Lives Collide (Collide #1)

by Kristina Beck

  With caution, I approach the small table adorned with orange juice, coffee, syrup, and butter. “Hi. The shower was just what I needed. Sorry I took so long. It’s not pleasant to put clothes back on that smell like sweat and alcohol. It should teach me a lesson.”

  She sits at the table and watches me. She’s still in her pajamas…without a bra. It must be cold in here. I need to look somewhere else. Stare directly into her eyes. Nowhere else. She puts her arms in front of her. I guess she noticed. Shit.

  “You clean up nicely. Please sit down. Eat as much as you want, before they get cold.”

  I place my phone and wallet on the table. I slip into the chair across from her and motion with my hand. “You made the pancakes so please take the first ones.”

  She puts a good-sized stack on her plate. Nice to meet a girl who likes to eat. We are sitting close to one another. My knees touch hers sometimes. We can’t avoid it, since the table is small…almost intimate.

  I stab a stack of pancakes and plop them onto a plate. “How many people were you cooking for? There are a lot of pancakes.” I put a huge chunk of butter on the top and pour a large portion of maple syrup. I cut them up and put some in my mouth. My eyes close as a moan comes out of my throat. “These are spectacular.” I open my eyes and notice her staring at me with a grin.

  “I’m happy to see you’re feeling better after last night. That was quite the outburst when you woke up. Maybe you need to eat more the next time you want to drown yourself in whiskey, or, as you said, brush your teeth with whiskey.” She chuckles.

  I drop my fork on the plate. “Brush my teeth? What do you mean?”

  “Last night you said you were brushing your teeth with your whiskey. Quite original.”

  My jaw drops. “How did I come up with that one? I must have been very entertaining last night.” I rub my forehead. “I need to lay off the alcohol.”

  “Sure, sure. That’s what they all say.” She grabs the coffeepot and asks, “Do you want some coffee? It’s fresh and hot.” She sets the pot near my plate.

  “Wow, what treatment. I should be making you pancakes and coffee. I’m the one who crashed on your sofa last night.” I pour some coffee into my cup.

  She offers the milk and sugar, bobbing them up and down.

  “I take it black. It’s quicker to make. I was always in a rush during medical school and my residency. I lived off coffee or anything with caffeine.”

  I drink some coffee. The hot liquid coats my stomach. There’s nothing like the first sip of coffee.

  “Next time I’m drunk and need a place to stay or something to eat,” she says, “I’ll call you. Then we can call it even.”

  I raise my coffee cup. “Sure. I can agree to that.” Like hell. I will never see you again after today.

  “I know your name is Lisa, but what’s your last name?”

  She swallows her mouthful of pancakes. “At least you remember some things. Last night you thought I said my name was Linda Shits. Even though you were drunk and nasty, you made me laugh several times. My last name is Schmitt.”

  “Just to remind you, my name is James—”

  “Kramer.” She smirks. “I wasn’t drunk, so I remember everything.”

  I change the subject to focus on something other than last night. “I come from a small town in New Jersey called Cleartown.”

  Her eyes grow large as she begins to cough. She grabs a napkin, wipes her mouth, and takes a sip of her coffee. “Sorry. That’s so weird. I’m from Hillstown.”

  I lift my left eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s only two towns north of Cleartown. I used to work at a gas station on Main Street in Hillstown when I was a senior in high school.”

  “Yeah, I know where it is. Next to the small convenience store. My sister, Tina, worked at the pharmacy next to it.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m having breakfast with a true Jersey girl. It’s been a long time since I’ve met a Jersey girl around here, and a pretty one, no less.”

  Her cheeks turn red, and she won’t look at me.

  Why did I just say that?

  “You probably wouldn’t think I was pretty when I was sixteen years old. I had big, frizzy Jersey hair and superlong fingernails. That phase didn’t last very long.”

  “You must hate pumping your own gas.”

  “I don’t drive,” she responds dryly.

