by Lola StVil
“He said he got off work early and asked if now was a good time to meet up and talk.”
“Okay, what do we say?”
“I said he can come by in an hour.”
Without saying a word, we both go to the kitchen and take out the ice cream—not the non-fat crap; we take out the good stuff—Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. We each grab a spoon and dig in. Kenzy is supposed to reassure me, but as it turns out, she’s the one who needs the reassurance.
“It’s gonna be okay, Kenz.”
“I don’t know, it’s all so up in the air. This is happening too fast. Text him again, tell him we need more time.”
“No, we can do this, Kenz.”
“He can’t break up with us, we’d have to find someone new, and well, I can’t. I just can’t. He won’t be as hot as Cash, as nice, or as thoughtful. Oh, and he won’t be as hot.”
“You said hot already.” I laugh.
“I know, but it needs to be repeated.”
“I promise that no matter which way this plays out, you will be okay.”
“Will I? It’s just so hard to find a good guy, please don’t ruin this for us. Whatever he asks for, you do it.”
“Kenzy!”
“What?! I’m serious. If that man wants to have a threesome, you text me right away.”
“Kenzy!”
“What—there’s a lady that moved in across the street from me last month, and she’d be perfect!”
“I don’t think he’s gonna ask for a threesome,” I reply as I lick the spoon.
“Hey, don’t you judge that man. We love that man!” she says as her high tone goes even higher.
“Kenz, he’s coming over, we are going to talk and see what happens. That’s all.”
“Why are you so calm?”
“I’m not, but we have a deal—only one of us panics at a time…”
She takes a deep breath and grabs the ice cream from me. She places it back in the freezer. “Okay, I’m back. Sorry about that meltdown.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“This is about you and Cash. And me, but for now, let’s just say it’s about you two.”
“Um, thanks.”
She places her hand on mine and asks if I really am okay. I tell her that I’m just glad that we are finally going to talk. She helps me find something to wear—we keep it simple. Then about a half hour before Cash gets here, I walk Kenzy out. She hugs me extra tight and says to call her as soon as he’s gone.
I look out the window; it’s beginning to rain—just a little. I tidy up my apartment, and no, it doesn’t really need it. But I need something to do with myself until he comes. My cell rings, and at first, I think it’s Cash calling to cancel. I hope not; I really want to just have the damn talk and get it over with already.
It’s not Cash; it’s Eric—my neighbor. Yesterday, we hung out. I helped him pick out something nice to wear for the “senior” prom they are having at the center. It’s basically a high school prom except everyone there is actually a senior, as in over the age of sixty-five.
There’s a woman, Lily, who will be coming and he has a thing for her. He won’t say it out loud, but it’s easy to see. Lily is the first woman he’s really liked since his wife died and I think he’s feeling a little conflicted.
“Hi, Eric! Are you at the prom yet?”
“No, it starts in about an hour.”
“Great, is everything okay?”
“Well, to be honest, I heard the staff could use some help—I know you volunteered all day yesterday, but if we don’t get these last-minute things done… Can you go over there and help? Just for an hour or so?”
“Ah…”
“Please, kiddo; we could really use you.”
“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The doorbell rings. Fuck! I rush over and open it. Cash stands on the other side looking like the bright future I thought I’d never find.
“Sky, is everything okay?”
“Well, that depends—do you wanna go to prom with me?”
***
The senior center is normally a calm and subdued place. The large lounge area usually has multiple tables where board games and other activities are held, but now it’s bathed in warm blue lights from sparkling cut-out stars that glow. There are streamers hanging from the ceiling and cascading down to the floor. The tables have menus that look like passports, and the centerpiece is a mini Eiffel tower. And in the back of the room stands a model of the Eiffel tower in lights.
“This is nice,” Cash says as we enter the community center.
“Oh my god, it really is—I helped them pick out some of the décor, but I’ve never seen it all together before. This looks amazing!”
“So, I take it this is a Paris theme?”
“Not just Paris but ‘A Starry Night in Paris,’” I reply.
One of the staff comes up and hugs me. “Thank you so much for coming to help,” she says, unable to stop herself from checking Cash out.
“No problem, Amanda. This is Cash,” I reply. She looks at him and blushes. He greets her, and they shake hands. I’m pretty sure she needs a moment or two to catch her breath. I know the feeling.
“So, this place looks great, what do you need us to do?” I ask.
“Huh?” she says, lost in Cash’s eyes.
“Prom, Amanda! What do you need us to do to help get ready for the guests?” I reply, smiling to myself.
“Oh yeah, we open in about forty-five minutes, and there is a list of things that aren’t done yet,” she says as she shows me her clipboard. Cash tells me he’ll help with whatever we need, just let him know what needs to be done. But looking at the list, it’s all things we can handle on our own.
“Are there any clubs that are meeting tonight?” I ask Amanda.
“Once the prom officially starts, all other activities will be closed, but for now, yes,” she replies.
“Is Bridge club going on?” I ask.
“Yeah, the guys are there,” she says.
