Can’t Let You Go

by Jones, Jenny B.

  “Breakfast is on me,” Maxine said. “It’s the least I can do for your saving my granddaughter.”

  “I didn’t save her,” Charlie said. “Just helped her get off the plane.”

  “Why, my dear boy, I disagree.” Maxine turned to little Sadie. “He carried my Katie like she was Sleeping Beauty. She was wounded and unconscious, bleeding from the head. He threw his own body over her to shield her from further damage, then when the plane finally touched down, your brother lifted her in his big strong arms and brought her to safety. Isn’t it just the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “Romantic is probably not the word I’d use,” I said.

  Sadie turned her wide eyes to me. “Are you going to marry my brother?”

  “What? No!” I searched frantically for our waitress. “Can we get some crayons over here?”

  The little girl was as ruthless as Maxine. “If you were in a Disney movie, it would end with you two getting married.”

  I forced my teeth to unclench. “Your brother and I are old friends.”

  “Right.” Charlie took a drink from my water glass. “Friends.”

  “Charlie,” Maxine cooed. “How long are you in town?”

  “Until after the wedding.”

  He was going back to Chicago soon. I had no business even considering getting tangled up with him or any form of long-distance relationship. Soon he would be back in his high-rise apartment sitting behind his desk doing whatever important businessy things he did.

  “Your company must really think a lot of you to let you have that much time off,” Maxine said.

  “Charlie’s working while he’s here,” I said as Kourtney flittered over and secured Charlie and Sadie’s order.

  Maxine blew on her coffee. “Doing what?”

  “A very important project.” Sadie leaned her blonde head into her brother. “Right?”

  Charlie straightened in his seat. “I don’t want to bore anyone with business talk.”

  I took a sip of tea. “Bore away.”

  Charlie opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the reappearance of Loretta. “Here’s the job application.” She plopped it beside my saucer. “Bring this back with you next week so I can pretend to check your references. And here’s your uniform.” She thrust a wad of extra-extra-large t-shirts into my hands.

  I held one up. “They’re a little roomie.”

  “You get a discount on my pies,” Loretta said. “Maybe you’ll grow into them.”

  Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of my life?

  “Loretta, I had a few questions about the job—”

  “Sorry, hon. I’m wanted in a meeting. Dang corporation thinks they can take my diner? They got another thing coming.”

  “Someone’s trying to buy you out?” This was the first I’d heard of it.

  “Where’s that waitress?” Maxine said. “I’m ready for my food.”

  “Buy me out is putting it politely.” Loretta propped a hand at her hip. “What Thrifty Co. is doing is corporate terrorism.”

  Maxine clanged her fork to her glass. “What does it take to get a short stack around here?”

  “Did you know about this?” I asked my grandmother.

  “Who can keep up with a big metropolis like this?” Maxine’s laugh was a little too forced. “Loretta, I think they’re calling you in the kitchen. She’s coming!”

  “Thrifty Co. is wanting to build one of their discount stores right here,” Loretta said.

  “But your diner’s not for sale.” I glanced at Charlie. “Can you believe this?”

  He slowly shook his head. “It’s a tough situation.”

  “The mayor said it doesn’t matter that my diner’s not for sale. Said the city can sell the land right out from under me. Eminent domain. But I’m getting myself a lawyer.”

  “Loretta, that’s terrible.” I had so many memories at this diner. Charlie and I had shared many a banana split in booth number twelve my senior year.

  “I gotta get back to the meeting.” Loretta gestured her spiky head to the large table in the back of the restaurant.

  The one where James now sat. “Is my dad helping you?”

  “Helping?” Loretta huffed. “Honey, Thrifty Co. doesn’t just want my restaurant. The want almost the whole block.”

  Maxine stood to her feet. “I want eggs, and I want them now!”

  But I ignored the outburst.

  As the cold blood drained from my body, and I stood eye to eye with my grandmother.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  She eyed my print blouse. “You really shouldn’t wear orange. Clashes with your hair.”

  “How. . .” I breathed maple-scented air through my nostrils. “How could you keep this from me?”

  “Now, Sweet Pea, we didn’t want to upset you.”

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “When your head healed. Or if it didn’t, when we got you settled in the institution.”

  “Did you know about this?” I asked Charlie again.

  His face tensed in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

  “Exactly what properties does Jiffy Co. want, Maxine?”

  She wrung her hands, the gold bangles on her wrist clanging like a gypsy. “It’s not a done deal.”

  “Which ones?”

  She pressed her pink lips together. “Micky’s Diner. Betty’s Hair Salon—but that’s no loss. The old bird only knows bowl cuts and poodle perms. I forget the rest.”

  A hammer pummeled my head. “Spit it out.”

  “The Valiant.” Maxine reached for my hand and held it tight. “Katie, they’re going to tear down the Valiant.”

  Chapter Seven

  There comes a point where the dark overtakes you, and a girl just has to give into the sinking pull of despair.

  I was at that point.

