Shattered

by Pamela Sparkman

  We continued to walk hand in hand, and now I was only pretending to listen to our tour guide as I attempted to save face.

  “Hmm, wonder what I could give you that would sustain you until lunch?” Joe said, his lips brushing my ear …his thumb making little circles around mine. “So many ideas, sweet Maggie. None of which are actual dinner choices though. More like dessert.”

  Breadsticks, croissants, crackers, apples, pears. Keep your mind on actual food, Maggie.

  “What kind of dessert would you like, sweetheart?” Joe asked, his breath sweeping across my skin, conjuring warmth behind my ear. I felt hot and breathless, which shouldn’t be possible in thirty degree weather; yet here I was, contemplating shedding my coat.

  Oranges, bananas – no, wait…shit. Animals. I’ll think of animals. Lions, tigers, bears…

  “Maybe a nice hot sticky bun…”

  Oh my.

  “I think I have a taste for… peaches.”

  “…and so the next time you hear the rumbling of hooves racing on the track, remember Belle Meade and her legacy,” the tour guide finished.

  Oh thank God.

  Joe leaned back to see me better, the corners of his mouth tipping up slightly. He knew he had affected me. He pulled me against him for a hug. I hugged him back, wrapping my arms around his middle and laying my cheek on his chest. His heart was beating like a drum, and I was surprised that I could hear it through all the layers of clothing. He leaned back, keeping his arms around me. He stared at me and his eyes clouded over. He leaned in, never breaking his gaze. For a moment I thought he might kiss me, right here in the middle of a horse farm, with dozens of strangers milling around us. He didn’t though. He murmured over my lips…“Come on, let’s get you fed, love.”

  In that moment, if he had said we should jump from the highest bridge, I would have gladly taken that plunge with him.

  We walked back to his car, and he held my hand the whole way. Something I liked, cherished even. I thought to myself that I would let this man lead me straight into the mouth of lion. As long as he was holding my hand I would follow him anywhere.

  “This place is beautiful,” I said with wide eyes as I surveyed the rich wood floors, exposed wood beams, and large, opulent chandeliers of The Old Spaghetti Factory in downtown Nashville. Exposed brick flanked one side of the restaurant while more dark wood flanked the other.

  “My name is Jake, and I’ll be your server today. May I get you something to drink?”

  Joe looked to me and nodded his head for me to go first. “Uh, I’ll have a coke please.”

  “The same,” Joe said.

  “I’ll be right back.” The server walked away, tucking his order pad inside his apron pocket.

  “Have you not eaten here before?” Joe asked, setting his napkin in his lap. “You act like this is your first time.”

  “I’ve been here a few times, but…” I looked around and for some reason I couldn’t recall ever really appreciating the beauty of this place until now. Back in college I had come here to celebrate a birthday or two with a friend. I didn’t get caught up in the ambience of it then. It truly was remarkable, and in a way it was like I was seeing it for the first time.

  “But what?” Joe nudged.

  I shrugged my shoulders, continuing to take in all of my surroundings before coming back to rest my eyes on his. “I dunno. It feels different this time. Like I’m seeing it with fresh eyes now.” I shrugged again. “Maybe it’s you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “When I’m with you, I see everything in a whole new light. Things I’ve never noticed before, I notice now. And the thing I notice the most is that I notice that I’m noticing these things.” I glanced around once more and looked directly at him again. “Only when I’m with you do I do that.”

  His right brow quirked up like I’d amused him, and I could tell he was trying to keep from grinning.

  “What?” I asked, feeling awkward.

  “It’s just that you said ‘notice’ about twenty times and you didn’t even notice.” He pressed his lips together in another attempt to not laugh.

  I unfolded my napkin and took my time placing it on my lap, keeping my eyes focused intently on the placement of said napkin. I could feel Joe staring at me. The top of my head was burning from his gaze.

  I’m not gonna look at him. I’m not gonna look at him. I’m not gonna look at him.

