by Leanne Davis
He straightened. Her eyes reflected her exhaustion. He felt bad leaving her and a responsibility towards her he hadn’t felt for the numerous women he’d had casual on-going relationships with. This one, though, his brother’s fiancée, had somehow gotten to him.
He checked on her every couple of hours for four days. He was hesitant to leave her at night, but knew she’d wear herself out screaming at him if he attempted to stay around past dark. Her anger towards him seemed to cool each time he checked on her. He couldn’t do much but grab water and eventually crackers for her and heat up soup towards the end of the second day. Still, she seemed glad to have the company, especially as she started to regain some strength.
And he liked doing it for her. He liked coming and going from her apartment. He liked talking to her every few hours. They avoided any hot topics and kept it impersonal. But still. Being with her mattered more than what they actually talked about. Finally, as the weekend approached, she was on the mend. And so that weekend he didn’t see her and he was surprised how much he wanted to, how many times he even picked up the phone to call her. But he didn’t do it. Nothing had changed. Other than she hated him a little less. And he seemed to like her a whole lot more.
When Monday came around, her car was gone. She was back to work. So then, was he. And he had to ignore the twist of regret in his gut. Things were back to how they should be.
Chapter Eleven
Christine waited a few days after the bout of flu to start jogging again. In that time she hadn’t more than passed by Jason. And... she missed him. Even being so sick she couldn’t shower didn’t change how much she had liked seeing him. When was this cat-and-mouse game of theirs finally going to end? When would she stop looking for a glimpse of him? When would she stop anticipating each drive home from work and the chance that Jason might still be around?
Did she want Jason in her life? If so, then in what capacity? And where did that leave Trent? Where did she want that to leave Trent?
He’d been nice while she’d been sick. So what? That just showed he wasn’t a completely unfeeling jerk. What did that have to do with anything? Nothing. Even though her head made it feel like everything.
In the few months since she’d met Jason, she’d done nothing but think about him. And it was time to stop and move on. Time to stop purposely trying to see him. Time to figure out what it was she was doing with her life. Mooning after Jason Malone certainly wasn’t accomplishing anything, and it was not why she had suddenly ducked out of her life. She was truly confused and wanted some time, some breathing room, to figure out what to do next, what career to start, where she wanted to live, and how she wanted to live. That was all real.
But the stuff with Jason was all just a distraction that wouldn’t end. A distraction that was pointless, because as he’d made perfectly clear, he didn’t want her in his life, for too many reasons to count. Beyond even her involvement with Trent. So what was she doing? Trying to change his mind?
She stared at her hands and sighed. What if she was trying to change his mind? What exactly did it mean? And if that was the case, shouldn’t she finally be honest, at least with herself?
****
Christine came home one evening after the garage had been closed up tight and saw an unfamiliar old beater car, parked crookedly in the parking lot. Sometimes customers dropped their cars off after hours to be worked on the next day. She ignored it and jogged towards her stairs and headed up to her place.
Shortly after there was a knock. Cautious now, she grabbed her cell phone and peeked through the peep hole. Then she opened the door to the stranger. The woman was older, fifties maybe. Her clothes were mismatched and her hair was partially dyed, with dark roots and white-blonde ends. The woman was pale and skinny, with an overly wrinkled face that had make-up caked into the deep creases. She was also several noticeable inches shorter than Christine’s own five-four, and she probably weighed less than a hundred pounds.
“Can I help you?”
“You his girl?” the woman asked, her voice deep and hoarse.
“Who are you looking for?”
“Jason. I went by his house a few weeks back and they says he wasn’t living there. I know he works down there, so I figures he’s livin’ here. I really need to find him.”
“Jason doesn’t live here.”
“You his girlfriend?” she said, her eyes raking over Christine.
“No. Who are you?”
“His mom. Where is he?”
This was Jason’s mother? Her eyes bulged at the gravity of the situation. Here was Irene Malone, in what little flesh she had.
“You’re Jason’s mother?”
“Yeah. Let me in. I need to see him.”
“Jason doesn’t live here,” she repeated
“Sure he does. He works there,” she said again as she pointed down to the garage. Her eyes didn’t focus on Christine. “And them renters squatting in his house said he don’t live there.”
It had been weeks since Jason had moved back home. This woman was just now getting around to looking for him here?
“Jason moved back to his house, and I live here now.”
“So you’re not his girlfriend?” Irene asked, her mind seeming to take too long to follow what Christine was saying. Her eyeballs darted around like ping pong balls.
“No.”
“Well, I s’pose I’ll go find him. Sorry to disturb you,” Irene Malone said as she turned and started to leave.
She stared after Irene. What did Irene want from Jason? Should she call Jason and let him know Irene was most likely on her way to his house?
She made up her mind as she called, keys and purse in hand, “Wait, I’ll drive you there.”
