I smile slightly at the fact that I think I’ve rattled her cage a bit, she must not have expected me to call her on the carpet. But here I’m not ignoring the elephant in the room like she used to accuse me of doing during many arguments.
“Um…well, it didn’t work out the way I had planned. It’s been about six years since I’ve made Camden my home, and about two years ago when I was attending the boys’ graduation…”
“Wait…what?” Confusion contorts my facial expression. I look over to my brothers who were now devouring their food with intensity. I realize they love Sam, but it pisses me off that she was here living my life, no, our life…in my hometown with my family. I’m not pissed at my brothers or my family, they didn’t do anything wrong. Sam didn’t break their hearts…just mine.
I shake my head in amazement, “Fucking figures,” I mumble.
“I wanted to…”
“Nevermind, I get it,” I say, cutting her off. I don’t want to hear her bullshit apology. “Please continue.”
I don’t take my eyes off her. I stare straight into her face as she spoke of the reason she is here now, and I want to know what she is doing and if it is permanent. Because if it is, my rehabilitation will be moved across the county, across an ocean…doesn’t matter as long as there are at least a thousand miles between us. I can tell I’m making her nervous. Good!
“Um well, I came here looking for…” She trails off as she looks around the table, “I mean, I remembered how beautiful the town was and how much I loved it here…so I decided to put down roots and joined a mental health practice.”
“Really, which one?” I ask.
“Harrison Counseling Center.”
Shock contorts my facial expression, and I feel as if my oxygen supply has just been cut. Did I just hear her right? This can’t be, I mean…this really can’t be. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the fact that not only did this chick bail on me, saying she wanted different things but then came back to the place, the same fucking place we were going to start a family and open the counseling center we dreamt about since undergrad school.
“So let me get this straight.” My face must have been five different shades of red because to say I was angry would have been an understatement.
“You cheat on me, dump me…told me our dreams were just pipe dreams. Told me that you wanted something different, that you didn’t love me anymore and you weren’t sure if it ever was love between us. Just really good friends…friends with benefits.” I stop and push my chair back slightly as I laugh out loud at the irony of it all. This is when being able to stand would help me bring the next sentence home with more intensity.
“You realized this six years ago, that suddenly you remember all the plans and dreams and think it’s a good idea….that you wanted it all anyway. Just not with me, right?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she says.
I shake my head and chuckle at the absurdity of it. “Then what was it like?”
I’m staring intently at her, my gaze is locked on hers. There is no way she is going to talk her way out of this. I want an answer. But she doesn’t say anything, just diverts her eyes to her plate and begins to pick at the food.
“I can’t fucking believe this.”
“Laurel…watch your language, ” my mother says with an appalled look on her face.
I side-eye her for a second before my piercing stare returns to the blonde across the table. “You have some fucking nerve showing your face in this house today. Pretending like everything is okay…like our history was just some immature, petty bullshit. That busting my heart didn’t matter. Did you really think all would be forgotten let alone forgiven? Seriously, Sam, I wanna know.” My voice rises to a decibel level I’m shocked to hear come from my throat.
At this point, my brothers and father have vacated the table and Cammie was up clearing the dishes. My mother, on the other hand, was doing her best to try and diffuse the situation.
“Laurel, Sam is here at my request. I asked her to help you with your therapy. She has a good knowledge of….”
“Wait a minute…what?” I looked back and forth between them while my eyes blink slowly. “Surely I didn’t hear that correctly. You’ve asked her to help me?”
“Yes, Laurel. I know things didn’t go the way you planned and you were upset with Sam after graduation…”
“UPSET! Seriously? Don’t you remember? No, of course, you don’t. You were in denial mode. And you’re in serious denial if you think I’ll allow that fucking bitch to have anything to do with my therapy,” I say as I point to the blonde with the sheepish look on her face. “I would rather never fucking walk again than let her have any part in my life or help me with anything.”
I roll my chair away from the table as quickly as my aching sore arms will take me. I need a drink, and I know Cammie would be no help…she’d probably make me meditate my anger away or something. But I’m in need of vodka, so I push myself into the family room where the three men sat in silence watching Triple D.
“I don’t care who it is, but one of you is taking me to McKay’s.”
Ten minutes later my two brothers sat opposite of me at the bar while I toss back martinis like they were water. I need to forget, to numb the pain…but mostly I need to stop the tears from flowing.
Chapter Six
T he next morning my burning eyes open to the sound of my name being called in a loud, disdainful voice. I see Cammie standing at the end of my bed with her hands firmly planted on her hips. The look on her face said it all, she wasn’t happy. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t pleased with the fact I went out drinking last night and didn’t roll in until after 2:00 a.m… literally. She told me no alcohol, ‘alcohol is an inflammatory substance.’ I can still hear the words ringing in my head as I pushed my All-Sport wheelchair into the van before Seth drove away.
“I don’t care if you’re hungover. Get out of that bed,” she says while crossing her arms over her chest.
I stretch and grin, “You’re cute when you’re mad,” I say as I push myself up in the bed. “Do I have time for a cup of coffee?”