  I looked at him. Shit. He was smiling that smile, the one I’m sure he reserves only for me.

  “You know what I’ve noticed?” he asked, not waiting for me to respond. “I’ve noticed that in every room we walk into you’re the most beautiful woman. I’ve also noticed that I’m not the only one who notices. Look around, sweetheart. Every man we walked by, noticed you. And for someone who just admitted to noticing everything when you’re with me, you certainly failed to notice how every guy in this restaurant wishes he could be me right now.”

  Something inside me broke in that moment. Not a break the way a glass would shatter if you threw it up against a wall, more like a tiny fissure, a hairline fracture that spanned from my heart to the base of my throat. Ever since I was a child, I had built up a barrier, a layer around my emotions that would protect me from all the poison in the world. Right now, in this moment, a tiny crack had formed over it, and Joe’s words were able to seep in, and in so doing, an emotion bubbled up inside my chest that was hard to keep down, forming a lump in my throat, and that prevented me from being able to speak. I sat there unable to utter a single word. So, we sat there together; him staring at me, me staring at him.

  Our server returned to our table, setting our glasses down in front of us, and also a bread basket. “Are you ready to order?”

  Joe held up one finger, signaling to our server to give us another minute, never taking his eyes off me, holding me captive with his gaze. Our server waited beside our table, perhaps intrigued by what was happening here. Was it a staring contest? A blinking contest? Who would look away first? Had this turned into a competition?

  A million thoughts ran through my head in those few seconds. A lot of nothing and a lot of everything, all of it revolving around Joe. Joe had the most captivating dark blue eyes I’d ever seen and I wondered if forever was long enough to bask in the depths of them. The lump in my throat began to diminish. This was a bit weird. Two adults sitting across from each other staring… not speaking. And a waiter, standing there, waiting it out quietly, a spectator to this odd exchange. I remained motionless, stoic, even. It was a huge struggle.

  Eventually, the edges around Joe’s lips began to rise. The creases around his mouth becoming defined until a joy spread across his face, reaching his eyes. “Please take the lady’s order first,” he instructed politely.

  “Of course.” The server turned to me, a little amused, I think. “What can I get for you, ma’am?”

  “Uh…” I looked away from Joe and down at my menu. “I’ll have the Chicken Caesar Salad, please.”

  “And you sir?”

  “The Reuben Panini.” Joe closed his menu and handed it to the server, and then the server took mine.

  “It’ll be right out.” Server Jake left, and Joe and I were alone again.

  I reached for a piece of bread. “What was that?” I asked Joe.

  “I have no idea. But I had your attention and I didn’t want to lose it.”

  I looked down at my bread, breaking off a piece, and brought it up to my mouth, chewing contemplatively. The thought that was going through my mind right then was – wow.

  “What?” Joe asked, leaning forward, lacing his fingers in front of him. “What are you thinking?”

  “I just… I was trying to remember if anyone has ever been this oddly sweet to me.”

  “And?”

  “They haven’t.”

  Joe’s face contorted into something that resembled… frustration? He narrowed his eyes, and his lips were set in a thin line. He rubbed at his chest like it was sore, still keeping that conto
rted look on his face.

  “What? What is it?” I asked.

  He stopped rubbing at his chest, leaned all the way back in his chair and looked at me with a seriousness Joe didn’t normally project. “Maggie,” he said, “I’m not sure what kind of assholes you’ve been going out with, but any man who’s around you for longer than two seconds should know how incredible you are and should want to hold your attention when they have it. The fact that those ass clowns didn’t says a lot about them. Don’t give them the time of day, Maggie. They don’t deserve it.”

  I felt weightless again. I smiled a very appreciative smile. “I know, right? I mean, I’m a catch.” I sat up straighter. Joe had a way of making me feel confident, and beautiful. And he didn’t use a bunch of flowery language to sell it to me. He just said it.

