“You are the—”
“Shhhhh.” I pushed my fingers to his lips. “It’s hard to look at the perfection standing in front of me and walk away. But if I don’t do this for me . . . for us, we won’t have a chance. And I want this, I want us to last. So I’m asking you to give me some time. Don’t contact me, follow me, or question me—”
“I can’t do that.” Pulling my fingers from his lips, he shook his head back and forth. “Do you realize what you’re asking me to do?”
“Yeah, I’m asking you to give me your love and support.”
“You’re asking me to remove my heart from my chest. You’re asking me to walk away from the woman who makes me complete, leaving her to a world that is cruel and unforgiving. Why are you asking me to do that?”
“Because, I’ve spent my entire life in bad relationships, situations that stole a part of who I was and I have to find those pieces again. I need to feel that I’m worthy of accepting your love, unconditionally, without fear.” I pushed my hands against his face, clearing the fear rolling down his cheeks. “Please, tell me you can understand that I need this. I’ll find you, wherever you are, and come hell or high water if we are meant to be, we’ll be.”
Eyes damp with so much loss, he pushed his fingers against my face rubbing, brushing, memorizing what he was having to say goodbye to for as long as I needed him to.
“I’m so goddamn scared if I walk out of here right now, and give you the space you need someone else will swoop in and take my place, and that would just kill me to lose you.”
“When I find my heart, it’s yours, I promise you that.” I pushed up on my tiptoes and kissed him.
My lips slammed against his and a yearning sparked so deep, so strong in my soul that my entire body craved him in a way I’d never craved anyone in my life. If this was what love felt like, something I ached for more than my own breath when drowning, then I was willing do whatever it took to make it back to him.
“I love you, Complicated Rose.”
“I love you, Persistent Shane.”
He let go of me and walked out of my front door. No more words used, no vows, no solutions, or guarantees to what was going to happen to us. He walked out with just a hope that I would find out who I was, and I stood there hoping he’d still wanted me as badly as I wanted him when we found each other again.
6 MONTHS LATER
PORTLAND, OREGON
“NIGHT, CLAIRE. SEE you tomorrow,” I said as I rubbed my hand across the back of the bent over waitress serving drinks to her table.
“All right, Rose. Hey, you pulling the lunch shift tomorrow?” Claire asked as she slipped the empty round drink tray under her arm.
“Yeah, Tempest asked me to cover for Steph, so I’m pulling a double,” I answered as I straightened the collar on my uniform.
“I’m working lunch too,” she said as she collected her two-tone, platinum and magenta colored hair off her shoulders, twisted it into a messy bun, and thrust her pen through it to hold it in place.
“Perfect, just you and me!”
Funny how Shane had teased me about being a waitress and here I was working in a Cajun and Creole restaurant in downtown Portland. It kept me grounded. Angel’s Cajun Kitchen was the first place to give me a job with no real service skills, or ones I cared to mention, they were willing to take a gamble on me. It could have been that I’d come in all the time for the first couple of months. It was the only place that kept me in touch with the feelings I had for Shane.
One day they seemed shorthanded, and I just asked if they needed help. They took a chance on me, and well, it’s been the best thing that has happened to me since I’ve moved to Oregon.
“Well, see ya tomorrow. I’m off to meet my friend I haven’t seen in a while.”
“Is this friend a he or a she?”
“He’s a he,” I quipped.
The manager strolled in from the kitchen. Claire didn’t waste time filling her in on the details of our conversation.
“Did you hear that, Tempest, our girl Rose is having a date with a dude.”
“It’s not that type of date,” I huffed.
“That’s great! The people on table four need refills, Claire. And I don’t think Rose needs you broadcasting her life to our paying customers. Hustle it up. Rose, have fun, but not too much, keep those bags out from under your eyes. We’ll see you for the lunch shift.”
