Shattered

by Pamela Sparkman

I rolled over, squeezed my eyes closed, and tried once again to not think about that night or about Joe any more.

  Joe

  Damn it.

  I twisted off the cap and tossed it onto the kitchen counter, tipping the bottle back at the same time, feeling the cold liquid as it went down. I couldn’t quit thinking about her, which really wasn’t like me at all. I’d dated a few women exclusively over the years; however, none of them had consumed my thoughts the way Maggie had.

  A week had passed since she spent the night at my house, and no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on other things – anything – no dice. I closed my eyes to refocus, to regain a sense of the normalcy I’d been missing. Every time I did, though, all I could see were her emerald irises staring back at me.

  Frustrated, I picked up the phone and stared at it.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I set the phone back down and took another pull from my beer, continuing to stare at the damn phone, like I was willing it to ring or some shit.

  I’d asked her to dance and she had done her level best to ignore me. Strange, considering she’d kissed me in the parking lot at the bar only two nights before.

  I shook my head at the memory.

  Lucky for me though, Ms. Sophie had insisted that Maggie accept my invitation to dance. I was happy to see that even Maggie couldn’t tell Ms. Sophie no.

  We’d danced and she actually loosened up a bit. Talking like we’d known each other much longer than the few days we actually had. And then, once the festivities were over, I took a chance and offered to let her crash at my place to give Coop and Lil their privacy. Their plans for a honeymoon involved leaving the next morning. I think Ms. Sophie had invited Maggie to stay with her, so I was a bit surprised when she accepted my offer. My intentions were pure at the time I made the offer. I mean, yeah, I wanted some more time with her, but I wasn’t planning to make any moves on her and I wasn’t prepared at all for what happened.

  And now, I didn’t know what the hell to do. Should I try to call her again? I should…right? I’d called a couple of times, didn’t leave a message. I didn’t know exactly what to say, and the fact that she hadn’t answered made me nervous.

  Why did I let this happen? What was I thinking?

  I was acting like a total chick. Hayden would give me hell if he had any idea of the things going through my head. Then again, he’d been acting so weird and distant lately that he probably hadn’t noticed me being off at all.

  I picked up my cell phone once again, punched in the passcode, and navigated to the ‘recently dialed’ calls. Scrolling down, I located her number. My thumb hovered over the 10-digits that would connect me to Maggie’s cell phone in Colorado.

  Just do it already. What’s the worst thing that can happen? She won’t answer... again, that’s what.

  I felt like an idiot. I stood up and walked across the room toward the kitchen, still holding the phone, thumb still hovering over Maggie’s name and number. I paced back into the living room, my heart pounding out of my chest and, good lord, I was breathing heavy, like I’d been jogging. This was ridiculous! With nervous, sweaty palms, I let my thumb fall on the screen and I held my breath. It started ringing.

  One… two… thr—

  “Hello?”

  I was speechless at the sound of her voice, surprised she’d actually answered.

  “Hello? Joe? Is that you? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, Maggie, it’s me.”

  Smooth Joe.

  “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

  This was where I needed to be my old self again – confident, secure. Of course, Maggie would accuse me of being cocky, and that thought brought a smile to my face.

  “I’m calling you like I said I would, to make sure you made it home safely. Of course, that means you have to answer your phone.” That may have come out a bit terse, which I instantly regretted.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I should have called you back. It’s real sweet of you to check on me. I’m good. Great! I’m really great. Things are great here.”

  She sounded flustered, and I began to wonder if she was alone. “Glad to hear it.”

  Silence.

  “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” I ran my hand through my hair, realizing this conversation was over before it even started.

  “Oh, okay. Joe, it was…” she paused, “good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay, Maggie. Take care.”

  “I will. You too.”

  Shit.

  I hung up and stood there staring at the phone in my hand. What was it about this girl that made my tongue numb and my mind rattled? I wanted to disappear, as much for that phone call as for the way I’d let this girl get to me.

  Okay. Well, you did it. You reached out and she answered the phone and, obviously, she regrets everything, so move on buddy. Let it go. Let’s get Maggie out of our mind and move on to other things.

  I walked back into the kitchen, tossed the phone on the counter, and grabbed another beer from the fridge. After a long pull on the bottle, I felt slightly better. I grabbed another beer and took both into the living room where I plopped down on the recliner and turned on the television. I searched the guide for an NFL game I didn’t give two craps about and settled in with the beers. After about fifteen minutes, I realized I had no idea what was happening on the football field because my mind had been squarely centered on one red-headed, green-eyed beauty who had managed to completely fuck me up.

  Maggie

  I still clutched the phone in my hand. It was crazy, I know, but it felt like a lifeline. Only seconds before I had heard his voice on the other end of the call, and already I missed the sound of it. I had been avoiding his calls and he knew it. He stopped just short of calling me out on it. I knew he wanted to though. In the few short days that I’d known Joe, I knew he liked to push people into admitting things out loud. Or maybe it was just me that brought that out in him, I don’t know. Somehow…somehow Joe got close enough to see the real me; the me that hides behind the confident façade I show the world. Feeling vulnerable to a man was not a feeling I relished.

