by Karina Sharp
“Would you like another glass of wine?”
“No thank you, I have to drive home, and if I had another, I would have to call a cab.”
“Are you serious? It’s not like you to turn down alcohol.”
“There are several behaviors I’ve picked up that are unlike the person you knew.” I clear my throat. “So tell me, what were your intentions in having me over tonight?”
“I was extremely ashamed and upset with myself for the manner in which I treated you when you appeared last time.”
“You don’t get many visitors?”
“Actually, I get more than you would think, but most of them are uninvited and unwanted.” Confused, I urge him to go on with my eyes. “You’re not from around here, but my parents and family have a long legacy in this area and were very well known by everyone. My family’s wealth and association with certain others in this area causes people to take an extreme interest in my activities.”
“Boy... You made that about as clear as mud, but what I hear you saying with your roundabout statement is that you thought I might be a reporter nosing around when you saw me.”
“Bingo.”
“That makes sense now. I knew you had to be more than what everyone else said about you.”
“You talked to other people about me?”
“No, but they were talking about you. They said you’re rude and stuck up and abandoned your parents and this house.”
Jack’s face grows pale, letting me know I struck a nerve. “It’s late and I have a lot going on tomorrow. Perhaps we should call it a night.”
“Jack, I apologize if I said something I shouldn’t have. Soon after I ran into you here, I went to a diner where they were talking about this house and your family. And when George Foster came into my office to interview me, everyone was fawning all over him and talking him up like he’s some sort of saint. Your family, on the other hand, has the opposite reputation. I don’t know why. I didn’t really ask...”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you already know so much about me, making me the opposite of the person you knew before.”
I want to say more, but what more can I say? As I’ve lamented many times, he’s a person who hasn’t exactly let me in on his innermost feelings, and a person that I clearly just upset. I’ve asked him to open up. I’ve tried to pry and pretty much force myself into his private world, but I’ve been rebuffed at every turn.
“Okay then.”
Jack walks with me toward the front door, where I retrieve my purse and keys. I look up to him warily, feeling terrible.
“Everything was very lovely, honestly. Again, I deeply apologize if I said anything that upset you. I had a good time.”
Jack continues to stare into the distance with a pained look on his face, but says nothing. I take my silent cue and walk to my car, feeling worse than ever.
Driving home, my remorse turns to anger. I’m embarrassed that I’ve made him uncomfortable and probably madder at myself for causing it. But, instead of placing the blame on myself, I mentally lash out at him. Who does he think he is? I was only recounting what I heard about him; I never said I believed it. Plus, he invited me to his house as an apology for being so rude the first time I saw him. Some freaking apology… I was a fool to begin to believe that somehow all of this was normal and things were as they should be between the two of us. Or that somehow we belonged together.
Since both of our encounters to attempt to reunite have concluded with Jack being cold and distant, maybe we weren’t meant to be...anything. I resolve put Jack out of my head and return back to my life as normal just like before I ever met him.
Chapter 14
July
Journey
Life continues on as normal for a few weeks. I distract myself from thoughts of Jack with work and coaching the squad. Who needs a guy around who is moody and pushes you away the second you accidentally mention something unhappy? Not this lady. Nope. No way. So, why can’t I stop thinking about him?
“Everyone batten down the hatches and prepare to stay indoors this weekend because this storm is big one…” the radio drones in the background as I drive to my cottage.
What started as a very sunny and calm Friday morning has turned into a dark, windy, and grey evening. It’s only six o’clock, yet the sky appears as though the sun has nearly set. Rain is beating against my car, and I’m fighting the wind to stay on the narrow, winding roadway. Fortunately, my house is just a few miles away from my office, nestled in a patch of trees off of a small highway. My nearest neighbors are a short walk away, which is how I like it: private.
Driving up the thin, dirt path to my house, tree branches and leaves litter the ground around my tiny home. Today was a bit of a slow day, and I could hear the rain hitting the roof of the office, but I didn’t think much of it. I’ve been through many storms, especially after living in several different areas of the nation. After parking my car in the garage, I notice a power line of some sort on the ground in the back yard. I’m definitely either without power, cable, or both. If there is a downside to living on your own in semi-seclusion, it’s being in a dark house with nothing to do.
I enter the door from the garage into the kitchen just as the rain picks back up and a torrential downpour begins again. The noise is very loud, even after I shut the door behind me. I know the walls of this house are thin, but I didn’t realize that they were this thin. Using my cell as a flashlight, I kick off my shoes and drop my purse on the counter. My umbrella shielded me from some of the rain, but my clothes are still wet. As I walk toward my bedroom to change into warm pajamas and find my stash of flashlights and emergency candles, the sound of the rain increases in volume as I make my way to the back of the house. Not only is it getting louder, but it sounds as though it’s actually raining in here. Literally inside.
I shine my phone/flashlight into the hall bath, but there’s no evidence of a leaking roof or interloping rain. I turn to the door behind me and shine the light into the guest bedroom. Still nothing. Following the sound, I step into the doorway of my office and hear distinct sounds of rain drops hitting the wooden floor. The light from my phone reflects off of the water droplets as they fall from the sky and straight into my home. I halt for a moment as the reality of it sinks in. It’s legit raining inside of my house.