“Thanks, Tempest. See you tomorrow, Claire.” I pushed the door open and stepped out into the world another day as Rose Newton, the waitress at Angel’s Cajun Kitchen and not the woman who used to sell her body in the Tenderloin.
Even though I worked a legitimate job and waitressing was hard work, it was always in the back of my mind that I’d make three times the money selling myself in one night than the meager tips I pulled in, in a week. I had the fear of failing and having to go back to the stroll, but my promise to Sybil was stronger than that fear. Let’s face it, Portland had its diamond district where I could easily stroll the track and make a quick couple of dead presidents. This was the first time I made an honest living and didn't have to sacrifice my soul in doing it. Sure, I was sore, my feet ached and my back was killing me, but it felt rewarding to connect with people on a level I’d never had before.
I wasn’t being contacted anymore by Garrett Chadwick, aka, Mr. C or any of the other men I left behind for that matter. I figured at least for Mister, he was married and happy by now, maybe his wife was enough for him. I haven’t received any more packages from him since leaving San Francisco and oddly enough it felt good and at the same time, bad.
Maybe someday my fear would shrivel up and blow away. Until then, I was taking one day at a time, in the words of my shrink. Take each day as it comes.
I found a group for recovering prostitutes. We all had our own fucked up and tainted stories we worked to overcome. Self-esteem building, and how to manage drug and alcohol dependency at its best, but group therapy was a trip in and of itself. So many broken girls, some with stories more horrific than mine, who sat in a circle and waited for their turn to have their actions validated by someone else just as fucked up as they were. Each and every single one of us carrying the belief that we aren’t like the girl to the left or right of us. But when we had the sessions on how to create real relationships with people, we were exactly like the girl next to us, we all struggled with feeling worthy.
I’d lived my whole life creating bullshit stories to fill everyone else’s fantasies and desires that I’d never learned how to foster a healthy relationship with myself first and foremost. But as provoking as the meetings were, I never piped up with stories and smart-ass comebacks. I was a listener, sometimes active and sometimes distracted, but I always listened. Some of it felt like stupid bullshit, whack-job-nut-case-dome-planting-thinking, but some of what they’d talked about made sense. I’d go twice a week, something had to be sinking in. If I could see the worth in those other women, I had to be worthy too. I was getting better at ignoring the fucked up voice in my head. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked for me.
It has been five months, three weeks, and six days, since I’d talked to or seen Shane. I would go round and round with myself about texting him, or calling him just so I could hear his voice and hang up. My self-doubt fucked with me, not seeing him, or talking to him played right into the fear of him not waiting for me to get my shit together. I’d promised him my heart. I had to take care of myself first this time. I had to trust and as cliché as the saying was, if you love someone, set them free, if they come back, it was meant to be.
I had to focus on where I was. The air was brisk and the traffic was too heavy to daydream about Shane. I pulled my thoughts back to the street. It seemed later than what it was, I fucking hated daylight savings. Dark sidewalks did nothing but staple me against a past I was all too ready to let go. I tightened my sweater around my neck and jay-walked across the street avoiding getting hit and slipped into the corner coffee shop where I was supposed to meet
my platonic date.
“Rosie! There’s me gir’.” The sea of people parted as Briggs shuffled through customers waiting in line to order their coffee. He pulled me up against his chest and squeezed me so tight I could hardly breathe. It felt so good to have his massive arms around me, a comfort, and a familiar I had been missing the last six months.
“Oh, I’ve missed you, me gir’.”
“I’ve missed you too. Oh my God, Key, I can’t breathe.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he put me down. The vacancy of his hug reminded me how much I truly missed him. He’d come up to Portland to investigate a business venture with an old friend and asked if he could come see me before he had to fly out.
“Let’s sit.” he said as he pulled me over to a small isolated table in the corner. His accent was a comfortable reminder that someone in this world cared about me.
“I hope you don’t mind, I ordered you a drink and a lit’le somethin’.”
