by Rossi, Carla
“Whoa, wait a minute. I don’t know what’s wrong with your ankles, but you will find a job.” He pushed his plate aside and re-opened her computer. “C’mon, you have more education and experience than a lot of people. And God is still in control, remember? Keep sending stuff out. Something will stick.”
“I’ve made thirty inquiries.”
“Good start. It’ll happen.”
Once he had his hands on her computer, it was all he could do to keep from launching search and rescue sequences on behalf of her hard drive. He glanced at a couple of her error messages and let the information slide by. Nearly killed him. “Look. Here’s one.”
She didn’t answer. He tore his eyes from the screen to find her staring at him, her brows all furrowed as if studying a creature in the wild.
“What is it? Do I have food on my face or something?”
“No. You really are a motivational person aren’t you?”
“No, Gia, we’ve been through this. That motivational thing at camp does not come naturally to me. I’m sure I’m failing miserably. They just haven’t bothered to fire me yet.”
“No, you have a knack for the positive. I see it in kids all the time. They are perpetually optimistic creatures. Not adults. Adults tend to go ‘glass half empty’ as soon as real life tosses a few curves.”
He gave up on the search and took another piece of chicken. “I’m sure you’re a gifted psychology person-whatever, but please don’t try to demystify my brain. I’m tellin’ you, you won’t find much.”
“I don’t play mind tricks on my friends. I’m only saying I appreciate your ability to see things in a positive light. I couldn’t have gotten through these last few days without you.”
“You’re going to be fine, Gia.”
“See? It’s like you can’t help yourself. You jump in there with the encouragement even though you know how insurmountable some of this is.”
“It’s not insurmountable. It’s only overwhelming.”
Her face went blank. “Wow... You’re good.”
“If you’re going to make fun of me, I’m not going to clean up your cesspool of a computer.”
“I’m not making fun.” A slight smile teased at the corners of her mouth as she took her plate to the trash. “I’m envious of your upbeat attitude.” She paused at the kitchen window above the sink and looked out. Her hand brushed across her stomach. “I mean, I know there’s a miracle in this whole mess somewhere, but it all seems so jumbled up and hopeless that I can’t find it yet. I can’t yet connect my mind with what’s happening to my body.”
He could see the panic rising in her eyes. He wanted to approach, wanted to hold her, longed to comfort her.
He didn’t move. “You’re doing fine, Gia.”
She waved her hands in front of her face as if chasing away sudden heat. “Let’s talk about something else.” She returned to her chair. “Back to you for a minute. It doesn’t take a psychologist to know your positive attitude is probably a result of your injury and subsequent struggles.”
He reached for her computer again and started closing windows so he could explore the system. “I guess so. I’ve been living this way for a while now, so I don’t much think about it.”
“But you have such strength. You must get that from your past experiences.”
“I’m not a saint, Gia. I’ve had some bad days. And up until I accepted Christ, there were a lot more bad days, but yes, I guess I draw from what happened after my injury. What choice did I have?”
His words seemed to have put her off balance though she was clearly in control of the conversation. He’d dealt with his stuff so long ago and settled into his daily groove, it was hard to remember a day when he wasn’t living his new normal. She, however, was struggling to find a way out, around, or over a difficult situation—and he was so busy trying to take care of her, he missed how she was desperately trying to take care of herself.
He sat back in his chair, balled up his napkin, and tossed it onto his plate. “When I was first injured, I did all those textbook things you do in that situation. Shock, denial, anger—you know the drill. But then there’s that day. It’s that day you decide how you’re gonna let it all play out. And I had two choices. I could either curl up and die, or I could tackle one obstacle at a time and live. I decided I’m more of a tackler than a curler.”
She flicked the corner of the napkin basket until a rhythmic clicking sound filled the kitchen. He covered her hand with his to stop the nervous movement.
“Well, I’m certainly not a curler,” she said. “But my tackling skills are horrendous.”
“How so?”
“I don’t make much of a strategic plan for the best possible return on my tackle. I tend to tackle first and ask questions later. You’d think I’d have better control over my impulsive nature after battling it for so long. But yet, here I am.”
“It wasn’t your impulsive nature that made you a crime victim. That’s not on you.”
“Of course it is!”
Panic was evident in her voice again. It seemed to creep up and zap her every once in a while and set her off. She grabbed his plate, sprang from her chair and made a return trip to the trash.
She leaned against the counter. “It’s always on me, Rocky. You don’t know me. I put myself in situations without thinking. That guy would have never had the chance if I’d been making better choices in the first place. My father is right about me. I find trouble everywhere I go. I’ve made so many wrong turns that even when I decide to make right turns, the wrong ones come around to bite me every time. I. Can’t. Win.”
He had no experience with an upset woman in his kitchen. Basic survival instinct prevailed on him to duck and cover—or at least wait it out.
She smashed the lid onto the mac and cheese container and flapped the chicken box closed. She practically threw them into the refrigerator. After a quick swipe with the cleaning wipe she found under the sink, she returned to her chair.