  I had spent the last three days locked in my bedroom with unwashed hair, season four of Friday Night Lights, People magazine on my iPad, and the empty carcasses of two jars of peanut butter.

  I had received three voice mails from some director in New York, one from another theater friend with an audition lead, and two from Ian the Ex. I didn’t want to talk to any of them. I wouldn’t spit on Ian if he were on fire, and as for the director, I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I was certain I wasn’t it. I was a screw-up of an actress. You didn’t just bolt on a play. Like any job, you gave notice. I would probably be blacklisted, but that really didn’t matter anyway. I wasn’t going back to the stage.

  James and Millie had tried to coax me out with ice cream, offers of shopping, even invitations to a big concert in Houston. But I remained in my room. Just me, my comfy bed, and Coach Taylor. Clear eyes, full heart, total loser.

  I had no career, no direction, no love life, and now my beloved Valiant was going to be destroyed.

  And I was out of peanut butter.

  I loved the Valiant for a million reasons, but if I lost it, that was the end of my job plans.

  I clutched my pillow to my chest and sat up as someone knocked at my door.

  “Go away.”

  Maxine bravely walked in. “How much longer is this pitiful display going to last?”

  I reached for the remote and upped the volume. “I’ve only just started. I haven’t even moved on to the sleep days on end and cry uncontrollably portion yet.”

  She plopped herself on my bed. “Let me know when that is. I’ll want to snap photos for my blog.”

  “What are you all dressed up for?”

  Maxine wore black cropped pants, shiny red flats, and a sweater that accentuated the curves she still had at whatever mysterious age she was. “It’s First Friday Festival. The whole town is going. You should join us.”

  “Give me one reason I should.”

  “Food trailers.”

  If anything could tempt me, that would be it. On the first Friday of the month, the town gathered on the square. They showed a movie
on a giant screen, food vendors sold all varieties of gourmet and deep-fried delights, and a local band sang deep into the night.

  “You guys have a good time.”

  Maxine sighed heavy enough for me to smell the spearmint of her gum. “Katie, this is ridiculous and totally unlike you. Quit your moping and get out of this room.”

  “My life is crap.”

  “Your hair is crap.”

  I touched my frizzy strands.

  “Look, I know things are bad. And we should’ve told you about the Valiant, but you had your London issues, and then we didn’t know how wackadoodle you’d be when you woke up from getting brained by the luggage.”

  “How can that company just tear down parts of this town like it means nothing?”

  “There’s another town hall meeting Tuesday night. Maybe the mayor will see reason. Thrifty offered everyone a payout, but nobody’s taking it. You know James isn’t going to go down without a fight.” She gave me a loud, smacky kiss on my cheek. “Now get up and go with us.”

  “Another time.” After all, I was back in town to stay.

  “Fine. Have it your way.” She leapt from the bed and all but skipped out. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Maxine pulled the door halfway closed. “That handsome Charlie fellow is downstairs.”

  What? “Tell him I’m not here.”

  “He’ll be up in five minutes. Fix that hair. Oh, and one more teensy, tiny thing.”

  I jumped up from my bed, scrambling for a bra. “What?”

  “That New York director called the house. Said your friend gave him the number.”

  “He called here? Did he leave a message?”

  “Um, sorta.”

  I looked under my bed, my hands patting around for anything that felt small and padded. “What does that mean?”

  “I talked to him myself. I might’ve told him you were interested in the audition.”

  My hands stilled. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you need to get back on the horse. So you fell off. So what?”

  “Because the horse kicked me between the eyeballs. I’m not getting back on.”

  “Well, you have an audition next Thursday at two. I can drive you myself.”

  “You haven’t been behind the wheel since you took out a chicken truck nearly a decade ago. And you sure aren’t driving across country. I’m not going to any audition.”

  “You’re clearly angry and irrational right now. I’ll just leave you to your grouchiness before this turns ugly and you’re sobbing for my forgiveness.”

  Maxine got one look at my menacing face and backed herself out of my bedroom.

  I took the world’s fastest shower, fueled by anger and some twisted desire for Charlie not to see me at my absolute worst. But what did it matter?

  My hair wrapped in a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom, and just as promised, there was Charlie. He sat on my bed like he had a right to be there, a right to my throne of self-pity.

  There was something toe-curling about the way his eyes slowly traveled the length of me, from the tops of my bare feet to my face.

  “I’ve called you for three days,” he finally said.

  “Sometimes concussions make you forget things like voicemail.”

  “What about texts? You ignoring those too?”

  “I’ve been very busy.” I pulled the pink fuzzy towel from my head and let my hair fall in waves across my shoulders. My hair was naturally strawberry blonde, and Ian had preferred my stylist to highlight out any traces of red. The day after our breakup, I’d shown up for the performance with hair as fiery red as my temper. The color had calmed down some, but apparently I had not.

  I leaned against the bathroom doorway, sort of regretting my lack of thought to my clothing choice. The gray tank top and running shorts had been within quick reach, and surely it was better than the pizza-stained t-shirt that said, “Get out of my spotlight.”

