The Pancake Club Anthology

by Jennifer Conner

  “We were soldiers, Ms. Defoe, not shrinks. Therapy kind of takes a back seat when someone is trying to kill you. I’m not making apologies for what we did.”

  “All right. No, you’re right.” Jennifer conceded his point. She stooped down next to Mike and called his name. She wanted to touch him, to share some of her compassion, but Larry’s words still rang in her head. Startling him could do more harm than good.

  She called his name again and cooed soothing nonsensical words for what seemed like an eternity before Mike’s breathing evened out and his limbs visibly relaxed.

  “What?” he mumbled after another minute.

  “You gave us a scare there, son.” Larry piped in before she could say anything. “Bart blew a tube and you jumped and hit your noggin on the underside of the car you were working on. Knocked you clean out.”

  Jennifer didn’t approve of lying but, in this case, she could see where Larry’s little white lie was the best course of action.

  “What are you doing here?” Mike said.

  “She came in to settle her bill,” Larry said. “Go sit yourself down for a bit and drink a cold soda. Get yourself back together. Ms. Defoe and I will take care of her paperwork so she can pick up her car after work.”

  Mike nodded, still not completely himself, and walked slowly toward the break area at the back of the garage as Larry ushered Jennifer into the office.

  The door scarcely closed behind them before Jennifer asked, “PTSD? He was on a ship. How’d he get it there?”

  “Coke?” Larry asked as he popped the tab on a can.

  Fewer things annoyed Jennifer more than people trying to deflect questions.

  Larry noticed her sour expression and sighed.

  “Look, Ms. Defoe, I don’t know the whole story. You’d have to ask him. He told me when I agreed to hire him on as a temp that there’d been an accident with a friend of his and he had shell shock. I didn’t dig and I didn’t need to know. Up until today, it hasn’t been an issue.”

  “At all?” Jennifer asked in disbelief. “In a place this noisy?”

  “Nothing major,” Larry corrected himself. “Couple of jumps when someone dropped a wrench or an exhaust backfired but nothing like today. Maybe he’s just under more stress than usual?”

  Jennifer’s insides squirmed and her long-repressed guilt complex began to claw its way out of her stomach. She knew full well where the extra stress came from.

  “So how do you want to pay?” Larry interrupted her thoughts and switched topics. “I can take a post-dated check if that would be best for you. You’re a frequent enough customer, I can give you that privilege.”

  “No. Thanks. I can cover it,” Jennifer said and fumbled in her purse for her debit card. She had many more questions she wanted answered, but Jennifer felt Larry’s growing reluctance to speak about Mike’s “problem,” and let the subject drop.

  As Larry waited for the transaction to complete, he started to fill out the invoice and then stopped. “You’ll pardon my butting in, but you do know that boy’s crazy about you right?”

  Jennifer blushed. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her mechanic. She doubted being able to put a fuel injector back together qualified anyone to speak on affairs of the heart. “I, ah—”

  “You also know I should bust him for driving the tow around like it was your personal taxi but, oh heck, I’m just old enough to remember being young. I did my own share of stupid things to get the attention of girls back when.”

  “He means well,” Jennifer said, coming to Mike’s defense.

  “I know he does,” Larry gave her a fatherly smile. “He’s a good kid. Just be careful with him, Ms. Defoe. Thank you for your business. Have a good day.”

  She hated herself for sneaking out of the garage, but she did spare a glance back to see Mike bent forward in a chair with his forehead resting on a soft drink can. She fled to Claire’s car.

  At five o’clock, from her office window, she could see the familiar red tow truck sitting idling in the parking lot. She turned down Claire’s offer of a ride home. There was something she needed to do. Jennifer spent the afternoon reading about PTSD on the Internet. Now she had a good idea of why Mike fled back home. It was a familiar environment, it was home, and, hopefully, a place of previously good memories.

  To her shame, the biggest guilt came from wondering if the kiss earlier in the truck had been something he really meant or if it was merely a way to try to attach himself to his past. She could see herself having a future with Mike but, she laughed bitterly, she could back in high school too. Was her overactive imagination setting her up for more pain? The kiss had been real enough but were his feelings for her?

  “Do you have plans for tonight?”

  Mike’s question caught her off guard.

  “What?”

  “Do you have plans for tonight?” Mike repeated. “I was thinking your place, a bad movie and Chinese?”

  “My place?” She caught herself repeating what he said again and thought a slew of words that her grandmother would certainly not approve of. What was it about Mike that made her lose her freaking mind? She was an editor—Chief Editor in fact. Words were her life, but around him, she became a complete imbecile.

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “My place is...guy central and the diner is closed.”

  “Okay,” she said and mentally kicked herself again. By now her brain must be filling out the arrest warrant for domestic abuse. Say something!

  “Great. I’ll come by about seven and Jen? Don’t clean. I know you. This will just be a quiet evening at home, not a big deal.”

  Quiet evening it most certainly would not! She had never had a man over unless you counted the air conditioner repairman. Jennifer tried not to rush inside as Mike let her out in front of her house. It wasn’t until she had the front door between them that she realized she still didn’t have her car.

