by J. P. London
“Seriously, Dex, a night out of drinking and doing coke might fucking kill us at this age.”
Dexter laughed.
“Mark is forty-five, looks like he’s a thousand, and barely has any money left.”
“Is he really that broke, like seriously?” Dexter asked.
“Yeah, he was asking me to come on with us. I told him if he clocked a year of sobriety then we’d talk about it.”
“Damn, all that money.” Dexter shook his head and looked out the window.
“I mean he’s not broke broke, but for someone who once cleared eighteen million a year, he should be set up for life, and he’s not.”
“That’s a goddamn shame.”
“Yeah man, and even if he is sober, he’s still not going to be the same.”
Dexter shook his head.
“Once a substance rules your life, it always will, either in its presence or its absence.”
“Speaking of which—” Jace looked over his shoulder “—we need to restock your bar.”
Dexter smirked. “I was waiting for that.”
“Hey, if I thought either of us had a problem, things would be much different. Let the young guys handle the heavy partying, I’m good with Sundays on the yacht and a drink in my hand.”
“A-fucking-men.”
“We’re in our thirties now, fucking dinosaurs.”
Dexter laughed.
“Speaking of which, I think I’m buying one this weekend.”
“Do it man, you make enough fucking money. And even though it’s not a good investment, I promise, you’ll get a lot more enjoyment out of that yacht then you ever will spending that money at a club.”
Chapter 22
Jace tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair in the waiting room. He had never cared for the feel of a doctor’s office. Everywhere you looked there were signs of sickness. Do you have greenish discharge? Feeling uncomfortable, you need Geralex. Do you have an STI STD or UTI? You need Penicillin or Thepraxin, Levaquill, Pelvic exams. Want a healthy baby? Better take Flurenthall. The general aura of sickness and need in the waiting room was quite literally sickening.
It was almost as though they were banking on it. And as he sat daydreaming, it occurred to Jace that they were quite literally banking on it. This room wasn’t as bad as the ones he was accustomed to. He was just more sensitive to it due to the nature of it all. The constant reminder that something was wrong with you wasn’t as prevalent as it is in a general practitioner’s office. Jace supposed it was because they know that you’re going to be coming back. Not a whole lot of people are having kids without a doctor these days.
Maddy placed her hand on Jace’s tapping fingers, and he suddenly became conscious of his annoying habit and of the other people in the waiting room. She gripped his hand and he smiled at her. Then Jace gave an apologetic look to the other women awaiting their appointments.
“Madison,” the nurse said from the door. Maddy shot her a polite smile. A smile that was laced with the grimace of a name she did not care for.
The two of them stood up and went inside.
A few minutes later, they were holding hands as a shorter woman with the name “Ruth” adorned on her name tag was liberally applying gel on Maddy’s stomach.
“Okay, this might be cold,” the doctor warned her as she lathered her up, almost too late to be a warning at all.
Maddy smiled.
“Okay, let’s see if we can find the little one.” Doctor Ruth placed a thick remote-control-looking device on Maddy’s slightly swollen stomach and began moving it back and forth.
“Okay, there’s the heartbeat.” Maddy squeezed Jace’s hand and the two smiled.
“Annndd …. There…,” Doctor Ruth paused, letting her eyes pull away from the monitor and land on Jace and Maddy. “Do you guys want to know the sex?”
“Yes,” Jace said in dire anticipation.
“Yes,” Maddy said, considerably calmer than her husband.
“Well—” she glanced back down at the monitor as though checking to be sure “—it looks like you have a little boy on your hands.”
“Yes!” Jace cried out loud and threw his hand up to high-five Maddy. He was ecstatic. Although he continued to say all he wanted was a healthy child, it was quite evident that he had his heart set on a little boy. And he had just won the birth lottery as far as he was concerned. A young man to carry on his name.
She laughed and gave him the high-five he was so desperately waiting for. Jace continued to pace about the room as though his team had just scored a touchdown.
“I take it you had a preference?” Doctor Ruth jeered.
Jace broke from his victory dance and calmed his tone much like an actor would falling into character. “Well, not a preference per se.”
“Yes, we had a preference,” Maddy said.
“Well, then, congratulations,” Doctor Ruth said with a smile then glance back at the monitor as Jace continued his victory dance.
“He looks like a healthy bo—”
The doctor stopped and looked intrigued. Her head tilted like a dog who just heard a whistle for the first time. She studied the screen carefully, and her faint polite smile faded to a look of ominous concern. Jace broke from his victory dance and his expression of joy turned to a peer of intent as he studied the doctor’s face.
“There seems to be something…” The doctor moved the machine around on her abdomen. “There appears to be something on your pancreas.”
“My pancreas?” Maddy asked. She was not hooked up to a heart rate monitor, but she supposed that if she was they would hear her heartbeat begin to accelerate as her anxiety pushed the pedal to the floor. And in just that moment, she was reminded of the last time she had heard a heart rate monitor, and anxiety gave way to terror.
