Looking In

by Michael Bailey

  Sad that her primary claim to fame, other than her name, was a sex tape.

  My name was finally called, and I paid for my prescription, then walked the three blocks to the grocery store.

  As I approached the store, I saw a figure that looked vaguely familiar, jogging through the park across the street from the grocery store.

  The last person I expected to see was Adam.

  I DROVE TO MY FAVORITE park, the one I used to go to before going into the Marines. After parking my truck, I strapped my iPhone to my left bicep, popped the earbuds into my ears, selected the loudest, angriest music I had, and cranked the volume. Running usually cleared my head. I could usually lose myself in the simple, repetitive motion of placing one foot in front of the other and the music being pumped into my ears through my earbuds.

  It wasn’t helping. I was mentally running through every worst-case scenario. I was doing everything in my power to keep my anger under control.

  I was angry with Sarah for leaving my brother. They had dated throughout high school. They did the long-distance thing when Ryan left for college. I had already been a Marine for almost two years at that point, so I wasn’t around for it. Personally, I couldn’t see how he did it. I wouldn’t have been able to. But somehow, they made it work, and were married shortly after he graduated. I came home for the wedding, and I had never seen him look happier. All through high school, he’d been a geeky, awkward little nerd, but he was my brother and I was fiercely protective of him. There were times that it was difficult to see him as a man with a wife. He would always be that scrawny kid. And I really had a hard time picturing him with children. But I knew he wanted a family. Lucas was born a year later, and, to this day, I regret missing his birth.

  I’m not a particularly religious man, but if there is a God, I was angry at him. In that instance, I chose to believe there was a God if only to justify my anger. How could something like that happen to a thirteen-year-old? He should be entering puberty, taking an interest in girls, stealing his father’s porn magazines. Instead, he was lying in a hospital bed with his head wrapped in a bandage, fighting a battle he could very well lose.

  Without realizing it, tears came to my eyes and threatened to spill over.

  Now, that protectiveness I’d always felt towards my brother had been extended to Lucas.

  That sense of powerlessness snuck up on me, and I ran harder, enjoying the burn I felt in my thighs and calves. My feet would be killing me later, but I didn’t care. I needed to get it out of my system. The anger would poison any help I could give to Ryan, and I couldn’t let that happen.

  Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t see him until it was too late. But my attention was drawn to his yellow, long-sleeved shirt. In August. It acted like a beacon, and I again wondered why he was wearing long sleeves in August.

  David.

  The pull I felt toward him seemed almost tangible, like an invisible cord was wrapped around my waist. Without conscious thought, I jogged up to him. I swear, he looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place. His eyes were wide, and I couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or terror.

  He was adorable!

  I approached him slowly, like you’d do with a kitten you’re trying to rescue. I pulled my earbuds free from my ears, and said, “What’re you doing here?”

  He glanced back over his shoulder, to the entrance of the grocery store and back at me.

  I got the point. Shopping, of course. Smooth, Adam, real smooth. Jackass!

  I could tell he was nervous, and a large part of me wanted to take those nerves, that sense of unease, away from him. I didn’t understand why. I simply felt it on an instinctual level. It made no sense to me. I had met him less than twenty-four hours earlier, and I was wishing I could take his discomfort away. I decided on a different tactic. “Thanks for your help yesterday.”

  He seemed to brighten at that. “I’m glad I could. It was for your nephew, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he like it?” He glanced down at the cement, but I didn’t miss the hopefulness in his tone, almost like he was looking for some sort of approval, which surprised me. He didn’t need my approval for anything, but I felt the need to give it anyway.

  “He was still pretty out of it when I left last night, so I didn’t give it to him.” I said, running my hands through my damp hair, “I’m sure he’ll love it. He’s a lot like his father; obsessed with one thing and has to get everything he can get his hands on. I just haven’t gotten the chance to give it to him yet.”

  David tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Why not? I got the impression that you were going to see him right after leaving the store.”