“Great, I’m gonna have Cash wait for me at Bridge club. Then I’ll come back and help with everything,” I promise as I take Cash’s hand and lead him down the hallway to one of the game rooms. We stand outside the door, but he’s hesitant to enter.
“I can help with whatever’s on your list; I’m not really a ‘bridge’ guy,” he warns awkwardly.
I smile and take his hand. “Trust me,” I reply as I open the door. Cash is expecting to see a room full of boring elderly people with no energy. He expects them to be placid and as interesting as watching paint dry. Instead, when we walk into the room, we find what I expected us to find—a room full of foul-mouthed, hard-drinking, former soldiers, smoking cigars and playing a heated game of Texas Hold ’em.
“We made that shit happen—that’s right, boots on the ground, motherfucker!” Mr. Hardwick shouts as he stands up.
“Bullshit, we took to the air, and we saved your asses, time and time again!” Mr. Gordon says, getting up, equally pissed off.
“Aww, zip it, and ante up!” Mr. Porter orders. Cash turns and looks at me, stunned.
“‘Bridge’ is a code word for poker. These guys are all former Navy, Army, and Air Force,” I whisper to him. I address them since they are too into their game to notice that we entered.
“Hi, guys!”
“Hello, darling!” Mr. Porter says. The others greet me, and I introduce them to Cash.
“So which is it—NYPD or FBI?” one of them shouts.
“Ah…DEA. How did you know that?” Cash asks.
The guys laugh at him and Mr. Gordon says, “Damn young folks. I made you the moment you came in this motherfucker. Sit down and play a hand.”
Cash looks back at me, and I smile. He takes a seat and after a few moments, it’s clear he will be just fine with the guys. In fact, I think it’s a perfect match.
***
The prom starts about half an hour later than it was supposed to, but other than that,
things are going well. I run into Eric as he enters; he’s got silver hair, warm green eyes, and a lady-killer of a smile.
“Thank you so much for helping out, kiddo,” he says as he looks around the room.
“Happy to do it. They just needed a little help; the fact is they were almost good to go. I’m not even sure they needed me,” I reply. Eric looks at the floor; I know he called me for more than just help with the prom. I look over at the far side of the room where his crush, Lily, stands over by the punch bowl. I guide Eric over there and say hello. It takes a little time, but soon the two of them start talking, laughing, and eventually, dancing.
I find myself getting choked up as I watch them slow dance and look into each other’s eyes. I’d like to think someone looks at me that way—someone does, or someone did. I don’t know. I have no idea where Cash and I stand right now. But now is a good time to find out. So I make my way down the hallway to get him.
When I enter the room, they are all laughing and telling war stories. I guess the game kept going even after the prom started. I collect Cash, and they make me promise to bring him back sometime, and I agree.
“Thanks for staying, Cash.”
“It was fun; those guys are nuts.”
“Yeah, they are a handful. But no matter how tough they are, if their wives knew they were here gambling, they’d all be done for. That’s one of the reasons we call it ‘Bridge’ club,” I reply as we head towards the exit.
Cash looks over towards the lounge and says, “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“You asked me to the prom and I don’t even get one dance?” he asks.
I laugh. “You’re right. What was I thinking? Care to dance?”
“Yes,” he says, and before I know it, we are slow dancing in Paris.
By the time we get out of the community center, the little drizzle of rain turns into an outright downpour. Thick raindrops pound down on New York City and carry a sudden chill with them. The theater crowd scurries past us, seeking shelter in cabs, train stations, and under restaurant awnings. Cash pulls me close and shields me under the umbrella we borrowed from the center.
We duck into a small café near the theater district. They have limited seating but luckily the wave of theatergoers who usually hang out there has died down for the night. We take a seat near the window. Neither of us is particularly hungry, so we just order something warm to drink; I have mint tea, and Cash has decaf coffee—black.
We sit in silence for a moment, looking out the window as New Yorkers make their way home in the downpour. I love the sound of raindrops on windows; it always makes me feel at ease. It’s relaxing and can put me in a trance. But as calming as rain can be, it won’t take away the fact that Cash and I are about to talk and I have no idea where we will be at the end of this conversation. In fact, there may not even be a “we.” That thought causes a chill to run down my spine.
“Are we too close to the door?” Cash asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re shivering. Are we sitting too close to the entrance?” he asks, concerned.
God, I’m gonna miss that…Sky, stop it! He hasn’t said that it’s over. Just be cool and hear what he has to say! And do not overthink!
“No, this is fine. And once I have the tea, it’ll be perfect,” I reply, determined to stay out of my head. Not long after, the waiter brings us our drinks; we thank him and sip in silence for a while. All this time I have wanted Cash to talk to me and tell me what he’s thinking. And now that we are here, sitting together, I want a little more time. I want more time because if we are breaking up, I want to enjoy this a little while longer.
Shit, are we breaking up?
