Ripple Effects

by Greene, L. J.

  He touches my hair as he talks, twisting it absentmindedly around his right index finger. And I’m almost afraid to move in any way that might interrupt his unusual candor.

  “I cared for her, loved her maybe, but I can see now that I wasn’t in love. I didn’t really think I was capable of that. I figured that any shortcomings in our relationship were mine, not hers. And truthfully, a lot of our issues did stem from the fact that it was hard for me to open up with her. Plus, we were different. We just had different interests, different goals in life. She loves the whole society scene, and she always wanted me to have a more prestigious career path. Anyway, I think ultimately she thought she could make me into her ideal. She wanted me, but not really me, and I wasn’t interested in being someone I’m not.”

  His tone is matter-of-fact, but I suspect that those words reveal so much more about him than just the circumstances of that single relationship.

  Instinctively, I snuggle further into his arms, and he wraps them more tightly around me.

  “Did you ever talk about getting married?” My voice cracks a bit, betraying the cool I’m trying to convey.

  He seems to discount the notion. “It came up. But the timing was never right. I was putting in a lot of hours on my Ph.D.”

  “And then you broke up?”

  “We both realized it was for the best.”

  It’s hard to know what to make of all this. On one hand, it seems like it was a fairly amicable split. On the other hand, how do people invest five years in a relationship where marriage is discussed, and then just walk away clean? And why would any woman give up this man without a fight?

  “So I’ve spilled my guts–now I want to know about my competition.”

  “What do you mean?” I turn in his arms so that I’m able to see his face. “You know I’m not seeing anyone else.”

  “I know that,” he answers, brushing a hair from my face. “But I want to know about all the assholes who preceded me.”

  His tone doesn’t convey jealousy, but something in his eyes tells me that this isn’t an entirely casual line of questioning either.

  “Well, it’s a pretty short list. And, it’s fair to say, there’s not even a close second in bed. Honestly, you’ve made that comparison a little unfair.”

  “Well that’s a given,” he says with no shortage of male smugness. “But tell me, anyway.”

  I take in a deep breath, and begin to trace the beautiful lines of his lips with my finger. “Okay. Before you, there was John, as you know. We met at freshman orientation, and we dated for close to four years. But I wouldn’t exactly describe it as true love. We were friends with all the same people; we were compatible; and it was easy. Until it wasn’t.”

  “Before him?” he says, biting my finger gently at the knuckle.

  “Ow.” I protest, pulling my hand away. “Before him was Ethan. We dated for a short time during my senior year in high school. He was sweet. Too sweet, unfortunately for him. I was coming off of a bad breakup, and I wasn’t very good to him. I’m ashamed of the way I treated him.”

  Danny completely ignores my confession, and regains his natural intensity, bringing an end to the quite peacefulness we’d been enjoying. “Who’s the bad breakup?”

  “That was Seth.”

  “Seth Abbott? That douche bag from McKinley?” His twisted expression leaves no question of his low opinion of my ex. I had no idea he felt that way–he was never anything but neutral to all of us.

  “Yes. It’s not a big deal. We dated for like eight months, and it wasn’t good for me.”

  “What do you mean? What happened?” Danny sits up, prompting me to do the same. His laser focus is a little intimidating, and suddenly, I’m wishing I had been more circumspect in my answer.

  “What happened?” he repeats.

  “It’s just that he was a partier. We had a bad night and we broke up. I never talked to him again.” I’m looking down at my hands, but I can still feel the weight of his stare.

  “He didn’t…force himself on you, did he?” The words are almost choked out.

  “No.” I emphatically shake my head. “Seth was my first, and as firsts go, he was fine. Neither of us was very experienced, but he was gentle with me. This was several months later. He was just drunk and…”

  I don’t know how to continue. This is where I always falter. I have a hard time talking about personal things and revealing too much of myself. All of my relationships, and even my friendships, have suffered from some form of this. But I want to be better with Danny. I really do.