  Chapter Four

  It seemed like there was barely enough time to grab a quick shower and to hurriedly tidy up the living room before the confident knock came on her front door. Jennifer spared a last glance at the coffee table to make sure the well-worn issues of Cosmo had been banished from sight and replaced with suitably more sophisticated titles.

  Mike smiled at her and hefted two plastic bags full of various Styrofoam containers. “Pork Moo Goo Gai Pan with an extra egg roll and plenty of duck sauce.”

  Jennifer smiled. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “I’m just glad you didn’t dress up,” Mike said and eyed her sweatpants and T-shirt. “I’d hate to have underdressed for such a gourmet meal.”

  Jennifer ignored his comment. He looked great in those old jeans and jersey.

  She took the bags and deposited them on her small dining room table and went into the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” Mike called after her.

  “To get some paper plates. We might be dressed down, but that doesn’t mean we have to be barbarians.”

  “I hope you don’t mind finding something on TV,” Mike said. “I didn’t have time to grab a rental and I wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate my taste in movies.”

  “I don’t mind and, if I remember right from all those years ago, watching some revenge action flick is not conducive to a quiet evening. I like to eat my egg rolls without the accompaniment of automatic weapons fire.”

  “I’ll have you know I’ve matured,” Mike said. “I’ve been known to watch a movie with a couple taking a nice, romantic walk.”

  “Is that before or after the werewolf kills them?” Jennifer asked with a laugh.

  “Well, before, obviously, because, if it was after, they’d be zombies.”

  “Good to know some things never change,” Jennifer called from the kitchen. “The remote should be on the couch. See what you can find. I’ll be done here in a minute.”

  Jennifer returned to find an old black and white movie playing. It looked like something set during the Civil War, but the
dialog seemed stilted enough to promise entertainment without too much brainpower involved.

  They sat on the couch and ate and talked. Jennifer found herself goaded into describing what she did on a day-to-day basis at her job, afraid that she’d bore Mike to tears. Instead, he asked several questions to clarify something he didn’t understand. In exchange, she got him to talk about what he did in the Navy. He told her he attached weapons onto waiting jets. Mike also explained to her all the different helmet and vest colors each person on the “deck” wore and how the colors designated their jobs. His was red.

  Neither of their present lives held much by way of sparkling conversation so they drifted back in time to their high school days and the topics freely shifted among past classmates, cherished memories, and memorable pranks. The movie droned in the background and was soon forgotten.

  A full belly, familiar conversation, and the passing time took its toll. Jennifer soon found herself leaning against Mike on the couch. His relaxed posture signified he felt the same. Both of them should be on their way and off to their beds, but Jennifer didn’t want to move or do anything to disturb their tranquility.

  Mike’s arm came down from the back of the couch and went cautiously around her shoulders. She had to gently laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “You wanted to do that all night, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “I wish you would have done it earlier.”

  They sat in silence awhile, until Mike finally spoke.

  “Jen, ever since I came back, I keep thinking that I messed up bad.”

  Her hopes rose that Mike might finally open up to her, but she kept her voice calm.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I never should have left. I should have stayed here.”

  “But you wanted to see the world,” she countered. “It was your chance.”

  Mike shook his head. “Saw too much of it,” he mumbled but Jennifer couldn’t miss it. “You would’ve gotten though my dumb head eventually and shown me there was a reason to stay. We would have gotten married in the old church up on—”

  “Wildflowers.”

  “Huh?”

  “We would have gotten married in a field of wildflowers. That was what I imagined. Silly, I know.”

  “You thought it through didn’t you?”

  “All the way down to the food at the reception and the color of the bridesmaid dresses,” Jennifer admitted with a soft laugh.

  “We still—”

  “Don’t. Please, Mike,” she said. “I didn’t stop you before and I won’t again. I’ve made a life for myself here. You’ve made a career in the Navy. I won’t have you throw away everything you’ve worked for on account of me.”

  “What if I want to?”

  “I’m not a great catch, Mike. What can I offer you?”

  “The same thing you could have all those years ago. I just wanted you, Jen, but I was too damn stupid to open my mouth because I was afraid you’d say no. I mean, seriously? Average high school football player with no prospects, not college material. You had plans, school. I had nothing, so I ran. I ran so far away that you’d forget me. I kept hoping that you’d find someone better than me. God knows you deserve better.”

  “And what makes you so sure that I do?”

  Mike looked uncomfortable. “I’m a broken man. I’m not right anymore.”

  Jennifer took a deep breath. It was time to lay her cards on the table. She knew that her next words could utterly destroy any chance at a relationship between them but she refused to pretend she didn’t know. A life built on lies could never last.

  “It’s the PTSD isn’t it?” she asked softly.

  Mike started and Jennifer pressed herself closer against him, trying to will any shred of comfort she might have left in her to him.

