Almost Broken: If I Break #2

by Moore, Portia

  “Oh please. If I was looking for trouble, we’d be gone,” Lisa says, hitting me with a small couch cushion.

  “So…Lauren and I have been talking,” she starts, and Lauren nods her head innocently.

  Maybe sending Lisa over was a bad idea.

  “Lauren would really like to hear you play and since you’ve been promising to play at Ardeby’s since forever, we could all make a night of it. Saturday is open mic night,” she says excitedly, and I frown at her.

  “I’ve never promised you I would play at Aredebys, and this Saturday? I haven’t picked up a guitar in almost a year. It’s not happening,” I say adamantly. Lisa threw Lauren’s name in this but I know this is all her from the awkward look on Lauren’s face.

  “Quit being such a baby. It’d be great, and Aredebys is the only place in this town that’s any fun. Lauren hasn’t been out since she’s been stuck in Mommyville. She could let loose a little,” she continues. I see Lauren shift uncomfortably in her seat.

  “Aren’t you going to be late for work?” I remind her. She lets out a defeated huff.

  “This conversation isn’t over, mister,” she says, getting up with her bag on her shoulder and heading out the door. She’s turns back around.

  “Didn’t you need to talk to me about something?” she says, remembering her other reason for being here.

  “Yeah. I’ll walk you to your car,” I say begrudgingly. Lauren smiles at us, amused. She probably thinks we’re six year olds.

  “Be right back,” I say, pushing my weight off the sofa and following Lisa out.

  “Later, Mrs. Scott,” she says to my mom as we pass through the kitchen and out the door.

  “Goodbye, Lisa,” my mom says before we’re out the door.

  “So what’s up, Chuck?” Lisa says as we walk around to her car.

  “Why’d you do that in there, Lisa?” I ask her, irritated. She rolls her eyes.

  “What did I do?” she asks as if she has no clue.

  “Putting me on the spot in front of Lauren. You know I don’t play anymore.”

  She waves me off nonchalantly. “Grow up, Chris. Really, what are you a twelve year old with a crush?” she says, mocking me.

  “Forget it. I’ll talk to you later,” I say angrily, walking away from her.

  “Ugh, Chris, come on. I didn’t think it was that big a deal. You used to love to play. She wants to hear you play. We get to have a few drinks and a night out in the process. Most people at Ardeby’s are so drunk on Saturdays you could play a dying cat, and they’d clap to the music,” she says, blocking my path.

  I frown at her.

  “Come on. You wanted to talk to me about something. What is it?” she says sincerely.

  “Can you be normal Lisa and not over-the-top Lisa,” I warn her, and she grins.

  “Normal Lisa it is,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “Okay. Let’s get in your car.”

  Once we’re in there, she looks over at me expectantly. I’m not nervous. Lisa doesn’t make me nervous. She’s one of the least judgmental people I know, but to admit out loud what’s been going on with me is still scary. It’s the same reason why I haven’t called the doctor Aidan suggested. I have to do it eventually. If Lauren starts talking to a therapist before me, that’s really going to make it look like I’m not taking this seriously, and I am.

  It’s just seems like a big step, trusting someone with my mental wellness. It didn’t go so well the last time, but this is Lisa, my best friend since preschool. We don’t have any secrets.

  “I’ve started to remember things,” I say. I look over at her and instead of her normal reassuring smile, her expression is tense.

  “Remember what, exactly?” she asks quietly and I feel myself grimace.

  “What do you look so nervous for? You’re making me nervous.” I laugh, and she shakes her head, covering her face.

  “Sorry. OK, go ahead,” she says, and her reassuring smile is there.

  “Things about Cal and Lauren,” I admit, and her smile widens.

  “Anything good?” she says suggestively.

  I frown at her.

  “I mean like how you guys met, when you got married. Get your mind out of the gutter, Chris,” she says the last part teasingly.