  “I was. I did. He’s…he’s in the hospital.” That last piece slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it.

  His eyebrows knit together in concern. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is he okay?”

  I sensed he would be able to tell if I was lying. I debated the appropriateness of telling him about Lucas. Should I tell him about the leukemia? Was it even my place? I went for broke. “He has leukemia.”

  David gave a gasp, and brought his hand to his mouth, slightly covering it. “That’s awful! He’s being treated, right?”

  Now I looked at the ground. I felt like a little kid, shuffling my feet. I didn’t want to unload my problems on him, but I couldn’t stop the word vomit once it started. “We don’t know what’s going to happen. He was just diagnosed yesterday. My brother and I are going back to the hospital when I get home to check up on him.”

  His arm lifted as if he were going to reach out to me, then he stopped, seeming to catch himself. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too. Thank you. So, I’m just out for a jog. Needed to clear my head and burn some energy.”

  “Understandable. How’s your brother holdin’ up?”

  “He’s a mess. It’s his little boy. I mean, yeah, I know Lucas is thirteen, but every parent sees their kid as ‘their baby.’”

  Darkness passed over David’s eyes for a split second, then was gone. He probably didn’t realize that I caught it, but I did. And in that instant, I knew I wanted to take away whatever had caused it. Had I said something wrong? No, I didn’t think so. But it still caused me concern.

  “Plans for the day?”

  David glanced around and shrugged his shoulders. “Grocery shop then head home, I guess. Nothing major.”

  Sounded boring to me. But, at that moment, I would have taken boring any day over what I knew I would be dealing with later on.

  David paused for a moment, as if he were searching for the right words. “I’m sorry to hear about your nephew.”

  “Thanks.” I was afraid I would make things awkward the longer we talked about Lucas. I didn’t want the conversation to end. I didn’t want to leave. But I knew that Ryan was waiting for me at home. “Actually, I should take off. Ryan’s probably going berserk right now.”

  David’s shoulders seemed to slump a little, as if he was disappointed that I was leaving.

  “Um…okay. Nice seeing you again,” he said.

  “You too.” I tried to give him a grin, but I may have failed. He looked sad, dejected, like a kid that had wanted one thing for his birthday, and ended up getting something completely the opposite.

  We each turned, me in the direction of my truck, and him to head into the store

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. What’re you doing? DO something! Say something!

  I stopped and turned. “Hey, David?”

  He also stopped. Thank Christ, or I would have felt dumber than I already did. “Yeah?”

  “Can I…um…call you sometime. Or text. Or something. I mean, if I have a…comic book question?”

  Smooth, jackass, real smooth.

  His cheeks pinkened, and he looked down to the ground. I could see the embarrassment rolling off of him. But, to my surprise, barely over a whisper, he said, “Yes. I’d like that.”

  My stomach did a little flip a
nd I did an internal cheer. “Yeah?” I couldn’t help my stupid grin. I knew it was there, but I couldn’t make it go away.

  He was grinning too.

  I undid the Velcro strap holding my phone to my bicep, opened up my contacts, and created a new one, titled simply “D.” “Cool. What’s your number?”

  He told me. I entered it, then repeated it back to him, just to make sure I had it right. Once saved, I opened my messaging app and fired off a text to his phone. A second later, I heard his phone beep. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen.

  “That’s me. Call me or text me. Anytime.”

  He didn’t look up at me, instead seeming to study his phone. All I got was, “Okay.” But I wasn’t put off by it. We had just met the day before, after all. We weren’t the best of friends. We were barely acquaintances. But I had every intention of changing that. I suspected that I would have to go slow, though, or risk scaring him away. My gut was telling me that scaring him off would be the worst possible thing that I could ever do. I didn’t understand why, but had learned a long time ago to trust my instinct. It had saved my ass more than once in Afghanistan. Something about this felt right.