“Did you say you had a box?”
“I can probably find you a box. But I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to go to Wednesday night church with me tonight—”
“I can’t go, Rocky. I don’t know how long I’ll be in this area and I’d rather not see anyone.”
“I understand. I also need to ask you about tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is my day to go to camp. I thought you might want to go with me? Maybe talk to the directors or pick up your mail... Or have you talked to them already?”
“I haven’t talked to them. I don’t know where to start.”
“I’d say start with the truth. I’m sure they’re worried about you. You don’t have to tell everyone everything, but you’ll have to tell someone something.”
“I know. Rebekah and some of the others have been blowing up my phone every time they can sneak away or have phone time. I really need to tell Paramedic Ash about the drugs. He was very concerned about me and I know he’s wondering.” She went back to picking at the napkin basket. “I’m not going to mention the pregnancy to anyone yet. I haven’t been to that kind of doctor or know if I’m OK.”
“That’s good,” he agreed. “Tackle one thing at a time.”
“I’ll call as soon as I can catch someone in the office. I’ll tell them I’m not coming back.”
He nodded. “And you can let me know if you want me to tell anyone where you are or pick up your mail or anything you left there.”
“Unfortunately for you, they’ve all seen that newspaper, so it’s not like you can act like you don’t know me.”
“I won’t say anything, Gia, unless you want me to.”
She leaned forward. “I’m sorry I brought you in to all this.”
“I’m not. Glad to be here for you.”
“That’s sweet, but... Anyway... Where’s that box?”
“I’ll get it. What are you up
to?”
Tears glittered in her eyes. “I can’t stay here, Rocky. It feels inappropriate and it’s disrupted your life.”
He knew that was coming since she’d mentioned the box. He’d tried to block it out of his mind. If she wanted to go, he couldn’t stop her. “Nothing’s disrupted. You should stay here where you’re safe until you figure out what to do.”
“I can’t. You say nothing’s disrupted, but I know you were up cleaning your kitchen in the middle of the night. I can’t be responsible for that.”
“It needed to be done anyway.” He fought to keep desperation from his voice. “You should at least stay ‘til morning. Get a good night’s sleep before you head out. You’ll have the place to yourself. I’ll be at church.”
“I’m sorry, Rocky. I should never have come here. I need to fix this myself.”
He clenched his jaw so tight his neck hurt. Had she forgotten there could be letters from a rapist sitting at camp? What about her doctor appointments later in the week? Had they not had this whole conversation about her impulsive nature and how that didn’t work for her? He rubbed his temples. Screaming all these questions inside his head was creating a throbbing pain behind his left eyeball.
He met her determined gaze. Nothing he could say would change her mind. If he could let it rest in God’s hands, it would be easier to accept that. “OK. Let me know when you’re ready to get your car. I’ll get your box.”
“I’ll get it,” she offered. “Is it in the garage?”
“No. It’s in my car. I’ll get it. Stay out of the garage.”
****
Gia placed some of her belongings in the sturdy box and piled the rest of her things near the bedroom door. The zipper on her camp duffle bag separated as she attempted to slip one last pair of shorts inside.
“Figures,” she said as she rearranged clothes and collected the panties that popped out of the top. “We had a good run, I guess.”
She smoothed the multicolored quilt and sat on the edge of the bed to retrieve her flip-flops from under the deep blue dust ruffle. She was glad she’d agreed to stay until morning. Though uplifting in an awkward and relieving kind of way, her phone calls to Rebekah, Ash, and the camp directors had been more taxing than she ever imagined. They were appropriately appalled, concerned, and supportive, and then Ash startled her with the sad reality of how many confused and injured girls he encountered on first responder calls. Date rape was apparently alive and well and rampant at college campuses and high school parties.
She stepped into her shoes and swiped her keys off the dresser. The more she stashed in her car tonight, the faster she could leave in the morning. Rocky had worked on her computer, left her alone all afternoon, and long ago headed for Bible study. She knew God was with her and leaving was the right thing to do. Why did it feel so horribly wrong?
She lifted the box. And where was that astounding sense of peace she had earlier in the week?
She pushed through his front door. Rocky’s across-the-street neighbor huffed and puffed his way back and forth on his lawn with an extra-loud mower. He glanced her way and waved. She steadied the load and waved back. Then she nearly collided with Rocky as she turned the corner to the driveway.
He was speeding toward the street with paper towels in his lap. The garage door was closing behind him. She may have been about to be mowed down, but that didn’t stop her from stealing a glance at the mysterious space he’d forbidden her to enter. She couldn’t see a thing.
The box wobbled and flopped out of her hands. Rocky made a sharp but seemingly effortless swerve to the side. He whirled around and stopped at about the same time she began seriously re-thinking her decision to stack her teal, pink, and yellow panties at the top of the open box. They floated down and littered the ground between them.
She glanced at the neighbor. He was laughing as he mowed.
“I thought you were at church!”