A thought that may seem completely out of the blue to anyone else flashes in my mind- My Barbies! To others, my collection of Barbies seems childish and infantile, and perhaps it is, but they’re mine. They’re from my childhood and everything that made me happy then. I remember each one- from the Bride Barbie to the Christmas Barbies to my special Happy Birthday Barbies. They are the only lasting reminder of the child I once was- a child who had no worries, no expectations, and no crazy mistakes to haunt them.
I rush into the room to find the floor soaked. Everything is soaked, including my prized possessions. I gather a few dolls in my arms, finding that the boxes fold and disintegrate in my hands, drenched. Extreme anxiety that has been sitting dormant in my core is now unleashing itself in a very ugly way. I panic. Grabbing my Barbies, hugging them to my body, I collapse onto the floor in a perfectly dramatic fashion, but I don’t care. It’s pouring inside of my house. My computer is ruined. My furniture is ruined. I don’t care about any of that. All that bothers me is that my Barbies are destroyed.
I begin wailing: mourning the loss of my beloved toys, mourning the loss of my childhood, and mourning the loss of my life as it once was. On some level I think, prior to now, I never fully accepted the fact that I am an adult with adult responsibilities and adult problems. I tended to live outside of the real world and float above reality, interjecting one of my own. Since everything in my life came easily, I always knew that if I fell, someone would be there to catch me, so I never really took really big chances aside from a few bouts of rebelliousness. Leaving my internship, moving to Maine, and starting my own practice were the first steps I made in the direction of independence, but I sti
ll managed to stay inside of my own Journey bubble-of-happiness, shielding myself from the harsh realities of life. My dad was there to fix everything for me and make sure that my life’s path was as free of bumps as much as possible. I miss that life. I miss that world. I’m a girl who is attached to Barbie dolls, for god’s sake. How am I supposed to ever grow up and be on my own?
Tears are pouring out of my eyes, but the rain showering into the room keeps me from measuring exactly how heavily they fall. My clothes are clinging to me, sagging from the rain, and my hair strings into my face.
I don’t know how long I’ve been fanatically embracing my dolls, but even hearing a faint, “Hello?” doesn’t disturb me. I continue crying, almost screaming, but feeling muffled by the rain, wind, and thunder all around me.
Out of nowhere, Jack appears in front of me, panting. Until he drops to the floor beside me, I don’t take notice that he’s not just an apparition.
“Journey! Oh my! What’s wrong?”
Why is Jack here? I look up at him through my wet hair, plastic dolls in hand, and freeze. What’s wrong? Where do I even start?
“Everything...everything is wrong,” I spit out.
“What do you mean? I mean, aside from your new open-air shower?” He looks up to the ceiling that was once there, but is now an unplanned sky light.
I lift my gaze to meet Jack’s, then focus it on the open roof, allowing droplets to fall directly into my face. I halfway grin at the very nature of this situation and how I must look to him. Jack looks back to me, chestnut eyes sparkling, and curls one side of his mouth upward. I sheepishly look down into my arms at the soggy boxes and the children’s toys they attempt to encase.
“Come on, let’s get you some place warm and dry.”
“Where’s that?” I ask.
“I will take you to my house.” I look at him with reservation. “Obviously, this is not the place to be right now.”
“My Barbies,” I whimper.
“What about them?”
“They’re ruined. My Barbies are ruined, Jack.” I begin crying all over again.
In response, Jack puts him arm around me. He’s as wet as I am, but he’s still incredibly warm and comforting.
“Do you have them insured? I’m sure you can get the replacement value.”
“They’re not worth money; they’re just...I don’t know how to explain it.” I wrap my fingers around a doll, dressed in a lacy, white wedding dress, lifting it into his view. “This one I got for my eighth birthday.” I pick up another, this time a doll in a pink dress. “And this one I got on a family trip to Colorado.”
“I see what you mean. How about this? How about we dry off, go to my place, get you warm, arrange for someone to fix your roof, turn on your power, and we assess the doll damage tomorrow?”
I remain quiet for some time, not really wanting to leave my belongings to whimsy of the elements.
“I tell you what, let’s get all of your dolls and move them into the living room where they will be able to dry, then we can move on to my house. The weather has let up a little, but it’s only going to get worse and persist this way.”
“I can stay here, Jack. Really.”
“No you can’t. I’m not going to let you stay here with a leaking and unstable roof, no power, and the potential for even worse weather. Now, help me move these, so we can get going.”
“Okay.”
Jack is commanding, but in a gentle and concerned way. I find it remarkably endearing. I spent the last few weeks trying to get him out of my head, and now he’s back and more memorable than ever.
We gather my toys and carefully move them into the living room. Jack handles them with care, but I’m sure he’s thinking I’m a loon.
He pauses, lifting the doll in his hand, “What about this one?”
“Pardon?”
“What’s the story behind this one?”