I shove the blanket aside as I move my legs one at a time over the edge of the bed. I glance at the clock and see it’s about ten minutes before 9:00 a.m. “Looks like I made it just under the wire. I’m starved.”
I grab the handgrips of the chair and transfer myself carefully, put my feet on the pegs, strap myself in and wheel past Cammie. I can see behind me from the reflection in the mirror, and I grin to myself when I see her roll her eyes and shake her head.
“I’ll meet you at the first station,” she says as she leaves the room through the double doors. I, on the other hand, go through the secret passageway to the house in search of coffee and something to stick in my stomach.
When I push myself into the kitchen, I cringe hoping not to see anyone, especially Sam. It’s Wednesday morning…probably a work day which means the parents are out of the house. The boys are home, but they likely won’t surface until well after 11:00 a.m. I see a pot of coffee and a tray of pastries.
“Oh hell yeah,” I say as I reach for a chocolate one and take a bite. As I moan in pleasure with each chew, I look up at the counter to where the coffee pot is and realize there was no way I can reach it or the cups. I figure I would just get a glass of milk when I realize I can’t reach the glasses either.
“Well, isn’t this quite the predicament?” I say aloud.
My danish is on my lap, and I’m rocking my chair back and forth trying to figure out a way to get myself a drink.
“Dammit,” I yell out, “Don’t these people know they have a cripple living here?”
I’m sitting in the middle of the kitchen feeling a little discouraged as I finish the pastry. I sigh loudly thinking I’m going to have to fetch Cammie for help or just go without.
“Fuck it,” I say as I grab another danish, this time an apple one.
“Here let me get that for you.”
I stop mid-chew and close m
y eyes. I know who is behind me now pouring coffee into a cup without turning around. I take a deep breath and steady myself. I’m not going to let this bitch ruin my day.
“You still a two sugar and cream girl?”
I bite my tongue and debate for a moment how I want to play this. Yes, I could go off on her again. Call her every offensive word I can think of or play this stupid game she is playing. I could act cool, nonchalant…indifferent maybe. Just to let her know whatever it is she trying to pull isn’t going to work.
So, I clear my throat and swallow down the abhorrence I have and say, “Yes.” I wanted to say more, but nothing else followed. I just want the coffee so I can get the hell out of there.
Another revelation hit me, I can’t push my chair with one hand, and this wheelchair isn’t equipped with a cup holder. So I’m going to have to drink it here…with her. I inwardly sigh as I roll my eyes so hard I see stars.
I still haven’t spun my chair around. I can hear her stirring the coffee, and I hope she will just set it on the table and leave. When I hear the clank of the cup on my mother’s wood kitchen table, I feel relief wash over me, but it is fleeting when I hear her clear her throat.
“Um, do you mind if I join you?”
Well, what am I supposed to say to that other than ‘no fucking way.’ But I’m sure she is expecting that reaction, and I’ll be damned to give her the satisfaction.
“Whatever,” I say as I spin my chair around.
My danish is now sitting on the table in front of me as I sip at the delicious cup of coffee eyeing the apparently nervous woman across from me. I don’t want words exchanged, this isn’t a friendly chat over coffee. I don’t even want to offer a ‘thank you,’ although my conscious refuses to let me forget my manners.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I say before I take another bite of the pastry.
“Sure, anytime,” she says with a hint of a smile. Then I see the wheels turning in her head by the way her eyes flick back and forth, and I know she is about to speak again. “Um…so did I get the coffee right?”
I let out a grunt. Seriously? “Yes, spot on,” I say holding her gaze daring her to look away.
“Look, Laurel…” She goes silent as she looks down into her cup and a small smile forms on my face. Awesome. Maybe I can make her so uncomfortable she will leave and not come back. But no such luck. She raises her head and zeroes in on my stare with those gorgeous blue eyes, and suddenly I’m the one that feels uncomfortable. Bitch.
“Laurel, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”
“Sorry…sorry for what?” Now my back is up, I’m goading her, wondering if she’ll spill it. Say she’s sorry for destroying me. Take the blame for it all, because I absolutely blame her for everything.
“I’m sorry this happened to you. That you’re in that chair. I mean, where was your security team…bodyguards? Aren’t you a little too famous to be walking the streets of New York unprotected?”
I sit there dumbfounded, unsure if I heard right. Did she really say I was too famous to be unprotected? It certainly sounded like she was placing blame on me…that I made the error in judgment. And I have no idea what to say to that…well no, that isn’t true. I have so many things swirling around in my head, I’m not sure what would give me more satisfaction. However, I surprise myself when the laughter springs forth from my throat.
I can tell she’s shocked as well by the expression on her face which made me laugh harder. I’m not sure how long I laugh, a few minutes maybe, but I can’t stop. The more I laugh, the funnier it got.
“I should have been more careful,” I say while still cackling.
“Yes, you should have,” she says.
The laughter stops instantly, and a look of death must be contorting my face from the look of wide-eyed terror forming on hers.
“You think this is my fault?” I ask as I push away my pastry.
“No of course I don’t think it’s your fault. I think it is the guy who shot you. But I think it could have been prevented.”
