Not Looking For Love: Episode 2

by Bourne, Lena

  Her voice is soft yet deep, like honey. I shake my head.

  "Let's get out of the rain and figure this out. She can't drive home now," Scott says.

  Janine places her jacket over her head and takes my arm. Her grip is firm and relentless as she guides me across the parking lot. Once we reach Scott's truck, she pushes me in and climbs in behind me. It's the last place I want to be, but I'm powerless to stop. Scott gets in the driver's seat.

  "You got a number we can call to get the car towed?" he asks me. I'm staring at the water cascading down the windshield. I won't talk to him. Everything just falls apart when I do.

  "Gail, do you?" he asks again. His voice is firm, but shaky too. Like he'd rather not be speaking to me either. So it's good I don't say anything. Better for the both of us.

  "Leave her be, Scott. Can't you see she's in shock?" Janine chides him, her voice hard.

  "Yeah, how would you know, Janine?"

  "How would I know?" she shrieks, the sound ripping though me. "Really? You're asking me that? Really? How do you think?"

  "Calm down. I didn't mean anything by it."

  She's breathing hard, making the windows mist, but her voice is steady when she says, "You know someone to call, so do that and leave her alone."

  "Fine." Scott climbs out of the car and slams the door shut, making me shake. The truck is so cold now, without his body pressing against me.

  "I didn't actually mean for him to leave the car," Janine mutters, more to herself than to me.

  I watch him make the call, shielding the phone with his jacket.

  Janine leans closer and looks at my nose. "I don't think it's broken, but you'll have a nasty bruise tomorrow. It's already rising."

  Just what I need, a black eye and a ruined car.

  "He'll be half an hour or more, can't make it sooner," Scott says as he climbs back in. "His name's Ed, and you can tell him where you want the car delivered."

  Water trickles from his jacket onto my leg.

  "You're gonna have to say something, Gail, or I'm taking you to the hospital," he says.

  His voice is softer now, and he sounds like the Scott who wanted to get to know me better. Not the angry Scott who told me to get lost. I refuse to look at him, or his reflection in the window in front of me. But he sounds very serious and I don't need to go to the hospital. Though my nose is throbbing something awful now. "I already said I was fine. As soon as the tow truck comes I'll be gone and you never have to talk to me again. Then you and your girlfriend can go back to doing whatever you were doing."

  I can't believe I'm saying all that, or how pathetic I sound.

  Janine places her hand over mine and laughs. "We're not dating, so you don't have to worry about that."

  "I don't think she was worried," Scott says.

  "Obviously she was. Why else would she make a scene like that in there?" Janine says, sounding like she's explaining something to a dumb five-year-old. And I think that's me too. I went all jealous over someone I don't even want to see again.

  "She just likes messing with me. I think it gets her off," Scott says, looking straight ahead, his eyes in complete darkness.

  Janine gasps. "What the hell is wrong with you? You can't say things like that."

  "It's the truth," he counters.

  They're arguing about me like I'm not there at all. And maybe I'm not. Maybe I really did get hurt in that accident, and I died now, in this truck, and this is my ghost sitting here, listening to them, because none of us know yet that I'm dead. The thought makes the world spin and go fuzzy, and I pinch my leg hard. One of my nails snaps on the thick fabric.

  "Seriously, Scott, I don't believe you. Can't you see she's in distress?" Janine wraps her arm around my shoulders and the citrus smell of her perfume makes my nose sting. I wish it was Scott hugging me, but that won't happen.

  "Don't worry, Gail," she says. "I just asked Scott to come out with me today and pretend we're together, so I wouldn't have guys coming on to me the whole night."

  "That's not what it looked like," I mutter, surprised to hear my voice.

  "Maybe it wasn't," Scott says. At least he heard me too, which means I'm not dead.

  "You wish," Janine retorts.

  "Maybe I do."

  Her arm leaves my shoulder as she straightens to gape at him. "You need to stop talking like that, Scott. Right now. What is with you?"

  I know it's jealousy that's snaking up through my heart, but I won't acknowledge it. As soon as the tow truck comes I'm out of here.

