by Cindi Myers
Zach managed to nod solemnly, pushing aside the image that formed in his mind of Gordo with an apron and feather duster. “What happened?”
The big man winced as the tattoo needles hit a sensitive spot. “Well, she’d gone to her sister’s and apparently she was moping around there as bad as I was here, so her sister finally called and said if I didn’t come get her, she couldn’t be responsible for what she might do. So I went over there and told her I’d come to take her home. She packed her suitcase and came with me. I guess we both learned our lesson.”
“And what lesson was that?” Theresa asked.
He frowned in thought. “I guess it was that in spite of all the little ways we drove each other crazy, we really did love each other. And we needed each other. Which is hard to admit sometimes, you know?” He looked at Zach. “So what happened with you and this woman?”
Zach shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
Gordo shook his head. “No it ain’t.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” he snapped.
“I know it ain’t complicated. No matter what else is going on between you two, it comes down to two simple questions. Do you love her? And does she love you? If the answers to those two questions are yes, then you need to forget all the other stuff.”
“Gordo, I never knew you were such a philosopher of love,” Theresa said.
The big guy turned red all the way to the top of his balding head. “Aw, hell. It’s just that when you get to be as old as I am, you can’t help but learn a thing or two.” He looked at Zach. “The truth is, the lone-eagle routine sucks after a while. If you can find somebody who’ll put up with you, warts and all, they’re worth trying to hang on to.”
Theresa shut off the tattoo machine and handed Gordo the mirror. “All done. What do you think?”
He studied the heart with the name Delores inscribed on the ribbon wrapped around it. He sniffed. “It looks great.”
“Delores?” Zach asked. “Is that your wife?”
He nodded. “It’s our twenty-fifth anniversary tomorrow. I wanted to give her something special.”
Zach studied the heart. “That’s special, all right.”
After Gordo had roared away on his Harley, Theresa filed his paperwork. “Who would have thought a big, bad dude like that would be such a romantic?” she said.
“Yeah, and so full of advice.”
“I don’t know, Zach. I think it was good advice.”
He sat behind the counter and picked up his sketchbook again. “That’s rich, coming from the queen of commitment-phobes.”
“Hey, just because I prefer to keep my independence doesn’t mean you’re better off alone.”
“Right.” He flipped to a blank page and picked up his pencil. “Maybe I’m better off alone, too.”
“I saw you with Jen. You were happy. She was good for you.”
“Sure, it was fun while it lasted. It’s over now.”
She leaned across the counter and put her hand over the sketchpad. “If it was really over, you wouldn’t be acting this way.”
Their eyes met and he fought the urge to look away. Theresa was the one person he could never bluff. “So what if you’re right? That doesn’t change anything.”
“You could change things.” She picked up the phone. “Call her. Tell her you love her.”
He threw down his pencil. “I never said I loved her.”
“But you do, don’t you?” She put the phone down and gave him a hard look. “You heard the man—if you find someone who’ll put up with you, warts and all, she’s worth trying to hang on to.”
He shoved the sketchbook aside and stood. “Going to Chicago and being part of that dance troupe is Jen’s dream. She’s not going to give that up for me. And I wouldn’t ask her to.”
Theresa continued to glare at him.
“What?”
“Sometimes, big brother, you are so dumb.”
“I guess I am, because I don’t understand what you’re so bent out of shape about.”
“Nobody said you couldn’t go to Chicago with her.”
“And do what?”
“You don’t think people get tattoos in Chicago?”
“I get it. You’re trying to get rid of me.”
She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I’m trying to save you from your own stupid self.”
He settled back on the stool and picked up the sketchpad again. “Just back off, okay? You’re not qualified to give advice to anyone when it comes to relationships. You won’t let a man who looks even halfway serious get near you.”
“That’s me. You’re different.”
“Mind your own business, sister.” He turned his attention to the sketchbook, drawing in billows of steam rising from around a man’s head. About how he felt right now.
“You’re going to be sorry one day. You’ll see.”
He ignored her and kept drawing. Maybe he was sorry now. But if there was anything the past had taught him, it was that you couldn’t make something work that wasn’t meant to be.
JEN STAYED AWAY FROM THE shop for a week. She filled the time buying supplies for her trip and notifying her landlord that she was giving up her sublet. She searched the Internet for likely rentals in Chicago, put in extra hours at the dance studio and tried to put Zach out of her mind.
But after that week, she found herself pulling into a parking space down the street from Austin Body Art. She told herself she would just go in and say goodbye to Theresa. Of course, she could have done that at the apartment, and actually wasn’t moving out for another week, right after Shelly’s wedding. But this way, if Zach was working, she could show him that the fact that he hadn’t even tried to call her since dinner at her parents’ hadn’t wounded her. She’d talk about her plans for Chicago and act happy and prove to him—and to herself—that she was moving on.