  “I guess it’s impossible to keep a secret,” Mike said and made to get up off the couch, bitterness in his voice. “Did you turn your inner reporter loose on Larry? How long have you known? No, you know what? Never mind, I’ll see myself—”

  “Would you shut up?” Jennifer snapped. She reached out and firmly placed both of her hands on either side of his head and twisted his face toward hers. “Yes, Larry spilled the beans but only because he was worried about you. That day you knocked yourself out? Yeah, you had an episode bad enough to scare him and the only person he knew that you did as well, was me. So, yeah, blame me for caring!”

  Jennifer surprised herself with her outburst. It wasn’t like her at all. If she didn’t act, Mike would leave and she would be left alone again. If she did act, she might get the same, but she would have at least tried.

  Jennifer felt her eyes tear up. She did the only thing that came to mind and crushed her lips against his. If this was going to be the end, she was at least going to have this last bittersweet memory.

  She broke contact and stared deep into his eyes. “If you freaked me out that bad, do you really think I’d have you here on my couch? I don’t care, Mike. You’re still the man I loved all those years ago.”

  “I have to see a psychologist twice a month,” he said miserably. “What does that tell you?”

  Jennifer snorted. Typical male, ashamed of getting help for anything.

  “That you’re getting help, that you don’t have to deal with this alone. Jesus, Mike, what do you want me to think about you? That you’re some kind of ogre? You’re not. You’re just being very stubborn—and selfish.”

  He sighed and sank back against the couch, the fight seemingly taken out of him. “Do you want to know what happened?”

  “Only if you want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t, but I need to tell you this, Jen, then you can make up your mind about me.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully as if building up the fortitude to remember. “I had a friend on the ship. His name was Terrence, Terrence Boyd. We were close. We worked side-by-side every day. He gassed up the jets while I loaded them. But it was beyond a work thing. We played basketball, shared beer, I mean I even introduced him to his wife when we were docked in Rota. Christ only knows what poor Yolanda is going through. We played football out on the deck with the other guys—”

  “What happened?” Jennifer prodded, sensing that Mike was meandering, trying to shy away from talking about whatever was the root of his problem.

  “We were talking one minute and the next—”

  “Mike, please,” Jennifer said, her voice soft.

  “He got sucked into a jet,” Mike said in a rush as if it hurt him to say it. “There was a big bang and a flash and then all I saw were his feet sticking out.”

  Jennifer sat in stunned silence. This was not what she expected.

  “I mean it all sounds like some kind of joke, a story you see online and shake your head at. Man eaten by jet.” Mike said. “It was awful.”

  “Did he die?” Jennifer asked, feeling bad about asking such a morbid question.

  “It might have been better if he had,” he said. “His helmet saved him.”

  “But that’s good, right?”

  “He suffered a traumatic brain injury. They got him to the infirmary and then airlifted him off to a hospital but the damage had already been done. He’ll never be right again. I tried to see him after they took him down off the deck...I couldn’t bear it. He was propped up in a bunk, head wrapped up, grinning like an idiot and grunting. I...I couldn’t look him in the eye. I’m not even sure if he knows who I am now.”

  “Oh, Mike.” Jennifer sighed and laid her head against his chest.

  “Since then, I can’t get it out of my head. I hear loud bangs and expect to see feet sticking out somewhere near me. I’ve tried to tell myself all of this is in the past, but it’s like my mind can’t let it go, like it’s locked in like a bad record on repeat. You know it’s coming back around again but you can’t do anything to stop it.”

  Jennifer wanted to say something, but Mike was gazing past t
he television set and still speaking so she remained silent.

  “The shrinks told me the best thing is to keep on going on with my life, and that things will fade with time. That’s why I came back here. I wanted to put myself back before the accident, before the navy, back when I was only a dumb kid who liked to work on cars.”

  Puzzle pieces fell together in Jennifer’s mind as various snippets of conversation and what she knew about Mike and his return fell into place. On one level, she felt proud of her little bit of detective work, but, on the other hand, she felt like a jerk for being so analytical when Mike needed her emotional support.

  “You can’t go back.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “Honorable discharge.” Mike sighed and then grimly laughed. “I’m too messed up to be trusted around things that go boom.”

  “And the two weeks?”

  “That was true, kind of. I gave myself two weeks here to see if there was anything for me. If not...” He shrugged. “I’d see what I could find elsewhere.”

  “Have you?”

  “I’d like to believe I might.”

  Jennifer’s alarm went off too early the next morning and she considered pitching a shoe at it, before she realized why she’d set it for so early. Only after she’d stayed up with Mike well past her normal bedtime, had she convinced him to join her for breakfast. She just finished one final check of her hair when she heard the low rumble of the tow truck’s engine out at the walk.

  Her grin grew wider at Mike’s haggard appearance. So his hotness did have a weakness. It was called two o’clock in the morning. “Good morning!” she said, forcing a chipper sing-song lilt to her voice.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he grumbled and rubbed his eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Trust me, both of us will feel much better after several pots of coffee.”

  The Memories Diner was its usual bustling self and Mike had to circle the block a few times before he saw someone leave the parking lot. He quickly took the vacated space.

  Jennifer could have found their table if she hadn’t known where it was simply by following Barb’s laughter. The cowgirl looked up from her waffle at their approach.