  So I steel myself, and prepare to continue.

  It’s not easy. Danny is conducting himself like a statue on the couch next to me; his eyes are flaming, but his posture is eerily calm, just like the other night at the restaurant. It throws me for a loop, especially because I have a pretty good idea of what his reaction will be. So, I sit perfectly straight with my hands in my lap and focus on my knees.

  “He was really drunk one night and he came to my house. When he got inside he started trying to kiss me. But he smelled awful, like alcohol and cigarettes. He was rough, and I didn’t want to do anything with him. I told him to go home. He got really mad, and he called me a cock tease.”

  Still no reaction from the statue next to me. So I press on.

  “I was young and stupid at the time, and I let my natural instincts overtake my good sense. Instead of just getting myself out of the situation, I made it worse. I told him that his cock wouldn’t be a tease for anyone.”

  “Sarah,” Danny finally breathes out, sensing that this story gets worse.

  “I know.” I inhale deeply. “He went into a rage; he was cursing and yelling; I’d never seen him like that before. It was scary.” I glance up at Danny just for a moment, but regret it immediately. I can’t lose my nerve now. “All of the sudden, he picked me up by my throat, and slammed me against the wall. I was so mad; even then, I don’t think I recognized the danger I was in. I spit in his face.”

  I don’t know why I look up at him again, but I do, just in time to see him close his eyes for a moment in silent fury.

  “That was the final straw,” I whisper. “He squeezed my neck like he was trying to strangle me, and, with his other hand, he punched me in the face. Then again in the stomach.”

  “Goddammit.” The word sounds like it’s spoken through gritted teeth, and he makes a sound of contempt, low in his throat. “What happened after that?”

  “He dropped me like a ragdoll. I remember sinking to the ground. I couldn’t breathe–he’d knocked the wind out of me. I told myself over and over, don’t cry. Just don’t let him see you cry.” The memory comes back strongly for a moment, and I wrap my arms around my middle. “But my jaw was killing me, and my ribs felt like they were cracked in a million pieces. So, as soon as I could, I got up and scrambled away. I genuinely believed he would kill me. But, thank God, he just let me go. I locked myself in my bedroom, and finally, he left.”

  I glance at Dan. He’s seething. The hard angles of his face are growing more pronounced. His hands are balled into fists in his lap, as if maintaining his calm is a struggle.

  “Did you tell your mother? The police? Anyone?”

  I meet his eyes once more. He may as well hear it all.

  “By the end of my junior year in high school, my mother was checked out. She was barely conscious most of the time. And this would have made it worse. My brother knew, but I begged him not to tell anyone. Believe me, our messed-up family didn’t need the attention. And so that was it. I never looked at Seth or spoke one word to him again.”

  He’s silent for a moment. “You were in my class.”

  “Danny, you couldn’t have done anything. It was just one bad thing, and then it was over.”

  “How did no one but your brother notice?” I know what he’s really asking: How did I not notice?

  “Make-up, turtlenecks… I was very good at flying under the radar at that point in my life. I needed to be. If anyone had
looked too much into my home life, they would have taken my brother away. Probably separated us both from my mom.”

  Danny is staring into the fire, and I’m not sure he’s really processing my words.

  “Christ, Sarah.” He rubs his face with his hand, helplessly. “You’ve been through so much. The thought of anyone hurting you is abhorrent to me. I don’t know how to handle it.” He shakes his head. “Even years after the fact.”

  His face is so pained that I reach out to caress his cheek. I want him to know I’m okay. He turns to me, and perhaps sees in my face what he needs to see. His demeanor relaxes, and he closes his eyes, breathing into my touch.

  “I know, Danny,” I respond gently. “That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

  The second the words come out, my heart stops, and I freeze, dropping my hand to my side. I’m sure the look on my face reflects both panic and uncertainty.

  At first, Danny seems as surprised as I am with my admission. Long seconds pass as we just stare at each other.