“Your damn right it could have been prevented, but not by me…by you.”
Now it was her turn to wear the look of confusion. “Me, how could I have prevented you from being shot?”
“I would have never been in that situation if it wasn’t for you.”
She sits back and crosses her arms across her chest. “How do you figure?”
As I start to open my mouth to begin the speech I had rehearsed many times, she leans forward with that intimidating stare she always used whenever we would argue.
“Oh wait…you think because I broke up with you that this is all my fault?”
“Yes,” I say matter of fact.
“Ha…then I guess it’s also my fault that you also fucked anything that moved?”
She sat up tall in her chair making me feel small, stupid…inferior. I feel like that seventeen-year-old kid again, naïve enough to think that love was all unicorns and rainbows. That was an awakening for me the first time we had an argument because it was then I discovered it wasn’t. But I was in love then…now, not so much. She took that from me, she obliterated my trust in the vapid sentiment called love.
The longer she sat across from me with a cocky look on her face the more it pissed me off. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m no longer the sap who followed her around, who hung on her every word, who worshiped her. I hate her for taking that from me, so yes, in fact, it’s her fault that I’m so promiscuous. I wouldn’t have run from relationships because I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t let anyone get too close.
The cocky look was replaced with a confused one when I smiled, I grip the wheels of my chair and back away from the table. “You know what Sam, I think you’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Yeah…I think you’re so jealous of the fact I’m famous. That my advice is highly sought. That I have women throwing themselves at me…some of the most beautiful women in the world I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in mind-blowing ways. And now that I’m in this chair…you’re loving it. You think I’ve fallen from cloud nine, that I’m back to reality. Well here’s the reality…I’m more famous than ever. My agent is calling me with constant offers for interviews, my show will resume soon, and I’ll walk again. So if you would excuse me, I have therapy.”
I spin my chair around and begin to roll out of the kitchen, “Goodbye Sam,” I say without turning around. Tears are now stinging my eyes, and it infuriates me. I have no idea why I’m about to cry…and I have no idea how she can still affect me. But never in that way again will I allow her to affect me. I’ll never let anyone in my heart especially Samantha Jane Harrison.
Chapter Seven
A few weeks later, I’m sitting on the deck at Mariner’s Grill overlooking the falls enjoying the warm breeze from the sea. My mother dropped me off here while she, Sam, and Cammie did some shopping. I needed to get out of the house for a while, to feel the sun on my skin and to smell the fresh salty air.
I laugh to myself as I tip the bottle of Molson to my mouth and drink down the crisp cold beer. I’m laughing because of how I’m being forced to tolerate Sam being around me on a constant basis. It seems she and my mother have become besties, and I also have a suspicion that she and Cammie are screwing around which would be a complete nightmare if it were actually true. I’m hoping that I’m just being paranoid.
I can hear the gulls in the distance as well as the motors of the numerous water vessels. Between the taste of the beer on my tongue, and all the sounds of the sea…I’m taken back to a memory of when Sam and I came home the summer before I graduated. We rented a sailboat and headed out for a beautiful tour of the sea and the mountains. I remember we packed some Molson, light picnic fare and a thick blanket which was used for protecting our naked bodies from the floor of the boat. It was one of the most romantic and beautiful dates we ever had. I remember when the sun began to set how we anchored the vessel, made love and laid there wrapped in each other’s arms unti
l the night came.
The view of the stars over the water was breathtaking…I never wanted that moment to end. But here now, in this fucking chair, I curse that day. I curse every moment we spent together because now those memories have thorns and cause pain. Each memory tortures me, feels like I’m being stabbed in the heart over and over again. Well, the heart I had before she crushed it and I banished it. So now all I want to do is cry which is silly I know. What am I crying for? Memories of a love that is ancient history or maybe for the kind of love I know I’ll never have or want again.
I shake my head of the thoughts which are totally killing my buzz. I want to enjoy the gorgeous day. The waitress stops by my table with my burger and another beer, and I think she is absolutely adorable. I have just enough beer in me to come on to her. I can tell she recognizes me…mostly everyone has, they’re just afraid to approach me. I’m sure it’s because of the chair…maybe they pity me, who knows.
“Excuse me, Dr. Matthews.” The waitress shields her eyes from the sun as she speaks to me with a smile on her face. I know that smile, and I return it without hesitation.
“Please call me Laurel,” I say as I take a long drink from my beer.
“Um…my shift is ending in about ten minutes, and I’m checking to see if I can get you anything else?”
I regard her for a moment as I purse up my lips, I may be in this chair, but that doesn’t stop my desire for women. I still had a tongue, and it has been much too long since I’ve enjoyed the taste of a woman. Her name tag says, Lillian, and I smile.
“Well, Lillian, you could give me your number.”
The broad grin on her face was very promising, and when she crouches down the look in her eyes was also very familiar…desire. My heart begins to hammer against my rib cage. Oh, God.
“Laurel,” she says, and immediately my stomach begins to churn. Now I’m no longer hungry. I just want to be somewhere with this beautiful young redhead.
“I live on the first floor of the Village. Give me about twenty minutes so I can shower. I’m in 135.”
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