Beautiful Potential

by J. Saman

  But I can’t not open it, so I pull off that perfect ribbon and take off that beautiful paper, making sure I don’t so much as tear a corner of it. And then I open the box.

  A bubble of a laugh climbs its way up, but gets lodged in the back of my throat where a significant lump now resides. Inside the box is a lavender rose, the same shade as the paper, a container of expensive hot chocolate and a purple mug which says, If you speak to me before I finish this then I’ll stab you, and it has a picture of a syringe next to the writing. But the best part, are the two tickets to a Jets versus Patriot’s football game in November.

  Everything in here he had to have purchased today because he wouldn’t have known about any of this before last night.

  I don’t bother to wipe away the tears falling down my cheeks as I open the card.

  My one regret in life is that I am not someone else. Happy birthday, Gia.

  He quoted Woody Allen. I told him that Woody Allen was my favorite writer/director in passing, months ago. And he remembered. I set everything back into the box and just stare at it, trying to figure out how to make myself not fall in love with Finnigan Banner.

  Chapter 18

  Gia

  I’m late. By the time I get to Grand Central, our train is about to leave the station and Finn isn’t all that pleased with me. I couldn’t help it. It took me forever to pry myself up and off my floor. Even longer to stop my tears.

  I think I might be falling for Finn Banner.

  It’s a cruel reality to face. Especially since I know he doesn’t feel the same way back.

  Finn doesn’t comment beyond his bruising scowl. And he spends the entire train ride up to Westchester, on his phone silently ignoring me. No sideways glances. No surreptitious looks. Nothing. I might as well be a stranger and I’m starting to think his comment about things being awkward was dead on. I don’t even have the courage to thank him for the present because I might get choked up again and that’s the last thing I want.

  But the moment we pull into the station and the train lurches to a stop, he stands up and takes my hand. Like he knows I need the comfort. The support. I do. I didn’t realize how much the idea of my mother having a man friend would bother me. Or maybe it’s just the day she’s presenting him on? I don’t know. It just sucks.

  We step off the train and my eyes don’t have to go far to find my mother standing next to her Mercedes SUV. And next to her is…George Santiago. What the fuck? What happened to talking about this? I assumed she was going to tell me more about him, we’d talk, and then he’d meet us at the restaurant. But at the goddamn train?

  “I know you’re…something with me,” I say to Finn, staring straight at my mother. “But thank you for coming with me. In this moment, you really are my hero.”

  Finn squeezes my hand. “I’m definitely something with you, Gia. But I’m happy to be here for you if that’s what you need. Hero or not.”

  If I had it in me, his comment would make me smile. But I don’t. “Let’s get this over with.”

  We step off the platform and head to the parking lot. “Gia,” my mother coos. “Happy birthday, baby girl.” Her arms are outstretched like she hasn’t seen me in a decade. She gives me a two-cheek kiss–which she’s never done before–and then stops when she looks past my shoulder and spots Finn. “Dr. Banner?”

  My mother can’t quite figure this out. But really, was I supposed to tell her about him before now? No. No I wasn’t. There was nothing to tell. And there probably still isn’t. Other than the fact he’s physically present with me. “Mrs. Bianchi,” he says, extending his hand to shake hers. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Especially under better circumstances.”

  My mother shakes his hand, but her eyes are on me with a look which questions my basic sanity. “He works with me, Mom. At the hospital. He’s my…” Crap balls. What are we? Nothing. How sad is that? I can’t even call him my friend. I probably should have thought this through more than I did.

  “Finn,” Finn supplies. Was he just saying his name or was he finishing my sentence?

  My mother’s eyes widen and mine do as well and we both stare over at him. Then she smiles the smile of an elated mother who thinks he’s my new special someone. I frown because he not. He freaking sent me home in a cab last night because he didn’t want to be my Finn so that makes him a liar. Not a liar to me, I suspect, but a liar to my mother. Or maybe I’m reading way more into this than I should.