  “No. They don’t seem like milestones or anything. Well, I think one is the first time he told her he loved her,”

  “Awww,” Lisa swoons, and I try to ignore her. I tell her about the bits and pieces I’ve seen and about the memory I had last night. She listens attentively and doesn’t interrupt. She’s quiet until I look over her and wait for her reaction.

  “How do you know what you’re seeing is real?” she asks. That’s the million dollar question. It feels real. So real that when I’m awake, it’s hard to tell the difference, but I don’t really know.

  “There’s only one way to know,” she says, and I know what she’s going to say before she even says it.

  “You have to ask Lauren,” she says it anyway.

  “I don’ think it’s a good idea,” I say with a sigh.

  “I don’t want to confuse her or send her mixed signals,” I admit.

  “Oh, but giving her cooking lessons and talking on the phone with her for hours definitely isn’t doing that.” She laughs sarcastically.

  “She told you that?” I ask, surprised.

  “She told me about the cooking thing. Your other best friend told me about the hour-long conversations,” she chuckles.

  Aidan’s like a freakin’ girl.

  “You don’t think I should teach her how to cook?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Chris, you’re missing the point. I think you should do what you feel. If these things are making you feel right, do them,” she says enthusiastically. It would be great advice, but when it comes to acting on things, Lisa is definitely not the person to ask for advice. She does whatever she wants and rarely thinks about the consequences

  “I don’t want to send her the wrong message,” I say firmly.

  “What message are you trying to send, Chris? Because to be honest, I don’t think you know,” she laughs. “Now get out of my car before I really am late,” she says.

  “That’s it. No sage advice, no words of encouragement?” I ask, disappointed. She pauses for a moment and looks up as if she’s in deep thought.

  “Bacon cheeseburgers,” she says, and I look at her confused.

  “What?”

  “You knock two meals out in one, bacon’s in the breakfast group and burgers in the lunch group.”

  I shake my head at her and get out of her car.

  HHH

  Lisa says I’m confused, and I am. I’ve never been this confused in my whole life. It’s like I’m being pulled in two different directions, my thoughts fighting against one another. My mind is constantly changing. I spend the rest of the day unloading the supplies my parents picked up from Denton with my dad. We end up working through dinner, silently frustrated with each other. By the time we’re finished, my mom and Lauren have already eaten dinner. My mom is in her room, tired from the day, and Laruen and Caylen in theirs. I shower and come down to eat dinner and my dad’s finishing up his food. We both sit, eating quietly, not much conversation happening between us at all.

  I wonder if this is going to be our new normal. I hope not. I love my dad, and at one time, he was my best friend. But more and more, I feel this deep seed of resentment and contempt growing towards him. I thought I was over the fact that he kept the secret from me about my condition, but I still haven’t been able to shake it. I’ve forgiven my mom, but it’s like a barrier is keeping me from doing the same with him, and the suggestions and advice he keeps trying to give about Lauren just make things worse.

  He gets up from the table and washes out his plate. He looks over me as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. I want to talk to him but I don’t because what I’m about to do I know he wouldn’t approve of. After he’s left the room, I clean up my are
a and look in the fridge. There’s ground beef, eggs and bacon, lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. I take all the items out and set them up on the counter. The one piece of advice I did take from Lisa is the dish for our first cooking lesson, and if things go okay, I’m going to tell Lauren that I’ve started to remember things.

  At least I think I’m starting to remember things. I am going to try to downplay the romantic aspect of what I remember as much as I can. I want to be her friend, being her friend is okay. If I’m her friend, I can be there in the way she needs me to be. Being her friend won’t hurt Jenna, and if I’m her friend, the urges I have to be around her, to see her, hear her voice don’t make me feel so guilty.

  Lauren and I will be friends.

  Just like Lisa and I are friends.