“Oh, I got this one on a shopping trip with my grandfather. He saw how much I loved it and bought it for me. It always reminds me of him.”
Jack smiles warmly and takes extra caution when he places the plastic form on my couch.
After all of the precious cargo is moved and stowed for safe keeping, Jack pulls the dry blanket off of my couch, wraps it around me, and leads me out to his black Range Rover. The feeling of cold sweeps over my body, and I attempt to shiver it away. I was not fully aware of how soaked and freezing I am until I stepped outside of my cottage. Jack turns on my seat heater, cranks up the forced air heat so we can both warm up, and turns up the music volume. “Man on Fire” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros plays through the automobile speakers.
“I love this band,” I say through my chattering teeth.
“Me too. Have you ever seen them in concert?”
“No, I just know their music.”
“Ah, well, we will have to go see them sometime.”
“Sounds awesome.” I smile and warm over. “Jack?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you show up at my house?”
“Would you believe that I just had a feeling that something happened to your roof?”
“Nope.”
“What about that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left my house, and I realized that the way I’ve treated you, in the now two encounters I’ve had with you in so long, is exactly the opposite of how I always thought I would react if I ever saw you again?”
“That sounds more likely.”
“How about if I said that I’ve missed you like crazy and finally ended my pity party, so I wanted to surprise you with a big elaborate personal apology and promise to do nothing but worship the ground you walk on from here until the rest of my days?”
“I believe that. Jack, it’s been several years, but I know, at your core, you’re a wonderfully loving human being. You just can’t take that away from a person. You can mask it and bury it, but you can’t be someone you’re not. Sure, you’ve been a little hard to read, but I can see it in your eyes- you’re still you, the Jack I refused to admit I was falling for years ago.”
“Can I just say that I’m incredibly lucky that you have chosen to see beyond my inexcusable rudeness?”
“And can I just say that I know you’re not perfect? I’m not perfect either. But together, we’re about as close to perfection as it gets.”
Jack places his hand over mine, which is under a blanket, and squeezes it. I don’t know how or why, but with this one tiny gesture, I know it is the start of good things to come in my life- a life that I plan to command for myself.
Chapter 15
Journey
The drive to Jack’s goes quickly, and before I know it, his Range Rover is pulling into the multi-car garage of his parents’ estate. Parked in the garage is an older Porsche Boxster, a Lexus sedan, and an ugly, beaten-up Chevy pickup truck, which looks very much out of place. My father had an affinity for automobiles as well, so I’m accustomed to seeing a garage full of them.
“I take it that you like cars,” I remark passively as I walk through the garage and into the house.
“Ummm…a little. Aside from the Rover, the other vehicles here belonged to my parents.”
“Oh, I see. My dad would drool over that Porsche.”
“He likes classic cars?”
“Loves them.”
“He should come take it for a drive some time. I’m probably going to sell most of them. I don’t really give them the attention they deserve. My dad has some other classic cars in storage.”
“Which ones would you keep?”
“The pickup.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like you with your Barbies, I’m a little attached to it. Plus, it carries the snow plow.”
“That makes sense.”
It does. It’s congruent with his character to not hire someone to plow the driveway or think to replace a perfectly functional truck with a newer, fancier one.
Light and radiant heat greets us as we enter
the house, just as it had the last time I was here. There’s also a very noticeable and strange electrical charge in the air. Or perhaps between the two of us. I don't really know. What I do know is that my insides feel stirred around, and I have a strong urge to jump on Jack, wrap my legs around him, and shove my tongue down his throat. It's not as though this would be the first time we’ve wound up in such a situation. Today, I am not drunk, but I do feel sad thanks to my Barbie fiasco.
I look up to Jack, clothes sticking to his torso and highlighting some fantastic looking ripped muscles, and lick my lips. His golden brown eyes bore into mine with equal intensity, and suddenly I am toast. I ram my body into his, pulling his face down to mine. He responds by placing one hand behind my head, weaving his fingers into my hair, and placing the other hand in the small of my back. Our lips meet, and instantly the wild, uninhibited person inside of me that hasn’t surfaced in a while arrives just in time to part Jack's lips with my tongue and make large, vigorous connections with his. Each time our tongues meet and roll against one another, the tactile sensation from it makes me more aggressive and desperate. Our hands frantically move about each other's bodies and our mouths explore deeper.
I feel Jack's erection through his jeans, pressing against my stomach. I move my hand down and massage his growing length from the exterior of the denim, resulting in a small growl escaping Jack's throat, into mine. His hand leaves the small of my back and reaches up my shirt, moving toward my already pebbled nipples. He rubs them over my bra with the palm of his hand in circles, causing me to want him even more. I pull my mouth back from his, moaning in pleasure. Our breathing is rapid and our bodies are moving heavily with each breath. The mere contact from him through the outside of my clothing is enough to cause me to want to pleasure Jack even further.
I unhook his belt, unbutton and unzip his jeans, and see his large erection spring forth. I admire the impressive size for a moment before wrapping my hand around his girth and move it toward the base. Jack breathes out deeply, and I respond by licking my lips and placing them on his tip.