“I was. I thought you weren’t leaving until morning.”
“I’m not.” She dropped to the ground and shoved things back into the box. “I was putting this in the car. And what are you doing to my car, anyway? Why is the hood up?”
“I’m checking the fluids. If it’s anything like your computer, I’m not a moment too soon.”
“You’re so funny. For your information, I had the oil checked in May. It’s fine. How did you get in it? It’s locked.”
“It’s open,” he said. “I opened the door and popped the hood.”
“It’s parked on the street,” she argued. “I would have locked it.”
“Fine. You locked it. Yet, I opened the door and pulled the hood release. Whatever. Call me Houdini.”
“Oh, I’ve got somethin’ to call you...”
“Save it for later. Right now I need to check the other fluids so you don’t get stranded somewhere in these skyrocketing temperatures on your quest to not stay here where it’s safe. What if it overheats?”
“It’s not going to overheat.” She stood with the box. “But help yourself. I’ll start the engine so you can check the transmission fluid. Yeah,” she said with a smirk. “I know stuff. Car stuff. I know the engine has to be on to get a correct reading of transmission fluid.”
“Give me a minute to check everything else first. Being a mechanic and all, you’ll understand it’s best to check the other levels while it’s cool. I don’t need a steam burn from the radiator.”
His elderly neighbor to the left crept toward them with a garden hose. She inclined her ear as if to eavesdrop on their spirited discussion as she pretended to water a near-dead asparagus fern.
“Hello, Rocky,” she called across the yard.
He turned toward the voice. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Konchesky,” he said like warm butter. “How are you?”
“Can’t complain. Everything all right?”
“Fine, ma’am. Was your grandson able to stop that leak in your kitchen faucet?”
“Not yet.”
“Max and I will come look at it as soon as we can.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“No problem, Mrs. Konchesky. You should get back inside. The mosquitos could carry you away tonight.”
Mrs. Konchesky chirped what should have been a cute old-lady giggle—if she wasn’t so diabolical. It was more like an evil laugh to Gia’s ears. When Rocky looked away, the woman gave Gia the stink-eye.
“Did you see that? That old biddy gave me a dirty look.”
“Hey, watch it. She makes the best oatmeal raisin cookies in the world, and I’m her favorite on this street. I get them once a week. Don’t mess that up for me.”
“So how long have you and the old neighbor lady been an item? And don’t tell me you’re not, because that lady is pretty uncomfortable with you having another woman on your premises. I’ll bet she’s seen what’s in your garage.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m putting this box in the car. How’d you get out of church so early?”
“It’s not that early. Isn’t it around eight?” He parked his chair near the car and started working. “Pastor Charles doesn’t keep us too late in the summer. There’s talk of suspending Wednesday night Bible study for the month of July. People are travelling and all that. The church will still be open for prayer, but nothing formal.”
“Everyone needs a break,” she agreed and noticed how he grabbed the side of the car and pulled himself up and forward to reach everything. “Can I help you?”
“No. Some cars are harder than others, but I think I can get to everything. This won’t take long. I was serious about the mosquitoes. They’re bad. You should go in. But leave your keys.”
“I’m OK. Have you eaten?”
“No. If you’re hungry, I can go get us something.”
“No, Rocky. No more take-out. That stuff is horrible for you. Don’t you ever cook?”
“Yes, sometimes, but it’s not much fun for one. Doesn’t seem to be much of a point.”
She leaned against the
car. “Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this because it goes against every Italian blood cell in my body, but I saw you had a jar of spaghetti sauce in there and some pasta. I’ll go put on some water and cut up some vegetables or something.”
“Sounds good,” he said and swiped the dipstick clean. “You still leaving in the morning?”
“It’s for the best, Rocky. My presence here has your girlfriend Mrs. Konchesky all peeved. Can’t have that,” she said and started toward the door. “Cannot have that.”
“I know what we should do,” he said casually. “I know what would help this situation.”
She turned as he wiped off his hands. “What’s that?”
“We should get married. It works on every level.”
She laughed. “Oh, Rocky, what would Mrs. Konchesky do?”
He didn’t crack a smile. “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it and praying about it for hours.”
“You’re not serious, you’re insane.”
“Never been more serious. Or sane. We’ll talk about it over dinner, which, by the way, I’m really getting hungry.”
“I’m not going to marry you, Rocky. You can’t propose marriage to a near stranger on the driveway over a dipstick—”
“I just did. I mean, I can do it better, but I’m working with a limited time frame here.”
“You are unhinged. And I would know.”
“I’m not. We’ll discuss it. I have until morning to change your mind. If you don’t want to get married you can leave. If not, we’ll go to the courthouse.”
“I’m not getting married at the courthouse. Can you safely get that hood down without bashing yourself in the head?”
“Yes. Please start the pasta.”
She resumed her walk to the house like some sort of zombie.
Marriage. Really.
“Gia?”
“Yes?”
“You left some of your underwear on the driveway.”
9
“No.” Gia handed Rocky a plate.