  Finally, his lips curl up in a knowing smile.

  “Do you need a do-over?” His tone is light, but in his eyes, I see a flash of vulnerability.

  This is it. He’s giving me an out. Every fiber of the old Sarah screams to take him up on it, to make light of the moment. To give some witty retort or sarcastic comment that will make it pass without actually having to expose myself. It would be effortless for me. I’ve done it so many times before.

  I think about John; about how I rarely admitted to loving him. We were together for years, but he never really knew me. It was easier to keep things superficial and safe. In the end, I got hurt, anyway–and less from his infidelity than from the realization that after nearly four years together, our relationship was so easy to just throw away.

  Then, I think about Danny. About his remembering so many small details of my life, and about the thoughtful things he does for me every day. I think about how he makes me laugh. I think about his reaction to seeing his photograph in my room. I think about how he understands me in a way that no one has before him. I think about how true happiness actually feels. This is a good man. A loving man.

  This is the man that I love. And I need to be brave enough to tell him so.

  I inhale deeply, gathering my courage. My heart feels ready to pound its way out of my chest.

  “Just because I didn’t mean to say it doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” I get the words out. They’re inelegant and awkward, but they’re a major victory for me. And he knows it. Of course, he would.

  His eyes soften to the warmest green I have ever seen. They’re mesmerizing and reassuring, all at once. I can’t look away. Not for a moment.

  He runs a finger gently across my cheek. “Say it,” he murmurs.

  This time, I don’t hesitate. “I love you, Danny.”

  His expression shows it all, his love for me overflowing from his beautiful eyes. He takes my face in his hands, and kisses me, softly at first, and then deeper until I can feel his overwhelming strength.

  “God, I love you, too,” he breathes into my lips, like it’s just the plain truth. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone in my life. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier–except I was inside you, so it didn’t come out that way.”

  He smiles as if he’s embarrassed, a sort of helpless gesture. Something about that boyish, unguarded smile draws a lump in my throat. And when I reach up to stroke his face he says, “I think you may be every single thing I’ve ever wanted.”

  His words leave me speechless. This is a man who knows well how to pleasure a woman, but when it comes to love, he’s as much a novice as I am.

  He studies my face carefully as I run my hand over his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to need me to say anything more.

  Instead, he takes me in an embrace that overcomes every ounce of self-doubt I may have, clutching me so tightly to him that it feels as if we’re one person. I just breathe him in, and let him fill me up with a happiness I haven’t known in years.

  Chapter 12

  Sarah

  “SO WHEN IS GOD’S GIFT to women showing up?”

  It’s Friday night happy hour at an English pub called The Rose & Crown, and Marcus is in a mood. Not surprisingly, I’m already questioning my better judgment of introducing him to Danny.

  “You promised me you would behave tonight.”

  He leans back in his chair, and rubs his chin under his lip. “I will. When do I ever not behave?” Those words would be far more reassuring if they weren’t drenched in his own special blend of sarcasm and wit.

  “Don’t make me even attempt to answer that question,” I say, lifting a brow at him. He and I both know we’d be here all night.

  “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  “Oh, I’d pay to see your impression of a gentleman, Marcus,” my friend Sheryl interjects.

  Sheryl is in my major; we met in the dorms our freshman year. A few inches shorter than me with bright red curly hair, green eyes and a very voluptuous figure, Sheryl is everything I’m not–gregarious, uninhibited, and right at home in the center of attention.

  Marcus is pretty much her polar opposite. With dark hair and dark eyes, he’s also far slighter in build, and far less agreeable in personality. But for all of his prickliness, he’s been one of my closest friends.

  Marcus is a year behind me in school, and is the epitome of a boy-genius. At present, he’s developing an educational app that’s very likely to become a full-blown business before the ink is dry on his diploma. It’s been his obsession for as long as I’ve known him.