  Jenna doesn’t like the fact that Lisa and I are friends, but it’s something she’s dealt with. I pull out my phone and text her to see if she’s up. I hope she is or I’m going to feel like an idiot with all of this stuff laid out. If she’s not, I’ll make a burger and take it for lunch tomorrow. I turn on the radio in the kitchen but low enough so it doesn’t disturb anyone else in the house or wake up Caylen. My phone alert goes off it’s her saying she is. I text her to see if she’s ready for her cooking lesson. A few minutes go by and she walks into the kitchen, a curious smile on her face. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she has on a pink tank top and pink and black flannel pajama pants. She looks almost like she’s a teenager. Her face still youthful and vibrant. She could easily pass for a senior at my school, and she’s…I don’t know how old she is.

  “Hey,” she says, walking over towards me. She eyes the ingredients on the table and lets out a laugh.

  “Meatloaf?” she asks excitedly, and I scratch my head. Okay, this is going to be harder than I thought.

  “No. Bacon cheeseburgers,” I say nervously.

  “I was just kidding,” she says, flashing me a wide smile that makes my heart speed up.

  Lisa’s smile doesn’t make your heart speed up like this.

  “You, almost gave me a heart attack,” I say, giving her a playful nudge with my elbow. I ignore the warm sensation that shoots through my body the moment I touch of her. I notice her face flushes, but her expression doesn’t change.

  “Okay, we’ll start by washing our hands” I say, quickly distracting myself from the moment. I turn on the water and hand her the soap after squeezing some out for myself. We both scrub fairly quickly and head to the counter where the ingredients are at.

  “Now this may sound stupid, but remember I’m a novice,” she says nervously.

  I lean on the counter. “No stupid questions,” I assure and she lets out a nervous laugh.

  “What are the eggs for?” she asks timidly, and I try to hide my smile.

  “It makes the meat stick together,” I tell her, putting half the ground beef in her bowl and the other half in mine.

  “Do we have to use eggs in it?”

  “Uhm. You don’t have to, unless you’re adding like bread crumbs,” I explain, and she frowns.

  “Okay. No eggs.” I laugh. I take the carton of eggs and put them back in the fridge.

  “This is going to be your simple, on-the-go, less-than-twenty-minutes burger, okay?” I tell her playfully, and she nods.

  “As you get better you can add more things, once you’re familiar with different seasonings and all of that, but try to keep it simple.”

  “I like simple,” she interjects.

  “Salt, pepper. I like onions, and you’re good to go.”

  “Sounds good,” she says, seemingly interested. I take a half of an onion I’d already cut and pour some in my bowl of meat.

  “Onions?” I ask.

  She nods giving me the okay.

  “So, you’re basically going to take the meat and pat it into a circle, like what a burger looks like. I’ll show you with mine,” I tell her, and I start to shape the meat as he watches my hands intently.

  “Now you try,” I tell her. She picks up the meat and starts to shape it.

  “Mine doesn’t look as neat is yours.” She pouts. Her patty is cracked on all of the sides.

  “Instead of just smashing it, press down in the middle and in from the sides,” I tell her. She takes another handful of beef and starts to mold it and it looks exactly the same as her last one did.

  “I told you, I suck at this,” she says disappointed. I take a hunk of my ground beef and show her how I did it again more slowly. She tilts her head watching me again, and after a minute she picks up her oddly-shaped hamburger, adding more meat with it and tries again.

  It’s way too much. I finally take her hands and show her. She pauses when I do, we both do, but her laugh breaks the tension that’s mounting between us.

  That’s definitely a friend laugh.

  She manages to finally make two pretty perfect patties.

  “Spectacular,” I say, and she takes a small bow.

  “So the only thing next is to season them,” I tell her, and she nods. “It really only takes a few pinches of salt and pepper on each side.” I demonstrate on mine and then she grabs the bowl of salt and pepper I measured out earlier and does the same, mimicking the number of pinches I used. I can’t help but grin.

  “Now you can fry these on the stove or cook them in the oven. I think to start off baking’s probably easier for you,” I tell her, grabbing the baking pan.

