by Merri Hiatt
“You’re a dangerous one. That hair should be tucked neatly underneath a helmet. I saw a guy on a cycle get killed once. Car hit him and he flew right off the bike, through the air and splat. I can still remember the sound.” Jenny shuddered.
“Plus the bugs. Yuck! I can just see it now. After your very romantic motorcycle ride, he pulls over and runs his fingers through your old knotted up mangle of hair and there’s a big ol’ flying beetle making itself a nice little home in your hair,” Kate said.
“You are ruining my little fantasy, here.”
“Good. Maybe if the opportunity arises you’ll be sure to wear a helmet,” Jenny said.
“Where’s all the support and love and care you two are supposed to be giving to me?”
“We’re giving you all that. We don’t want you to die,” Kate said.
“Worry wart.”
“Risk taker.”
“Pot stirrer.”
“Beetle houser.”
“Stop it.” Jenny laughed. “I need to sleep. If you decide to continue this, please do it quietly.”
“Glad everything worked out, Jenny,” Kate said.
“Me, too,” Patricia said.
“Thanks. I would never have gone to talk to him if it hadn’t been for you guys. Thank you.”
“It weren’t nothing,” Patricia said in her best Southern drawl.
“We do at least ten good deeds a day. You was only number six.” Kate joined in the fun.
“Goodnight.”
Jenny slid under the covers and was asleep in minutes. She awoke four hours later feeling much more energetic. Her first thought upon waking was of Rich’s hands. She closed her eyes and remembered how they felt as she held them before going to sleep in the hospital room recliner. Solid. Sturdy. Strong. Oh how she wanted those hands to explore every inch of her body.
She imagined what their life might look like together. Where they’d live, who’d cook dinner, if they’d have kids. Jenny wasn’t sure what she wanted their life to be like, she just knew she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
Jenny drifted off to sleep again, her dreams filled with images of herself and Rich together on vacation, at the airport, going to his family reunion.
A knock on her door roused her from sleep. “It’s six o’clock. Didn’t you say you were meeting Rich at seven?” Patricia asked.
“It can’t be.”
“It is.”
“Crap!”
“You’re welcome.”
Jenny hurried into the shower to get ready for her date.
“You’re late,” Kate said as she passed the open bathroom door.
“I know. How late?”
“You have fifteen minutes to get there if you leave right now.”
“I can’t leave right now, I haven’t even done my make-up.”
“What’s taking so long?”
“I can’t get my hair to do anything.”
Patricia poked her head through the doorway opening. “Looks fine to me.”
“You’re just saying that. It’s like a mop.” Jenny tried putting more gel in her hair. “Now it looks like I haven’t washed my hair in a week!”
“He’s not going to be looking at your hair. Just put it up in a ponytail, throw on some lipstick and hit the road,” Kate said. “Besides, he’s already seen you without make-up. What’s the big deal?”
“You can say that because your skin is perfect. Mine is not. I need help. A lot of it.”
Half an hour later, Jenny was contemplating canceling the date all together.
“For Pete’s sake, are you really going to stand this guy up because your hair doesn’t look good?” Kate grabbed the brush out of Jenny’s hand and began running it through her hair. She found a cream colored scrunchy and wrapped it around her hair. “There. Now go.”
“I want to look pretty.”
“You do. Stop worrying and just go before he thinks something’s happened to you.”
“Okay.” Jenny was less than enthusiastic. “I don’t feel right about this. I should just cancel.”
“What’s wrong with you? You have this great guy cooling his heels waiting for you. Go enjoy yourself.”
Jenny slipped her keys, cell phone and ID into her jacket pocket and headed for the door. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it. Relax and have fun,” Kate said.
Patricia shook her head. “She’s got a guy and she’s still freaking out.”
“What was up with her hair, anyway? It really was doing something funky.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I think she used too many products. Hair spray, gel, mousse, and the curling iron. I think it was just too much.”
“She’ll get over it as soon as she sees Rich.”
“Yep. And she’ll have a fabulous time. Want to watch a movie while we wait to get all the scoop?”
“Sure. How about ‘Club Dread’ again?”
“We just watched that.”
“It was so bad it was awesome, though.”
“All right. Do you want a margarita?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“I’m on it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
On her way into the restaurant, Jenny fidgeted. Her clothes didn’t feel right. Nothing seemed to be going as she had imagined. She just needed to see Rich’s eyes and everything would be okay.
She saw him in the corner booth and immediately felt a calmness overtake her. He really wouldn’t care one whit that her hair was funky. Why she had worried about it was beyond her.
“May I show you to a table?”
“Oh, yes, I’m with that gentleman over there.” Jenny pointed to Rich.
The man looked a bit confused. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
“I… uh…”
A dark-haired woman in a pink sweater approached Rich’s table. He showed no hesitation when she sat down beside him and gave him a hug.