  Re-strapping my phone to my arm and popping an earbud back into my left ear, I said, “Cool. I’ll talk to ya soon.”

  He gave a shy little grin and waved.

  Again, ADORABLE.

  Reluctantly, I turned and jogged back in the direction of my truck, leaving him standing in front of the grocery store.

  I STOOD IN FRONT OF the grocery store, phone in hand, and stared at the ten little numbers displayed on my phone’s screen.

  Did that really happen?

  Why did he give me his number?

  Me! Did he think I was gay?

  Do I look gay?

  Is he gay?

  Me!

  My thoughts were racing. I didn’t know what to think, how to react. I was excited and terrified at the same time. Nothing like that ever happened to me. I never expected it to, never dreamed that anyone would take an interest in me. Especially someone like Adam. He exuded masculinity from every pore, from the finely-muscled chest, to the tattoo sleeve, to how he carried himself. Sure. Confident. Comfortable in his own skin. What would he ever see in a loser like me? I was a nothing, a nobody. I worked in a comic shop, lived in a studio apartment, took the bus everywhere.

  Why was he having this kind of effect on me after talking to him for a total of ten minutes in the past twenty-four hours?

  But I couldn’t deny he was. Maybe I was just desperate and grateful for the attention. Maybe I was reading too much into it. He couldn’t really mean anything by it, right?

  I saved his information in my contacts, pocketed my phone, and pulled out my list. Given that I was using public transportation, not to mention being limited on funds, I had to watch what I bought.

  While I was on the bus for the return trip home, I heard a ping from my cell phone and felt the vibration in my pocket. The elderly woman next to me glanced in my direction, and I smiled apologetically at her. Fishing my phone from my pocket, I pressed the button to light up the screen and saw I had a text message. From Adam.

  Huh?

  I turned the volume on my phone down, leaving it on vibrate, and opened the message.

  -Hi!

  Simple. To the point. Non-offensive.

  My fingers tried to type out a response, but my hands were shaking with excitement and nerves. Finally, after several mistakes trying to type a longer message, I simply sent out -Hi.

  -What are you doing?

  Slightly embarrassed, I typed - On the bus headed home.

  Adam might as well know what kind of a loser I really was up front. I could give him an easy out if he wanted it.

  -Seriously?

  There it was, The Judgment. People always seemed to look down at me when they found out I didn’t drive, like I had done something criminal that prevented me from driving, or there was something seriously wrong with me. No one believed you could truly survive without a car. I was always asked the questions, “At your age?” “How do you get around?” and “What if you want to go somewhere?” My responses were always “I manage,” and “I don’t go anywhere.” The last wasn’t completely true. I went places like the drug store or grocery store. But socially? Why would I go anywhere socially when I had no social life?

  -I could have given you a ride home.

  Wait, where were the questions?

  -I’m fine on the bus. You don’t even know where I live.

  -Doesn’t matter. I still could have.

  Surprised, I wanted to ask him why, but I withheld.

  He sent a second message. -Still, it must suck.

  I couldn’t lie. Sometimes it did. Especially during the winter, or pouring rain. But I wasn’t in a position where I could change my circumstances. -It can. But it can also be peaceful too.

  -How so?

  I thought about it for a minute. -Sometimes the sound of the bus turns into kind of a white noise. You can drown everything else out and just stare out the window or read.

  All of which was true. I found myself doing that, simply staring out the window, quite a bit. It helped to clear my thoughts.

  -Even so, ever need a ride, just call or text.

  Where did that come from? Why was he offering me, a virtual stranger, a ride? Would he offer one to a hitchhiker? Was he some kind of stalker?

  -Ok. I highly doubted I ever would. In fact, I highly doubted this would ever go anywhere. Promises are easily made and easily broken. People with good intentions rarely follow through on them, at least in my experience.

  After several minutes, I thought the conversation was finished. I pocketed my phone and turned my attention to the passing buildings outside of the bus.