  “Really?”

  She clears her throat. “Anyway, so where did you go to college? If you don’t mind me asking.” She licks syrup off her thumb. “I don’t want to invade your privacy, if you don’t want me to.”

  I wipe my sticky hands with a napkin. “I don’t mind. I went to Johnson College, not too far from here. After college, I attended Clarion and finished my residency at the university hospital. I received my medical license in emergency medicine about a year ago. Did I mention that last night? If I did, I’m sorry for repeating myself. I don’t remember much of what I said last night.”

  I stare off into space. I don’t want to talk about my residency or practicing medicine. It only reminds me of how shitty my life is right now.

  She pulls me from my thoughts. “Wait a second. You went to Johnson College? I also attended there. I just graduated from Clarion in June. I started my residency in July.” She shivers. “How is this possible? I’m kind of freaked out. Is this Candid Camera?” she says, looking around with a hesitant smile.

  “No, it’s not Candid Camera. I agree—it’s quite strange. All those years growing up in towns not too far from each other, going to the same schools, and we still never met. At least not until now. Interesting. It makes you wonder why. Maybe it’s our age difference or…did fate play a hand in this, Lisa?” I wink at her. Since when do I wink at people? I can’t even remember if I ever winked at Jessica.

  “How old are you, anyway?” I ask.

  “I’m twenty-seven,” she answers. “And you?”

  “Thirty.”

  “You’re not that much older than me. Even with the age difference, I’ll need to think about all these coincidences. Analyzing things or people is what I do best. I’m a psychiatrist.” She smiles and takes a drink of her orange juice.

  “Seeing me at my worst last night probably reminded you of some of the patients you have seen or read about during your medical school years.”

  Her face becomes serious as she puts her fork down. “I guess you can say that, but it isn’t just that. I truly like to listen to people so I can help them get through whatever problems they are dealing with,” she says. “I would rather listen than talk. Sometimes it’s easier for individuals to talk to a stranger or, let’s say, a doctor. The doctor won’t judge you like your family or friends will. It can help people let things out without someone trying to interrupt or put pressure on you. They listen and make suggestions on how to solve your problems. Which is why I wanted to become a psychiatrist. I want people to open up to me. My main focus is to work with patients who are suffering with issues similar to post-traumatic stress disorder.” She clamps her mouth shut. “I thought I said I would rather listen than talk.”

  “So am I your guinea pig now?” I cock my head to the side.

  Her head pops up. “Only if you want to be. You need to want help, or it will never work. You need to want it for yourself. Not for your family, not for your friends.” She looks directly into my eyes, as if she is reading my mind. It’s unnerving.

  I break eye contact. Do I want help? Do I want to keep living this way? I don’t really need to think about it. I know the answer. Yes, I want help. After last night, I’m disturbed by what I’m doing to myself. If I continue down this road, I’ll destroy myself and cause suffering for my family and friends.

  I finish my coffee and wipe my mouth and hands. “It’s time for me to get out of your hair. You need to get to work soon. I’ll call my sister to pick me up. Again, I’m sorry about last night, for unloading my shit on you, passing out on your sofa, and taking a shower. Oh, and eating breakfast here. You a
re too kind to strangers. I know I’m repeating myself and babbling. I can’t say sorry and thank you enough.” I take my dishes to the sink.

  I grab my things off the table and head to the door. She places a piece of paper on the wall and scribbles something. She comes over and hands it to me.

  “James, here’s my phone number. If you ever want to talk, I’m a good listener. I’m not trying to treat you like a patient. Let’s think of it as a new friend trying to help a new friend. I know what it feels like to experience something tragic. I’ve had my own traumatic experiences. I don’t know what you are battling with, but it might help to talk to someone who has suffered from a similar type of pain. My schedule is awful with the hospital, but we can work something out.”