Who is that woman and why isn’t she sitting on the other side of the table?
Jenny watched as Rich put his arm around the woman and pulled her close. When their lips met and lingered, she tightened the grip on the keys in her pocket until she was sure the indentations were embedded in her flesh.
“Ma’am, do you want me to seat you?”
Several more kisses were exchanged before Jenny could speak. “No. I’m leaving.” She turned briskly and headed back to her car. “Men are scum! He knew I was meeting him here tonight. Why would he bring another woman here?”
Jenny glanced at her watch; quarter to eight. “I see. So, if I don’t show up right on time, you just call the next person in your little black book. Well, you just keep on dialing, buddy!”
Her eyes were blazing as she strode down the sidewalk, bypassing the car. She had energy to burn and if she didn’t get some of it out, she might just explode.
The tears began to pool in her eyes. “Don’t you dare cry over that man! He is so not worth it.” The tears didn’t listen as they spilled down her cheeks and her nose began to turn pink. She tried sniffing them away, but she knew that wouldn’t work. It never did.
“I am so stupid to believe that he actually might love me.”
The vibration of her cell phone in her pocket made her reach in and grab it. The display read Rich N. “Trust me, you do not want to talk to me right now.”
She found a bench outside the ice cream shop and sat down. She tried to sob quietly, not wanting to draw any attention.
Pain sliced through her heart as if the blades had been newly sharpened. Clean slashes of heat and fear. “Fool!” She tried to run her hand through hair, but it just stuck half-way through.
She got up and went into the small shop, heading directly to the restroom. When she reached it, she turned on the hot water. When it was lukewarm, she shoved her entire head under the faucet. She pushed on the soap dispenser a dozen times until she had a handful of liquid suds. Washing her hair felt like
washing Richard Novatney right out of her life. With every loosened strand of her locks, she felt freer.
It took longer to rinse all the soap out of her hair than she expected. Jenny grabbed paper towel after paper towel in an attempt to soak up the water.
She hadn’t brought a comb with her, so she used her fingers to disentangle the tresses. When she was satisfied that there were no more sections bound together, she looked at her puffy reflection.
“Why are you crying in a bathroom? You should tell him exactly what you think of him and his back-up date.” Her eyelids narrowed until only thin slits of her dark eyes remained visible.
She tossed the paper towels in the trash and headed back to the restaurant.
By the time she reached Cristiano’s she had a scary calm churning through her gut. It was the kind of feeling you’d imagine a serial killer might have; no compassion, no regret, no mercy, just a steel blade of control teetering dangerously on the edge.
Jenny whisked past the maître de and walked straight to Rich’s table. The woman had her arm draped around Rich’s shoulder.
“Mind if I join you?”
Rich looked up, taking in Jenny’s demeanor. “I was worried about you.”
“I can see that.”
“Before you say anything, I want you to meet Becka. I’ve been telling her all about you.”
“Hi, Becka.” Jenny’s eyes never left Rich’s. Before Becka could utter a response, Jenny continued, “Does talking about me require kissing? Hugging? Draping your bodies all over each other? I think not.
I asked myself, ‘Why would he bring another woman here on the same night he asked me to meet him here?’”
“And what was your answer?”
“That you’re a low-life, lying sonofabitch. Am I close?”
“Jenny…”
“It’s my own fault. I should have seen this coming. No one stays married for years and years out of obligation. Face it, Richard, you love Becka and she loves you. It’s obvious. So why not cut the bullshit and quit drawing other people into your little lives for entertainment?”
“You are way off the mark here.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re the one who’s off the mark.”
“Can I say something?” Becka asked.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ll handle this,” Rich said.
Jenny emitted a hard sound resembling a laugh, but her body language told them she was in no laughing mood. “You’ll ‘handle’ this. I’m not something that can be ‘handled.’ I’m a person, with real feelings and emotions. Two things that you don’t seem to be able to ‘handle’ very well yourself.
How long have you been hiding behind the ‘I’m married’ smokescreen? Is this your twisted way of meeting women, by giving them all this bleeding heart back story about what a good guy you are helping out your friend who got knocked up?”
“You’re going too far, Jenny.”
“I haven’t even begun.”
Rich slid around the booth, took Jenny by the arm and said, “Let’s take this somewhere more private.” He escorted her to the back room used for larger gatherings.
“Get your hand off me!”
“Will you just settle down for a minute?”
“No. I absolutely will not. Do you think you can control me or something? I’m not your daughter and I’m not your wife, thank God! I have a brain and I know how to use it. I can put two and two together. I don’t need you to spell things out for me.”
“Apparently you do. Becka was meeting Roger here tonight but he had to stay late at work. You didn’t show and you didn’t call or text, so I was going to wait around for you. I was certain something had come up at the last minute and you’d get here as soon as you could.”
“You were kissing her, Richard! How do you explain that?”
“She was upset about Maya. I was comforting her.”