Zach was alone in the front room when she entered, bent over some piece of equipment. She froze in the doorway, the string of temple bells jangling loudly behind her. He turned, and the pain in his eyes as his gaze locked on hers made her tremble. She kept hold of the doorknob, the desire to flee overwhelming, but her knees remained locked, her feet immobile. She inhaled a shaky breath and attempted a smile that never really fixed into place. “Hi, Zach.”
“Hello.” He turned his attention back to the equipment in his hand. A tattoo machine, she saw now. Shoulders hunched, head down, he looked like a man warding off a blow. “You need something?” he asked when the silence between them had stretched to a point past bearing.
You, was the answer that shouted in her head. But she refused to let the word pass her lips. “Uh, is Theresa here?”
“She’s in the back.” He raised his voice. “Theresa! Someone here to see you.”
Someone. Not “Jen.” Not “a friend.” Not “a woman I made love to.” Just “someone.” Those two syllables hurt more than any cutting words he could have said.
She raised her chin. Fine. He could cut her down all he liked. She’d show him she was above that. She moved farther into the shop, coming to stand in his line of vision. “How are you, Zach?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Fine. I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Theresa emerged from the back, freezing in the act of pushing aside the beaded curtain when she saw Jen. She looked from Jen to Zach, and back again. “Hey, there,” she said. “What brings you here?”
Jen could feel Zach’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. “I just stopped by to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Zach’s voice was sharp.
“Yeah.” She twisted her purse strap in her hands and tried to sound casual. “I’m leaving for Chicago pretty soon and I’m so busy getting ready to go, I wasn’t sure I’d have a chance to see you again.”
“Is it time for you to leave already?” Theresa glanced at Zach.
“Yeah. The dance company starts rehearsals for the new season on September first. I have to go
up and find a place to live, and everything before then.”
“Well, good luck, then.” Theresa let the curtain drop behind her and came to stand between the two of them. “We’re going to miss you.” She looked at Zach, as if expecting him to echo this sentiment, but he said nothing.
“Thanks,” Jen said. “I’ll miss you, too. Both of you.” Dangerous words, a crack in the dam around her emotions. She’d been crazy to think she could come here like this, see Zach, be so close to him and not have all her feelings for him come back to mock her. Apparently love wasn’t like a craving for chocolate or a bad habit of biting your nails, something you could wean yourself from with willpower and distractions. This longing she had for Zach went deeper; she could live without him, but would she live, as well?
She focused on Zach’s hands, afraid to look at his face. But that was a mistake, too. Seeing those long, slender fingers made her remember the way they’d looked against her own skin, how gentle he’d been when he’d touched her.
She looked away, determined not to break down. No matter how much she wanted things to be different, she couldn’t stay here with Zach. Even love wouldn’t be enough to make up for the part of her that would die if she gave up this dream she’d worked toward so long.
“Hey, I got an invitation from Shelly for her wedding,” Theresa said. “I guess her boyfriend finally proposed.”
“He did.” She latched onto this new topic of conversation as if she were a trapeze artist grabbing hold of a rope. “It was crazy. He’d been spending so much time at work, even breaking dates with her to work late, that Shelly was sure he was seeing someone else. Instead, all this time he’d been putting in extra hours so he could buy her a nice ring and a great honeymoon.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for her.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
And then they were back to awkward silence, both women staring at Zach, who must have taken apart and reassembled the tattoo machine three times now. But still, he continued to fiddle with it, refusing to look at them. Just say something, Jen thought. Anything. Don’t let me leave thinking you hate me.
Theresa stuck her hands in her back pockets and rocked back on her heels. “So, if you need anything before you go—help moving or anything—let me know.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” She glanced at Zach again, then turned back to Theresa. “I guess I’d better be going.”
Theresa nodded. “Yeah. Stop by sometime when you’re in town.”
“I will. Goodbye.”
She turned and fled, the temple bells echoing in her ears as she rushed down the sidewalk to her car. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and the lump in her throat made it difficult to breathe. That was to be expected when your heart hurt as much as hers did. But she’d get over it, she was sure.
She’d get over Zach, too, but she knew she’d never forget him.
ZACH WAITED FOR THERESA to tell him he was being an idiot. It had been her oft-repeated refrain lately, and he’d stopped trying to deny the charge. But this time, all she did was lean over and jerk the tattoo machine out of his hand. “I think it’s clean enough,” she said, and stalked over and laid it on the workbench.
She shoved aside a pile of computer printouts that was in her way. “What is all this shit anyway?”
“Just some stuff I was looking through.” He reached to take it from her but she blocked him.
“Art School and Program Directory.” She looked up at him. “What are you doing with this info?”
“It’s just stuff I had leftover from a long time ago.” He snatched the papers from her and shoved them into an accordion file.
She watched as he latched the file. “I recognize that. That’s all your art stuff from high school. Your—what do you call it?—your portfolio.”
“Yeah. So?”
She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the workbench. “So are you going to tell me why you have that out now, after all this time?”
“No.” He turned away, ignoring her glare. He wasn’t going to say anything to anyone. Not yet.