She put the pathetic mass of bones into her passenger seat, where the woman sunk down, as if exhausted. Irene was so pathetic, Christine almost felt sorry for her. She couldn’t get over that Irene Malone had just shown up after all this time at her doorstep.
She didn’t feel afraid of Irene. She was too sad and too skinny to be scared of. What would Jason do about her? There was no telling what his reaction was going to be. She called Bill from her cell phone for directions to Jason’s house, and now she was on her way with his mother.
Irene didn’t talk. She seemed disoriented on the drive. It took only fifteen minutes to reach Jason’s neighborhood. It was up on a hill outside of town, nestled in with other similarly sized houses of different shapes, some new and others old. Different sized lots and yards lined the streets. She found his house and was relieved that it wasn’t trashy. It was a lovely, well-maintained rambler.
Again, he surprised her. She hadn’t pictured him having a neat rambler with a picket fence alongside a quiet street. A path to the front door dissected the lawn into two halves. It was cut short with shrubs and flower beds lining the house and the fence. The house was small, but had a two car garage with a bay window off the front entrance. It was painted a pretty shade of blue. She parked in front of the house on the street. It was a totally typical house and neighborhood. She really didn’t picture this as Jason Malone’s.
She sat in the car longer than she needed, steeling her nerves for whatever his reaction to all this would be. Irene had passed out on the short ride. What the hell was she on?
Christine got out finally and headed to the front door. She knocked with more confidence than she felt. Her stomach was jumpy with nerves. Jason answered, swinging the door open wide. His eyes widened. She almost smiled at him because he looked so different. He had on sweats and a sweatshirt. He must have been doing some sort of project, because dirt smeared his check and his hair was all messed up. Apparently taken off guard by her presence, he seemed almost approachable. Almost likeable.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to come by here so unexpected.”
He looked down and then back up at her. “I just got done with some yard work.”
“Oh. It’s nice. Your house, I mean.”
He bristled, his eyes narrowing. “What were you expecting?”
Ah, the tone. Jason’s usual, offensive, expecting the worst out of her tone.
“Nothing. I wasn’t expecting anything. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Then why?”
“Let me come in,” she said, pushing past him before he could see her car. Surprised by her forcefulness he didn’t have time to move out of her way. She slid along his chest as she squeezed past him. She walked in, then turned and faced him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his mouth curving in a frown as he shut the door behind her.
“Do you want to see your mother?”
He jerked his neck and crossed his arms. “What? Why?”
“Please, just answer me.”
His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I don’t know. I just... want answers about what happened to me. What’s going on? Why would you show up out of nowhere asking me this?”
She licked her lips. “The thing is, Irene showed up at the garage looking for you. She thought you lived there. I—I brought her here. I didn’t know what else to do.”
She waited, almost cringing in anticipation of his reaction. What she didn’t expect was Jason’s face to fall and his shoulders to slump in defeat. Then he turned around and looked through the relite in the front door. He swore and thumped the door with his fist. He stalked away from her, down a short hallway and into the kitchen. She followed. He stopped before the sink and looked out the back window as if he couldn’t bear to look towards the front of the house.
Awkwardly she waited for him to say something. His stance was taut and his shoulders, stiff. She said softly, “I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry. I thought she’d show up here anyway, and at least if I brought her I could warn you.”
“How did she seem?”
“Desperate. She said she had something she had to see you about.”
He snorted. “I’ll just bet. She probably still thinks her drugs are hidden here. She probably needs them. I truly don’t know if she even knows I was arrested.”
The only indication something was wrong was the white color of his knuckles gripping the counter. Then silence. The ticking clock and the hum of the refrigerator were the only sounds to break the taut mood.
“It’s never going to be over, is it?” he said finally. Quietly. Defeated. Jason seemed different then, vulnerable, for the first time since she’d met him.
She remained silent, afraid that if she spoke he’d close back up.
He shook his head. “I thought that once I got back into my house things would get better. But it’s not. It’s not going to end. Don’t you see? I’m still a convicted felon. I thought I could move on. Forget it. But I can’t. And then even when I manage to get some semblance of my life back, she shows up. I thought I wanted to find her. I wanted answers. I wanted her to admit it was she who gave my name up to some asshole to get a deal at my expense. But what kind of joke is that? What am I going to do? Force a confession out of her? What good is it anyway? I already went to prison. Nothing changes that.”
“Except for the truth being told.”
“Who cares about the God damned truth? Especially now, after the fact? What good will it do?”
“You could get cleared. This is your chance to get your life back.”
“What life?”
“Your life. You’re innocent and everyone should know that. Your father should know that.”
He glanced at her swiftly. “Since when do you believe me?”
“Since about five minutes of knowing you. You’re not as badass as you think.”
He watched her, wariness in his eyes. And something else. Something more. Hope? Yes, it seemed like he really hoped she believed in him. The thing was... she did. She really believed he was innocent.
He shook his head. “It’s pointless. Nothing changes it. Besides, what am I going to do? Have Irene sent to prison?”