  I am Maggie Malone. Poised, confident, sassy.

  Maybe if I kept repeating those words in my head I would believe them again. All I was supposed to do was go to Nashville to attend my best friend’s wedding, meet her fiancé, give him a hard time because that’s what I do, and fly back home. It was supposed to be a simple trip…a time-out for me…a chance to break away from work and live a little – something I used to kid Lily about. That was so far from what actually happened.

  I realized I was pacing like a caged animal, so I sat down on the closest chair and tried to rein in my thoughts.

  I am Maggie Malone. Poised, confident, sassy.

  I am a brilliant photographer and the type of girl who would rather attend social gatherings and parties than sit at home and pine over a guy. I don’t pine. I have fun. I don’t take relationships too seriously. I like my independence. I like my freedom.

  After I ended things with Kevin, a sense of relief came over me. I wasn’t positive I understood why at the time, but it was there, and I felt it. Relief. And later that night I felt something else: regret. Not for breaking things off with Kevin…for not breaking things off with him sooner. I think what I needed was to not date anyone for a while, especially after what happened with Joe. What I’d been doing worked in the beginning. It wasn’t working for me anymore. I needed something else. I just didn’t know what that something else was yet. I needed time to sort it all out. And I owed it to myself to give myself that time. Avoiding Joe’s calls was a way to accomplish that.

  I felt better. I stood up and padded over to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I reached for the refrigerator handle and realized I was still clutching my cell phone.

  Looking down at it, all the confidence I managed to muster in the last five minutes instantly evaporated. I was right back where I started – staring at
my phone wishing I could hear Joe’s voice once more.

  Damn it! What is wrong with me?

  I closed the refrigerator door, leaned back against the kitchen counter, and my mind wandered back to the night of the wedding. My mind wandered back to Joe.

  “Maggie, what are you doing?”

  “Why are these songs on your iPod?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Joe, come on.” I rolled my eyes. “You have the soundtrack to Wicked, on here. That’s a Broadway musical.”

  Joe pulled away from the gas station onto the main highway. We had stopped to get gas after we left the wedding. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when he asked if I’d like to stay at his place and I said yes. I didn’t even think about it. Sweet Ms. Sophie had come to me before leaving to ask if I’d like to stay with her so I didn’t have to pay for a hotel. I totally lied and said I’d already paid for the room, but appreciated her offer. Now I was riding in his car, to his house and seriously questioning my judgment. Especially after looking through his iPod.

  “Tell me you don’t love that show,” Joe demanded.

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  Joe pretended to be shocked by the revelation. “Never?”

  I looked at him; he looked at me; both of us wondering what the other was thinking.

  “Joe, watch the road.”

  He turned back to stare at the open road, and I watched the corner of his mouth turn up.

  “You knew I was going to look at your iPod, didn’t you?”

  “Yep.” Joe unscrewed the cap of his soda and brought it up to his lips for a drink.

  “You couldn’t have warned me? Wait, are you gay?”

  Soda – everywhere; windshield, steering wheel, dash, Joe’s shirt. “Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me?” Joe grabbed a napkin to wipe the dribbles off his chin.

  “Well? Are you?”

  “Yes, Maggie, I’m gay. I only let you kiss me because I wanted to experiment.”

  “Thought so,” I deadpanned.

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what you were thinking when I slipped my tongue into your mouth,” Joe joked as he continued to wipe at spewed soda while trying to drive at the same time.

  “Shouldn’t you pull over and do that? You’re driving haphazardly. You’re making me nervous.”

  “This is your fault.”

  “It’s not my fault you can’t drink and drive,” I said, folding my arms in front of my chest and looking out the window.

  “You asked if I was gay. This is your fault.” Joe wadded up the napkin and threw it in the console between us.

  I picked up his iPod again and began scrolling. “You have the theme song to Gilligan’s Island, Bonanza, and – Oh my God – Wonder Woman? Are you serious, Joe? I think my question was a valid one.”

  Joe grinned. “Wonder Woman was hot. I don’t see the correlation with your line of questioning.”

  “How old are you? Those television shows are ancient.”

  He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “My grandfather loved all of those shows. I used to watch them with him. Every once in a while I feel like hearing their intros.” He turned his attention back to the road. “I also play the soundtrack to Wicked more for Hayden’s benefit than mine. He should have never told me how much he hated Broadway.” Joe glanced in my direction. “Every time we go somewhere together in my car I make him listen to it.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to hide my amusement.

  “Yeah – oh.”

  “So, you’re not gay?”

  “Not gay.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever have a normal conversation?”

  “Probably not.” His mouth curved upward into a smirk. He seemed pleased.

  I rolled my eyes and was quiet for a few minutes. Then I asked, “So, why did you choose Wicked? To torture Hayden with?”

  “Well, to be honest, I actually loved The Wizard of Oz when I was a kid. That movie came on every year right around my birthday and I think I was convinced the networks played it just for me. And who doesn’t love to watch a couple of women fight over a pair of sparkly shoes?”

  I rolled my eyes again and shook my head.