  "Maybe I don't care." I hear myself say anyway.

  "But maybe you do," Scott counters. It sounds almost like a question, but not quite. I swallow the 'yes' that bubbles up from my heart.

  Janine throws her hands up and slams into the backrest. "I give up. This is too weird."

  "Like I said. Crazy."

  Janine bolts upright again, glaring at Scott. "What are you doing right now? I really don't get it. What happened to you? It's like I don't recognize you anymore, and it's really scaring me."

  I feel him tense beside me, his leg shaking against mine from the strain. "What happened? Fucking autumn happened. And it's happening again."

  Whatever he's talking about makes Janine's eyes glisten, like maybe she will burst into tears. She brushes the dress over her legs, and slides her hands under her thighs so she's sitting on them. "Well, it's technically still the summer, so your reasoning is all off."

  "I'm not so sure," he says.

  "Well, I am. I was having a good day today. Why would you bring this up?"

  "I don't know," he mutters, barely above a whisper.

  Janine is bouncing slightly, staring at the window, and Scott's leg is still shivering.

  "I needed you with me so bad, Scott. But you weren't here. And now you are, but you're still so far." Her voice catches in her throat. "When are you coming back for real?"

  "I just need some more time."

  The silence that stretches between them is so thick it's like a physical presence, sitting with us in the car. It's laced with sorrow, loss and longing, and I recognize it for what it is. I feel it everyday too. Death is in the car with us.

  "My mom is dying," I blurt out, with a vague notion of letting them both know I know exactly how they feel.

  They both turn to me, Scott's leg pressing hard into mine.

  Janine's eyes flick to his. "You wanna take this one, Scott." Her voice is still shaky.

  I meet his eyes. His gaze is soft and calm, transporting me from this truck into a gorgeous snowy field, bathed in moonlight, snow crystals shimmering all around me like a sea of diamonds.

  "Life goes on," he says. And he's absolutely right, I believe him completely. Only I can't, because it's all a lie. Life ends and then there's only pain and suffering, tears and bereavement.

  Janine snorts loudly and breaks the spell. "Is that the secret, Scott? You should've told me ages ago then all would be well. But seriously, Gail, I'm very sorry to hear about your mom, it sucks, but he's right, life does go on. And at least you have the chance to say goodbye."

  I nod. There's the certainty of experience behind her words, and they hit me like an avalanche, full of sharp jagged edges, shattering the last shreds of hope I have of escaping the bottomless, dark abyss.

  I'm still reeling from Scott's gaze, and the promise of that calm peaceful place. It's merging now with the abyss, disappearing, swallowed up, gone forever. Scott's leg is pressed against mine and I move away so our legs are no longer touching. I know he's looking at me, but I keep my gaze fixed on the misted window.

  Janine reaches over and turns on the radio. Elvis' voice spills out, all tender, singing "In the Ghetto."

  Tears well in my eyes, this song is so sad. Scott moves to change the station, but Janine slaps his hand away. "Leave it, I love this song. It's so profound."

  "How would you know? You've never seen the inside of a ghetto in your life," Scott says softly.

  "Oh, I don't know, Scott, this truc
k is pretty ghetto. And that sorry apartment you live in is also pretty ghetto," she says, but she's smiling. The tension between them is gone like it never was. "When are you going to get a proper car again?"

  Scott shrugs. "Eventually."

  I suddenly understand that they know each other very well, because only the oldest friends can argue like that one minute and be cool the next. I have that with Kate, it's why I don't resent her leaving me in the club all alone earlier. I also realize that Janine is no threat to me, not where Scott is concerned.

  A bright light flashes across the misted window and Scott's phone rings.

  "Ed's here," he says and opens the door. The rain has stopped, but it's still drizzling.

  I climb out and head toward the tow truck. Scott takes my hand to stop me, his palm dry and hot. "Tell him where to take the car, and I can drive you home."

  I twist my hand from his grasp. "There's no need. I'll just take a cab or whatever."