  “The way I see it,” I said, “a girl has to kiss a lot of frogs before she finds her prince.” I leaned in conspiratorially and asked very seriously, “Are you just a frog, or can my kiss turn you into a prince?”

  Joe leaned forward as well, his look serious. “You believe in the fairytale.” It wasn’t a question. He was seeking confirmation from me.

  “Yes. Well, I believe in the message of the fairytale, I suppose.” I shrugged now feeling unsure.

  “Well, you’ve got the message wrong, sweetheart.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the fairytale, well, the Disney version of the fairytale anyway, it’s true that the prince, Naveen, was turned into a frog, and needed the kiss of a princess to change back into a prince. However, that wasn’t all that needed to happen, if it were it wouldn’t be much of a story. Tiana didn’t need to kiss a lot of frogs to find her prince, Maggie. She already knew Naveen was a prince. In the beginning, Naveen was only concerned about becoming human again and continuing to live for himself. And Tiana was only concerned about becoming human again and owning her own restaurant. Naveen fell in love with Tiana and was willing to let her go so she could have her dream. Tiana fell in love with Naveen and realized she was willing to remain a frog, because her dreams had changed.”

  I thought about this, taking my time to mull over his words.

  Joe moved closer and picked up my hand, holding it in his gently, like it might break. “When you find someone who is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for yours, you’ve found your prince. All the kisses in the world won’t make him something he isn’t from the start.”

  Our server cleared his throat. “Your salad, ma’am.”

  I leaned back, clearing the way for our server to set down my plate, and then he served Joe. “Can I get you two anything else?”

  I shook my head, and Joe said, “No, we’re good, thank you.”

  Jake the server gave a curt nod. “Enjoy.”

  I picked up my fork and stabbed a lettuce leaf. “This is the best lunch I’ve ever had.”

  “You haven’t even tasted your food yet.”

  “I didn’t mean the food,” I said. “I meant the company.”

  He picked up his glass and held it up, prompting me to hold up mine. “Here’s to good company.”

  “To good company,” I repeated and we clinked glasses. “So, what else is on the agenda for today?”

  “How do you feel about going to the park?”

  “Really? Gosh, I haven’t been to a park in years.”

  “So you’re game, then?”

  “Yeah, sounds fun. Can we swing?”

  “You can swing. I’ll push you.”

  “What about the merry-go-round?”

  “Yeah,” he chuckled. “The merry-go-round too.”

  “My brother and I used to spend a lot of time at the park when we were younger. Nostalgia, I guess.”

  “Someday soon I want to hear about your brother, and your parents, when you’re ready to share that. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  Joe looked at me warmly, pointed at my salad with his fork. “Eat. We have some swings to get to.”

  “One quick question.”

  “Shoot,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

  “How do you know so much about The Princess and The Frog?”

  “Nieces. Eat.”

  “So, tell me about your mom,” I said.

  “Well, she’s a saint. She would have to be to put up with me,” Joe answered.

  “I don’t know about that. Not the saint part, the part about putting up with you. I bet you were awesome as a kid.”

  “Heh, well, don’t know how awesome I was, although, my mother raised me right. Made sure I knew right from wrong, you know, all the stuff a mom does. She was good at making me feel loved, so, yeah…” Joe paused and rolled his eyes. “She still babies me like I’m a five year old, and I don’t see her quitting that anytime soon. She’s also the most optimistic person I know. Never lets anything get her down.”

  “She sounds lovely,” I said sincerely.

  “She is.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “He worked a lot, wasn’t ever home much. When he was, though, he made sure he spent time with me. Baseball games, hockey…” Joe paused. “Did you play any sports?”

  “Uh, no. I was too busy with other things.” I didn’t elaborate, and Joe didn’t push for me to.

  “Watch out!” Joe said when he spotted a ball flying over in our direction. We were at the park. We had just finished with the swings and were walking over to the merry-go-round. He jumped in front of me and caught it with one hand.

  “Hey,” Joe said, kneeling down beside a little boy who had run up to us. “This your ball?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” the kid said.