The barista sang out his name across the sea of people waiting.
“I got here a lit’le early, got a couple mochas and scones.”
“That’s perfect.” I pulled off my sweater and laid it across the back of my chair while he went and got our drinks. Portland wasn’t much different than San Francisco, the weather was cold and you always dressed in layers.
“‘ere we go. I hope you like whip cream, I asked for extra.” He winked, making me smile. I missed him, especially since we were almost inseparable the last days of Sybil’s life.
“I don’t know if I told you how important you were to me when Sybil . . . you know. Thank you for taking care of her things for me. You were the rock I needed.”
Briggs grabbed my hand across the table. His eyes pinned on mine, he gave me a genuine smile. One of those smiles that you could feel all the way down into your toes. Key saved me from having to deal with the bags of stuff Sybil’s family never took and all the gifts Mr. C had sent me.
“You don’t have to say it, me gir’. It was nothin’ more than makin’ a phone call.”
I smiled back.
“Now tell me how you’re doin’, Rosie? Is this going to be home for you now?” He took a guarded sip of his mocha.
“Well, I’ve been waitressing at a Cajun restaurant, and everyone there is so nice. I’m going to a group that helps those who are trying to mainstream into life after the streets. I don’t know if this is home yet.” I could tell he wanted more. I shot him a quick smile and pulled my mocha up to my lips.
“Mmmm, this is really goot.”
“You know Kean, I’m doing what I can. I talk to Sybil every morning. It might be crazy, but she gives me the strength to continue to go on breathing. Knowing she will never take another breath, I make sure I continue to breathe for both of us.”
He reached over the table again and pulled my hand into his.
“I know you miss her. I understan’ how you cling to t’at to keep your sanity and her memory alive.”
His eyes pierced my soul and I saw he had more to tell me.
“What’s on your mind, Key?”
“That Shane of yours is a nice dude, but the guy keeps findin’ me ever’ couple o’ days, asking me if I’d seen you aroun’. He hasn’t givin’ up, Rosie.”
I pulled my hands out of his.
“Key, I’m really trying to get my head on straight before I invite someone else into my life. Shane knows what I’m doing. If he waits for me . . . great. If he doesn’t . . . then I have to live with the choices I had to make. But I can’t go there right now. I’m just getting my shit together.”
I took a drink from my mocha.
“I’m not tryin’ to pressure you ‘bout him. I know wat you’re doin’ here. I know, Rosie, I do, but I also know wat will bring you happiness, and I don’t want you to lose t’at. All I want is to see you happy, me gir’.”
“Who’s to say I’m not happy? I’m finally doing what I need to do for me. Just me. What about you, Key? Are you happy doin’ what you’re doin’?” I knew he could see right through me. I was an open book to Kean Briggs.
“As happy as I can be, business is about the same, except I miss your smart ass.”
I smiled, but it was short-lived as my thoughts were hijacked by the girls I had left behind.
“Have you seen Crystal and Brie?”
“Ahhh, yeah, every so often. They’re doing what they gotta do to make it, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just t’at they made some choices they though’ were best for them. They got themselves a pimp.”
I felt my heart break. This was too hard, maybe I wasn’t ready to hear about the life I had left behind. It opened too many memories that I was trying to overcome.
“You know what, Key, I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t think I’m really ready to hear about that.”
“I understan’, Rosie. I didn’t come here to talk about t’at. I came to see you and find out ‘bout how your life is goin’.”
“Oh, Key, it’s been six eye-opening months. It’s a struggle every day. I won’t say some days aren’t worse than others. But, every second I talk myself into believing I’m worthy of a better life is a moment I’ve battled and won. I don’t want to ever be that person again.”
He slid his hands up across my elbows before he pulled me up into a hug.
“I’m real sorry, me gir’. I’d never want you to be t’at person again, either.”
We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Peace threaded itself between us, a freedom swept across every cell of my being. I knew at that moment, I was going to make it. Briggs pushed his lips to the top of my head.