  I'll tell the tow truck guy to drive me and the car home, take a long, hot shower and forget all about this night. I wish Janine was Scott's girlfriend, because then this would all be over already, and he wouldn't be looking at me with those deep eyes full of longing, begging me to stay. Because then I wouldn't want to stay.

  He hovers beside me while Ed loads my car onto his truck. Ed was the name of my Gran's love too, I suddenly remember. But he let her go. And I'm letting Scott go too. Because nothing good comes of love in the long run, and some of us know this better than others. So we're the ones who have to choose for the rest.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "So, where you want the car taken?" Ed asks me as he enters the truck and slams the door. The hard thud makes me shudder.

  I give him the address of my house, and he peers at me through narrowed eyes, like he wants to argue. I look away from him through the side window and cross my legs.

  "Fine," he says and the truck rumbles to life.

  The window on my side isn't closed all the way, and rain drizzles in wetting my sleeve.

  Ed is looking at me in the rearview mirror. "You'll have to put some ice on that bruise soon or you'll be all black and blue tomorrow. Or a steak would be even better."

  He's about fifty, and smells of beer and engine oil. That, mingled with the imagined smell of raw meet makes me nauseous.

  "I'll be OK," I mutter.

  His eyes slide down over my thighs, and I turn away from him, hoping we'll get there soon. Normally I'd be panicking now, thinking he might try to rape me, but tonight I feel nothing. My heartbeat is slow and steady, my breathing deep. I don't think of anything beyond the next turn in the road, the next street.

  His eyes return back to the road and he doesn't say anything more to me.

  Once we reach my street, I tell him to unload my damaged car a few houses down from my own. The last thing Dad needs to see when he wakes up in the morning is my crashed car in the driveway.

  I hand Ed a twenty as soon as my car is off his truck and walk away briskly.

  "Wait, keep your money. It was a favor for Scott," he yells after me, but I don't stop. He doesn't follow me either.

  Rain begins pouring again before I reach my front door. The house is dark, except for the light in the hall. It seems so calm, like I'm back in high school and coming home late, with both my parents healthy and asleep inside. I absolutely cannot unlock the door and enter. It's like an invisible, impermeable wall stands before me, preventing me from taking another step forward. I can't face Mom's gasps, her raspy breaths, which are probably the only sounds breaking the silence in the house.

  I should shake off the feeling and go in, but I'm frozen, the rain drenching me, water flowing down my forehead and into my eyes. The terrible idea that I'm already dead, a ghost who doesn't know they've died yet, flashes through my mind again. There's no one around to tell me different, no one who sees me, or knows me. Inside the house it will be even worse.

  I pull out my phone and dial for a taxi, because it seems like the only logical thing I can do, the only thing that makes sense. My phone is getting drenched too, but I don't care.

  The cab driver eyes me like I'm crazy when I get in and give him Scott's address. Maybe he thinks I'm a hooker or something, but I'm not dressed like one and I don't care.

  All my resolve to never see Scott again is a distant cloud blown away on the wind. What will happen must and always does. It's the pain of now that I have to resolve first.

  My thoughts are clear like a spring morning when the cab stops in front of the bakery. Scott's windows are dark, but that's alright, he's probably just asleep.

  The lock is still broken and the hall light is still out. I use my phone to light the way and knock loudly on his door when I reach it, with purpose. But nothing stirs on the other side. He isn't home. I can wait.

  I sit on the top step, leaning against the banister, which creaks from my weight. Rain is pounding on the roof, erasing all other sounds, making me feel safe and secure, sheltered from the world. The hallway smells of yeast and butter, and, if I imagine very hard, fresh baked bread.

  I don't know when I dozed off, but someone's shaking my shoulder now. "Gail, what are you doing here?"

  I rub the sleep from my eyes. Scott's got his own phone on and the light spills over his face like moonlight.

  I rise and take a weightless step toward him to rest my head on his chest. He's got his jacket zipped up, but his warmth is coming through the cool fabric, and the clean scent of rain mixes with his cologne, twisting my stomach in anticipation.