“Yes.” The doctor continued to maneuver the machine around her stomach, then more focused on her upper abdomen.
“Wha-What is it?”
“I’m not sure, you should definitely have it looked at, though.”
“Well, what do you think it is?” Jace asked with growing concern.
Doctor Ruth finally peeled her eyes off of the monitor. “That’s hard to say. Have you been experiencing abdominal pain?”
“Yes, but we figured it was just with the baby and it usually came around when I would eat.”
“Worse with spicy foods?”
“Yeah, we’ve stopped them all together,” Maddy responded innocently. Her mind was racing. What could it be, and how would the baby react?
“What is it?” Jace asked sternly, his eyes fixed on Doctor Ruth.
“It looks like it might be a cyst or a tumor.”
“Oh, God.”
Chapter 23
Anna
I always believed that one day I would find my true love, but if you had told me at the beginning of the summer that I would meet him in the back of a yoga class, I would have never believed you. I also would have never believed you if you told me even a week ago that I was going to be traveling the world by his side. My prince, my knight in shining armor, come to whisk me away from the world I knew and bring me to something much better. A new definition of what the word life truly means. It all started after my yoga class.
“Namaste,” I said with a deep exhale. The six people in the class echoed my words and breaths back to me. The soft indirect light of the room reflected back on the faces of my students. I remembered that most of them were regulars. Most of them, except him. I had seen him in class before, but he wasn’t an everyday type of guy. He was cute. He had that refined rugged type of good looks. He had just lightly graying hair and a well-maintained beard that was just a notch or two above “scruffy” length. He looked like he would fit in perfectly wearing a flannel shirt and swinging an axe at a tree or in a suit standing in front of a board room.
I immediately thought he was attractive. But just to look at. He was too old for me. I tried not to date anyone who is more than two years older than I am. And he looked to be somewh
ere in his thirties. I didn’t get why my girlfriends always did that. I guess I was the lucky one who didn’t have daddy issues. And I know what they all say, that girls mature faster than boys, but still. I didn’t want to date an old man who couldn’t keep up with me.
“Thank you all for coming this evening.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks, Anna.”
I smiled. I was so grateful that yoga was what I got to do for a living. Well, that and meaningless office work. But this was the most rewarding part of the day. Being a yoga instructor doesn’t come with a big paycheck unless you have a super cult following.
I remembered as the class dissipated and everyone left, he was still there. He seemed to be taking his time getting his stuff together. You know, that type of intentional stalling.
“Great class,” he said to me.
“Thank you. You did great today.” I smiled back politely.
“Thanks, I mean it, you can tell that you really put your heart into this.”
“Really?”
He grinned at me, and I could see a twinkle in his eye. I think I instantly got a good vibe from him. But I was very in touch with my spiritual side, and I got feelings about people all the time.
“Yeah, it shows.”
“I really do. I love yoga, it’s such a spiritual experience, and being able to give it to other people …”
He smiled and looked back at me. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Um, yoga in general? Or the classes?”
“The classes …. Or yoga in general.” He shrugged and smiled.
Something about his tone or inflection was funny, and I tried not to smile, but I could feel it in my cheeks before I responded. So I looked up and away from him and tried to think.
“About a year with the classes and maybe four years before that?”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, why? Is that surprising?”
“Hey, five years is a long time to do any one thing.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Hey, I’m gonna grab some food next door, do you want to join me?”
“Oh, I’m actually not supposed to date students,” I lied. It just seemed like that was easier to say then, You’re too old for me, pops. Besides, I swore that I wouldn’t date anyone for a while, and just kind of work on me.
“That’s okay, I wasn’t really asking you on a date.”
“Oh.”
“I just hate eating by myself at restaurants is all.”
It was the most awkward silence ever. Yoga studios are set up to be quiet so that they are zenful and so people can relax and that just made that awkward silence so much worse.
“So, yeah, I’ll just get that to go then.”
He laughed.
“It was good seeing you, what’s your name again?”
“Anna.”
“Nice to meet you, Anna.” He smiled warmly at me. Then he picked up his stuff and began walking toward the door.
“Hey, you never told me your name!” I called out as he reached the door. He stopped and turned to me. The door was wide open and his hand was on the knob.
“I know.” He grinned and disappeared out the door. The spring-loaded wooden door swung closed behind him.
How we came to date is a different story entirely. I taught in a nice area. I feel like most places that can support a yoga studio are typically in nice areas. I mean, seriously, it’s not like I was in the ghetto or something. I mean I never worried about my car getting broken into or anything like that. But I guess that crime happens everywhere. No matter where you are.
Later that same night, the night that I fell for him, without ever formally meeting him. It’s funny the things you remember. I didn’t even know his name until I saw it on his card. I was walking out. It might have been another twenty minutes since he left. Maybe ten or fifteen, I’m not really sure. I have no concept of time when I’m busy. However long it takes for me to finish paperwork, lock up the money, and lock everything up. I walked down the stairs and out onto the street.