She shoved away from the bench and stalked toward the back room. “You are such an idiot,” she said.
“I know. I’m an idiot.” Love did that to people, didn’t it? Made them foolish and foolhardy, ready to rush into things they’d never dared before. It was a scary feeling, one he still wasn’t sure he knew how to handle.
TWO DAYS LATER, JEN WAS packing books into boxes to store at her parents’ when her doorbell rang. Expecting to have to fend off an evangelist or poll taker, she peered through the peephole. Theresa’s face, distorted by the fish-eye lens of the viewer, loomed up at her. “Come on, Jen, we know you’re in there.”
Then she noticed Shelly standing behind Theresa. Smiling, she undid the chain and locks and let them in. “Did you come by to help me pack?” she asked.
“We came to knock some sense into you.” Theresa stalked into the apartment, Shelly following at a slower pace. Theresa stopped at the sofa and turned to face Jen. “I’m beginning to think you and my brother are the two biggest idiots in this city. And that’s saying a lot, considering some of the people I’ve met.”
Shelly plopped down on the sofa and stared up at Jen. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, but I do think you could be making a big mistake.”
Jen’s happiness at seeing her friends evaporated quickly. She walked past them into the kitchen. “I’m going to Chicago,” she said. “You can’t say anything to change that.” She took three glasses from the cabinet and pulled an ice tray from the freezer. “I’ve got iced tea or water—which do you want?”
“Give me that.” Theresa took the ice tray from her and began filling the glasses while Shelly removed the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator. “We know you’re going to Chicago. Who said anything about stopping you?”
“That’s why you came here, isn’t it?” Jen took the pitcher from Shelly and filled the glasses. “You think I should stay here and work things out with Zach.”
“We think you should work things out with Zach.” Shelly picked up one of the glasses and took a long drink.
“Even if you can’t stay here, you owe it to yourself—and you owe it to Zach—to admit that you love him.”
“Why? What good does it do either of us to admit that?”
Theresa looked at Shelly and shook her head. “What did I tell you? An idiot!”
Shelly smiled into her glass. “Maybe ‘coward’ would be a better word.”
“Coward?” Jen leaned against the counter, arms hugged across her chest. “That’s a low blow. I’m setting out on my own in a strange city in a job that will have me performing in front of thousands of people all over the country. I don’t call that being a coward.”
“But you’re afraid to tell Zach how you really feel about him. Because it might hurt. Or because it might make you have to rethink your future.” Shelly shook her head. “That’s not exactly brave.”
Jen studied the yellowed tile on the kitchen floor. Shelly’s words stung, but she was woman enough to consider them. “Okay, suppose I do go to Zach and say ‘Zach, I love you. Now I’m leaving. Goodbye.’ How does that make anything better?”
“Because he’ll know that you loved him—the real him.” Theresa set aside her glass and gripped the edge of the countertop. “Look, I know he’s this big, tough guy and all, but the truth is, Zach hasn’t had a lot of love in his life. And I wouldn’t have said he’s even missed it except…I saw how he was with you.” She looked away. “And he’d kill me if he knew I was here now. I can’t even believe I’m here.”
Jen bit her lip, a pain around her heart as Theresa’s words hung in the air between him. “Oh, God,” she whispered, gulping for air. “I do love him.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know if I can see him again and not break down.”
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, wishing there was a way to block the pain that shuddered through her. “Why did this have to happen now?
I manage to get one part of my life together and another part goes all to hell.”
Shelly slipped her arm around Jen’s shoulders and pulled her close. “So what if you do break down? Would that be the worst thing in the world? At least then he’d know you really meant what you said. And sometimes a good cry clears the air.”
Theresa reached out and patted her shoulder. “Zach loves you, too, Jen. Don’t think he doesn’t. And I would have given him this same speech, except he’s a man, and even more stubborn than I am, so I figured my chances were better with you.”
Jen nodded. “Thanks. I’ve just got to have a little time to work up my courage.”
“I know.” Theresa sighed. “I could be wrong here, but I think this is the right thing to do. Otherwise, all those things you never said to each other are going to fester there inside you. They take up space around your heart and make it hard to let anyone else in.”
Jen studied her friend more closely. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”
Theresa looked away. “Let’s just say I’ve made my share of mistakes, and I’ve learned a few lessons.”
Jen wanted to know more, but before she could figure out a way to gently probe for details, her phone rang. “I have to get that,” she said. “I already packed the answering machine.”
“Jen, darling, I’m glad I caught you at home.” It was her mother’s voice. She sounded agitated.
“What is it, Mom? Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly. Well, I’m not sure. But I think you need to come over to the house right away.”
“What’s going on, Mama? I have friends here and—”
“I really think you should come, dear. As soon as you can.”
It wasn’t like her mother to sound so alarmed. Jen’s heart hurt. “Is it Daddy? Is he all right?”
“Your father is fine. Just—promise you’ll come over.”
“All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can. You’re sure you’re both okay?”
“We’re fine. But hurry.”
15