  He and I met my sophomore year, and we became study partners almost immediately. Admittedly, I’ve been aware that he’s had feelings for me, but since I was with John for the better part of the last four years, it has pretty much been a moot point. I value Marcus’s friendship greatly, and I’m thankful that we’ve never let anything get in the way of it.

  I’m certainly hoping that doesn’t change tonight.

  By the time Danny arrives after work, we’re all on our second round. Selene and I are sitting with our backs to the door when Sheryl leans forward in her chair.

  “Holy hell, Sarah, is that one yours?” Her eyes are trained behind me, and she looks a little dumbstruck.

  All of us turn to see Danny striding purposefully towards our table.

  It’s hard not to notice the number of heads that swing appreciatively in his direction, and if I were the jealous type…well, thank God I’m not. Tonight, he’s in a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and light denim Levi’s jeans that look like they’ve been washed a thousand times, and then tailored for his athletic body. His hair is a little mussed and sexy, and his face bears the expression of a man who has no doubts about his place in the world.

  When he catches my eye, he breaks out that heart-stopping, megawatt grin.

  “Wow,” I hear Sheryl breathe quietly to herself.

  I can almost feel Marcus stiffen in his seat, and when I turn back, he’s glancing down into his beer with a sour look on his face.

  I’m assessing how bad this is going to be when Danny’s strong hands grip my shoulders.

  “Hi,” he whispers into my hair giving me a quick kiss before bending to offer Selene a kiss on the cheek, as well.

  Before I can respond, Sheryl jumps to her feet, extending her hand in greeting. Danny laughs at her exuberance, and takes her hand, formally introducing himself. A bright blush rises up her neck, turning the tips of her ears pink.

  Selene and I are laughing at our normally boisterous friend, when I hear Marcus cough into his beer. “Did you forget your ascot in the townhouse?”

  All eyes turn to Marcus, conveying varying degrees of shock at his rudeness.

  “Marcus!” I glare at him, with a mixture of exasperation and disappointment.

  “It was just a joke.” Then, turning to Danny he adds, “We’re all friends here.” His tone is not particularly friendly.

  Danny brus
hes off the comment, though the look in his eyes tells me that he’s made a rapid reassessment of the situation–and not in a positive way. He holds his tongue, but he’s clearly not a fan of Marcus.

  Fortunately, Selene and Sheryl jump in to pick up the conversation, doing our best to ease the awkwardness. I continue to stare pointedly at Marcus until he glances up at me for just a moment, and then looks away towards the bar.

  My heart sinks. I had really hoped that two of them would get along better than this. But, truthfully, I’m not entirely surprised, either. It was a long shot. I certainly don’t condone Marcus’s behavior, but to an extent, I understand where it comes from. Danny’s trifecta is looks, brains, and athleticism. He isn’t conceited about it, but he radiates confidence like heat on asphalt.

  Conversely, Marcus pairs his intelligence with cutting sarcasm and social awkwardness. Even in our circle of friends, he’s seen as amusing at best, and just tolerable on some days. His inclusion in our gatherings is usually my idea; I have a soft spot for him, given my own experience with social isolation.

  I also know that Marcus’s best-kept secret, the one he guards with vicious wit, is that at heart, he’s a really sweet guy. Though he’s definitely not showing that side tonight.

  Selene slides her chair over, and Danny sits between us. As he settles, he glances in my direction and gives me a reassuring look to say, ‘It’s fine.’ It’s not, but I love him for rolling with it anyway.

  Danny orders a beer, and engages Selene in a conversation about Kevin’s internship at a boutique intellectual property law firm in San Francisco. He always seems perfectly comfortable talking with anyone on a wide range of subjects, and he has a knack for remembering the smallest of details about people. Armed with those two skills, he has no trouble fitting right in with my girlfriends.

  Marcus is another story. I try to draw him out, but he deflects the conversation at every turn. Until finally an inquiry from Sheryl draws his attention, or ire as it turns out.

  “So, Dan, I understand you’re close to finishing your Ph.D. When do you think you’ll defend it?”