his eyes. He loved his family with a fierceness she couldn’t help but find sexy. There were a lot of things to like about him, and that’s what scared her. If she let herself, she could fall for this man.
“Where to next? There are so many booths to choose from,” Keir said.
“Well, there are two we have to hit. The Strudel Ship and the hot chocolate booth. So which would you like first?”
“Lady’s choice,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh no, not this time. You’re the first timer. I defer to you, in this case, sir.”
“Well it’s nippy out, so I say hot chocolate.”
“Wise choice.” Grinning, she grabbed his hand, and quickly pulled him through the crowd toward the site where the hot chocolate stand was always set up. More than a simple cup of cocoa in a Styrofoam cup, this place had a build your own station. It offered numerous flavors, types of chocolate, marshmallows, and the pièce de résistance, whip cream.
�
�Oh, this is much more than a cup of hot cocoa,” Keir said.
She laughed at the awe in his voice. “Now you begin to understand, my young padawan,” she joked.
As they waited in line, she dreamt up her concoction. Ten minutes later, her peppermint monstrosity was piled high with whipped cream, pumped full of flavor, and finished with shaved bits of peppermint candies.
Keir’s colossal caramel creation was drizzled with caramel and tiny pieces of Heath bar. “Okay, new Cincinnati tradition.”
She laughed. “We haven’t even had strudel yet.”
“If it’s half as good as this, I’ll be running two extra miles tomorrow,” he said.
They paused in front of the ice skating rink and watched.
“Do you skate?” he asked.
“Not well. I’m about as graceful as a bull in a china shop.”
He snickered. “I used to in a pond by my house when it got cold enough.”
“Don’t try to get me out there, because it’s not going to happen.”
“Noted. Does not ice skate.”
“Oh, no ... Does not skate period. It’s a horrible sight to witness and my arse always pays for it.”
He laughed. “Well, I could promise to rub it better.”
“I bet you could,” she muttered.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said.
“Are you ever going to stop?”
“Of course, once you agree to a date.”
“You’re sure of yourself,” she countered.
“A bit. But more than that, I’m sure about us. We’d be good together. I think you keen that.”
She took a sip of her drink to avoid answering. They drifted into quiet as they observed the skaters on the ice.
“How do you like our fair city so far?” she asked.
“It’s very different, but not bad. People are friendly, and the ladies love the accent.”
She laughed. “Americans in general appear to be fascinated by us from across the pond.”
“To our benefit I think,” he said.
“I won’t disagree with you there. Of course my accent isn’t what it used to be.”