My car was parked behind the building, There was a small alleyway that went between our building and the restaurant next door. For some reason, it always smelled like onions. I don’t know sure what they were doing back there, but I was almost brought to tears every time I walked through the alley. But, anyway. So, I walked out of the front door and took my normal route down the alleyway. But midway through I heard a footstep in a puddle. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw a man walking in the alleyway about ten feet behind me.
Now as I mentioned, I was in a nice neighborhood. They didn’t put a Coach store in a neighborhood where you had to worry about gang bangers robbing you in the street. At least, that’s what I had thought. But just to be safe, I started walking very fast. I reached into my bag to grab my mace. A lady never leaves home without it, but I couldn’t find it. Of all times to be lost in my own disorganized bag!
I could hear the footsteps grow faster behind me. It was the sound of a man on a mission. Not walking casually, but in hot pursuit. I started to run, but as soon as I picked up speed, he grabbed me. My body flew through the air as he slammed me against the wall. I was just a few feet from the end of the alleyway. But it seemed so far. He pushed me against the cold brick exterior of my building. His breath was drunk and heavy on me.
“Drop the bag,” he whispered to me. I can still hear his voice. That deep bass pelted over me. I looked up at him. He was tall, probably over six feet, but to be fair I’m 5’2” and a terrible judge of height, especially when my feet are barely on the ground. He had dark hair and these gross rapey eyes. They were a steely blue, like serial killer eyes. And as he pressed me up against the wall, his hand covered my mouth, and for just a second, his face hit the light and I saw this ugly scar on his chin. It was a jagged scar that looked like he had been carved up by a knife or something.
I dropped my bag. I was confident that he would not hesitate to hurt me for its contents, and it wasn’t like there was much in there. Honestly, I’d be more upset about losing the bag itself; it was Gucci, and what was he going to do with it? Throw it out? But anyway, so I just dropped my new Gucci bag. But he didn’t pick it up.
“Now drop those pants.”
“What?”
“Now!”
He gripped my throat tight, and I felt the blood start to rush to my head.
“I always loved yoga pants,” he whispered, and my skin literally began to crawl. Tears began to stream from my eyes. My face operated without my consent.
“But, but …” I sobbed out through empty breaths. I wasn’t able to get out more than a squeak. Like a gerbil being crushed by a snake.
“Now!”
I started to wheeze. I had asthma as a kid and in situations of high stress, it would come back sometimes, and that was one of those times.
Through panicked breaths and heavy sniffles, I tried to utter the words “Pl-Pl-Plea—”
But he yelled, “Now!”
Then just before I dared to accept my fate, I heard a sound in the distance. A footstep in a puddle. And a voice followed it.
“Hey!”
I glanced over and saw a silhouette of a figure approaching from the alleyway. He put a paper bag down and stepped out into the light.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the older man from class said.
“This is none of your business, walk away.”
“That’s my girlfriend, you better fucking believe this is my business,” he said, stepping closer. His confidence was unwavering despite the imposing figure of the other man.
The large, evil man turned his gaze and focused on him. His grip on my throat lessened.
“You seem like the type of guy who really likes having all of his teeth,” the older man said, stretching his hands and cracking his knuckles.
The larger man stepped back from me then. He released me entirely, and I felt all of the blood rush back to my brain. Deep, panicked br
eaths filled my chest as I stared at the showdown. The serial killer took an inventory of the man in his opposition, then, without saying a word, he turned and ran.
I felt an uncontrollable wave wash over me, and I started sobbing. The tears came from the emotions of helpless despair. And just before I collapsed, he grabbed me in his arms. I shoved him off at first, but then got my grips and realized who was holding me. I threw my arms around him and squeezed. I tried to say thank you, but I think only muffled sounds and snot came out. It’s a good thing he’s not very squeamish.
I didn’t know this at the time but that moment, that instant when he said, “Hey!” that feeling I experienced would be the theme of our relationship. He would be the one to rescue me. From everything. From the villain in the alleyway, from the villain that was our normal lives. He would be the one to take me away from all the sorrow and exhaustion and show me the world that we should all live in.
He walked me to my car that night, and although I felt like the universe owed him a kiss or something, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After looking a rapist in the eyes, it’s really hard to look at someone else and feel anything besides nausea. But he was fine with it.
After weeping on his shoulder a bit, he walked me to my car. He said that the guy wouldn’t be waiting for me, but I was pretty insistent. I just didn’t want to be alone, especially not there. He was a perfect gentlemen about it.
“Do you think I should call the cops?”
“Nah, at this point he’s long gone. It’s just going to be a lot of stress for you, and nothing is going to happen.”
“But I can describe him, he had a scar on his chin.”
He paused and didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if he was thinking or what, his expression remained unchanged.
“You can call them if you want. I mean, one might argue some sort of civic duty. But I’ve been through this rodeo before.“
“You have?”
“Yeah, I’ve been mugged a few times. They’re going to ask you to describe him, and then they’re going to write it all down and throw it out. Unless he robs someone else tonight, nothing is going to happen.”