  “You put foil down on the pan.” I grab a can of cooking spray. “Spray it so it doesn’t stick, you could use butter if you don’t have this.” She nods, and I put the burgers on the sheet and in the oven. “You set it for 350 degrees, and you’re done,”

  “What’s the second pan for?” she asks. I hand her the pan and foil.

  “Do that just the way I did.” She lines the pan with the foil and then I hand her the block of bacon. You can tear off eight pieces and lay them on the pan,” I tell her. When she starts to tear off the bacon she makes a grossed-out face, and I laugh.

  “Okay,” she says when she’s done. I take the tray and pop it in the oven.

  “Depending on how thin the bacon is you buy you’d have to keep a closer eye on it so it doesn’t burn but since this bacon’s pretty thick it can cook for about the same amount of time as the burgers, I tell her. She nods and then smiles.

  “That wasn’t bad,” she says excitedly.

  “You’re a natural,” I say jokingly.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, and I had your help,” she says modestly.

  “We’re not done yet. You have to actually taste it,” I remind her. We both sit down at the kitchen table and wait for the food to finish cooking.

  “I appreciate this. I know you work with your dad early in the mornings. You should be asleep now,” she says, fidgeting with the strings on her pajama pants.

  “I’m used to getting up early. I don’t mind” I tell her as my eyes gradually drift down to her chest. I immediately look away. She’s not dressed in anything revealing, but this is the least amount of clothes I’ve seen her in. Well, right in front of me. I’m reminded of the memories I’ve been having. I’m try to think of the best way to bring it up, which one to start with, and how much to leave out.

  “I wanted to ask you something,” I say, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice. Her focus shifts from her pajama pants to me.

  “Actually I wanted to tell you something and ask you something,” I say, clearing my throat, my nerves winning out.

  “I—I think I might have remembered something—one of Cal’s memories.” Her eyes widen, she immediately seems more vibrant and alert.

  The sound of his name does that to her. I rethink the idea of telling her. At first it was that I didn’t want her to hold on to something that’s long gone. To fan flames that need to be put out, but this time I feel, well I think I’m irritated, but that wouldn’t make sense. I have no reason to be irritated…unless I’m jealous.

  “What did you remember?” she asks, snapping me out of my tho
ughts. I look in her eyes, and I see the hope in them. There’s a difference in her.

  “Not a lot. Just me or Cal talking to Dexter,” I say, and I see the hope drain from her expression. She looks down at her lap and back up at me, apparently trying to hide her disappointment. A part of me feels like a jerk, the other part of me is relieved.

  “That’s great,” she says, a small smile on her face.

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “They had an argument.” I know her next question is going to make me tell the truth. Should I give her a little of her hope back or leave things out and possibly ruin her night?

  I don’t want to ruin her night but I don’t want to see her eyes light up like that again.

  Well, I do, just not for him.

  Now there’s no question about it. I’m jealous, and that is one of the worst things I’ve ever felt.

  “About what?”

  Do I tell the truth or a white lie? I try to weigh out the benefits of both, but it’s hard to think clearly when her hazel eyes are looking into mine, trying to read them, possibly searching, still looking for him.

  “About you.” The truth wins out. I can’t lie to her when she’s looking at me like that. I’m already hiding things. If she asks me something directly, I’ll tell her the truth. I wouldn’t want her to lie to me so I won’t to her. Lying and omission is what got us into this, and it’s scary how easy it’s becoming for me to want to do the same.

  She looks taken aback.

  “What were they arguing about me for?” she asks, a little puzzled. I might as well just get it out.

  “Dexter didn’t want him to marry you.” She’s quiet after I say that. She laughs to herself and rests her head in her hand.

  “That’s not surprising. It seems most people didn’t,” she says sadly.

  “Well Cal was pretty adamant he didn’t give a shit about what Dexter thought.” The words come out of my mouth so fast I don’t even realize what I said until afterwards, but they make Lauren smile. She looks like she feels better.

  “He didn’t give a shit what most people thought,” she mutters.