  “Thank you, new friend. I might just take you up on that.” I step into the hallway but turn around before she closes the door. She looks at me with her electric-blue puppy-dog eyes and a hint of a smile. She is so damn cute with those pajamas on. “Good luck with the first year of your residency. It won’t be easy.” I smile and wave good-bye.

  After she closes her door, I lean against the wall. Man, the last twenty-four hours have been so out of control. Maybe it’s my wake-up call. I take a deep breath and escape the one place that holds so many of my memories with Jessica. Forget where you are…forget where you are, I repeat to myself until I’m outside on the street. I need a swift kick in the ass for letting myself get so drunk last night. I can’t handle another mental breakdown.

  I speed-walk down the street, wishing I had running gear with me. Running or the gym would be the best thing right now. I could blow off some steam and the alcohol.

  I should call Alexa and ask if she can pick me up. She answers after one ring.

  “James?” she yells. Of course she’s still annoyed with me—I hung up on her. I can’t blame her. I haven’t been easy to deal with this year.

  “Sorry, Alexa. I told you what I did last night. Someone helped me, and that was it.” Silence. “Alexa, are you still there?” I sigh. “Can you not give me the silent treatment? This is the first time in a long time I don’t feel like total shit for at least thirty minutes. Believe me—I still feel like I’m going to lose it since I was at Jessica’s old apartment complex. But it’s not as bad as usual.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You stayed in the same apartment complex where Jessica used to live? What were you thinking?” she shouts.

  “I didn’t know until I woke up this morning. Believe me. I was pretty pissed off.”

  “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asks desperately. “Why do you keep torturing yourself?”

  There are days when I feel like I can’t breathe or gravity is pulling me even closer to the ground. When I wake up in the morning, for a split second I think my life is normal and Jessica is lying next to me. Then I reach over to the other side of the bed and feel nothing but cold and emptiness. I look around, and realize I’m in Alexa’s apartment. Then the memories come flooding back. I miss Jessica so much—and my son, who I never had the chance to know. A constant, terrible constricting ache has settled in my chest.

  “I’m in front of the Mocha Bean Café. Can you please come and pick me up? Can you get out of work?”

  “You called at a good time. I just finished a sales appointment. I’m heading to my car now.”

  “I’ll be waiting at the curb. There’s a reason I was there last night. I’ll tell you when you pick me up. Okay?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m always worried about you. It’s never going to stop. When you didn’t come home last night and then you tell me you stayed in the same apartments where Jessica lived and where you proposed to her, I have a right to be concerned.”

  I hear the chirp of her car door unlocking.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter 15

  Lisa

  Once I shut the door, I release my breath. His fiancée, Jessica, lived on the other side of this long hallway. He’s the James who proposed to her at the party I was supposed to go to with Bryant. I need to ponder this realization.

  I roam to the messy kitchen table and begin to clear it off.

  His first date with Jessica was at the same bar as my first date with Bryant. I remember seeing Jessica at the bar that night. Bryant pointed her out. I get chills thinking about this. We were each there last night because we were upset about those two people. Well, I wasn’t there entirely because of my relationship with Bryant. It was a part of it though.

  I bang my hip into the corner of the table and almost drop the coffeepot. Focus! I clear the rest of the table quickly before I do break something.

  The odd thing is, he took away some of my pain as I listened to him talk about Jessica. The connection he feels to her was once in a lifetime. I think Bryant and I loved each other, but we were never in love. I think we loved the sex more than anything. If we truly loved each other, our relationship would have lasted. At the end, I was the one hurt. He proved me correct. One of the reasons he left me was because he wanted children. It wasn’t the only reason, I know. But it’s the one I focus on the most.

  Is it right for me to expect him—or any man I meet—to give up having children? But if he loved me, he would have. Wouldn’t he? I’m so annoyed. I know I didn’t love Bryant.

  I fill the sink with water and add dish soap, swirling the dishcloth to create suds. I drop the sticky silverware into the water.