  My mother finally manages to blink, though I still haven’t found that semi-automatic response yet. “Finn,” she asserts in that motherly intonation. “I’m so pleased you could join us.” She takes a step back and then reaches out for George who steps forward and takes her hand. Then he kisses it tenderly. In front of me. Finn is still holding my hand I realize, because he gives me another squeeze. “This is my man friend, George.”

  I cannot believe she actually used the term man friend in front of him. I thought that was like a joke or a placeholder or something. Not actual descriptive words.

  George envelopes me in a hug. He doesn’t even give me the option for anything less. He’s average height with a small round pot belly, and a full head of thick silver hair. He smells like he bathed in cologne. Expensive cologne at that. He’s wearing a bright-blue polo shirt, which seems to correlate with Finn’s eyes more than George’s dark furry arms and brown pants. Who wears brown pants? They’re not even khaki.

  “Happy birthday, Gia” he booms and holy Jesus is his voice loud. Like a sports-announcer-with-a-megaphone loud. I wince. It’s not a voluntary reaction. It just happens. “It’s so great to meet you,” he yells. And I’m deaf. Like officially. My ears are ringing. Full-on tinnitus. But he has a warm smile and soft brown eyes and my mother is beaming.

  Shit. I can’t hate him.

  Finn releases my hand and takes my arm, pulling me back and tucking me into his side. I have no idea who this Finn is. All of this is very confusing. On so many levels in so many ways.

  “Your mother talks about you constantly.” More yelling before he turns on Finn. “Finn, is it?” He reaches out his hand and they shake. “These women are a handful,” he laughs loudly, patting his belly. I’m not laughing. But my mother is. No, she’s giggling. “Glad I’m not the only male presence tonight.”

  What the hell does that even mean?

  I look to Finn. He’s smirking. He’s trying not to laugh, which means he’s absolutely no help.

  “Let’s get to the restaurant. I thought we would go to that steak place you like,” My mother says, her attention focused on me, but she can’t possibly be talking to me. I don’t eat steak. I’ve never eaten steak. Hamburgers are the extent of my red meat. She’s my mother, which means she knows this already.

  So there is no steak place which I like.

  My mother is all girlish flutters as George kisses her hand again. I have no words. I don’t know what to say. I just watch as he helps her into the passenger side of her car and shuts the door behind her. He throws us a wink as he moves around and gets into the driver’s side.

  “Is it too late to make a run for it?” I whisper. I still haven’t moved. I’m standing, tucked into Finn’s side as my mother and her new man friend sit patiently in her car waiting on us. It’s like I’ve stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Nothing is as it’s supposed to be.

  “Are you kidding me?” Finn chuckles, dragging me over to the side of the car. “We’re going to that steak place you like.”

  “I hate steak, Finn.”

  “Hmmm…well, I have nothing for that. Let’s just get through this meal and I’ll buy you a drink or a cupcake or something after.”

  My eyes move on their own volition. My feet stop moving without conscious thought. I just stare up at him. I don’t know if I should thank him again or ask him what he was intimating at when he finished my sentence earlier. I don’t know if I should kiss him or slap him. I just don’t know with him.

&nbs
p; He stares back at me and for a moment, that’s all there is.

  I’m still trapped in my indecision as he blinks, opens my car door for me and helps me slip inside.

  The heat is blasting to an audible degree. Finn takes my hand quietly in the dark, but his attention is trained out the window at the passing landscape. Not even five minutes later, we pull up in front of a chain steak restaurant and a valet eagerly rushes over to open our doors. Finn steps out, waits for me and extends his hand to take as he helps me out of the car.

  “Thank you for my present,” I say to him as we follow my mom and George inside the restaurant. “I love it.” Understatement of the century.

  “It was my pleasure, Gia.”

  That’s the last thing Finn says to me the entire night we’re with my mom and George. He doesn’t look over at me. He barely acknowledges me. Except for his hand. His hand absolutely acknowledges me.