If it were any other guy, I’d say no; he wouldn’t break up with me because he’s being so nice. He went to the prom with me, but Cash is like that. He’s a nice guy. It’s easy to think he’s an alpha jerk who bullies people. But that’s so far from the truth. The truth is he’s got a good heart, and even if we are breaking up, I think he’d try his best to make it easy on me.
“How’s your tea?” he asks.
Small talk. Crap. We are breaking up.
“It’s really good. It’s rare to find places that use real mint leaves. How’s your coffee?”
“Strong. I’ve been here a few times, and I’ve never been disappointed,” he says.
We fall into yet more silence. Fuck. Me.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” the waiter says as he comes over to our table. Cash assures him that we are fine for the moment; he nods and walks away. We are left alone once again. Screw it, my stomach is twisting in knots, and the rain is no longer calming as it’s reminding me of the classic scenes in every romance movie, where the couple breaks up. I need to know, either way at this point.
“Cash, I am sorry that I lied to you. It wasn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve that. Do you accept my apology?”
He puts his coffee down and looks into my eyes; his voice is warm, low, and makes me wish he was sitting closer to me.
“Sky, I believe you, and yes, I accept your apology,” he says, putting his hand on mine. The second we make contact, it causes a tingle down my body. I missed his touch.
“So, are we okay?” I dare to ask.
“You tell me,” he replies.
That’s not good.
“I hope we are but it’s obvious there are things we need to talk about, so let’s just do it.”
“Alright, let’s start with you wanting to get a gun.”
Sure, let’s start with something easy, why don’t we?
“Okay,” I reply out loud.
“When that parent at your school came at you, what did it feel like?” he asks.
“Awful. I was scared and shocked that it was happening. When he pushed me to the ground and towered over me, I thought he’d hit me until I blacked out or maybe until…” I can’t finish my thought.
My throat goes dry. I take a sip of the hot tea, but it just sits in the middle of my stomach and forms a pool of ice. Cash reaches across the table and takes both of my hands in his.
“Babe, it’s okay. You’re fine. You won’t have to worry about that guy anymore,” he reminds me. I nod. I feel like a damn fool, reacting like the schoolyard incident just happened.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…emotional,” I reply, reaching for the water on the table.
“It’s understandable. Don’t worry about it. The fact is there is no wrong way to feel after someone attacks you.”
“I guess. Anyway, it brought back some stuff from the alley, and that’s why I want to try getting a gun,” I mumble, trying to regain my composure.
“Did you feel vulnerable and helpless? Like you had no control over what happened to you?”
“Yes.”
“Like at any given moment the ground could shift under you, and there would be nothing you could do about it?”
“Well, yeah,” I admit.
“Are you feeling as if you are basically at the mercy of everyone bigger than you?”
My blood runs cold as I realize Cash has somehow managed to get in my head. It’s like he is reading my thoughts from that night. “How the hell do you know that?” I ask.
“Sky, you’re not the first person my team and I have rescued. You’re not the first person to have a gun pointed at their head. And you’re not the first person to experience more than one attack in a short span of time.” I lower my eyes; he places his hand on my face and strokes my cheek.
“There’s no need to be hard on yourself; it’s a traumatic thing to have happen. You have a right to react however you want.”
“So does that mean you are all for me getting a gun?” I ask.
He inhales deeply, withdraws his hand, and leans back in his chair.
“No, I’m not okay with you getting a gun. First of all, I’m not a fan of any civilians being armed. Second, I don’t think you have it in you to take the shot if
you had to, and third, you don’t want a gun.”
“I do, that’s why I asked Logan about it.”
He leans in closer and speaks in a low, thoughtful voice.
“Babe, you asked Logan how to get a gun. But what you were really asking him was, ‘How do I feel safe again?’”
The moment the words come out of his mouth, it all makes sense. I never saw myself as a gun person and yet, I wanted to buy one. This whole time I wasn’t eager to be armed, I was eager to feel safe and to have some kind of control over what happened to me.
That’s not the only realization I have; now I can see why Cash was so upset. It’s not just that I lied to him, I went to someone else to do the one thing he prided himself on being able to do—keep me safe.
“Cash, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you when I went to Logan,” I whisper.
“It’s okay,” he says, trying to sound unaffected.
“I do feel safe with you; you have to know that.”
“Do you?” he asks.
“Always. But I’m not with you all the time, and I need to keep that sense when I’m alone.”
“Yes, I get that. But there are steps we can take before we get to gun ownership. A friend of mine, her name is Mel. She runs a women’s self-defense class, she’s been doing it for years, and her students come out of the class with real applicable skills.”
“A class? Does that really work? Isn’t it all about carrying a whistle and trying to claw some guy’s eyes out?” I ask.
“It’s a lot more than that. She’ll show you how to be vigilant, how to control your adrenaline rush so that it works for you and not against you. She’ll also show all the ways you can harm an attacker so you can gain the upper hand long enough to get away. And that’s the goal—getting away, not taking a life.”
“So you don’t think I’m strong enough to take a shot if I had to?”
“That’s not what I said.”