  I hate this confusion, the constant back-and-forth in my mind. Ever since we broke up, I’ve been living behind a wall. All I do is work, go for a run, and come home. It’s a lonely life, but it protects me. Dating is a no-go. I won’t let my heart be torn apart again. Tina is concerned about me. She worried about this happening way before Bryant and I broke up. She tried to convince me it wasn’t love and to cut him loose, but I refused to see it.

  With my training, I’m aware my lifestyle isn’t mentally healthy. I became a psychiatrist to help others. I should be ashamed of myself, since I’m the one who still needs help. Maybe it’s a good time to start over and change my nonexistent social life.

  Last night, James didn’t confess what happened to Jessica. He always spoke of her in the past tense. Did she leave him for someone else? The way he spoke about her makes me think she died. How horrible to lose the love of your life. Especially at such a young age. They had their whole lives ahead of them. After he freaked out when he woke up, I could understand why he reacted the way he did. That must have been a nightmare.

  I can’t believe some of the things we have in common. How is it possible we grew up just two towns away from each other, went to the same college and medical school, and have never met before? Was this some kind of fluke? Or was it because of our age difference? My gut tells me no. There has to be a reason why we have finally met now. Maybe it’s to help us move on with our lives.

  I’ve been washing this frying pan for several minutes now. A splash of water lands on my pajama top. I look down. Ugh! I can’t believe I didn’t wear a bra while he was here.

  Last night put my problems into perspective. It was nice to focus on him. Offering breakfast seemed like the right thing to do. When he came into the kitchen after his shower, I was blown away by how cute he is, even with his crazy beard and hair. His brown wavy hair was still wet from the shower, but it looked good that way. Gorgeous green eyes. Tall with wide shoulders. The beautiful upper half of his body matches his face perfectly. He’s a yummy package I will never forget.

  While analyzing, I pick up the towels scattered around the apartment and put them in the washer. I fold the blanket and fluff up the pillows on the sofa.

  I enjoyed the easy, relaxed banter between us. I think I even made him smile once or twice. It was quick, but it was there. It’s amazing how a smile can change someone’s face. He was even more handsome. His green eyes lit up for a split second. They may have even twinkled. I smack my forehead. Oh, who am I fooling? This is not a Disney m
ovie.

  I shouldn’t think about him like this. Yet, his eyes were mesmerizing. I still notice attractive men even though I avoid them. It’s simply not appropriate to think anything remotely sexual or romantic. He’s dealing with his own turmoil.

  Arghhh!

  But it’s been a long time since Bryant. The tingling sensation I felt when I was near James was an unexpected but delightful surprise.

  Giving him my phone number was a last-minute decision. If he calls, maybe he’ll tell me what happened. It would be a great experience for my medical training, though it’s not only the training I would appreciate. I enjoyed talking to someone new. He knows nothing deep or personal about me other than where I grew up and went to school.

  Our encounter can’t be over.

  Chapter 16

  James

  Here comes Alexa in her shiny new red Volkswagen Beetle. It must be nice to have a good-paying, successful career. A year ago, I dreamed it would be me.

  I open the car door and get in. Before I can even close the door, she speeds off.

  “What the hell, Alexa? Are you trying to kill me?”

  I struggle to put the seat belt on.

  “No, you are doing a good job by yourself.”

  I ignore her comment.

  “Thanks for picking me up. I didn’t want to take a cab home.” I feel her eyes drilling holes in my head. “Can you please pay attention to the road? You’re freaking me out.”

  She turns her head forward, clearly waiting for an explanation.

  I break down and tell her what happened. I think she’s speechless, because she’s quiet. She is never quiet. “Say something!” I yell as she pulls into a parking spot by our apartment.

  She bursts out laughing. “You really woke up shirtless and wearing pink sweatpants that were way too small? That’s hysterical!”

  I stare at her with my mouth open. “That’s what you have to say? Nice way to support your brother.” As we get out of the car, she finally stops laughing.