  Finn finishes his steak, sets down his fork and knife. Wipes his mouth with his napkin before setting that down too. He’s listening to something George is saying–because George hasn’t stopped talking–and suddenly, I feel his hand on the cushioned booth between us, his thumb absently brushing my leg.

  Then, ever so slowly, with obvious methodical intention, his hand skims across my exposed thigh, pushes my crossed leg away so that my legs are side by side and partially open. And then his hand engulfs my right thigh. My dress is relatively short. Not obscene by any means, but well, I knew Finn was coming to dinner. So I wore something a little on the sexy side. Now he’s taking full advantage of the length I chose.

  But that’s it. His hand doesn’t move. It just rests comfortably and much like everything else with him, I can’t figure out what he’s doing. Except for that thumb. Jesus shit. That thumb is gliding up and down and if I weren’t chatting with my mother, I’d moan. Loud. It’s as exciting as it is frustrating. It’s also consuming. It becomes all I can think about while George tells us the details of a cruise he wants to take my mother on.

  It continues like this until George asks, “So what’s the dating scene like out there for you kids these days?” The sip of wine I was in the midst of swallowing gets sucked into my trachea instead of my esophagus as I breath in and choke. Finn pats my back twice before moving his hand back to my leg as I gulp down water, spluttering into it as I go. “Your mother mentioned that Colin boy you had been dating,” he continues, ignoring the way I’m gasping for air, “But I see you got rid of him.” He wink–actually freaking winks–at Finn.

  “Yes,” my mother chimes in with a big nod of her head. “I have to admit, I wasn’t disappointed you ended it with him. He sounded like a real…” she pauses, tilting her head at me, “What was the term Chloe had for him?” I close my eyes, willing this night to be over. “Douchetard? That was it, right?” Both my mother and George start cackling rather loudly at my expense and I can feel my cheeks turning an exuberant shade of red.

  I don’t think I expected the word douchetard to come out of my mother’s mouth. It would be funny if this situation wasn’t so fucked up.

  Finn’s hand squeezes my upper thigh, his goddamn thumb is practically brushing the thin fabric covering my pussy, but his expression is placid. He’s not giving anything away.

  “Mom, can we not go there?”

  “Oh right,” she laughs again, nudging George in his side. “Not in front of Finn.” She winks at me like we have an inside joke going. “I get it.” And I want to die.

  “Can we get the check?” I might be begging.

  “No dessert? It’s your birthday.” My mother looks hurt and now I feel bad.

  “You have to get dessert, Gia,” George says, taking my mother’s hand. “Your mother wants them to sing to you.”

  “Yes, Gia,” Finn concurs with that satisfied smirk as he continues to torture me with his thumb. “They have to sing to you.”

  Asshole!

  And that’s what happens. My mother orders Tiramisu because it’s my favorite dessert and even though she brought me to a steak place, my mother loves me and knows what I like. After they sing to me and George graciously picks up the bill, despite Finn’s objections, they take us to the train station just in time to catch the 9:10 back to Grand Central.

  Finn still hasn’t said one word to me since that one time at dessert and even though he had his hand on my thigh for the better part of an hour, I can’t help but feel like I made an epic mistake bringing him with me.

  In fact, it’s making me morose. I asked him to come in a moment of weakness without thinking it through. Finn doesn’t want to date me. Finn doesn’t want my mother thinking that we’re dating. He was trying to be a nice guy by saying yes to my begging. That’s all this was.

  We get on the train and it’s pretty much empty. We have the whole car to ourselves save for a few college-aged kids at the front who are laughing as they pass their phones back and forth. I sit down heavily, crossing my arms and legs, my eyes immediately going to the window. To my surprise, Finn sits next to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to the glass, though I’m actually watching his reflection in it. “I shouldn’t have asked you along. I wasn’t thinking and I’m sorry you got sucked into all that.”

  He doesn’t say anything for so long that I eventually close my eyes so that I won’t obsess over him in the glass. But then I feel his hand on my thigh again, where it meets the edge of my long coat. My head finally falls against his shoulder and that’s how we spend the hour or so it takes to get back into the city.