  Joe mussed the boy’s hair. “It’s all right. Where’re your parents?”

  “My mom is over there.” The boy pointed to a slender woman on a park bench, holding a baby.

  Joe nodded. “How old are you?”

  “Eight,” the little boy said and looked down at his feet.

  Joe stood up and placed his hands on his hips. “You know, I was just telling Maggie, here,” he tipped his head toward me, “that I wished I had brought my ball with me.” Joe tossed the kid’s ball up in the air and caught it. “Mind if we toss your ball around? Since I forgot to bring mine?”

  The boy darted his eyes up at Joe, looking surprised, a little bit sad, and little bit happy all mixed together. “Really? You want to play with me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Joe flashed an endearing smile to the pint sized boy standing in front of him. “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Henry.”

  “Henry, I’m Joe. And this is Maggie. Can she play too?”

  “Sure,” the boy said looking overjoyed.

  Joe got down on one knee so he was eye level to Henry. “Did you bring your glove?”

  “Yeah! It’s on the bench by my mom!”

  “Go get it and make sure your mom doesn’t mind us big kids playing with you. We’ll wait.”

  “You’re something else, you know that?” I said when Henry ran off to his mother.

  “What do you mean?” Joe asked, sliding his hands in his pockets.

  “You made that boy’s day.”

  Joe shrugged his shoulders. “How has your day been so far?”

  I thought about it, my eyes darting over to where Henry was talking to his mom. He pointed his finger at us, and his mom waved to us. We waved back. The little boy’s smile was so bright I could see it clear across the park. And I thought to myself, I know exactly how you feel, kid, because I was wearing the same exact smile. I glanced back at Joe. “I never want it to end.”

  Joe pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me. “Me either, sweetheart. Me either.”

  After we left the park, we went back to Joe’s house and finished putting up the rest of the Christmas decorations. I made us dinner, and we ate by the fire in relative silence. I don’t know what was going through his mind during dinner. But I was thinking about how much fun I had with Joe today. I was twirling my fork around
on my plate deep in thought when Joe asked, “How do you get a sweet eighty-year-old woman to say the F-word?”

  I glanced up and grinned, realizing that this was Joe’s first corny joke of the day. “I don’t know.”

  “Get another sweet eighty-year-old woman to yell BINGO! What did one ocean say to another ocean?”

  Laughing, I shrugged, “Tell me.”

  “Nothing. They just waved.”

  I loved his stupid jokes. I looked forward to them, even.

  “You’re an easy audience,” he mused.

  “Probably,” I replied. “But you’re so…” So what? Incredible? Endearing? Sweet? Yes, he was all of those things – and more. I was stuck on how to finish that sentence.

  “So…what?” he asked.

  I stalled as I tried to come up with the right words.

  “Tell me,” he prodded.

  My eyes focused on my fork, “You’re everything,” I stated in awe. “Funny, smart, kind, attentive, sexy –”

  “Stop.”

  My eyes shot up to his. Had I said too much?

  “Don’t,” he said. He shook his head and flexed his jaw. “I’m trying really hard here to stay on this side of the table. You make it hard for me when you say things like that.”

  I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth and held it there, wondering if I should say something.

  “And when you do that,” he pointed to my mouth, “all I want to do is kiss that lip. I know what your mouth tastes like, and I crave it. I crave it every minute of the day.”

  “You want to kiss me again.” It was a statement, not a question. I held his eyes with mine for about five heartbeats, and then broke the hold when I let my eyes roam over his features and paused when I got to his lips. My heart was beginning to beat faster and my palms were sweating.

  “I would never stop kissing you if I had my way.”

  “Your lips might get sore.”

  “It would be worth it.”

  “You would eventually want to stop.”

  “Never.”

  “You would.”

  “I wouldn’t.’

  Joe’s cell phone rang. The light on his phone lit up, and the vibration from it made an irritating noise on the table. He didn’t make a move to answer it.