“Doesn’t she deserve that?”
He laughed humorlessly. “She needs a fix right now and for some reason can’t afford it. Most likely story, the usual story, is she’s just gotten dumped and has no money. She shows up then, looking to me for money and a place to stay.”
“But you took the blame for her. You can’t let her get away with that.”
“It’s not as cold-blooded as that. Irene is usually too high to know better. I doubt she knows I went prison. Tell me, what good will it do if I am somehow able to get her to admit that she was involved? Then I’m the guy who put his mother in jail, when she really needs is rehab. And a mental hospital. Always has. She’s sick. I’ve always known that. I was just never able to help her.”
Christine studied Jason, realizing she’d been the total fool all along. Here was a man willing to forgive his mother, a woman who had never done a good thing for him in his life. Here was a man who saw through his anger with compassion towards a woman who didn’t deserve it. And she had thought Jason was so tough and so different from her, when in fact, he was the kind one, the good one, while she had been the one cheating and lying. And making Jason feel like Trent was better than him, when all along, it was the other way around. As with everyone in his life, she hadn’t believed in Jason. She had judged the man without seeing who he was.
“You know what this makes you?”
“A complete ass?”
“No, the best kind of person.”
A shudder passed through his body. “Sorry to ruin your fantasy about me.”
“I never had a fantasy,” she said quietly.
Moved by his words, by the raw pain in his voice, her heart twisted for him. Gone was the belligerence and the defensiveness he used to shield himself. Sensing there was nothing more she could say that would help him, she kept quiet. She ached to hold him, to ease some of his pain and let him know she cared. But that would only make him push her away.
He bent his head as if defeated. “I don’t trust myself to see her.”
“Then don’t.”
“What do I do then?”
“Don’t see her.”
“She’s sitting in your car. I have to do something with her. I can’t just dump her on the side of the street.”
“Maybe someone else should figure out what to do with her. Like the cops.”
“There’s no proof she did anything. There’s nothing. Hell, they’ll probably haul me in again.”
Christine conceded that had been a bad idea. Of course Jason would be distrustful of the police after what he’d been dealt. Stupid of her not to see that. There was someone, however, who might be able to know what to do with Irene, who owed it to Jason to do just that.
Jason’s confusion reflected in his eyes and his scrunched-up brow. She grabbed her cell phone and pressed her contacts for Terry’s name.
“Hi, Terry? It’s Christine.”
Jason’s gaze sharpened on her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved her hand at him to be quiet.
She paused as Terry spoke, then said, “Look this isn’t about Trent. Do you know where Jason lives?”
She listened to Terry answer.
“Good. Irene Malone showed up out of nowhere today. And it’s time you dealt with her.”
Terry hemmed and hawed. Christine sighed, and then answered, “Look, I could just call my own father if you won’t help me.”
She smiled snidely as Terry responded. “Good.”
Jason’s mouth hung open. He snapped it shut. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Why? He owes you something after all these years.”
“I’m in here hiding from my mother, and now Terry is supposed to come over and do what? Save me?”
“Yes,” she answered simply. “And you’re allowed to not see the woman who you’re pretty sure was integral in getting you sent to prison. I mean that is no small thing. That’s about the worst thing I’ve ever heard someone doing to another, little lone doing it to their own son.”
He shook his head. “
Do you have any idea what you just did?”
She held his gaze. “I know what I just did,” she said quietly.
“And how are you going to explain to Terry why you’re here, why you’re involved with me?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I live where you work.”
“You said it had nothing to do with me.”
She shrugged and heat rose from her neck up into her cheeks. “You know as well as I that it had everything to do with you. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. Trent knew. He had to know. Anyways, beyond all that, I made too much of a stink over how I felt about them not telling me about you. They aren’t stupid. They read into that. They know what I’ve done recently goes back to you.”
He held her gaze. “Yeah, and what did they read into it?”
“That I had contact with you. They just don’t know when or how much.”
She wanted to tell him that she had finally figured it all out. She had finally figured out what she wanted in her life. She had been running from the truth for a while now. Because she wasn’t in love with Trent. And she knew that because of how she felt about Jason. But he’d never believe her. Not after how she had acted.
And right then would be the worst possible time to try and explain it. So instead she shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t care.
Jason sagged and turned, leaning on the counter for support. He looked defeated. Approachable.
And that’s just what she did. She came up behind him, knowing full well there was every chance he’d fling her arms off him, say some rude remark and resist any comfort she could give him. But she did it anyway. His pain was too evident to just stand there as if she didn’t notice. She cared too much about him not to at least try to comfort him. She touched his back and turned him around and put her arms around him. He stiffened.
It was obvious he wasn’t used to someone hugging him to comfort him. Her arms curled around his waist and her head rested against his heart. He stood there stoically, his arms at his sides. His only acknowledgment of her was lowering his head down to rest it on top of hers.