“That was not comfort that I saw. You lingered over that kiss. I saw you!”
“You have to be the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”
“Right back at ya.”
“Becka has always been affectionate. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Bullshit! This is just another one of your ‘explanations’ that are supposed to make everything okay. It’s not okay. You can’t have it both ways. You don’t get to have a wife you canoodle with and then have a girlfriend, too.
If you were a real man, you’d realize that you aren’t doing Becka and Maya any favors by controlling their lives. They need to learn to live on their own terms.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re simply being petty and mean. I find this entire conversation distasteful.”
“Says the man who was in a lip-lock with his wife when I walked in the door.”
“And that gives you the right to jump to conclusions? I didn’t propose to Becka on a whim. I meant it when I said I would take care of her. Was I really supposed to leave her sitting by herself? That’s ridiculous. You’d have done the same thing.”
“Invite her to dinner, yes, but not to kiss and cuddle when I knew my boyfriend was going to be here any minute.”
Rich stared at her for several seconds. “You’re not my girlfriend.”
“I never said I was.”
“Yes, you did. You just made the comparison.”
“I only said that to make a point.”
“And what was your point?”
“That I wouldn’t invite someone to my table and then kiss them if I knew my boyfriend was going to arrive any moment.”
“You just did it again.”
“What?”
“Compared me to being your boyfriend. We’ve only been on one date.”
“Two if you count our time at the hospital.”
“Well, if we’re going to count that, then we should count this fight as our third date.”
“I’ve got a better idea, let’s count it as our last.” Jenny turned and headed for the door.
“I thought we made a vow not to say things we didn’t mean.” Rich followed behind her.
“We did. I meant what I said.”
“Which part?”
“All of it!” Jenny tossed the words over her shoulder with an arrow of precision.
Rich watched her walk away.
Becka approached him. “Go after her.”
“She’s not the kind of woman you go after when she’s got a full head of steam on. She’ll calm down.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“She has to. I don’t think I can live without her.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kate heard the jingle of keys in the front door and glanced at Patricia. “She’s home too early. Something’s wrong.”
Jenny made a beeline for her bedroom. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said as she walked down the hallway.
“Should we follow her?” Patricia asked.
“No. Jenny’s a thinker, she has to process and mull things over until she’s ground whatever’s gotten under her skin into a fine powder.”
“Then what?”
“She either blows on it and it flies everywhere, then disappears, or it gets stuck in her ear until it drives her crazy.”
“I hope it’s the first one.”
Jenny tossed her clothes on the bed, they slipped down to the floor. “Figures. You’re turning on me, too. Why not? Everyone else has.”
She pulled back the thick covers of her comforter and pulled it over her head, blocking out the world in a cave of soft darkness.
“Why do you keep hurting me?” she whispered.
Why do you keep going back?
“I like him. I really, really like him.”
He’s right about jumping to conclusions. This is the second time you haven’t really listened to his explanation.
“Why in the hell does he have to do so much explaining? His life isn’t that complicated.”
Why do you always assume the worst?
&nbs
p; “You’re my inner thoughts, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
I am on your side. I like Rich, too. I think you’re good together, but damn you get madder than a hornet at the drop of a hat.
“How about looking at my side of it? First he drops the bomb that he’s got a kid, then that he’s married. Then I see him kissing some woman on the night we’re supposed to meet for dinner. How can this possibly be my fault?
Stop looking at who’s to blame and start looking at what you want from this relationship.
“I don’t want anything.”
Liar. You can’t fool me. I know all your thoughts. Try again.
“All right, maybe I do want a relationship with Rich, but what am I going to find out next? How can I trust him? He has all these excuses and explanations, but how about just being forthright from the very beginning?”
Play back the scenario tonight. He did explain up front. You weren’t listening.
Jenny thought back to the conversation she’d had with Rich. He’d said he was worried about her because she was late. One point in his favor. He said he’d been telling Becka all about her. Another point for Rich.
Admit it, that little green-eyed monster bit you but good when you saw how protective he was with Becka. Even to the point of telling her he’d handle the situation.
“I’m tired of this game.”
It’s not a game. If you want to keep Rich in your life, you’re going to have to listen to him more and shut your trap once in a while.
“Just who died and made you the boss of me?”
Silly woman, I am you. This is you giving yourself advice that no one else will dare tell you because they’d be afraid to hurt your feelings.
“You’re certainly not afraid to hurt my feelings.”
Because I know you best of all. I know you’re in love with Rich, even if you won’t admit it to anyone else.
Jenny fell silent for several minutes.
“I don’t know when it happened. We haven’t even spent that much time together. It’s just that he, he… well… he makes me feel like I can do whatever I set my mind to. Like that’s a good thing and he wants me to succeed.
I love the way he cared for his friend who was in trouble and how he keeps caring for her, and her daughter. You’d never know Maya wasn’t his by the way he acts.”