Healing touch.
“I’ll nev’r mention you’ past ever again. I promise.”
My body melted into his, not in a sexual way, but in a renewed way, an inner strength kinda way.
I was safe.
“Thanks Key. It’ll get easier, it’s just something I can’t handle right now. It’s still kinda raw, ya’ know?”
Even though I didn’t want to hear about my old life, I ached to ask him more about Shane. I wanted to hear about how Shane kept looking for me, but I didn’t. I craved to find my strength in Shane’s conviction to wait for me, but I couldn’t. I had to change because it was something I wanted, I needed, for myself and not for someone else.
“I know. I’m so happy I got to see you, Rosie.”
“Thanks for asking about my life.” He tightened his arms around me before he let go. “And Key?” I breathed.
“Yeh?”
“Don’t ever stop asking to meet me, no matter what my answer may be. Even if there are more days I say no than yes.”
“All right, I won’t stop.” His words caressed my heart.
“Thanks.”
Briggs drove me home, a whole four blocks away. I guess the idea of keeping me safe was still burned into his brain, as it should be, he was still in the thick of protecting and healing the hos in the Tenderloin. Six months off the track and moving to a whole other state, still doesn’t stop the conditioned routine I had lived for the last three and a half years of my life and how quickly a turn of circumstances could trump any forward momentum.
Key pulled up to the curb at my apartment complex. It wasn’t anything special, nor beautiful. The complex was more industrial looking, a concrete jungle just like my apartment in the city with the exception of the patch of dirt and grass between the sidewalk and building.
“Well, this is me. Thanks for the lift home and the coffee.”
A smile crested his face.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Nothin’, Just happy to see you.”
I leaned over and hugged him. A lengthy hug, I tried to let go, he wasn’t going to have it. His face against the side of my head, he whispered in my ear, as if by him whispering it made him mentioning Shane anymore okay.
“Don’t be mad, he asked me to give you this. He hopes you understan’.” He slipped something into
my sweater pocket and I stiffened at his words. Tears spiked at my eyes. Could all the answers to my future I’ve been longing for be right here? Should I even read it? His words seemed so weighty in my pocket. It would be so much easier to stay with Key, have him take me with him.
“Thanks.”
I reluctantly hopped out of his rental car and didn’t look back. Briggs tapped his horn a couple of short times before I heard him drive off. I slipped my hand into my sweater pocket and felt the chill of the envelope, the chunk of tape sealing the seam and the plumpness of the letter inside filled with Shane’s words. My heart slipped and slid through every thunderous beat, I needed to get into my apartment and read what could be the best or the most devastating thing I’d received in the last six months.
ALONE IN MY apartment, a place that has become my safe haven where being alone wasn’t so lonely. I propped Shane’s letter against an old coffee mug on the kitchen island. I stared at it for hours, held it up to the ceiling light, pulled just enough on the edge to see how easy it was to open, then dropped it back on the counter.
I’d just spent the last six months working so hard on letting go of who I was. Left California and uprooted my life to get as comfortably far away from my past as I could. What if his letter hammered me back into my past? Whether I was crazy for not ripping into it or cynical for being terrified of what it might say, I knew one thing for sure, whatever it said, good or bad, I had to be in the right mindset to read it. It sounded ludicrous, struggling with what to do, but it was huge for me. There was no way I could handle his rejection.
“Bite the bullet then, Rose. Pick up the fucking letter, rip it open and just as if you’re tearing off a Band-Aid, deal with the immediate pain. It’s easier that way, deal with it so you can move the fuck on!” I huffed out loud.
I’d rather drown in the moment of truth, than spend my life swimming in a lie.
It wasn’t lost on me that I didn’t have anyone there to rip the letter open for me. “One . . . two . . . three,” I mumbled as if the numbers had all the power in the world to change my mind.
Broken Girl Page 22