  Chapter 19

  Gia

  Finn orders an Uber once we reach the station and by the time we exit one of my favorite buildings in New York, it’s waiting on us. I expected him to say goodnight here. To put me in the car the way he did last night and send me home. But he doesn’t. He gets in with me and my heart starts to beat just a bit faster.

  The sweet tortuous tension is building between us, egged on by our silence as we fly up the dark city streets. The car stops at a stoplight, two blocks from my building. I don’t want this night to end with him. At least not in this way. Where I feel like everything I did was wrong. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath.

  “I’m glad I came with you,” he says so quietly that his words are almost lost against the soft purr of the car engine. I open my eyes and pivot my face up to his. He’s staring straight ahead. Seemingly at nothing. He’s lost in something. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen what a normal loving family looks like. I realize this wasn’t your ideal. I know you miss your father and wish it had been him there instead of George.” He blinks once and then angles his face to mine. “But I’m glad I came with you,” he says again and I can’t help but smile.

  His eyes drop to my lips and that familiar conflicted demeanor crosses his features.

  I want him to kiss me so bad that my lips are practically vibrating with the thought. My hand reaches up, gliding along the crest of his stubbled jaw, up his cheek and into his soft thick hair. His eyes shut briefly before they reopen, dark and filled with heat. “Gia,” he breathes. “I can’t do this with you. Despite how badly I want to. It’s why I sent you home last night. I’m just not that guy anymore. I don’t want intimacy. I don’t want love or a relationship. And that’s what you deserve.”

  I shake my head. It is what I deserve. It’s also what I want. I know Finn has something dark about him. Something which makes him scary and damaged. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been at this game long enough to recognize the signs.

  But I still want him. Even if just for tonight.

  Maybe that’s naïve of me. Maybe that’s beyond pathetic and juvenile. And maybe I’m hoping that after one night he’ll realize that more with me isn’t so bad. But even if he doesn’t…

  The car glides through the now green light and less than a minute later, we’re pulling up in front of my building. I can’t say anything to him. My pride is telling me to shut up. It’s telling me I shouldn’t have
to throw myself at a man for them to want me. It’s telling me Finn only leads to heartbreak.

  But when he steps out of the car behind me, I don’t object. I don’t tell him no. But I don’t allow myself to hope either. I assume he’s just making sure I get into my building safely, but as I twist the key in the lock, the Uber pulls away and that hope I was just tamping down turns into a million excited bubbles. Finn tugs open the door once I get it unlocked. He lets me enter first and then he’s directly behind me, his hand wrapped around my waist as he guides me to the elevator.

  “I’m just walking you up,” he explains, but his voice his thick with want and his hand is pressing me against him in a way which lets me know those words were meant more for him than for me. I don’t say anything. There really is nothing I can say back. Stepping onto the elevator, he draws me to the very back, leaning me against him, my back to his chest. His fingers glide across my neck, moving my hair away from my shoulder and then his face drops into it with a deep sigh like there is no other place in the world he’d rather be. My eyes close and I take in a deep silent breath.

  The elevator chimes and the doors open. This is going to quickly. I’d give anything to have the power to alter time right now. To make it slow instead of fast. To turn these seconds with him into hours. He releases me, taking my hand and leading me down the hall to my door. My heart is pounding. My breaths short and ragged.

  Finn removes the keys from my hand, unlocking my door and opening it. Then he pauses, my keys encapsulated in his large hand. I stare at it for a moment, trying to force my eyes up to his. It’s not easy feat. I’ve been rejected by him a time or two already. Indecision. That’s what the look on his face says.

  He wants to leave, but he can’t make himself do it.

  He wants to stay, but he knows he shouldn’t.

  Finn is a very black and white person, I realize. He exists within the realm of all or nothing. A lot of doctors are like that. They like their facts. They have an empiric way of viewing the world. Clinical. But ironically, he isn’t there with me. He’s very much in-between. Stuck there, might be a better way to phrase it.