  "I thought we could get to know each other better, if you still want to," I mumble into his chest.

  His breath crackles in his chest. He wraps his arm around me and leads me to the door, digging in his pocket for the keys.

  He lets go of me since we can't both fit through the door, pushing me gently forward with his hand on my lower back.

  Once inside, he turns on the light and the sudden brightness pierces my eyes, making them tear up. He takes off his jacket and his smell hits me harder. But I could just lean against him tonight, I don't want anything more.

  He's still just staring at me, like he's not even sure I'm really there. I need him to be sure, so I can be too.

  "Do you want me to leave?" I ask.

  "Honestly?" he asks, his eyes narrowed, black as pitch.

  "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, because I don't want him to send me away.

  "No, I don't want you to leave. But I'm a little afraid of what will happen if you stay," he says and smiles, but it doesn't really reach his eyes.

  "I won't…I just want to stay here for a little bit."

  "OK," he says, and brushes past me. I follow him into the living room. Everything still looks the same, except there are two piles of neatly folded laundry on the kitchen table, making the room smell like fabric softener. He digs in one of the piles, making it topple over.

  "You should get out of those wet clothes," he says, handing me a grey sweatshirt.

  "Can I shower first?" I ask. I'm shivering from my wet clothes, my skin icy.

  He shrugs. "I wouldn't. Hot water's gonna make that bruise even worse."

  I must look hideous. I touch my nose gingerly, but pain still explodes in my head.

  "Don't touch it. Change."

  I finally take the sweatshirt he's still holding out for me, and he walks into the kitchen.

  Sliding off my trench coat, I notice the bloodstain. Likely it'll never come off. Maybe I should go into the bathroom to change, but it's a fleeting sort of idea, distant. I toss the coat over one of the chairs and pull my shirt off. Scott turns back to me just as I free my head.

  His gaze travels up my stomach, over my breasts and settles on my neck. His lips are slightly parted and glistening. It's like he's touching me with his eyes, warmth and tingles crackling all over me. I'm not cold anymore, never would be again if he always looked at me that way.

  The thought hooks into my heart and breaks the illusion, making me se
e visions of future deathbeds, my soul breaking again. But I won't think of that tonight. Still, I pull the sweatshirt over my head and remove my pants after it's already covering me. It hangs down to a few inches above my knees, and Scott's looking at the spot like maybe he wants me to walk over and wrap my legs around him. But it's his move tonight; I'm done acting like a slut.

  He's holding an already wet rag in his hand, and his eyes break away from me as he runs the tap over it once more.

  He walks over to me. "Here, put this on your face. I don't have any ice."

  "Ed thought a steak would work too." I smile and take the rag, holding it against my face.

  "That's disgusting. It does work, though, but I don't have any steaks either," Scott says, and adjusts the rag so it's covering up my whole nose. "Where'd he take your car?"

  "My house. I can't even begin to deal with that tonight," I say.

  He wipes a drop of water off my cheek with his thumb. I take a step closer so our legs are touching. I want him to hold me and for once he does, wrapping his arm softly around my waist.

  "I'd kiss you, Gail, but you look God awful." He laughs at the outrage that must be plastered on my face. "Relax. What I meant was that I'm afraid you'll bite."

  "Speak to me like that, and I might," I say as I press closer to him. "Seriously though, I won't bite you anymore. Unless you want me to."

  The scab on his lip hasn't completely healed yet, but it's already white and should disappear soon.

  "I really don't." He smiles and his eyes are taking me to a sun drenched orchard in summertime, butterflies fluttering all around. I bite my lip in anticipation, but he doesn't kiss me. Instead, he guides me to the chair, and pulls me down into his lap, both of his arms wrapped around my waist. This works too. Beyond just staying like this, safe and warm, soft anticipation coursing thought my veins, I don't even know what I want.

  "Were you out in the hall for long?" he asks.

  I check my watch, shaking my hand so the charms of the bracelet Mom gave me aren't covering its face. It's after two. "A couple of hours, I guess. I came straight here after I took my car home."