  “And I’ve actually seen Wicked, which is sort of the prequel to The Wizard of Oz, when it came to town a couple of years ago. So it made sense, if I was gonna download something, to choose something I could sing along to. That makes Hayden even more pissed.” He looked at me pointedly, and added, “I took a date, if that makes it any better.”

  “So, you like musicals? Is this what I’m hearing?” I felt like I’d stepped into an alternate universe.

  “Well, I guess I don’t hate ‘em. Over the past few years I’ve actually seen several. Along with Wicked, I saw The Phantom of the Opera, The Lion King, I even went to see Hairspray. The ladies like a man who can handle the theater, Maggie.”

  “Yes, I suppose they do.”

  “You know, I’ve only been able to go to those shows because of Hayden. That’s what really pisses him off.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Yeah, you would never know it, but our dear Hayden is a trust fund baby,” he said.

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yeah. His parents are loaded, and on top of attempting to coerce Hayden into living the life they think he should be living in all sorts of ways, they purchase season tickets every year to the Nashville Theater and have them sent to his address, in his name. He refuses to use them and I think it’s a waste of money, so I browse the website from time to time, and occasionally, I check out a show. Impress a date. You know.”

  “You’re full of surprises.”

  “Never let it be said that I am not a man of culture,” Joe said in a bad, fake, English accent.

  “Please, never do that again.”

  “Do what, milady?” he continued in the same horrible accent.

  “Talk with that accent!” I said, playfully slapping his arm.

  He began laughing and I realized that I truly love the sound of his laughter. Joe’s laughter really is contagious. Between the laughing and him continuing to say things in that god-awful accent, we were both laughing so hard by the time we pulled into his driveway that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. While he parked the car I pulled down the visor and checked for mascara trails. I was still laughing when I noticed that Joe was deathly quiet. I glanced over at him. He was staring at me.

  “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  My heart sped up. I was unprepared for the serious tone that he took. Then he repeated himself, “You’re beautiful.” It was so simplistic, so matter of fact.

  If I had been myself in that moment I would have tried to make a joke to hide the fact that those two words had actually affected me. If I had been myself, I would have played it off and behaved indifferently, not letting on I was in danger of caring. If I had been myself, I would have said something.

  I wasn’t myself, though, so I did nothing. Nothing but stare as he stared back.

  Again, softer this time, quieter. “You’re so beautiful, Maggie.” He brought his hand up and brushed my cheek with his thumb, neither of us saying a word. I got caught up admiring his features. Deep blue eyes stared back at me; strong jaw with a hint of stubble; straight nose; sharp cheekbones. My heart rate picked up speed as he gingerly caressed my skin with his penetrating gaze. I could feel goose bumps form on the back of my neck and slowly inch their way down my body. It was like a cold chill, only I felt warm on the inside.

  Then he cleared his throat and removed his hand from my face, grabbed his keys from the ignition, and opened his door without saying a word. I remained planted in my seat as I came back to my senses. The warm feeling dissipated instantly and now a real chill left me feeling cold.

  He opened my door and I swallowed back the disappointment. What was I hoping he would do? I shook my head and fixed my face to look impassive while I climbed out of his car. I shouldn�
��t have come here with him. I should’ve have stayed at Ms. Sophie’s. Now I was pissed off at myself for agreeing to stay at his house. This was a mistake.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Just tired. It’s been a long day,” I responded with a bit more bite than I had intended.

  “Why are you mad?” he asked refusing to move so I could walk around him.

  “Who said anything about being mad?” I answered coldly. I realized I was wearing my feelings on my sleeve and I was regretting that too. I don’t wear my feelings on my sleeve. I wanted to be indifferent and unaffected. The old me would have had no problem pulling that off. However, since I landed in Nashville, I felt the hard layers I’d spent years developing being peeled away with ease. Out of the blue and for the first time in a long time I was feeling vulnerable. It was foreign to me, and I didn’t like it. Apparently I’d decided to take my frustrated feelings out on Joe. And that pissed me off too.

  “I want to go inside now. I’m sorry, I really am tired.” My voice was softer this time, hoping we could move past this awkward standoff.

  Joe’s jaw clenched like he wanted to say something, but he stepped aside and waved me toward the walkway that led to his front door. “After you.” He grabbed my bag and stepped in behind me.

  I moved forward, concentrating on each step in front of me. I could feel his presence behind me and the sensation made me feel raw and exposed. I moved quicker, taking bigger steps than normal trying to create some distance between us. His energy was potent and it had a way of making me feel cocooned and smothered. I needed space. And air. I needed space and air. Why couldn’t I get enough air? I was outside, damn it. I was feeling pissed off again, so I tried to take slow deep breaths. The air wouldn’t come. We reached the front door, and I moved to the side so he could open it. He didn’t. Not immediately. His body pressed up against mine from behind. I gasped loudly at the sudden shock of it.

  “Breathe, Maggie.”

  His hand cupped my jaw while his other hand moved to my waist. “Breathe,” he repeated in my ear. He pulled me tighter into his chest. His chest rose and fell – slow and steady. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I closed my eyes, and my breathing became calmer with each intake of air. “That’s it,” he said. “Nice and slow.”