  “So this is your room.” Charlie walked to my desk and looked at some of the framed black and white photos hanging on the wall. Pictures of me in various productions, snapshots of family vacations, a few of me and my best friend Frances acting silly and wild before the adult cares of bills, bad relationships, and taking wrong turns in the roadmap of life.

  He moved on to inspect my bulletin board of old play bills. “Your parents would never let me up here in high school.”

  “The life of a preacher’s kid. Plus James probably knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

  His white teeth flashed with his quick grin. “He would’ve been right about that.”

  “I’m surprised they let you up even now.”

  “I think they’re desperate.” Charlie smiled over his shoulder. “Said you were in a pretty bad way.”

  I resumed my seat on the bed, curling my legs beneath me. “What are you doing here, Charlie?”

  He crossed the room and stood before me, his storm cloud eyes searching mine. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “You need to get out of this house.”

  “I will.”

  “Preferably before dry rot sets in.”

  “I’m not molding in here. I’m eating and bathing.” Mostly eating.

  “Come out with me tonight.”

  “That’s a really bad idea.”

  He lifted an empty jar of Skippy from the floor. “And this lockdown’s a good one?”

  “Maybe I just need some thinking time.”

  “It’s a nice evening. Stars will be out soon.”

  “So will the humidity and mosquitoes.”

  Charlie’s hand traced the edge of the bandage on my forehead. “Right now you’re running from more things than you’re running toward.” He leaned close, so close I could feel his breath brush my cheek. His lips hovered near my ear. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

  “I don’t want to,” I whispered.

  “Go out with me tonight, Katie Parker.”

  I expected to see that flash of heat and mischief in his eyes. And, oh, it was there. But so was something else.

  Just like the day we met in the airport, there was something faintly lurking in his gaze. Something troubled, heavy.

  Like I wasn’t the only one swimming in the depths.

  “Charlie?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re gonna buy me a funnel cake.”

  *

  The town square was a Hallmark movie come to life. As the sun slipped away, the good folks of In Between came out, happy to be done with the work week and ready for a little celebrating. In the very center of downtown was a grassy park, decorated with various botanical and floral landscaping courtesy of the In Between Garden Club. Food trailers and vendors circled the area like modern day wagons, and to the east was a flatbed trailer brought in once a month that served as a stage for the featured band. Tonight it was Denny Vinson and the Doo-Wops, a group of middle-aged men who wore black leather jackets and slicked-back hair and sang songs from the Fifties.

  As I walked down the sidewalk next to Charlie, I said hello to a dozen people I knew. While we exchanged greetings, I moved on before they asked the questions I knew they wanted to know. Like how long was I in town? How was London? What play was I in now?

  “All right, Parker,” Charlie said, a blanket under his arm. “Let’s see if we can put a smile on that face.” He stopped at a trailer painted like the American flag and got us two cheeseburger meals and drinks.

  “I wanted dessert first.”

  He stuck a French fry in my mouth. “Later. Come on.” Charlie’s hand reached for mine, and he led me to an empty spot at the edge of the lawn. “Best seat in the house. Within earshot of the band, but far away from the crowd.” He smoothed the blanket over the ground and gestured for me to sit.

  “Do you always keep a blanket in your car?”

  He handed me a burger. “Just one of the tools in my arsenal of charm.”

  “I think I’m all through with charm.”

  �
�Now that is too bad. I was just about to turn mine on.” He took a drink of his iced tea. “This Ian guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  I dug in my brown paper bag, knowing at the bottom were hand cut, homemade fries. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “I’m a good listener.”

  “You didn’t used to be.”

  He propped up a knee and rested his arm on it. “People change.”

  I smiled. “So you’re saying you’re more sensitive now.”

  “I’m ready to watch Lifetime movies and discuss our feelings any time.”

  I laughed for the first time in days. “And why this change? What’s your life been like the last few years?”

  He dipped a fry in ketchup. “Now it’s mostly work. It’s pretty much all I do.”

  “Just like your dad.” His father had been the bank president for years, not even stopping when, like Millie, he’d had a bout with cancer.

  “Nothing like my father.” The warmth left Charlie’s tone, and he looked out into the swarm of people. “And I recall being your crying shoulder a time or two.”

  “Your dad’s a good man. He’s helped this community a lot.”

  His dark head slowly nodded. “He was never home when I was growing up. At the end of the day, work was more important. Getting ahead. Money. Those were the things that really mattered.”

  “I think the older we get, the more we’ll see traces of our parents in us.” And wasn’t that just a frightening thought.

  “James and Millie are amazing people,” Charlie said. Had I noticed how close he was sitting? His leg touched mine on the blanket; his skin heated against mine. “It can’t be a bad thing to hear yourself sound like them.”

  “I mean my bio-mom. Lately when I look in the mirror. . . I see her.”

  “She’s a part of you, a big part of your history.”

  “I don’t want to be like her.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Oh, yeah? My mom had horrible judgment in friends, boyfriends, bosses, drug dealers. When I saw Ian for who he really was, I realized I was no better at picking a good man than she was.”