  My phone vibrated again, and my heart gave a little sputter. Maybe the conversation wasn’t as over as I had thought.

  -I’m glad I ran into you today.

  He was?

  -You were?

  He responded with a smiley face emoji. -I was.

  Somewhat dumbfounded, I responded -Why?

  Several minutes passed, and I thought he had given up. I wouldn’t have blamed him. I’ll admit, I wasn’t much of a conversationalist, even on my best days. And I had never texted anyone before. No one! In this day and age, that was virtually unheard of. Everyone texted. It seemed to be the primary method of communication, especially in the younger generation. And, let’s face it, the question wasn’t exactly friendly. If fact, if read wrong, that one-word response could have been taken incredibly combatively.

  Finally, my phone vibrated, and I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  -I don’t know anyone here anymore. Except for my brother and nephew. I haven’t been out since getting back.

  -Getting back?

  -To the States.

  -From where?

  -Afghanistan.

  I quirked an eyebrow. -What were you doing there?

  -In the Marines.

  Well, that was news. However, it completely fit his persona. It also explained his physical build and the tattoos. -For how long?

  -How long in the Marines or how long in Afghanistan?

  -Both.

  -Marine for about 15 years, Four tours in Afghanistan.

  -Wow! Are you out?

  After I sent that, I realized it could have been taken a couple of different ways. Was he out of the Marines, or was he gay and out?

  His response was almost immediate. -Yes.

  “Yes” to which? But it was impossible for him to know which question I wanted answered, and I didn’t know how to pose them without coming off offensively.

  -Why’d you leave the Marines?

  Another lull in the conversation followed. I feared perhaps I had encroached into too much personal territory and had scared him off.

  My phone vibrated again. Saw too much.

  I suspected that was the answer to both questions. There was a simple tru
th in that answer. One can see too much, experience too much, before they finally decide to give up. I should know.

  -I’m sorry. I sent back. And I was. I had watched the news. I knew from the news stories how horrible it could be over there. I couldn’t imagine surviving in those circumstances, surrounded by all of the death and destruction. I had nightmares of my own, no thanks to my own past. I couldn’t imagine what kind of nightmares an experience like that could give.

  -Thank you. But you don’t need to be. My choices, my consequences.

  I didn’t want the conversation to end. For the first time, in entirely too long, I was enjoying talking to someone other than the people I worked with. I got the sense that there was something more to Adam’s time overseas, but I couldn’t ask. We didn’t know each other, really, and it wasn’t my place. I needed to change the subject.

  -How’s your nephew?

  -We’re heading there now. Ryan was pissed when I got home, but I really can’t blame him.

  -Why?

  -Pissed?

  -Yeah.

  -Because I was gone so long.

  Because of me. I didn’t say that, but as if he knew what I was thinking, he texted. -Don’t apologize. I know you were going to.

  How did he know? Again, I didn’t text that. Instead, I sent a smiley face emoji.

  -I wanted to talk to you.

  Again, my heart gave a little flutter. I could almost believe he truly did want to talk to me.

  Almost.

  -At the hospital. Gotta run. Can I text you later?

  An involuntary grin spread across my face. -Yes.

  -COOL! Followed by a smiley face emoji with a large grin. -Talk soon.

  The grin that I had as I climbed the stairs to my studio matched that last emoji.

  NO RISK, NO REWARD, RIGHT?

  I knew I was taking a risk when I texted David. I knew there was the possibility that he wouldn’t respond. But I also knew that I had to try. Both times we had talked, he seemed reserved, closed off. But I also got the sense that he wanted a connection with someone. I know, it sounds crazy. I didn’t even know him; how could I make that kind of judgment call? I have no idea, it was just something that I knew. The guy could barely look at me. But it was that very fact that told me he wanted the connection. The way he looked down at the ground, but cast his eyes in my direction, like he wanted to look directly at me, but was afraid to. And it was that very fear that I’d sensed in him that I wanted to replace.